#paul finally wants to have a proper talk with just the two/four of them

[javelinbk]

Paul McCartney puts George Martin in his place. The Beatles: Get Back, part three

#knight vs knight #shots fired #etc etc #what if… what if paul was the daddy in the paul/gm dynamic? #did I just say that out loud? #I love/hate this whole scene #paul finally wants to have a proper talk with just the two/four of them #and everyone else just wants to get involved #they really just needed to be locked in a room together for an hour #also john is saying ‘backs against the wall’ in that second gif #🥹 #paul mccartney #john lennon #george martin #the beatles #get back #javelin’s gifs #javelin’s gifs: get back

[zilabee]

- I'm too sad to deal with anything actually today. I'm so tired. I just want it to stop. I want it to be tomorrow and for there to be music and weather.

- God bless you Glyn for trying to have a very normal conversation about how awful Allan Klein is and instead finding yourself in a room of mad people. He even so kindly frames it as though maybe Klein wasn't as awful with them, rather than their being so ridiculous as to like him.

Ringo: A conman who's on our side for a change.

Yes. Because we know that a conman would NEVER lie about whose side he was on. Very good.

- The last few days of Get Back are coinciding with me being exhausted, emotional and pre-menstrual, so that's fun.

- I like the conversation where it looks like Paul has taken hostages for a lecture about how good the Beatles are in a crisis, and how fine everything is going to be.

- Then the terrible tea party where he immediately talks about how awful it is, because they're not good in a crisis at all actually it turns out and they haven't got anywhere yet, and nothing's good.

- I love that he keeps explaining that he just needs to get his head around how much he hates it, and that that's just how it is now, and then it'll be fine and he will know what it is then. It's just because he keeps pretending it could still be good that he's suffering.

- I don't know even how I read John here any more. I'm lost.

This TV show was supposed to be a TV show of the last album. But when we came to do it, we said 'We'll write new songs.' Cos that's it you see, we always- we never- we always get ahead of ourselves.

- Oh god though. It's a better idea because the whole feel of the white album was to make songs they could play that way, and it would have had less pressure, and more fun. It's a shame they got carried away with themselves. It does really explain why Paul is so frustrated that they're just making an album. When the whole idea was to do something with the last album they made. And then it became to do a new album and do something with that. And now it's just an album and nothing. And then everyone's been saying 'well you could do something with it later' for a while now, but he literally tried that. And it turned into this.

- There's so much to love about the rooftop, and I can't wait for it to be tomorrow, but today I can see why Paul thinks it's just a bit weird to just sing a few songs a few times, where nobody can really see you, and call it a thing.

- It's no good, obviously. It's hopeless to be having this fall down the day before everyone agreed to go on the roof and do what they can. It's no good saying you need six more weeks, especially not when you know George exists. And it's as if Paul hasn't noticed the compromise that he sort of already agreed to. But it's also normal to want the finale to be all the songs. I can see how, having compromised on a proper show, or a big event, he would still want to play a full set, and have the feel of a show, even just for themselves. And they've failed at that. So I suppose he can only have the fall down now, when the failing is upon them.

- And all the sort of underlying pain of course that makes me want to tear things apart. Paul knows John agrees with him, has the whole way through, and even now he still says he'd like to do a good proper show, with all the numbers... but in agreeing with him he keeps this careful distance where it doesn't matter that they agree, they still can't work together. He won't move towards him, won't move with him. This passive calm that says I'm fine, no matter how much it fucks you up.

- It's awful what entirely different ideas all four of them have about what is happening, and what happens next. They're exhausted and not fit for purpose.

- (Thank god though, that they don't suddenly agree to do another two weeks, I wouldn't live through another two weeks.)

John: We don't allow it, you know, we don't allow people to come in and say 'you do that'. Paul: That's why I'm creating artificial frameworks for us to do it in.

They understand their issues; they embrace them and hold tight to them.

- George keeps saying things about how if you just let it happen it'll become the thing it is going to be, just through doing it... as if that means anything here, as if it's not the most passive fairytale. And I guess because he wants it to turn into something where they don't go anywhere or do anything, it will become that. But really the whole project - and what happened with it at the time - proves exactly how little can come out of a lot if nobody shapes it.

- And then Paul says he doesn't want to talk about the roof so they talk about the roof. And then they have a minute where they decide that actually they know all the numbers and it's fine which is lskdjfoiejfs, I can't believe they didn't even make a list until yesterday. And then they decide they shouldn't waste any more time. And then we see them wasting quite a lot of time, but I have to remember that we only see twenty minutes of the entire day and they probably weren't singing ventriloquist songs for whole hours.

- I'm just very sad. It is very sad now we're near the end. Just because of everything.

- Paul saying how he doesn't want it just to end and for everyone to just wander off like they did after the last album. That being very much exactly what is about to happen.

Paul: Any time is paradise when I'm with you. John: Yeah. Any time. Any time at all.

- I can't.

John: I've said yes to every idea that's come up so far. Yoko: Right. John: America, Pakistan, the moon...

- Saying yes to everything, but refusing any real input or effort into anything. I don't know if he genuinely thinks this is a positive thing, or if he knows it's a slow death.

John: Let's do this list, and we can do another LP next week, you know. George: Yeah. John: I've got a few ready now. Oh fuck! Let's have another LP. Be about a month, or something. [...] If we know that we're going to do the next LP in June or July, or something, then we can get ready for it, you know. Paul: Yeah John: Cos this LP is a surprise, really you know. That's why I'm singing One After 909, to get on the LP. Paul: Oh, right.

- John and George claiming that Paul forced them into stuff a lot, when what they mean is that they click onto any small idea going and get all excited, and then get cross when Paul thinks they might follow through on any of it?

- I love that they make Abbey Road. I've felt that a lot this month and I'm stupidly grateful for it today. That they use it to tidy some of this away, and create a beautiful little something that Paul gets to love. Something whole. I'm overly emotional about it, and in my head it looks like a golden snail.

#get back #get back january #the beatles #get back words

[multifandom-fanfic-writer]

Mads Mikkelsen in conversation

After The Hunt, you did Hannibal, Bryan Fuller’s NBC show about Dr. Lecter and his relationship with FBI agent Will Graham. What made you say “Yes” to a network TV show in the U.S.?

Yeah, how did that come around? We had just been successful in Cannes with The Hunt. And then my agent talked about Bryan Fuller — “this genius” she called him — and said I should have a look at it. At first, I was like, “Oh, God, Anthony Hopkins. That’s just a no-go.” He did it to perfection. Then I had a meeting with Bryan Fuller and he pitched the first season. And I was just like, This is absolutely nothing like the film. This is a different animal. I was one out of three or four actors they were considering [Bryan Fuller has discussed how NBC wanted more-name-brand actors for the part of Dr. Hannibal Lecter like John Cusack, Hugh Grant, and Paul Bettany. He had also considered David Tennant for the role.]. I was really reluctant to do that. I don’t like castings. Nobody likes castings. “Come on guys, either you want me or not.” But we did a couple of scenes, me and Hugh Dancy, and I think we had a great chemistry in that awkward way it was supposed to be.

Did you see his relationship with Hugh Dancy’s character, Will, as a romance?

Yeah, but not necessarily something that would become physical.

The murder of Francis Dolarhyde (played by Richard Armitage) is the consummation of Will's and Hannibal's relationship, in some ways.

And also cannibalism, obviously. This is the ultimate way to love someone in his world, to eat them — right? We actually did a couple of takes of the very last scene where we were looking at each other, and it was a little too obvious — it was almost a kiss. Me and Hugh were like, “Why not? We have a couple of takes. Let’s do one. It might be cool.”

Did you kiss?

No, we didn’t. Never went for the kiss. Bryan loved it, but he was like, “Too much, guys. It’s too obvious.” And he was absolutely right. But I think we were just stuck on that. And a lot of the Fannibals wanted it as well. It’s been a subject of homoerotic fan art. And for good reason, because they are so united as twins in many ways. But we never wanted it to be a physical thing. It was something much bigger than that.

What were the discussions of the season-three ending like?

It had to be that they managed to kill someone together and both have the same sensation. Finally, I got him. Finally, Will Graham is me. They are inseparable at that point. We also knew that that was not the ending. We knew that there was a fourth season. We had something more up the sleeve, but then it didn’t happen. (NBC declined to air the show for a fourth season in 2015 (in a somewhat complicated relationship, NBC was not producing the show in-house, merely paying a licensing fee). One could easily have imagined another life for the show had the cancellation occurred during the streaming boom.)

It was such a surprise to all of us because we did not have great numbers the first season, so we thought that was it. But we got saved and got a second season. And then in the third season we had much greater numbers. So we thought it was a given we would continue. And it didn’t happen.

Talk of a fourth season has gone away, but would you still do it to end the show in the way you envisioned?

Yes. The work itself was brutal because we had long hours, with scripts coming in late. It’s TV, and what we were doing was elaborate. The texts were high-IQ texts. The monologues or the dialogues were always about fine art, music. You had to learn Japanese, Hungarian, and words you had simply never heard before. And you had to do it within two hours because everything came so late. Having said that, I would love to go back. Everybody wants to go back, and if there’s only one season and we’re sure about that, he can finish it in a proper, surprising, stunning way.

It’s still such an improbable show in so many ways because it was on NBC.

Exactly. And I’ve been wondering if we had been on some other platform and could do whatever we wanted, would we have gone more for the graphic stuff and forgotten some of the poetry? Maybe it was a good thing we had to hold back. It served the show really well that we didn’t go full-blast Walking Dead on it.

source: https://www.vulture.com/article/mads-mikkelsen-in-conversation.html 

#mads mikkelsen #mads mikklesen #hannibal meta #interview #hannigram #bryan fuller #hannibal season 4 #interview with mads mikkelsen #this interview is awesome

[jae-daddy]

Duff (7)

im jaebum au series

one / two / three / four / five / six /  seven / eight / nine masterlist

pairing: im jaebum x reader  genre: angst, smut, cheating, CEO!  plot: you are the duff and guys use you to get close to your best friend, Heather, and turns out Jaebum is no exception, but as time goes on the tension between you and your best friend’s unofficial boyfriend grows a/n: if ya like send something in or leave a comment! I love reading them! next part is going to be interesting, hope yall liked the bit of spice. not edited, hope y’all enjoy it! <3

“Stop,” Jaebum ordered.

Every nerve in your body told you to disobey and continue to walk out of his office, but your feet stopped. Your back faced him as your eyes settled on the plain dull wall in front of you, save for a painting that wasn’t much interesting.

It wasn’t truly his office yet. Jaebum hadn’t added any personal touches to the cold space in the past month of him acting Director. He remained detached from the office, employees and the job as much as he could.

Except for you, Jaebum always seemed to be looking for a way to get under your skin. Find new ways to bother you, to annoy you. It was almost as if he enjoyed seeing you fume at him with anger. Your face red with fury brought him peace and happiness. It made that easy cocky smirk on his lips grow each time his melting eyes met your raging ones.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said.

You didn’t turn around instantly. Instead, you took a deep breath in and turned with a vacant expression, “I’m sorry, sir. Was there something you needed?”

Jaebum shifted in the chair, annoyed. Once again, he wasn’t seated in the big boss chair on the other side of the desk. He chose one of the two placed on the other side instead, with papers splayed out in front of him, on the desk.

Your eyes went to the mess and your lips pursed. Your hands itched by your side to sort through the junk and organise everything in a proper fashion. But Jaebum knew what he was doing, he knew exactly where each paper was. He worked like a genius; chaotic and completely self-relied.

You looked back at him to find his lips drawn into a thin line, his brows drawn together as he stared up at you. For the first time, Im Jaebum did not have the cocky smile that normally danced on his lips. His eyes didn’t watch you as if he understood every thought that zoomed through your head.

He looked at you utterly lost, distraught and confused.

“Don’t try to play this game, y/n. Stop that, tell me what’s wrong, why have you been avoiding me.”

He was almost begging at this point, and for the first time in the past week, you smiled. It wasn’t a kind smile, it was cruel and relished his misery. Your tight posture relaxed as you tilted your head holding his troubled gaze as you sang, almost taunting, “I have no idea what you are talking about. I have not been avoiding you, sir.”  

Jaebum rose out of his seat and towered over you in an instant. He gritted, “Stop calling me that.”

“Calling you what, sir?”

Jaebum’s eyes darkened as he took another step towards you. You didn’t move away, you held your ground, your head tilting back to meet his stormy gaze. His jaw ticked as he sneered, “Do you enjoy this? Do you find pleasure in torturing me like this?”

“Torturing you?” You tsked, the smirk on your face growing, hiding the pounding heartbeat in your ears. You turned walking away before spinning on your red-bottom heels, “If someone were to hear, they’d think I was actually hurting you, sir.”

“Stop it!” He spat, the anger leaving him. All Jaebum was left with was desperateness as he continued, “Stop calling me sir, y/n. I’m trying to have a conversation with you as a friend--”

“A friend?” You chuckled, cutting him off. “We are not friends.”

“So we’re back to this again?”

“Yes, we are.” It was your turn to sneer at him as you took a step towards him. All coolness evaded your body and all you felt was red and hot. Anger sparked through every core of your body, your eyes shone with distaste, as you looked down your nose at him, “I will never be friends with a loathsome disgusting dog like you.”

“Dog?” Jaebum snickered at the weak insult, but the embers of the fire began lighting up inside him as he watched your lips draw into a scowl.

“Yes, a dog. A terrible, horrible cheating dog.”

“Is that the best you can do?” Jaebum jeered raising his eyebrows mockingly. “Call me a dog and say nonsense?”

“I am not speaking nonsense, you bastard,” you spat. Jaebum flinched at your words, but you continued, the fire blazing inside you. “I saw you and that woman in your office that day. Don’t think I will forget that easily. I know how disgusting you are.”

“What day--”

“Or do you mean which day-” you cut him off, stepping closer to him. The poison hissing from your tongue, “You have flirted with any woman that you ever crossed path with; at the club, at work! It doesn’t matter to you that you have a girlfriend, and you might think it’s okay, but it is not. I would never do that to my friend. I won’t sit back and hold my tongue-”

“Then why haven’t you done something about it if I’m so bad,” Jaebum cut you off this time. The easy smile returned on his lips, dancing with malice as he looked down at you as if you were a crazy lady talking about stars and the end of the world. “If you can’t differentiate between being friendly with others and flirting, then that’s on you, not on me. It’s not my fault you're an emotionless closed off mumpsimus who doesn’t know that people can simply just be nice to one to another--”

“Yes!” You scoffed up at him. “Because almost fucking a lady on your desk is just being friendly.”

“I was not about to fuck her!”

“Oh yeah?” You nodded, sarcastic.

“I was not cheating. I was not flirting with her.”

“Then what were you doing, Jaebum?” Your eyes were blazing with so much rage you felt as if it would consume you. “Do you hug everyone on your desk? How did Paul like it when you dry-humped him on the desk and called it a friendly hug?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Jaebum groaned, “It was just a hug and she slipped! I was helping her get steady!”

“And I just happened to walk in that exact moment. What a crazy coincidence!”

“If you’re so certain, why haven’t you told anyone then?” Jaebum questioned, after a deep breath. “You tell Heather everything, why haven’t you told her this yet?”

“She already knows what I think of you.”

Jaebum tried not to flinch at your words, “But have you told her about what you apparently saw last week in this office?”

Your cheeks painted red, as you tore your eyes away from him. You stared at the wicked desk instead, “No.”

“Why not?” He drawled, as he took a step closer towards you.

Your chest swelled with resentment as you refused to look at him and the victorious smile you knew was on his lips. You bit your tongue before you answered, each word cutting your throat, “I was not sure.”

“What was that?” He crooned, you could hear his smile. You felt the chuckle in his cool breath as it brushed your forehead. When you didn’t reply, Jaebum placed a finger under your chin and lifted your eyes to meet his.

His haunting gaze still shone with anger, but his lips painted the picture of the easy ocean after a stormy night.

You wanted to smack that smile from his lips. You wanted to erase the victory bubbling inside of him. You met his eyes, not looking way. Your mind repeating one thought over and over again.

I hate you.

It was unfair to blame all these emotions on Im Jaebum when it was not all his doing. You knew Jaebum wasn’t a flirt by choice, but by nature. He was like a golden retriever who couldn’t help but spread love wherever he went. And he didn’t just get friendly with any woman around his age, but with old grandmas, mothers, other males and grandfathers too. It was just who he was.

You knew you were being harsh, you knew it. But you couldn’t back down.

You would rather blame it on Jaebum. You would rather pretend that it was all his fault that you hadn’t been smiling, sleeping or eating this past week. You didn’t want to give that asshole this power over you; you didn’t want to admit the power he still had over you.

Jaebum’s eyes searched yours and the storm in them vanished. His eyes held yours, his fingers on your chin holding you in place as he searched through your mind. And just like always, he finally found the answer. You saw the recognition shine in his eyes; he knew this wasn’t about him.

You knew it wasn’t this that you had you so removed from life. But it wasn’t like Jaebum didn’t do anything wrong too. You still didn’t know what had happened between Jaebum and that lady, or more like, what would have happened had you not walked in at that moment.

“I walked in too early, Im Jaebum,” you exhaled, the venom dancing on your tongue as you met his cool gaze. Your eyes burned bright once again in accusation, “If I had walked in a second later, I would have caught you red-handed.”

“Red-handed?” Jaebum repeated, the smile easy on his lips, the raise of his eyebrows graceful, “Red-handed doing what exactly?”

You glared at him, “I would have found you about to fuck her.”

Jaebum chuckled in reply. The burn of his fingers easing on your chin. He opened his eyes, a new kind of darkness in his eyes; his lips smirking with secrecy.

His fingers lingered on your chin, his thumb grazing your lower lip, his eyes falling for a moment. Your heart stopped when you saw him lean in closer, but then he stopped.

His fingers were a whisper against your skin. It lightly traced down your throat, over your faint collarbones and over your shoulders. His fingertips grazed down your back smoothly, his touch burning through the flimsy white shirt you wore. His fingers stopped on your lower back, before both his hands landed on your hips. His fingers spreading over the curve, searing you with its touch.

His hands gently nudged you backwards, making you take a step back. Jaebum’s steps followed you, making you walk backwards until you felt the edge of the dark wood on your lower back.

Jaebum’s eyes never left yours as he eased you onto the desk. Your legs parted effortlessly as Jaebum slipped between them; your skirt bunching up as it rose up your thigh. Jaebum’s hands finally left your body and your chest expanded.

The ghost of his touch burned you with its sudden coldness.

A strong arm reached behind you on the right. His left hand fell on your knees, slowly, dangerously moving up.

You weren’t breathing; you couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move under his touch.

You couldn’t move under his heated gaze.

Jaebum’s eyes did not leave yours as he leaned in closer. His dark eyes flickering to your lips, a knowing small smile on his lips as your chest heaved. You gulped nervously as his lips drew closer, so close you could taste his breath on your tongue.

You closed your eyes as you felt him lean in closer. His tortuously slow left hand deliciously moved higher, his fingertips gracing the inside of your thighs.

His lips touched you, barely missing your lips. A small sigh left you, and you felt a smile blossom on his soft lips. Jaebum placed another kiss, lower, and then another. Another soft sigh fell from your lips when his lips kissed your neck; you felt his lips drag upwards towards your ear.

His fingertips dug into your thighs, as he gently blew into your ear. You held your breath to stop the whimper from escaping you. You felt so hot; you were sure if Jaebum's fingers as much as travelled any bit further he would be able to feel your body reacting to him.

You could feel your core tangled and a mess of nerves, and a heartbeat down below, in anticipation.

“I have barely touched you and you’re such a beautiful little mess, love,” Jaebum whispered into your ear. You closed your eyes swallowing the painful truth in his words and the shame climbing over your body. “Trust me, if I ever wanted to fuck someone you wouldn’t have to guess. You would know.”

You believed him. If something more was happening that day, you would have known.

You felt him move away, but you kept your eyes closed. Your breath leaving you shakingly as you tried to regain control over yourself. You could feel him look at you; you felt his gaze burn you as he took you in.

You wondered what he saw. How much could he see?

Could he see your cheeks deep with a blush? Your lips wet with anticipation? Your chest heaving? Your breath shattering? All because of him and his nearness, how much could he see... what did he think of it...

Could he see your mind racing with thoughts of him? Racing with all that could happen next? His lips on yours, your moans filling up the quiet office as he groaned, filling you up, spreading you wide open on his desk.

Could he see how you were trying to control yourself?

You opened your eyes and wished you hadn’t. You would rather see them clouded with rage, even unfiltered lust would be better than the softness you found. The honey brown in his eyes met your gaze with desire, want and longing.

It was disgusting.

It was terrible.

It was horrifying how Im Jaebum could make you feel when he was looking at you like that. As if his hands burned beside him, begging to touch you. As if he would cease to exist if he did not touch you, kiss you, hold you. As if you were all he could ever want in the world, but you were the only thing he could never have.

You would rather take animalistic lust over that.

You tore your eyes away from him. Jaebum took a step back and you hopped off the desk. You straightened your skirt avoiding his face. But Im Jaebum wasn’t looking at you as well, his gaze focused on the floor but his mind somewhere far away.

“I won’t worry Heather with this,” you croaked out. Jaebum nodded absent-mindedly, and you began walking out. You were almost to the door when you stopped. You bit your lip, unsure, but decided to say it anyway, “Don’t take it personally, Jaebum. It’s not you, I’ve just been in a mood and caught up with something else. I- I guess, that’s why you thought I was avoiding you.”

“Oh,” Jaebum replied, softly. You turned around to find him giving you all his attention, “Is there something I can do to help you?”

You shook your head with a small smile, “No.”

The moment you had been dreading finally arrived that afternoon.

“Good evening, Meridian Firm,” you answered, automatically. You hated answering phone calls, you would rather email.

“Hello, I’m calling from Spring Industries-”

You knew. You knew.

“I’m calling on behalf of our CEO Park Jinyoung,” the lady on the other spoke, and you tried to control your breathing. “He would like a meeting with Director Im.”

“I will let Director Im know.”

“Can we pencil a meeting date right now, and you can confirm it later? My boss really wants an answer,” the lady on the side spoke sounding more humane.

You knew what she meant by that too. You knew how he got when he didn't get what he wanted.

“Of course,” you pulled out the calendar planner looking for the next empty date, “How is next week Thursday at five-thirty in the evening?”

“Hmm, let me check,” you heard a few clicks on the other side, and prayed it wouldn’t match. “Oh, perfect! Hope to hear from you soon!”

“Alright, goodbye,” you say before hanging up. You sighed, tired, as you run your fingers through your hair.

You knew this moment was coming, but you hadn't expected it to come so soon. You weren’t sure if you were ready. Your stomach churned at the thought of seeing him again.

“Hey, you alright?”

You looked up to find Im Jaebum standing by your desk with concerned eyes. You nodded, smiling slightly at how adorable he looked worried, “I’m good.”

“I...” he started but trailed off. “Let’s go get dinner.”

You were about to say no when he added, “Heather and Bam are already on their way. And Heather said she wants you there.”

You sighed, exhausted, “Alright.”

“Oh, and uh,” you paused, biting your lips, breathless. “The CEO of Spring Industries wants to meet you next week Thursday at five-thirty, how should I reply?”

“Am I free?” You nodded in reply. Jaebum just shrugged, nonchalant, “Cool, tell them yes.”

You nodded once again, doom already clouding over you.

#duff #im jaebum #im jaebeom #lim #im #jaebum #jaebeom #got7 #got7 jaebum #got7 jaebeom #got7 series #jaebum series #series #jaebeom series #imagine #jaebum fanfic #fanfic #got7 smut #got7 angst #jaebum angst #angst #got7 fluff #jaebum fluff #fluff #cheating #jaebum angsts #jaebeom angst #ceo #Jaebum ceo #imagine angst

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

A Reading: Part 5 (Poly!Lost Boys x Fem!Witch reader)

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

Warnings: cursing, violence mention, not Edited lmao

Word count: 2.8k~

Well? David asked the brunette. Talking through thoughts was the only way to be safe. The only way to truly keep Star out of the loop. But the tallest seemed to be hesitating with how he looked to where Star hid, seeing a flutter of curtains that told them she had retreated back into her room. She was out of sight, but the boys knew she had nothing better to do than listen. They'd heard her thoughts about you. So far, she didn't know what you were, why you were truly here. She suspected you were a meal, or, in her mind, worse. That they had liked you the same way David had liked her, and that she was due to become one of them.

They could keep a half out of their heads with ease, but it was much more difficult when it came to eachother. To Star, their thoughts were muffled. Like she was hearing them from underwater. She knew they were talking, but she wouldn't be able to make out what unless one of the boys truly wanted her to. Or was too loud. She wouldn't know the truth, and it was a relief to hear nothing close to the truth ring from her head.

Dwayne trained his eyes back on their blonde leader.

She's hooked. She'll definitely help us. He said, and Paul grinned widely to himself.

I told you my idea would work. He said smugly, and each of the boys sent him a glare. He was loud, even through their thoughts. Too loud. If he wasn't careful, Star would hear him. 

Yeah, yeah, don't milk it. Came Markos thought. He could hear them, keep in tune, even from somewhere inside the cave. Still, Paul was visibly proud of himself. It had been his idea to flirt with you, get you emotionally invested. While you were a witch, they could smell your soft heart. If you liked them, as friends, lovers, whatever, you wouldn't let them die. You might've not even let them die if Paul had just given you his puppy dog eyes for long enough. But, still, having you as an ally was an undeniable asset. And it was a bond that would only be strengthened by friendship. 

Or more. Paul said, and David flicked the ashes of his cigarette at him.

Down, boy. We need her to be focused. You need to be focused. David told him. Paul was a lot of things, and a distraction was definitely one of them. It's why Marko was taking her to her room. He could be friendly and blend into the background. Paul had whined about it for forever.

I am focused! Paul threw back, but Dwayne rolled his eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest, staring at the blonde.

Focused on screwing her doesn't count, Paul. Dwayne threw back, and Paul sighed. He ran a hand through his hair as he thought,

Fine, whatever. What do we do now? He asked the platinum blonde. David took a drag of his cigarette, glancing where Marko had taken you. While it'd been his idea to have you help them, he hated this more than any of them. He hated that their fate was in your hands. And he hated most that he didn't know how capable they were. David let out a plume of smoke before he thought,

We just have to wait and see if she gets us killed. 

***

You were surprised to find that you were almost a little touched to see that they'd set something up for you. They had placed you in the same room as where they slept, or, well, that's what it seemed like. You recognized the ladder and, when you looked up, you saw pipes that looked a little too perfect to hang from.

It was just a mattress and some bed clothes, a pile of pillows and blankets. But the boys had obviously done their best with what they could find, and had done as much as they could to make it look inviting. You found yourself smiling, and tucking your hair behind your ear as you looked around the room. 

Marko had taken your stuff from Dwayne, and he set it on your makeshift bed. You were looking around where they slept. It wasn't the biggest room, and the mattress practically took up most of the floor. Almost the entirety of the rest of it had candles set up for your benefit. But, you were grateful that they'd done anything, and you sat on the bed to take your books out of your duffel bag. You flipped to the page that you needed, and Marko moved to sit besides you so he could watch you as you read the pages, and you glanced up at him for a moment. He was close, but not too close. He was leaning on one of his arms, chewing on his nail. You didn't let your eyes stay on him for long. You weren't sure you'd be able to handle getting flirted with by another vampire this evening, and, instead, you reached into your bag to take out everything you'd need to ward the room.

You started with a cast of protection over the room, and Marko watched you with interest as you took a piece of chalk to draw sigils over the space and onto the rock walls. After the protection spell was cast, you wiped your brow and tried not to think of how tired you were. You were starting to feel drained. Of energy, of sleep. You were lucky you had a few hours before dawn so you could get some rest. You finished up what you'd planned by casting some wards, just some spells to act as alarms. If anyone came in, the five of you would know. Finally, you glanced at the main entrance to their little sub-cave. There was an opening higher up, and you guessed that was how the boys came in. But you glanced around, finding that there was only one main opening. Marko had taken you through the tunnels, but you wondered just how many ways there were to get to this part of their cave. Before you could ask, Marko was piping up,

"The tunnels are like a maze. Really, I'm more surprised they found us than anything." He said. He almost sounded impressed, and you glanced over at him. His words struck you for a moment, and you looked around the room. You went to your bag, a new thought occurring to you and you wanted to see if you had the proper materials. You grinned when you saw that you did. You set your book on the ground, right in front of the entrance to their cave. You took two pieces of string and walked around the room to collect any sticks you could find. You settled when you found five, and etched an initial into each of them with a rock. You tied the strings around the bundle of sticks, looking at your book so you could whisper the phrase over and over to yourself. When you were finished, you found a rock that jutted out above the entrance. You hung the bundle above the door, and turned to gesture to the bundle. He lifted his brows, unsure of what you had just done.

"I hid the entrance. There are five sticks, one for each of us. So, only we can see it." You told him, and a flash of surprise came into his eyes. It was smart, a smarter idea than it seemed any of them would think of. 

"Shit. Good thinking." He said, and you tried not to let the praise affect you too much. He gave you a small smile, and you returned it before you sat on your bed. You felt good, felt useful. Though, it wasn't completely foolproof. 

"I mean, they won't see an entrance, but it's just a smoke-screen-" Still, Marko interrupted you and reached out to take your hand before he said,

"Thank you. For everything." His eyes were trained on you, making you understand that he was being sincere. You found your lips twisting into a shy smile from the eyecontact, and you quickly tried to find something else to grab your attention. You reached into your bag, pulling out the necklace you'd fashioned for him. You stifled a yawn before you said, 

"Here." You whispered and held it out for him. He took it, and only looked at it for a moment before he was pulling it over his head. He glanced at it from where it was around his neck, and then he smiled lightly to himself when he saw how you began pushing your duffel off the bed. You needed some sleep if you were going to be able to stay up the entire day. Marko reached out, grazing a hand over your cheek to drag your attention back to him. 

When your eyes connected with his, images flashed through your mind. Expectations. You imagined him leaning in to kiss you, starting another whatever this was with another one of the four vampires. The idea of lips against yours, his hand on your cheek. You wondered how his kiss would be different than the other pairs. Pauls had been a frenzy of heat, while Dwaynes had been slow and mind numbing. Your eyes flicked down to the pink of his mouth instinctively, but in the next second you blushed. You realized that all your thoughts had been on display, and that he had probably heard everything. To confirm that, Marko snickered.

He erupted into a small fit of laughter, making the heat on your cheeks grow even warmer. But the second you tried to push away his hand and retreat in embarrassment, he said,

"No, no, I'm sorry. It was just- You're just cute, okay?" He said, but that did nothing to aid in your embarrassment. Marko leaned back, a grin on his face as he lifted his thumb up to chew on it. The way he leaned back made it so his shirt lifted up, exposing even more of the toned skin of his abdomen. You tried to keep your eyes trained away from the flesh if only for the sake of keeping your thoughts clean. With a glint in his eyes, he followed his words with, "Plus, I'm used to people thinking about me in that way." He said, making it clear what he meant by emphasizing his words. You didn't know if he was trying to make your blush worse, but he pulled himself up and ran a knuckle down your cheek, "But not from someone as pretty as yourself." And, in that moment, you decided that he was just as bad as Paul. He laughed again, leaning forward as the laugh shook through him. You realized he had heard that thought too, and he leaned back to lay on your bed as his joy ran through him.

You pushed your hair from your face, rolling your eyes at how much your thoughts seemed to amuse him. He pointed at you, shaking his finger as he said,

"Paul was right about you. You're fun." He paused for a moment, his eyes glancing away. Back towards where you came. "But you need some sleep. Big day." He said, and gave you a wink from where he was laying before he was pulling himself up. He pressed a kiss to your cheek before he pulled away altogether. A small wave and then he was heading out of the room. You watched as the strangest of the boys disappeared.

He hadn't even kissed you properly and he'd left you in a whirlwind. You stared after him for a moment, before looking around the room. Even with the light being casted by the candles, you could tell that it was normally a dark room. Pitch black, probably. Perfect for vampires, you told yourself. You changed into a pair of pajamas, ones that were long and would keep you warm in the cold cave. As you laid back and tried to go to sleep, you couldn't help but think of how you'd been lead up to this point. Of when the boys would come. It could be today, tomorrow, maybe a week from now. At least, with your current situation, your biggest worry was a group of four unruly vampires.

You found yourself reaching for your cheek, wondering what else you could pry from your cards if you decided to look into your own future.

***

Marko rejoined the rest of them in the front room, their thoughts filtering louder and louder into his head.

-Happens after all this is over? Paul has asked, and Marko was quick to figure out their current topic of conversation. David gave him an arch of his brow, and Marko didn't need to hear his thoughts to know what he was thinking.

She's sleeping. She set up some protection, some alarms, and hid the entrance. She seems like she knows what she's doing. Marko added, but David didn't respond. Dwayne nodded, showing a subtle sign that he agreed. David's eyes flicked to the necklace hanging in front of his shirt, and Marko told him, Made one for each of us. She's taking this pretty seriously. And Marko heard David's voice ring out in his head then.

She better. Their lives were on the line. If you didn't, they'd have no use for you except as for a final meal. But the boys knew what Dwayne had told you. It had been a final test, one to see if you really would help them. To see if you were worth keeping alive. It seemed that, for now, you were. It was then that Paul repeated his previous question.

Well? What are we gonna do after all of this? Are we gonna keep her? He asked. They hadn't exactly figured out the details. They didn't have time to. Everything had changed so quickly, and they still hadn't even told Max about what they'd found out. David tapped the ash off the end of his cigarette, sighing as he thought,

I already told you. Let's just survive first.

***

You had only gotten a couple hours of sleep, and you'd been sipping on a thermos full of coffee as you leaned against the cave wall. You were supposed to stay up all day, and you didn't realize how difficult that was truly going to be. 

You'd set up some alarms, ones that you knew would wake you up if they were disturbed. But, you figured, at least for the first night, you'd show how much you were willing to do to help them. You'd stared around the room, memorized pretty much all of it. It'd been interesting to see how the boys slept for awhile. They hung upside down, their hair hanging from where they perched. They crossed their arms over their chests and they were completely still. Almost as if they were dead. I guess they technically are, you thought. This was the only time you could think freely, not have to worry about anyone hearing you.

You'd given the rest of the boys their necklaces before they'd gone to sleep, and it comforted you a bit. You knew if anyone did happen to get by you, the spell you'd placed on their jewelry would give whoever a nasty surprise and you, at least, hoped you'd get to see it.

But, now that you were edging close to a chronic case of boredom, you pulled some of the books you'd packed out of your duffel. You'd brought a couple of books, thinking you brush up on your herbology, but you ended up paging through a book of cryptozoology. Of course, this wasn't one you'd checked out of a normal library. It'd been passed down in your family, handwritten with everything they knew about different creatures. You paged through it until you found a chapter about vampires. You figured that the least you could do was really get to know your new roommates.

The information was a little underwhelming. Drank blood, traveled in packs, could fly, were turned by exchanging blood...These were all things you could've guessed. You were able to write in their ability to read minds, but a frown dusted your face when you continued reading. At the end of their general profile, in one of your ancestors scrawl, it was written 'Never trust a vampire. They only care about themselves and their own.' You stared at that line, and then looked up at the boys hanging above you. Sure, they wouldn't kill you now. You were helping them. But a worm of doubt had crawled in about what would happen once this was over. You protect us, we'll protect you, Davids voice rang in your head. How could you be sure they'd keep their end of the deal? It wasn't like you planned on staying long anyways, but how could you be sure you wouldn't end up as an easy dinner the second their threat was terminated? You sighed, deciding to push those thoughts from your head and flip through the rest of their chapter to try to find any useful information you could focus on instead.

You didn't know when, or for how long, but you'd fallen asleep. It'd been a simple blink, a close of your eyelids that had lasted too long. Your eyelids were too heavy to pick back up, but then you heard it.

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys paul #paul the lost boys #the lost boys marko #the lost boys david #the lost boys dwayne #david the lost boys #marko the lost boys #the lost boys x reader

[kodavistaa]

F.E.A.R.

Summary: Joygrave encounters a vampire problem after Vampstille gives them a surprise visit.

Notes: This is inspired by this awesome video by The Hoodies (Joywave’s old band) and all the Vampstille lore, of course. I recommended watching it before you read, although this fic does make some changes to the video. Also I originally wrote this as a joke, but honestly I don’t know if it still is anymore, so if this skirts a weird line between comedy and seriousness, that’s why.

Warnings: Vampire murder, cringe, me not knowing how British people speak

“If you guys want anything to drink, we have water, coffee… or tea, whatever you British people drink,” Daniel Armbruster says as the Vampstille and Joygrave guys are casually chatting. To Daniel’s dismay, the Vampstille guys have suddenly shown up at the Joycave, coming back from a vampire hunt, and made themselves at home for the night.

“So how have you lot been?” Diordan asks.

“Things have gotten a bit hectic since Ben left to go into demon hunting, but it’s been good, just the usual ghostbusting,” Joey replies.

“What was that vampire hunt you guys said you were coming back from?” Daniel asks.

“A new clan was causing trouble in Buffalo,” Woody says, “it’s good we nipped the problem right in the bud. Once a clan starts growing it becomes a real pain.”

“Rochester has had more vampire activity recently,” Daniel sighs, “we think they’re just passing by, but I do not want to deal with vampires coming here. Our vacuum isn’t equipped for vampires yet.”

~~~

Crash!

Daniel wakes up groggily and has the nagging feeling that Diordan touched something he wasn’t supposed to mess with.

“I swear if he breaks something,” Daniel mumbles as he puts on his glasses.

He makes his way out of his room and sees Diordan wandering about.

“Hey,” Daniel yells, “I told you not to touch any- ohhhh, you’re not Dan.”

An unfamiliar vampire flashes his fangs at Daniel.

“Noooooo!” Daniel screams, throwing the nearest thing next to him, a cereal bowl, at the vampire, and runs. The vampire pins Daniel against the wall and aims his fangs at his neck, but suddenly drops dead before he can bite Daniel. 

Diordan stands in front of the other, stake in hand, “you okay?”

Daniel exhales, “yeah.”

The window next to them breaks and a few vampires jump in.

“Oh God no,” Daniel whines, “what did you bring with you?”

“Dunno,” Diordan replies, getting his spare stake and tossing it to Daniel, “but unless you want to become someone’s next meal, you gotta fight.”

Woody bursts into the room in his wolf form, taking out one of the vampires. The rest of Vampstille and Joygrave follow, all armed with stakes.

“We’re surrounded, one of them almost got Paul,” Kyle says, “how are we going to get out of this one?”

“How many are there out there?” Diordan asks as he fights off another vampire.

“About 10, but we don’t know if there’s more coming,” Will answers, gracefully dodging a vampire flying at him.

“There’s 7 of us, we can take them.”

“I think you overestimate me!” Daniel screams as he sends his stake into a vampire, “ugh, I really hate doing that.”

Diordan chuckles, “you got it, mate, just do that 9 more times.”

Vampstille and Joygrave work surprisingly well together, taking out vampires like a well-oiled machine. Soon enough, the intruders start retreating.

“How many escaped?” Diordan asks.

“Four,” Woody answers, back in his human form.

“What was that?” Daniel says, exasperated, “were they from the clan you guys dealt with?”

Woody shakes his head, “no, totally different scent.”

“Those vampires were trying to get you,” Will says, looking at the Joygrave boys, “they totally ignored me sometimes. Strange, because I’m clearly the bigger threat.”

The Joygrave guys gulp.

“Could any vampires be after you?” Diordan asks.

“No! We don’t do vampires, if you haven’t figured it out already,” Daniel says, digging through his drawers to find his cross he definitely put somewhere in the Joycave years ago.

“Yeah, he gets creeped out when I’m in my bat form, tries to vacuum me,” Diordan replies, side-eyeing Daniel, “there has to be something else...”

“I think we should follow them,” Kyle suggests, “get a surprise on them before they can recover. We’ll have the equipment from the van with us this time.”

~~~

“Woody, do you smell anything?” Kyle asks.

Woody takes a moment to sniff the wind, “I’m getting 3 vampires, just here recently.”

“You said there were 4 of them that escaped, right?” Joey says.

Diordan peers at a rock with a few drops of blood not yet dried on it, “you think the other one could’ve split up?”

“They could be getting back up,” Will suggests.

They find themselves following the path of the vampires to a rickety and old, but large, mansion.

“Are you sure it ends here?” Diordan asks Woody, to which the werewolf nods.

Kyle opens the trunk of the van, “let’s get suited up.”

Woody leads the group as they enter the house carefully, hyper-aware of any sounds or changes of wind. He motions to a staircase leading down the basement and as they make their way down the stairs, faint music can barely be heard through the walls.

“Do you hear that?” Joey whispers.

Daniel’s face turns pale, “no, it can’t be.”

“What is it?” Kyle asks.

“It’s… it’s,” Paul stutters, “it’s Rock & Roll Part 2.”

“Guys, the EMF is off the charts,” Joey says, pointing at his EMF meter, “it’s a level 5 apparition.”

“What are you talking about?” Diordan asks, confused.

Daniel pushes the group up the stairs, “we have to get out of here, now!”

A red figure flies past them, bringing a gust of wind that almost knocks them off their feet, and Daniel thinks he sees a flash of sparkly gold sunglasses before they all rush into the van, driving off as fast as the van can handle.

“What was that?” Diordan asks exasperatedly.

“Terry Glitter,” Daniel replies solemnly, “it was one of our first experiences ghost hunting. We weren’t even Joygrave yet, we were The Spookies. We were going to a gig, the first one in a long time. It turned out the promoter was a ghost, vengeful and swore to terrorize all musicians... He got our friend, Brandon.”

Daniel sniffles as Joey pats him on the back, “we thought we contained him.”

“We didn’t know about level 5 apparitions then, and our equipment wasn’t the best,” Joey says, “he must’ve tricked us and escaped.”

“Level 5 apparition? Can you get rid of those?” Woody wonders.

Paul nods, “we have the proper equipment now, back at the Joycave, but it’s a ghost trap and it needs to be set up discreetly, which usually means we have to lure the ghost to our location.”

“So you’re going to lure the ghost to the Joycave?” Will asks.

“No! That would be a disaster,” Daniel exclaims, “if he figures out he can unleash all of the ghosts we’ve ever captured by destroying our storage chamber, it would be chaos. Good thing the chamber is super discreet, looks like a Joygrave travel mug.”

Diordan facepalms, “oh my God, I almost opened that.”

“Didn’t I tell you NOT to touch anything? I said that like 4 or 5 times before-”

“There’s a barn we can use,” Joey interrupts Daniel before the mustachioed man goes on a rant, “we just have to find a way to get them there.”

~~~

“Okay, I’m at the barn now, I’ll go check,” Daniel says, hanging up the phone. Walking up the barn, Daniel hears some faint shuffling behind him, but shrugs it off. He goes inside and the door slams shut immediately.

“You must be brave going places alone, especially this barn where there’s no one else nearby,” Terry Glitter’s familiar voice taunts as Rock & Roll Part 2 plays in the distance, “I have to say, though, I didn’t expect you boys to make friends with vampire hunters, but that’s just a small hiccup in my plans.”

The ghost materializes in front of Daniel, leaning on his pickaxe with a sinister smile. A few bats fly around the two, turning into their vampire forms behind the ghost. Daniel takes a step back, bringing out his Portable Joygrave Ghost Vacuum™.

Terry laughs, “you think that thing can get me.”

“No, but this can,” Daniel replies.

An awkward silence ensues and Terry looks around in confusion.

“I SAID BUT THIS CAN,” Daniel yells, annoyed.

A green beam appears from the back of the room slowly pulling Terry into the ghost trap.

“Destroy that trap!” Terry yells at the vampires.

The door flies open and Diordan leaps at a vampire trying to get to the trap. The rest follow in, armed to the teeth with vampire and ghost hunting gear.

Daniel dodges a vampire lunging at him as Will expertly throws a stake at the vampire. A bookcase flies at Woody, which he manages to escape.

“Paul! The ghost!” Daniel yells as Paul gets out his Joygrave Ghost Power Dampener™ and blasts it at Terry before he sends another piece of furniture flying.

“This ghost kind of looks like Paul,” Kyle says.

Diordan shrugs, “I don’t see it.”

“Just imagine him without the sunglasses.”

“Hmm, I don’t know.”

“No, he definitely doesn’t look like me,” Paul adds.

“See!”

“Hello? There’s a vampire problem here!” Daniel yells as he tries to throw a stake at a vampire getting too close to the trap. Diordan knocks down the vampire, ending them with a quick blow.

“Was that the last vampire?” Joey asks.

“I think so,” Will replies, wiping off sweat from his forehead.

Terry looks like he’s fuming, getting pulled into the trap, “you all will pay for this! I will escape and I’ll bring every ghost with-”

“Oh no! I can’t hear you. We’re breaking up, bye!” Daniel yells as the trap closes.

“Successful hunt wasn’t it?” Woody says, back in his human form, “not as much goo as I expected.”

The group laughs, finally able to breathe a sigh of relief.

“Who wants to burn stuff in the firepit?”

#ngl this isn't my best work but it was fun #vampstille #joywave #bastille #fic

[votederpycausemufins]

more content for the SF series! (since the first one was Summoning Family and now it's Surprisingly Familiar). i can't believe it's chapter 5. and i'm not sure if i mean can't believe it's only ch. 5, or already ch. 5. you know, both is good!

Edit: iforgottotagpeople iforgottotagpeople iforgottotagpeople!!! @petrichormeraki and @helleborusangel forgive meeeee

“Let me take care of one thing before we explore the rest of the server.” Sense spoke up, Grian only half paying attention. “You can explore as you see fit, but I wouldn’t wander too far.”

As the redstoner walked away, Grian went the other direction for a few steps before stopping. “Are you going to keep following me around or what?” There was no immediate answer, but then someone appeared near Grian.

“Well, you look different than before.” Came an echoey voice from the figure who was greyed out and transparent. “What happened?”

“I’m from the past, but not the past here, so I’m not going to be able to fix whatever is wrong with you.” Grian replied, crossing his arms. It had already been explained that Grifter went looking for a new dimension to find alternate versions of his family since apparently the real versions weren’t the best. Grian didn’t fully believe it at this point, but Sense said Grifter would bring back some proof, which was a little worrying.

“There’s nothing you need to fix for me.” The ghost, because that’s all it could be, responded. “There is no business I have unfinished that you could finish for me. And that’s fine with me. It means I can help and explore with little worry, though I do like this castle.”

“Right.” Grian responded, unsure how to feel about the ghost. He already dealt with a few at school, some better than others, so he wasn’t exactly sure how this one would act. “Well, I would like if you stopped following me around.”

“Alright Grifter.” The ghost replied, and then left, going down a hallway before disappearing. Even with them gone, Grian still felt on edge, so he didn’t go far, just going back to where he had been left. When Sense did finally come back, Grifter was with him again, which finally helped Grian feel a bit safer again.

“Alright, so, I’ve talked with a few people to make sure they don’t cause problems as well as pick up some papers with information you might want to know. And you don’t need to worry about it getting damaged because it’s magically protected.”

“Your magic, or other Listeners?” Grian asked, which surprised Grifter. He looked over to Sense who didn’t look as concerned and quickly explained.

“I gave Grian a quick tour of the castle and explained some things along the way. About the magic from being a Listener. How Grian may still have magic but is also still considered in-training so his magic is much weaker. How you came here trying to dimension hop for Taurtis again and how that went. Things like that.”

Grifter smiled and gave Sense a kiss, which he used to quietly whisper a message to him. He then pulled back and made sure Grian definitely heard him the second time he spoke to keep up appearances. “Thank you. And he took it well? I mean… I- he does look a little…”

Grian crossed his arms. “I’m fine. I’ve got the basics which is already pretty helpful. If I can learn how to use magic, I might be able to use that when I go back and save Taurtis since obviously new dimensions are off the table again.”

Grifter raised an eyebrow and Sense elaborated. “So far he’s only hopped once and got rid of their second universe versions.”

“It would be complicated if there were two of us. I mean, it’s already complicated enough with you and me and we look pretty different, what with you being older and all.”

“Yeah, same sentiment when I got here.” Grifter agreed. “Essentially this place is all flipped around. I mean, dad here is Death instead of mom, the Sam here was good, The me- you- us here was like some sort of god and got imprisoned. Stuff like that. People see me and think I’m the one that got imprisoned, so they used his name for me, and I mean, it’s pretty close to Grian.”

“You really don’t mind?” Grian asked, making Grifter shrug.

“Well, either way the nickname is Gri, so I don’t mind too terribly much. And it’s better than… you know.”

Grian shuddered a little before Grifter started leading them all away, putting the small stack of papers he had into a bag and giving the bag to Grian. The teen took the bag and opened it up to look inside, finding the newly added papers as well as a bunch of pink things. Pulling one out, Grian was surprised to find it was a sword, and another a shovel. He put those back in and then pulled out some yellow carrots, which seemed to glitter as he held them in the light. “What is all of this?”

Grifter turned around to face Grian, walking backwards a few steps to see what was being talked about. “Oh, that’s a bunch of starter gear. I mean, normally it would be iron, but I doubt you wanted that, and I’m sort of in charge around here - long story - so I upgraded you to aetherite which is as good as you can get here. You’ve got a sword, pick, axe, shovel, and a full set of armor. I’ve also given you golden carrots and plenty of steak so you won’t be hurting for food. Also there’s a crossbow and plenty of stuff to load it with, like arrows, darts and fireworks.”

Grian nodded slowly, looking through the bag again. “Okay, can I like… get trained how to use these? I mean I sort of know how to use this stuff from, you know. But I mean, can I get a gun or something?”

“Oh of course!” Sense was the one to reply, putting down a shulker box. “What type are you after? Standard or more upgraded?”

“Handgun with plenty of ammo before reloading sounds best.” Grian said, looking into the box. Sense helped him find one that fit what he liked as well as ammo that matched, and then it went in the bag.

“I still think you should train with the other weapons to be safe, but gun still is better than umbrella.” Grifter commented, getting a look from Grian before he confirmed that, yes, someone’s main weapon of choice around there was an umbrella.

“Alright, now that you’re geared up, let’s get on with a proper tour!”

.

.

.

A good sized team entered into Helscraft, consisting of Mumbo, Grum (Jrum wanted to stay behind and watch Kokatori, but Mumbo thought it might also be some fear of getting stranded again), Doc, Tommy, Phil, Xisuma, and Paul. Wilbur and Techno also tagged along when they heard the news, refusing to let their brother disappear again. More of the hermits wanted to go, but with the two triplets refusing to take no for an answer and Xisuma not wanting to take too many people to hels at once, they didn’t really have room.

Xisuma attempted to get all of them to the main spawn island for the world, but that didn’t quite work out with everyone except him arriving there. That was soon followed by Grum taking charge and leading them through the world and to the foot of a black and yellow building, which he knocked on the door of.

A few minutes later, the doors finally opened to someone in dark red armor and a helmet with a much more standard design. “What do you want? I’m in the middle of something.” The person said, looking just at Grum at first. “Oh, it’s you. If NPG isn’t at home, he’s probably-”

“No. We need Xisuma back.” Grum spoke up, and this time the person looked up at the rest of the group and sighed.

“Honestly, I finally got him back here again and you’ve got to take him away immediately? Here I thought it was finally something to improve this… horrid week. What do you need him for anyway? Isn’t he just a chauffeur or whatever?”

Tommy was the first to respond, pushing to the front of the group. “Look bitch, we don’t want to deal with any more shit right now. Just hand over him and Grian so we can leave.”

Though the red tinted visor, Tommy could just barely see the hels admin raise an eyebrow. “Grian? My brother is the only one here from wels not in your group.”

“Wrong answer fucker! We know that Gr-” Tommy was cut off as something lowered from the ceiling. Everyone stared as a pink worm on a string descended from somewhere inside the door. It had yellow paper cutouts of a mask, cape and M decorating it, and it kept getting lower until it was eye level with Evil Xisuma, then lightly bonked against his helmet a few times.

The way the hels admin slumped slightly and his eyes stared back just showing how done he was with everything. “Would you excuse me for just one second?” He said, and then the worm started to go back up before EX grabbed it, trapping it in a fist, then yanking down, someone falling from the ceiling a moment later. “Get out of my house Phedaz.”

The helsmit with dark blue hair, matching pale blue skin that faded to black on his arms and pitch black eyes picked up the discarded worm on a string before scuttling off through the door on all fours, racing past the team after Grian. “What the fuck was that?!”

“Phedaz.” EX said in a bored and defeated tone. “He’s been doing that all week. I just wanted to torture my brother a little to blow off some steam, is that too much to ask?”

“When we’re looking for Grian, it really is.” Mumbo spoke up, making the Helsmit sigh.

“Well, Grian’s not here, only NPG. Not even Grifter is here, and he hasn’t been here for a day or two now. That being said, Sense did leave a few hours ago, likely to meet up with that bastard.”

“Okay, so where are they?” Paul spoke up, getting EX’s attention.

The hels admin stared at Paul before pulling out a potion of some sorts and chugging it. “I’m not sane enough for this right now. Go talk with Theseus will you? Come back here when you need to leave or whatever and I’ll let you have him.”

.

.

.

“Alright! And that’s about it for the tour!” Grifter said cheerily as he, Grian, Sense, and now the two hels bots arrived at the castle again. “Now as a reminder, you should do your best to stay away from any areas we did not tour just to be on the safe side. The one exception would be where Euro and Krys are staying, but it’s far enough away I wouldn’t bother, plus Silski always likes to visit and staying away from him in general is a good idea.”

Grifter was going to say more, but then Sense stopped walking. “Oh for fucks sake, he’s back.”

Grian looked over to where Sense was looking and saw someone vaguely familiar leaning against the castle wall. They wore a trench coat and a beanie that struggled to hold down their very puffy brown and grey hair and they also held a guitar, quietly strumming a few cords. “Hey, you’re back. Missed you at the show.”

Before Grian could ask any questions, Grifter stomped over to the person, followed by Sense who was getting out a weapon. “Off the property Wile.”

“Pay me.”

“I’m not paying you. Leave.”

The person, Wile, stared Grifter down for a few seconds before shrugging. “Nah, gotta pay me first. Anyway, here’s Wonderwall.” And he started to play the first few notes of a song. He didn’t get far though, because Sense walked up to him. He didn’t even use his weapon to attack, simply yanking the guitar from his hands and smashing it against the castle wall in one fluid motion.

Wile looked down at the broken pieces of his instrument for a moment before pulling out a second guitar and continuing the song. Sense yelled in frustration while Grifter pulled a few feathers out of his wings. Grian reacted more than his copy, wincing at what was likely painful, but the hels didn’t mind. He instead used the pulled feathers as knives, stabbing them into Wile until he dropped to the ground, dead.

“Oh my god! Is he dead?!” Grian yelled after the person didn’t move for a while.

“Yes and no.” Grifter replied, kicking the body to the side. “He respawns, it’s just his corpse stays with his shit in it. Seesee, would you be a dear?” Sense didn’t get a chance to react as Sefter walked up first and heaved the body over his head, then chucked it as far as he could away from the castle. “Hmm, well that works too I guess.”

Grian stared in the direction of Wile’s corpse before turning back to Grifter. “Who… Who was that?”

“Wile.” Grifter replied. “Essentially the Wilbur here. The only plus to him over Wil is that he mostly just sticks to L’Manberg.”

“Oh? Where’s that?” Grian asked. It wasn’t a place they really covered in the tour, but a few other countries had been mentioned.”

“Yeah, no. I don’t want you heading over there.” Grifter replied. “Sense, back me up here.”

Grian was a little surprised by Grifter calling the redstone by his name and not a nickname. “I know you said you’re… well you’re most likely over eighteen.”

“I am, but what does that have to do with it?” Grian asked, rolling his eyes slightly.

“L’Manberg’s a stripclub.”

That left Grian silent for a few seconds before he simply said, “Oh.”

“Well, now that things are awkward, I suppose you could meet some of the better parts of the family. They weren’t around for so long, they won’t be able to tell that past me isn’t past Grifter.”

“Who exactly is everyone here?” Grian asked, following Grifter as he started to walk off away from the castle again, Sense and the bots heading inside.

“Alright, I already covered Dad being Death.” Grifter started to explain. “Technically there’s another death which is his brother, but we don’t really cover him. Mom is named Krystina, or just Krys.” Grifter then gestured to where Wile’s body was thrown. “We already covered Wilbur and Wile. Instead of Techno, we have Euro, who mostly lives with Krys. Theseus is Tommy, and he’s moved elsewhere.”

“Why do I feel like there’s more?” Grian asked with slight hesitance.

Grifter shrugged. “Because there is. That’s just the bit you’re familiar with. Even though Wile’s a stripper, he is married to Sadie. Sadie has a kid named Fleur who’s a little older than you are right now. Krys also half adopted Silski, so technically that’s another sibling but I won’t count them. If you do want to, then they’re married and have a kid, but that’s not really important.”

“So… Sadie, Fleur, Silski, and two other people?” Grian asked, making sure he was following along. “Can I know their names just to be safe?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. Silski’s married to this guy named Toob and they adopted a kid named Jane. Well, technically it’s ꄘ꒓ꂑꋫꁍꀭꆂ꒒ꁕ, but pronouncing that is a mess so they named her Jane instead.”

“Right… Do you have anywhere I can write this down?”

.

.

.

After what happened with Tommy before, the entire group was ready to attack if need be. Paul was the one to knock on the throne room door, willing to be the first line of defense. There was no answer at first, but footsteps from behind the door had everyone put their guard up. They all waited with bated breath before finally the large doors opened, and then Grian poked his head out.

Mumbo, Tommy and Grum all quickly recognized that it wasn’t actually the missing hermit, but the others were too worried that they reacted too fast. “Oi Grian, what the fuck was all that mate?”

After a moment, NPG pulled themself out of the hug Phil had trapped them in. “I am sorry for the confusion. I am NPG, not Grian. You came here not too long ago.” The robot then looked over to Wilbur, Doc and Paul. “Though you did not visit and I have not met you in person before.”

Tommy quickly spoke up and introduced people. “That’s Wil, Doc, and this guy’s named Paul. Grian kinda got kidnapped, so we’re back here looking for him instead.”

“Oh no! Did you check your old server again just to be safe?”

“Grifter’s the bitch that kidnapped him.” Tommy said, crossing his arms. “If he’s there, I’ll eat my compass.”

NPG nodded, then went back into the throne room and the group could hear him talking to someone that had Tommy’s voice. They stood there listening until NPG finally shouted approval for the group to enter.

“Well this is a surprise. I didn’t expect to see any of you again that soon.” Theseus spoke from his throne. He still was wearing his mask that looked like Dream’s, which made Tommy shudder a little as well as had Grum hiding behind Mumbo. “So, you’re after my brother. Hah, good luck with that.”

“You better fucking tell us something bitch!”

Theseus didn’t immediately reply to Tommy’s shout, instead handing off a paper to NPG, who happily took it and ran off. “Look, I haven’t seen him since he dragged me back to Dad. Technically he’s been here, but just stayed away. He’s admin of my old world now, so he’s probably stuck there. Sense also left recently, so I would guess he’s there too.”

“So, You’re saying we need to go through another version of the smp to find Grian?” Techno was the one to ask. “Ours was already pretty rough, how bad is this one?”

“Your creeper friend there is supposed to be Prof, right?” Theseus asked, his visible eyebrow raising in question.

“Yeah… he is.” Grum answered, peeking out from behind Mumbo for a moment. “Why?”

“Has he ever built a prison?”

“Well, he built Area 77 if that counts.” Mumbo answered, but Theseus just rolled his eyes. “I’m guessing that doesn’t count.”

“Oh definitely not. If what NPG says is right, it let people waltz right in.”

“Those were guided tours, man.” Doc replied. “And that’s just recent. I’ve done plenty of defenses back when we had the mycelium war.”

“Ooh, ah, defenses.” Theseus deadpanned. “Get real. Those aren’t what I’m asking about.”

“He’s asking about The Perd.” Paul spoke up. “Which yeah, he mostly built that himself.”

Theseus smiled and nodded, while everyone else looked confused, except for Doc himself and also Phil, who just looked stunned. “Wait, he’s the guy who made The Perdit-”

“Hey man, you can’t just go throwing that name around.” Doc spoke up, cutting Phil off. “The less people know, the better.”

Phil gestured to Paul. “And so he knows about it, why?”

“I was one of the testers.” Paul responded. “Really think I can’t get out of that vault of yours now?”

“We’re getting off topic.” Wilbur was the one to speak up. “Since this creeper guy has made that prison thing, is that good or not?”

“Very good.” Theseus replied. “Prof had to trap Grifter when he wasn’t an admin, so imagine what he’s doing as admin. Having your version of Dad is going to be good, but one of him is also better. And I guess also this guy here is good to have too.” Theseus added, glancing at Paul.

“What can you tell us about your old world.” Mumbo asked. “I’m sure even those from our version will be a bit lost since I can hardly wrap my head around this one.”

“Oh I could tell you plenty. I could say every little detail I went through in my years there. I’m sure plenty of it would be repetitive though, and I don’t really know what’s the same and what’s different.” Theseus explained. “But I can tell you what I do know.”

“And what’s that?” Phil asked, hoping that looking like the Phil here would help things.

“Well, when I was in that other place, your respawns were a fucking mess. Technically three respawns but it always depended on some shitty admin’s code.” Theseus stood up to make a point. “Instead You always respawn as long as you’ve got a place to respawn to. But if someone finds your anchor and breaks it, well, I wouldn’t die if I were you. Technically, there was more to it so Nightmare could try to get around his own rules, but it obviously didn’t work.”

“Is that it?” Tommy asked. “Lives are just done differently?”

Theseus rolled his eyes before sharply turning his head towards Tommy. “Well excuse me. If you haven’t noticed, I’m not the fucking admin over there anymore, bitch. Neither is Nightmare. I only knew about you having fucked up lives because of that thing there!” And he gestured towards Grum. “I don’t know your lives. I don’t know your world. So I don’t know what to fucking tell you that’s going to fucking help. At this point, you’re likely to know more than me!”

Everything was silent other than Theseus’ heavy breathing from yelling until there was a creak from the door as NPG came back in. “Is everyone okay? Thee? Do you want me to get Rusty?”

Theseus was still quiet, though he straightened his posture and his mask, then spoke. “No. I think I’ll be fine. Can you take these guys to Xannes? I’m done dealing with them.”

“Okay! I can do that!” NPG replied, and then he was leading the group out, being helped by threats Theseus was giving the group under the robot’s nose.”

When they returned to the admin’s base, he was disappointed to see them back so soon, but did allow Xisuma out of his ‘torture chamber’ - if it could really be called that - and let him take the team of people to the NSMP.

Xisuma took them into the other world and was suddenly glad his helmet was a filter. Tommy pulled his bandanna over his nose after gagging at the smell of the place while everyone but two of them reacted similarly. Since they had been there before, Phil and Mumbo knew what to expect. Techno also knew, but his sense of smell was enhanced from being a hybrid, so it didn’t help. And then while Tommy had been in the group before, at that point he had been replaced by Theseus and never actually went into the NSMP.

Not wanting to stick around in one place, the group started travelling, hoping for some sort of landmark that was more than just rubble and possibly someone nice enough to help them out.

But back on Helscraft, Xannes was upset the moment the group was gone, and a moment after that, he sent himself to the palace to meet with Theseus. Lightning crackled around him in his rage, pushing aside anyone who even stepped in his line of sight.

“Theseus!” He shouted as the doors to the throne room were broken. “What the fuck did I just send them into?!”

Theseus looked up at the admin. “The NSMP. Why? Did you somehow not?”

“Something intercepted them. I mean, I tried hacking them through the whitelist, so it should have-”

“That place doesn’t have a white list last I checked.” Theseus said. “Nightmare never gave it one. He made access public. There was just a little… test of sorts to get through first.”

Xannes didn’t like the sound of that. “What kind of test?”

“One that I’m sure they’ll get through. The question is how long it will take them. If they’re lucky? Hmm, maybe a few days.”

Xannes didn’t bother listening to more as he followed along the group he just sent ahead of him. He ended up in the same place the group did, in the spawn of the DSMP. And if it weren’t for the fact that Xannes could feel his hacking powers get limited, he would have thought it was the regular world. “Fine. I guess we’re doing this all the hard way.”

#hc x dsmp #hermit!tommy au #grian #yhs grian #grian xelqua #watcher!grian #avian!grian #hels!mumbo #hels!eret #hels!grian #mumbo jumbo #grumbot #docm77 #tommyinnit #philza #xisuma #paul soares jr #wilbur soot #technoblade #evil xisuma #npg #npc grian #hels!tommy #hels!grumbot #hels!jrumbot #hels!wilbur

[binderclipdocs]

Hello! I’m wondering what your take is on Dear Friend (and especially “I’m in love with a friend of mine”?) I find the song a little confusing, and I’ve read a lot of different interpretations. I really love your films and I know you’ve done a lot of research, would love to know what you think. Thanks!

Thanks for your appreciation, anon!  I love Dear Friend and am happy to share my thoughts on this haunting, mournful, mysterious song!

I’ll be the first to admit the lyrics are confusing (like so many McCartney songs!), mostly by virtue of the fact that Paul uses “friend” twice in a row.  Are there two friends, or only one?  By using the word “friend” on top of each other as he does, it suggests either a single friend (the titular “Dear Friend”) in two situations OR two friends, in separate/competing situations.

Dear Friend, throw the wine 

I’m in love with a friend of mine 

Really, truly, young and newlywed

Of course, everyone is entitled to their own opinion, interpretation, fantasy, etc.  and no one but McCartney himself can definitively declare precisely what he meant with this song.  But it’s my opinion that Paul was saying the latter; that he is in love with his friend and new wife, Linda.  This is my conclusion after having deeply researched this period extensively for TWO documentary series (McCartney (2020) and Understanding Lennon/McCartney), an opinion that obviously no one is required to entertain and anyone is free to discard.  But for those who are interested, I’ll share my reasoning below.

Firstly, this is NOT an attempt to disprove that Paul was ever in love with John or vice verse.  They both used this term publicly and therefore probably/possibly did privately with each other as well.  But Paul’s statements in April, 1970 pretty clearly spell out the situation:

“Personally, I don’t think John could do the Beatles thing now. I don’t think it would be good for him.

John’s in love with Yoko, and he’s no longer in love with the other three of us. And let’s face it, we were in love with the Beatles as much as anyone.”

So John and Paul were “in love” (with each other as people, or the Beatles as a concept, or Lennon/McCartney as a team, etc) for a long time.  But by 1970, they both have new spouses and new lives and are following different paths.  Here’s a brief recap of the events that led to this statement:

In a now-famous meeting in September 1969, John told Paul that he was leaving the Beatles and wanted a divorce.  Whether this was an idle threat designed to scare/hurt Paul, or a real desire on John’s part is open to interpretation, but Paul, for his part, took it seriously.  

Allen Klein asked John not to go public with his decision to leave the group and John happily and uncharacteristically agreed to sit on this “news” indefinitely.  Paul subsequently disappeared for 6-8 weeks, mourned the loss of the band privately in Scotland, and then began working on his first solo album. Communication between John and Paul fell apart at that point, and John began a campaign of maneuvers - possibly engineered or facilitated by Klein - to bring Paul back into the Beatles’ fold and force him to submit to Klein’s management and John’s leadership. Backed into a proverbial corner by John, George, Ringo, Yoko and Klein, Paul played the last card he had: he quit.

In April 1970, Paul made the split official (deliberately or accidentally? YMMV) with the release of his first solo LP, and attempted to finalize the divorce with an uncooperative John for the remainder of the year. As is pretty well-documented, Paul tried for a quick and amicable split, requesting a release from the Beatles’ contract. But after John was unresponsive and Allen Klein advised him to set duplicitous legal traps that would prevent Paul from separating from the Beatles, Paul (as advised by his lawyers) decided to sue for divorce by the end of 1970.

By 2020, even the most casual Beatles fans know two basic truisms: 1) that Paul loved John always and 2) that Paul didn’t want the band to break up. Of course there’s more to the story than just that. We have also been told repeatedly that John “left Paul,” but this is not the whole truth either.

Essentially what John did was yell “I’m breaking up with you!” and then block the door every time Paul tried to leave.

As late as September, 1971 John is still saying publicly that he hopes Paul will return.  

Int.: Let's talk a bit about Paul's aversion to Klein. From what we've read it seemed as if this wasn't there in the beginning, even though Paul wanted the Eastmans to run things. But it came on later as things progressed. And yet despite this, we gather that Klein was still hoping that Paul would return to the group.

John: Oh, he'd love it if Paul would come back. I think he was hoping he would for years and years. He thought that if he did something, to show Paul that he could do it, Paul would come around. But no chance. I mean, I want him to come out of it, too, you know. He will one day. I give him five years, I've said that. In five years he'll wake up.

[Narrator voice: Paul did not came back.]

Yes, Paul loved John.  No, Paul didn’t want the Beatles to break up.  

But when John said he wanted out, Paul took him seriously, respected his decision, never made a single attempt to woo John back and showed up 6 months later with a moving van and divorce papers.

When you hear Dear Friend out of context -knowing only that Paul loved John and was sad after the breakup- it’s not wholly unreasonable to think maybe Paul was declaring his eternal love for John here:

I’m in love with a friend of mine really, truly, young and newlywed

But when you experience Dear Friend in the proper context, that interpretation sounds less and less likely.  Here’s Paul:

April 21, 1970

“I’m not blaming her. I’m blaming me. You can’t blame John for falling in love with Yoko any more than you can blame me for falling in love with Linda.

We tried writing together a few more times, but I think we both decided it would be easier to work separately.  I told John on the phone the other day that at the beginning of last year I was annoyed with him. I was jealous because of Yoko, and afraid about the break-up of a great musical partnership. It’s taken me a year to realise that they were in love. Just like Linda and me."

Summer 1970

Paul writes John a 12-page letter requesting that they “let each other out of the trap.” John’s response was a picture of himself and Yoko with a balloon drawn above his head saying “How and Why?”

Paul responded: “How? By singing a paper that says we hereby dissolve our partnership. Why? Because there is no partnership.”

April 16, 1971

PAUL:  “We used to get asked at press conferences, 'What are you going to do when the bubble bursts?' When I talked to John just the other day, he said something about, 'Well, the bubble's going to burst.' And I said, 'It has burst. That's the point. That's why I've had to do this, why l had to apply to the court. You don't think I really enjoy doing that kind of stuff. I had to do it because the bubble has burst-- everywhere but on paper.' That's the only place we're tied now.”

Nov 11, 1971

MM: But John said to me that what you’d done in bringing the [court] trials up and everything was what they all wanted, that you’d just done it a lot earlier than they would have done.

PAUL: Well if that’s true, well… well, come on! That’s – see, I’ve told you… The joke is, though, that we don’t have to do trials. It’s not necessary. If the four Beatles signed a bit of paper, or even ripped the old contract up and said, “This contract is no longer valid, we all hereby said it, we all legally direct the shareholders…” the whole thing, to wind it all up, we could do it. And if that’s really what he wants, he could do it this minute. [snaps fingers]

Furthermore, Paul was deeply in love with Linda during this period, as reflected by: the songs on both McCartney and RAM, the testimony of those around them at the time and by Paul’s own recollections.  The first few years of Paul and Linda’s marriage was their honeymoon period, their era as newlyweds.  It was certainly an awful time for Paul in many respects:  the business battles of the Beatles were excruciating and extremely stressful and the loss of his three best friends was heartbreaking. Furthermore, the rock press had largely turned against him (sometimes viciously so), and John & Yoko (and Allen Klein) were painting him as a traitor to the counterculture and a villain for destroying the Beatles with his granny music, giant ego and overbearing personality.  Paul and Linda were extremely isolated, partially by choice and partially by force.  

But even though this was a terrible time for Paul in many respects, he was extremely happy with his new family.  He later described this period with Linda as one of the happiest periods of their life. Paul has said numerous times Linda (along with nature and horse-riding) brought him out of depression after the Beatles ended and gave him the strength to push forward with his solo career, at a time when many were rooting against him (and a literal cult was forming that claimed he was DEAD and had been replaced by an inferior imposter- let that sink in for a moment!).  He has been consistent about it over the years, and reiterated it as recently as 2020:

UNCUT: Tell me about the guy in the photo n the McCartney sleeve.  He looks happy. 

PAUL:  I was really happy, yeah.  The Beatles had become such a business machine, and with the arrival of Allen Klein the whole thing, every day was very unpleasant. 

UNCUT: So there you were on the farm, finding solace in a new family... 

PAUL: Yes. I had a little place in Scotland.  So we just went out there. “It’s so remote, no one can be bothered trekking all the way up here for a meeting.” It was a good period. We grabbed our freedom- you know what, we seized the day! Also, I had a new baby; I’d not been a father before, so I was very happy.

In December of 1970, John gave his infamous Lennon Remembers interview to Rolling Stone.  According to the liner notes of the Wildlife reissue from 2018 (and confirmed by the timing of the demo), Paul composed Dear Friend in reaction to John’s comments in that interview (not How Do You Sleep, as is commonly believed).  But he sat on the song for awhile and didn’t record it until late 1971 (for inclusion on Wildlife).  Judging from the tone of Too Many People and other songs on RAM, Paul’s initial sadness, confusion and disappointment gradually morphed into (or perhaps swung back and forth between) anger and defiance, accompanied by a taunting and/or gloating tone.  Having gotten Dear Friend out of his system, it seems it simply didn’t fit thematically on RAM. Perhaps after the release of HDYS, Paul was deflated and despondent enough to return to Dear Friend?  Perhaps Jealous Guy tempered or calmed Paul’s anger?   

Or maybe it was just a genuine attempt to turn the heat down.  We know that immediately following its release, John and Paul agreed (seemingly at Paul’s insistence) to quit bickering in public.

In any case, Dear Friend is a complex songs with a spectrum of emotions. Unlike Jealous Guy it is not apologetic; it’s mournful but also incredulous and slightly accusatory.  Paul appears to be calling John’s bluff:  Do you really believe all the bullshit you’re spewing?

Are you a fool, or is it true?

The John Lennon of Lennon Remembers is without hope or faith, denouncing everything he ever believed in and everyone he ever trusted -with the notable exceptions of Allen Klein, Phil Spector and Yoko.  Paul clearly loves John and hopes to salvage their relationship, but Dear Friend was written at a time when John was being manipulated and exploited by people he later admitted were misplaced “daddy figures.” While Klein and Spector turned out to not be the most reliable friends to John, Paul certainly seems to know and understand John’s vulnerabilities and motivations better than most.  As he sings in the demo:

Are you afraid?  Or are you blue?

So why does Paul mention that he’s newlywed and in love with Linda? Firstly, because he is, and he wants to celebrate with his best friend. We know Paul’s desire was for the two couples to make peace and be friends.  Pour the Wine.  Clink glasses and celebrate their new marriages together.

PAUL: Dear Friend was to do with John, a bit of longing about John. Let’s have a glass of wine and forget about it. A making up song. (July 2001).

This is precisely what the two couples did in December of 1971, immediately following the release of Wildlife.  

JOHN: We were both nervous, the four of us were nervous. I hadn’t seen him for a long time. I’d spoken on the phone [with him]. Uh, it was alright, you know. It was alright.

This is precisely what happened again throughout 1974 (with John & May Pang this time around), which John affectionately called their “Beaujolais evenings.”   

Admittedly, It may seem odd for Paul to mention that he is happily married (and in love with another “friend”) in a make up song to John.  Until you think about the romantic tension between John and Paul and Paul’s bold public recognition of it with this statement:  “It’s taken me a year to realise that they were in love. Just like Linda and me.” Paul acknowledges here that John is in love with Yoko and wants John to acknowledge his love for Linda as well.  

In Dear Friend he’s communicating that there is nothing to fear; they are secure in their respective marriages, there is no need to be hurt or angry or jealous anymore.  We’re no longer partners, but we can still be friends.  “Let’s have a glass of wine and forget about it.”  A softer, gentler version of: Wake up, John. It’s over. Sign the fucking papers already.

So I think of Dear Friend as an olive branch, but not the groveling type some apparently do.  And I most definitely do not think it was a signal to John that Paul was still in love with him, despite being newlywed to Linda. 

I suppose it might seem a bit brutal for Paul to be singing about loving someone else in a song to John (although he’s done it before and I think John has done the same).  But I honestly think it is something Paul believes John needs to hear and accept at this point; that he is “really, truly” in love with Linda and that he’s not about to divorce her or run after the first “blonde with big tits” as Allen Klein so charmingly suggested. 

By September 1971, John still hasn’t seemed to accept Linda, or Paul’s relationship with her:

John: Paul always wanted the home life, you see. [... long, rambling story about being terrified when Paul got a job in 1961 and for a second looked as if he might abandon John and the group] 

 All the other girls were just groupies mainly. And with Linda not only did he have a ready-made family, but she knows what he wants, obviously, and has given it to him. The complete family life. He's in Scotland. He told me he doesn't like English cities anymore. So that's how it is.

Int.: So you think with Linda he's found what he wanted? 

John: I guess so. I guess so. I just don't understand . . . I never knew what he wanted in a woman because I never knew what I wanted.

With comments like this John seems (IMO) to be twisting himself into knots trying to rationalize Paul’s choice of Linda, practically wondering aloud what could she give him that I couldn’t?  He still seems unwilling to face or accept what Paul begrudgingly accepted and admitted years before: that his partner fell in love with someone else.

Here’s 76 year old Paul reminiscing about this tender, bittersweet time in his life, happy and in love with his wife and young family and simultaneously in deep pain over losing his dearly beloved best friend:

I remember when I heard the song recently, listening to the roughs  in the car. And I thought, ‘Oh God’. That lyric: ‘Really truly, young and newly wed’. Listening to that was like, ‘Oh my God, it’s true!’ I’m trying to say to John, ‘Look, you know, it’s all cool. Have a glass of wine. Let’s be cool.’

“Let’s be cool.”  Not “Please take me back,” not “Ignore my just-for-show marriage, I’m still in love with YOU.” To me, Paul is saying “I’m really, truly in love with my friend and new wife, can we please just be happy for each other? It’s all cool.” And for the record, I don’t find this sentiment any less loving on Paul’s part because I don’t think Paul being in love with his own wife (which he was), detracts from his love for John in any way. Again, I agree that the lyrics are slightly ambiguous, and perhaps this is meaningful too.  It could be that the lack of hard boundary between the two friends (John and Linda) reflects how much Paul loves them both; they certainly aren’t positioned as opposites (i.e. I love her but I hate you). Instead they’re both part of the imagined celebration; Paul wants them all to share the wine together- and he wants them to tolerate (love) each other. 

I think the traditional narrative doesn’t account for all of this because the traditional narrative does not acknowledge that John has any feelings for Paul in the first place. How in the world could Paul be asking John to “be cool” and accept the new situation when John didn’t even care about Paul in the first place and had been trying to get rid of him for years?  This perception - of John gleefully blasting Paul with HDYS and Paul replying that he’s in love with John - has taken hold in many minds and has picked up a lot of steam in recent years with so-called “jean jackets” because they fundamentally believe that Paul’s love for John was one-sided. They cannot comprehend that Paul would ever tell John to “cool it” or back off in any way (even in 70-71) because they take the surface story at face value:  John dumped Paul for Yoko and heartbroken Paul spent the rest of his life desperately trying to win John back. This is the narrative depicted in virtually every book I’ve read. My analysis is based on my own research, not this narrative.

I would invite readers of this post to watch (or re-watch) ULM (particularly volume 3 ) for a more comprehensive study of John and Paul’s relationship.  

Lastly, after doing my own independent research for McCartney (2020), I found that the Paul McCartney described by the musicians and collaborators in Paul’s life was dramatically different from the person depicted in books like Man on the Run. My films are free from narration and commentary; I rely on first-hand interviews and information from the people involved, and in my opinion there is a great deal to be learned about Paul from the way he relates to others, especially through music. And although the McCartney series is about his solo career as opposed to his Beatle career, I would definitely recommend it to anyone who is interested in Lennon/McCartney for the insights they could gain. 

Thank you very much for this ask- hopefully there aren’t too many typos!

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch:17 I’m Not Going Anywhere

Summary: Katie keeps vigil at Steve’s bedside and in full protective ‘dad’ mode, Tony engages the Stark Industry lawyers when the UN Senate comes calling. But the Winter Soldier has gone back into the shadows, taking one of Steve’s only living ties to his past with him. And no one has a clue where he’s gone.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Violence, bad language words, angst and smut (NSFW) NO UNDER 18s thanks.

A/N: I LOVE LOVE LOVE these edits once more from @angrybirdcr​

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 16

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

 “He’s panicking…let me talk to him.” Her voice was soft but full of authority.

Then, a familiar hand closed over the one that he held over the mask on his face and she gently spoke this time directly to him.

“Shhhh…” He felt her other hand gently run over his forehead. “Baby, you’re in an ambulance. Try and stay calm, okay?”

And then his eyes focused, just for a second. The panic that had hit him dissipated as Katie’s face filled his vision and he gripped her hand, not wanting her to leave him.

“I’m not going anywhere…” She assured him. “I promise.”

And he believed her. He felt himself relax and fell back against the bed and his eyes closed again, the last thing he heard and felt was her…

Steve’s hand was still tight around Katie’s when they arrived in the emergency room. She went in with the paramedics who took Steve in charge and, as they escorted Steve into the operating room, the realization that she finally had to let go of him crushed her. The same Doctor who had taken care of Fury and her in the warehouse approached her with a nod, and she was suddenly extremely thankful that the Director had as many fingers in as many pies as he did. It was an overwhelming relief to see a face she knew she could trust.

“Miss. Stark, I need you to leave the room, please. I’ll take care of him from here.” The Doctor put his hand on her shoulder to support his point and dropped his voice. “I promise. Fury’s orders”

Ignoring the urge to argue she let go and took a step back, her eyes still focused on the Steve as he lay on the stretcher.

“Heart’s rate climbing, doctor!” Announced one of the nurses. Katie could still see her soldier’s face disfiguring and the slight raising of his eyebrow and clench of his hand if he were trying to hold on to something. She let out a sob as she realised he was looking for her because she had left him, after promising she wouldn’t, and then the double doors of the operating room closed. Finding herself now alone and completely helpless, her limbs began to clench and she was suddenly very aware she was trembling. Then, it was as if someone had tightened a band around her chest, leaving her panting for air as her vision became more and more obscured by tears of panic.

She caught herself against the nearest wall before feeling her legs give way. She managed to lift them into a bent position, before bringing her arms around them so she could hide her head behind her knees as her throat felt like it had completely closed. She concentrated on Steve’s images floating around her brain, his touch, his kisses, how he held her, made love to her, the feeling of his laughter, his eyes, all their moments together.

We could get married if you want…

His face as he had spoken those words, the look she hadn’t been able to place suddenly registered in her brain. He had been hopeful. She closed her eyes trying to hold on to that memory. Eventually, after what felt like a life-time, she felt her throat begin to open again allowing her to take a deep breath, then the tightness in her chest and lungs eased and finally her brain. The hiss of silence in her ears was replaced by the usual murmur of a hospital and she could once again feel the sensations coming back along her limbs. She loosened her arms around her legs, stretching them out in front of her, and lifted her head to lean against the wall.

She had no idea how long she sat there. Minutes, hours…it all blurred into one as she focussed her attention on the doors he had been taken through. Eventually, her little bubble was invaded by a familiar figure hovering over her before Natasha slid to the floor, legs lying in front of her, her arm wrapping round Katie’s shoulder.

“Any news on how he is?” She asked.

"They’re still treating him, as far as I know.” Katie sighed, her head resting gently against Nat’s.

Natasha nodded briefly in acknowledgment before turning to look at her friend. “And you? How are you holding up?”

Katie looked at her, but didn’t answer as Sam’s familiar voice cut across the corridor.

“Katie! Natasha!” He hastened to join them, letting Katie take in his civilian change of clothes. He was bruised too, but overall, he looked okay. “How is he doing? Any news?”

Natasha took it upon herself to answer Sam. Meanwhile, Katie finally decided to get up from her position against the wall. The sudden movement and the long time spent in an identical position made her stagger a little. Sam hastily raised his hands to catch her.

“I brought you a change of clothes.” Nat spoke gently as she too stood up. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t stay. I’m already being summonsed for questioning, but Hill and I are going to do our best to keep your names out of it, both of you.”

“Frankly Nat, at this moment I couldn’t give a fuck about what my name is dragged into.” Katie snapped, her ton a little harsher than she had intended. She sighed. “Sorry…”

“It’s okay.” Nat shook her head, her green eyes catching Katie’s “Look, call me as soon as there’s news.”

She nodded. “Can you call Tony for me? He’s already tried ringing but I can’t bring myself to try and explain.”

“Sure.” Nat nodded. She pulled Katie into a hug, before she headed off up the corridor.

“Katie.”  Sam spoke gently. “There’s a waiting room down there.”

“No, I’m staying here.”

“You need to get a proper rest. You got shot yourself yesterday, remember?” Sam reasoned, his tone patient/ “Come on, you’re no good to Cap if you aint in top fighting form.”

Katie gave in and let Sam escort her to the waiting room where the two of them sat in silence. It was around four o'clock in the afternoon, some three hours after they had arrived, when the SHIELD doctor made an appearance. Katie was half-lying with her head against Sam’s shoulder as he was changing the annoying channels of the hospital TV every ten seconds.

“Miss. Stark?”

Sam turned off the television almost immediately while Katie was already on her feet in impatience.

"Yeah?”

“Sorry it’s taken so long but there was a few complications.”

“Complications?” Katie frowned “He’s got fucking super serum coursing through his DNA, it’s supposed to help him heal”” “And it did, meaning the wounds had started to close over which caused us a bit of an issue but he’s out of theatre and the surgery was a success.”

“So he’s gonna be okay?” Sam asked and the Doctor nodded.

“He lost a lot of blood but we’ve given him a transfusion and his vitals are stable. He’s gonna be fine.”

Katie let out a sob and covered her face with her hands, relief flooding every cell in her body as Sam wrapped an arm round her.

“We’ve moved him into his own room and it will be a while before he regains consciousness, how long we can’t say.” The doctor continued gently, before looking round and then back to her, his voice lowering “We have an armed guard on his door, Fury’s orders, but you two can stay with him.”

He beckoned for them to follow him through the corridors of the hospital. "He’s doing very well, all things considered.” He said stopping in front of a door. “But, just so you’re aware, he is heavily sedated to ensure he rests as he was quite agitated. Now, it’s just a case of letting him rest whilst the serum work its magic.”

“Thank you.” Katie choked out before she turned to the door and a hand gently touched her arm. She looked up and did a double take as she saw Evans stood there.

“Hey Nova.”

“Evans.” Her voice was a whisper, as he pulled her into a hug. “You…”

“No, I’m not HYDRA, probably the only one in STRIKE who wasn’t.” He swallowed as she stepped back to look at him noticing the shiny bruise adorning his right cheek and the split in his upper lip. “I swear I had no idea. It all started smelling a bit funky when they told us Cap was public enemy number one, and then when I heard his voice on that PA…” He shook his head, sadly. “I’m sorry I didn’t try to find you, help sooner…”

Katie shook her head as the ginger Texan man wiped at his eyes with the heel of his palm.

“None of us knew Paul.” The use of his first name made him look at her, and she was swept back into his arms again.

“How is he?” He asked as she stepped back, nodding to the room.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep ya.” He smiled and she gently squeezed his arm. “I’ll be right her if ya’ll need anything.”

“I don’t want anyone in here without my say so.” She instructed. Evans jerked his head to show he understood and she gave him a tight smile as she pushed the door open and stepped into the room, Sam following.

The sight in front of her made fresh tears spring into her eyes and she swallowed as she silently took in Steve’s condition. He was lying, asleep, in his bed with whilst IV’s and monitors recorded his vitals. He had stitches in several places on his face, nasty bruises around his left eye and jawline, and a huge swelling along the same eye that was likely to prevent him from seeing properly for a while. Overall, he was a mess.

“Katie-”

“I’m fine.” She interrupted Sam quickly in a hoarse voice, slightly tinged with her desire to cry. She took a shaky breath as she could hear Steve’s steady heartbeat reaching her ears. “I just need a minute.”

She slowly made her way to one of the chairs by the bed, settling down without looking away from Steve as she reached up to take one of his hands. It was colder than she could ever remember him being.

“Hey, Soldier.” She breathed in a shaking voice before pressing her lips to his bruised knuckles as she held his large hand in both of hers. For a moment, she thought she felt his hand contract in recognition but when she looked down he showed no signs of being awake. “I don’t know if you can hear me but I’m here, like I promised.”

******

The next few hours Sam and Katie stayed in the room with him and eventually Katie had to concede she really needed to clean up. She looked around for the bag which Nat had brought her some clothes in and stood up, grabbing it from where it sat by the door.

“I’m need the bathroom.” She looked at Sam and he nodded. “I won’t be long.”

She headed down the corridor and entered the ladies restroom, leaning over the sink. She glanced at the mirror, her eyes were red, face was dirty, hands still full of Steve’s blood and she looked all in all like a right mess. She set about washing her hands, her face and anything else that she could before she stepped into a cubicle and peeled off her lycra leggings and compression top. Dressing in the jeans and black sweater that Nat had packed, she was also touched to the point of more tears to see her friend had packed her some deodorant, a set of face wipes, dry shampoo, toothbrush, toothpaste and a hairbrush. By the time Katie had finished she looked almost normal.

Katie pinged Nat a message to thank her and fill her in on the news that Steve was going to be okay and one came back almost immediately

Thank God, and you’re welcome. I just spoke to Tony. He’s on his way back from Australia as we speak, he’d already set off after seeing the news. He told me to tell you to call him, ASAP.

So she did.

“Jesus Kiddo!” Her brother exclaimed when he answered, “I’ve been so worried…how are you? How’s Cap?”

“He’s stable. Still out of it but…” Fresh tears sprung into her eyes at hearing her brother’s voice.

“I’ve had Pepper call the hospital, anything you or he needs…anything…” He stressed, gently “and she’s working to keep the press off your back.”

“Thanks. Where abouts are you?”

“Approaching Singapore airspace. I’ll be there as soon as I can, I promise.”

“’kay…”

“Love you Kiddo, he’s strong. He’ll be fine.”

“So everyone keeps saying.” She whispered, the sob catching in her throat.

Tony sighed “Look, this is Rogers we’re talking about. He’s as stubborn as you are.”

“I know.”

“I’ll see you soon. Call me if there’s any news, ok?”

But there wasn’t. Katie sent Sam home in the early hours of the morning but her vigil never wavered. Doctors and nurses bustled in throughout the night. Steve’s vitals were improving but he still didn’t wake up. She managed a few hours sleep, on and off, spreading herself across two of the chairs, waking at around five am. She gratefully accepted the offer of a coffee from a nurse who arrived to explain that they were about to move Steve into a bigger, nicer room, courtesy of Pepper’s discussions with the hospital.

It was around 10 am when Sam returned. The new guard who had relieved Evans for a shift stopped him immediately until Katie popped her head out of the door and told him it was okay. After he had frisked Sam he walked in, holding out a bag containing a breakfast sandwich.

“You’re an angel.” Katie smiled as she tore into it, unaware how long it was since she had eaten something.

The two of them ate as they watched the news reports on the TV in the corner of the bright room. They spoke of the Helicarriers, HYDRA’s plot having integrated the governmental organization as well as the impending investigation. Katie watched the footage of her and Sam whizzing around the sky, and listened as they had even rebuffed Steve’s message for more effect. The attack was all the world was talking about and all the news was focused on Steve’s recovery and the repercussions of his actions.

“The identity of the Avenger Supernova has until today remained a mystery but the rumours are beginning to amass than it is none other than Katie Stark…” One of the news readers was saying,“the sister of Iron Man and girlfriend of Captain America…”

Katie didn’t even flinch. It wasn’t like they wouldn’t find out anyway, as soon as those files they had dumped on the internet became common knowledge it was going to blow up, plus, it was pretty obvious now. What was annoying her however, was that it was as if they blamed them, in particular Steve, for doing what was right.

A few hours later just as Sam had left again, Katie heard a commotion outside the doors to the room and she stood up.

“You know me right? Tony Stark, my sister is in there.”

“Sir, I’m under instructions not to…”

“It’s okay, Davies.” Katie stepped out of the room and spoke to the guard. “He’s good.”

Davies sighed “Mr Stark, I’m gonna have to search you then.” He relented.

Tony shrugged and held his arms out, once he’d been patted down he shot Davies a contemptuous look and he entered the room. No sooner had he done that, Katie was in his arms, sobbing, the Doctor who had been checking Steve shot them both a look as he sidled out of the room quickly.

“Shhhhh Kiddo.” Tony gently stroked her hair as she pressed her face into his chest, his familiar aftershave and touch reminding her of all the times he’d soothed her before when she was upset.

“I’m so glad you’re here.”

Tony stepped back to look at her. “Red said you got shot.”

“I did, but I’m okay, see.” Katie shifted her top to show him the patch that was over her wound, which was healing well.

 “Sounds like you’ve been having a bit of fun without me.” Tony sniffed, “It’s okay, I’m not really hurt. Well, maybe just a little. JARVIS is in a whole heap of trouble for not telling me by the way…”

“I told him not to, you were in Australia, Tones.” Katie shook her head gently “Besides, this was all a bit crazy. There wasn’t really time, if we had waited for you to get back it would have been too late…and you could have been in danger and…” She looked over at Steve, his face was still a mess. “Look at him Tony…”

Her brother placed his arm around her and squeezed. “He’s gonna be fine.”

Katie lay her head on Tony’s shoulder as they sat down, his hand gently stroking over her hair, not once trying to get her to leave as he knew she wouldn’t. She’d burst randomly into tears again when she’d told him her car was now buried in the wreck of the Triskelion. It was a lump of metal, not something that mattered, but Tony understood. She was letting everything out, and he simply sat with her and soothed her, informing her that the car was ready for being changed anyway.

 “But I like my car.” She sniffed.

 “Kiddo, it’s almost nine years old. I got you that for your Twenty-First.”

 “And that’s why I like it.”

Tony had to chuckle, that’s what she was like. Sentimental. It was the gesture behind gifts that mattered to her, not the value. He’d brought her up that way to value money, even though they had it in abundance, and he was fiercely proud of the woman she had grown to be. Humble in many ways that he wasn’t.

“You know he asked me to move in with him.” Katie spoke again, breaking the silence after a minute or so. 

“Before marriage?” He teased. “Well, well, well.”

She snorted a laugh “That’s what I said. And then he turned round and told me we could get married if I wanted.”

Tony stiffened slightly before he looked down at her. “And do you want?”

She nodded. “Of course I do. Only I told him to ask me again with a big diamond.” She sniffed again before sobbing. “We both laughed but why did I say that? I don’t need a fucking ring, or-”

“Hey, hey.” Tony gently took her face in both his hands. “You just said it yourself. You both laughed. He won’t have taken it as anything but what it was, a joke. Steve knows you love him. Everyone does. Frankly it’s hard not to, it’s sickening”

She gave a wet laugh and Tony wiped at her cheeks with his thumbs.

“He’s gonna move into mine.” She smiled, as they both settled down again, her head returning to his shoulder. “His place is too small and full of bullet holes and…blood.”

 “Sensible” Tony agreed, pulling her closer.

At one point during the night Pepper called, filling Tony in on the fact that Natasha was to be summonsed to the UN for a hearing and that they wanted Katie there too, her secret identity as an Avenger was well and truly busted.

“Get the lawyers onto it.” Tony replied simply, glancing at Katie who was now asleep, across a makeshift bed consisting of four plastic chairs from around the room, head laying on his lap  As his hand gently smoothed her hair, his need to protect her boiled fiercely within him. “She’s not going anywhere, certainly not yet. Oh, and I need you to get hold of Happy. I have a couple of jobs for him.”

*****

Every single inch of Steve’s body hurt. His mouth felt like sandpaper, his head was full of cotton wool, his eyes hurt as the colours flashed in front of them. He screwed his eyes further shut against the painful light that still assaulted him through his closed eyelids. He took a moment to breathe, steadying himself as soft music flooded his ears. It wasn’t something he had heard before but it was pleasant, soulful, jazz-like. His head stopped spinning and he felt brave enough to crack an eye open. He glanced round the room, puzzled slightly. He was in a hospital. Then he remembered. The Hellicarriers, Bucky, and the last thing he had seen before blacking out, his girl.  He had been cold, and wet, but she had been there.  And she still was, at the side of his bed, head laying against Sam’s shoulder.

 “On your left.” He managed to croak out. Katie’s head jerked up from its resting place and they both glanced over at the bed where Steve was led. He smiled groggily before his head rolled to the side, flush back against the pillow and he closed his eyes once more.

At the sound of his voice,  Katie instantly jumped up and settled on the side of his bed, gently stroking his face.

“Hey.” Her voice cracked. “Welcome back.”

“’M so tired, Sweetheart.” He mumbled as she dropped a kiss to his forehead, his eyes remaining closed as he managed a small smile.

“Then sleep.” She instructed softly, the relief flooding her system that he was with them, albeit not totally, but he was with them. She gently smoothed his hair, and kept that up until she could tell he was back asleep.

 She turned to Sam who gave her a smile. “Lazy bastard.”

A few minutes later a nurse popped her head round the door. Katie smiled and told her about him waking up briefly and she nodded, checking the readings. “That’s a good sign.” she beamed, “His body will be drained, serum or no serum so him resting is part of the natural recovery process. When he comes round fully, come find me and we’ll get the doctor back.”

An hour or so later, the mood in Steve’s room was considerably lighter given his waking up before. Katie, Sam and Evans, who was leaning in the open doorway, were mid a playful discussion as to whether or not Voldemort could take Darth Vader in a fight. (Katie had started this whole thing after calling Evans “Ron Weasley with a rifle” on her way back from the bathroom) and were just about to dive into the whole schematics on Magic vs The Force when a voice spoke from the bed.

“What the hell are you three talking about?” Steve grumbled playfully and Katie’s head jerked up to see his eyes watching her and she was beyond happy to see they were full of their usual warmth, the warmth he had whenever he looked at her.

“Hi!” Katie breathed in relief as she stood up and moved closer to him, settling on the edge of his bed.

“Hey, Doll.” He smiled as she took his hand, her fingers snaking into his. His eyes flickered to Evans, taking in the man’s various bruises and he frowned.

“Got in a bit of a fight with Rollins.” Evans drawled with a nod, and Steve let out the breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding. The man wasn’t HYDRA. “He didn’t take kindly to me threatening to test out the whole ‘cut one head off, two more shall take its place’ theory on him.”

Steve gave a small huff of a laugh before he winced slightly at the movement and Evans nodded to him once more, before allowing the door to shut, returning to his post. Steve’s eyes fell on Sam who raised an eyebrow at him.

“You know, having a building dropped on my head wasn’t part of the job description”

Steve’s smile spread a bit further before he gently lifted his head up off the pillow, looking around before grimacing at the throbbing that filled each bone in his body “How long was I out?”

“Forty-Three hours and Thirty Seven minutes if you don’t count the last hour you’ve been resting.” Katie smiled gently, glancing up at the clock on the wall as she settled on the side of the bed. Ah, yes, Steve’s brain vaguely registered he’d woken up before, made some quip of some sorts.  “Not that I’ve been counting…” She finished and he smiled again, giving her hand a squeeze.

“Have you been here that whole time?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “Sam’s been here too, a lot. As has Tony. He’s just nipped back to my place to change and make a few calls.”

“Trust me, two days aint that bad considering how you looked when you got here.” Sam added jokingly.

“Sam.” Katie reprimanded gently, looking at him.

“Alright,” He relented standing from his chair and holding his hands up, with a smirk. “I’ll go get that hot nurse, give you guys a minute.”

“Utter dog.” She snorted, the pair of them watching as he left the room and she turned to face Steve, tears in her eyes.

“You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He looked at her, and he was. He hated seeing her upset. There was a moment’s pause before he decided he had to know. “What happened after… did we?”

“SHIELD’s gone, Alexander Pierce is dead. Fury shot him. And as far as HYDRA, everyone major that was involved at the Treskellion is either captured or dead.” she paused, not sure if she should be telling him the full scale of what had gone down. Not whilst he was still recovering.

“What is it?” he frowned and she knew she wouldn’t be able to fob him off.

“Nat dumping the files on the internet means my identity as Nova is probably blown wide open. There goes our quiet life.”

“Nothing about our life is quiet.” he said a soft chuckle rising in his chest.

She grinned “True. Gonna be a lot of other shit to mop up though, The Treskellion was the tip of the iceberg. All the main SHIELD bases fell. America, Canada, Europe.”

Steve nodded along then asked the question he was almost afraid to hear the answer to. “Any news on Bucky?

"He’s gone.” Katie told him sadly. “I’m sorry Steve. I know how much he meant to you. But, I think he remembered you. He pulled you out of the river, told me to get help.” She continued to explain about their short exchange on the river bank and Steve listened, unable to stop the hopeful feeling spreading in his chest. Maybe there was a chance for Bucky after all, they just needed to find him. Katie watched him, and he smiled at her.

“I’m glad you spoke to him.” He nodded, and then a cheeky glint flashed in his eyes “Still think all the girls in Brooklyn were dumbasses for hanging off his arm and not mine?”

She gave a bark of a laugh and leaned down towards his face, rubbing her nose against his “Always.” She whispered, before giving him a soft quick peck on the lips.

******

Tony arrived back an hour or so later. He was genuinely pleased to see Steve awake and after gently grasping the soldier’s hand between both of his in a friendly, brotherly, gesture he sat down and delivered some interesting news.

“So the Goth Pirate called me.” He said, leaning back in his seat “He sounded amazingly well for a dead guy.”

“Fury called you?” Steve frowned

“Yeah. He’s laying low, you know, on account of being dead, and he wants to hand control of the Avengers over to us, Cap.”

Steve frowned, before he lay his head back on his pillow. He knew the Avengers would be needed again, especially now with SHIELD gone. He turned to Tony who continued.

“I think that’s the right thing to do, for us to take control” The billionaire spoke and Steve nodded.

“I suppose, but there’s something I gotta do first.”

“Yeah, recover.” Sam shot, drawing a faint smile from Steve but Katie knew full well he didn’t mean that. He was intending to go after Bucky.

They spent the rest of the afternoon making idle chit chat with Tony, who was already planning on further renovating the tower to house the Avengers full time in the wake of Fury’s news. Steve, Katie was pleased to see, was enthusiastic about the plans and listened, looking at the various ideas Tony showed him on the tablet. However, now that Steve was awake, the nurses seemed to be a little more reluctant to allow everyone to stay and at about six pm one of them politely suggested that Sam and Tony should be making their way home.

“You do know I’m paying for this, right?” Tony quipped at her. She shot him a look which made him visibly recoil and he turned to Katie pulling a face as he stood up.

“I’ve gotta get back to New York anyway.” He shrugged, pulling his sister into a hug. “Lawyers to speak to…new suits to build seeing as you blew yours up.”

“You blew it up?” Steve looked at her.

“I needed to send up a signal so everyone could find us.” She shrugged as Tony looked at her reproachfully.

“Yeah, I should be going too. I gotta tidy my place.” Sam groaned. “Someone trashed it.”

“You’re welcome to stay at mine if you want, for as long as you need.”  Katie offered, as Steve let out a sigh and began to mumble an apology which Sam waved away.

“It’s fine man, it won’t take me long to reorganise it all.”

“Speaking of which…” Tony looked at Steve then Katie as he fished in his pockets for something. “I’ve had Happy organise to clear your apartment Cap, now you two are shacking up together. He’s gonna have all your stuff sent Kiddo’s, save you a job. Oh and I figured you might need this.” He tossed Katie a set of keys. She glanced down at them, her eyebrow raised.

“It’s a Q5, rought over from my personal collection.” He looked at her and she smiled at her brother. “Try not to bury this one under a sky-scraper.”

“Thank you.” She whispered, giving him another hug, slipping the keys into her pocket. “I love you, Tone.”

“Obviously, because I’m the best big brother in the world.” He hugged her tight, and Steve nodded to him, thanking him with a look which Tony acknowledged with a sharp incline of his head in the soldier’s direction.

 As the two men left, Steve raised his right arm to bid them goodbye and the pair of them headed off down the corridor, chatting away animatedly. Katie watched them go before turning to Steve, who was yawning like a lion.

“You okay?”

“I just don’t remember the last time I was this tired…or in as much pain”

"Do you want me to get the Nurse, up your pain relief?”

“No.” He yawned again, he hated how it made the room spin.“Think I’m gonna sleep.”

She teased gently. “Again?”

He smiled and looked at her, swallowing. “Will…will you stay?” He asked, tentatively “Until I fall asleep, that is?”

“I’m not leaving you.” She cut him off and dropped a kiss to his forehead as she climbed onto the bed next to him “I’ll be here when you go to sleep, and here when you wake up.”

 “You don’t need to stay all night. You must be exhausted, you should go home and get some sleep.” 

“I’m fine…” She looked at him, before her body betrayed her and she too let out a huge yawn which she tried to stifle. He raised an eyebrow.

“Please honey, you need some rest too.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

 Steve shook his head. She really was obtuse at times.

 “What?”

“Nothing.” He lay his head back on the pillow a grin flashing across his face. “Just remembering what a stubborn, pain in the-“

“If you wanna get out of here any time soon, then I wouldn’t finish that sentence…”

“Miss Stark is that a threat?” Steve looked at her, a smile curling further across his face

“It’s a promise…” She grinned,  leaning over to kiss him gently. “Now go to sleep.”

*******

Steve was discharged from the hospital the next afternoon, the doctors having no reason to keep him any longer since he healed so quickly, though a cheeky nurse did warn that it wouldn’t be wise for him to engage in any strenuous activity, with a pointed look in Katie’s direction who merely rolled her eyes, a small smirk playing on her face.

They arrived back to Katie’s, no theirs, a little after 4 in the afternoon. Steve was dying for a hot shower, and a shave, despite Katie’s protests that she liked the stubble he had sprouted, and whilst he was under the scalding hot waterfall, Katie headed into the kitchen to grab a drink. As she opened the fridge for a bottle of water she wasn’t surprised it was fully stocked including a few bottles of expensive pinot grigio and some beer. There was a note stuck to one of the bottles, in Tony’s handwriting.

Couldn’t have you both coming home to an empty fridge now, could I?

Whatever it is he’s ‘got to do’, I know you’ll follow. So keep safe, stay in touch, and if you need help…you know where to find a good team.

T xxx

She read the note over again and smiled to herself. It was times like this that her brother always came through for her. She fired him a quick text message to thank him before she headed up to the bedroom to see if Steve was hungry.

“Hey love, just wanted to know…” the words died in her mouth at the sight of him, his upper body was flecked with droplets of water from the shower. The knife wound on his shoulder had faded to nothing but a fresh, pink scar and the bruises he sported were all starting to turn yellow now apart from one stubborn one on the right side of his ribcage that was still a mass of purple. But it was the round circle of scar tissue that stood out, on the left side of his lower abdomen, angry and red, where the bullet that had done the most damage had exited that caught her attention. Her mouth went dry and suddenly her eyes were misting over as it hit her exactly how close she had come to losing him. Quite simply, she wasn’t sure she could cope without him now, which scared her as she’d always been fiercely independent.

 “Hey…” he said, swiftly stepping forward, his hands cupping her face as he saw her face crumple “Sweetheart, I’m fine…”

“I know, I know but…” she sniffed. “I almost lost you and I couldn’t bear it if that happened…”

 “Well you didn’t.” He said, gently, “Gonna take more than that to get rid of me.”

His lips brushed hers, the lightest of touches but it set every single nerve end she had into over drive with desire. As her breath hitched she felt him grin against her mouth before he kissed her, slightly harder this time, parting her lips with his tongue. He pulled her close, moving his hands up to the small of her back, pressing her into him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, running the fingers of one hand through his hair while the others lingered at the base of his skull, holding him to her. They stayed like that for what felt like forever, the kiss growing in intensity, hunger, until Katie felt him hard against her stomach and her face was raw from the stubble that he hadn’t shaved yet.

 “The doctor said you had to take it easy…” she whispered into the space between them as they each worked to steady our breathing

 “Yeah…” he said, slowly moving her backwards, “But, what do they know?”

“Ermm a lot.” she snorted.

“You need proof that I’m all healed?”

“Depends on what proof you’re talking about…” she grinned as he dropped his hands to her ass, reaching down as if to lift her but she stopped him, hands on his wrists.

“Steve, your ribs…”

“For once in your life will you shut up and just do as you’re told…” He looked down at her. She was about to argue, about to tell him no, but as he looked at her, his eyes alive with desire she knew it was pointless.

“Yes, Captain…” she murmured as his lips crashed onto hers, but he didn’t try and lift her again, instead he backed her up the short few strides, before the back of her knees hit the side of the bed and she dropped back onto it.

“I’ll take it easy…” He whispered as he crawled over the top of her, sliding his hand up her jersey dress and into the waistband of her leggings and knickers, slowly sinking two fingers into her warm, wet depth. She let out a soft moan, open mouth grazing his neck as he felt her clench around him. “Easy,” he repeated before her mouth hungrily claimed his again. He moved his hands to reach down and they parted just long enough so he could pull her dress up over her head. His eyes automatically darted to the bullet wound on her left shoulder, that hadn’t healed half as fast as his, the stitches weren’t due out for another week

“I hate that you got hurt…” he muttered, slipping one bra strap down, then the other, before she arched her back allowing him to reach round and undo the clasp before he discarded it to the floor. His lips travelled across her collar bone and up her neck, drawing a soft groan from her lips as his stubble scraped her skin and once more his fingers claimed her. She writhed with pleasure at his strokes and he groaned gently, his lips working on the spot under her ear. He moved away for a second, to rid himself of the towel and crawled over her so that she was led flat, his hands pulling at the side of her black leggings, removing them along with her panties easily. He positioned himself over her, his tongue dipping into her mouth before he pushed into her, making her shudder slightly. His hands were on either side of her face, caressing her cheek and jaw as he kissed her again, rocking his hips as opposed to thrusting, the contact not breaking for a second. He dropped his head to her neck, his lips gently brushing her ear as he let out a groan, his hips grinding against hers.

It was soft, it was gentle, it was intimate, not rushed and Katie cried out his name loudly when her orgasm took her, her thighs closing around him. He was consumed completely by her, and he followed her over the edge, a loud moan rumbling in his throat. God he loved this woman with every single inch of his body.

“One day,” he mumbled, his lips brushing her ear, “I’m going to ask you properly.”

She understood what he meant. Smiling she looked at him, not a shred of hesitation on her face as her lips met his and she whispered into the kiss, “One day, I’m going to say yes.”

He couldn’t help the huge grin that spread across his face as he kissed her again, noses sliding carefully against one another to avoid aggravating any bruises before he rolled over pulling her to him, her words reverberating around his head.

 I’m going to say yes.

 His hand gently carded through her hair as he felt her relax into him and he dropped a kiss to the top of her head.

 I’m going to say yes.

 *****

The flashes of the photographers and the hustle and bustle of the audience were invasive. 4 days had passed since they had taken down SHIELD/Hydra and despite the best attempts of the lawyers that Tony had instructed on both hers and Natasha’s behalf, they had been summonsed to Capitol Hill.

What pissed Katie off the most wasn’t the attention, it was the fact they were being held accountable when they had done the right thing. Natasha felt the same, but the pair of them remained professional and unaffected by the staging of the conference before them. They both moved to the fingerprint reader before returning to their appointed places to answer their questions. Nat’s hair was as usual smoothed and perfectly capped on her shoulders, Katie’s was twisted back in a bun. Katie’s face still bore the bruises she had gotten from Rumlow, which were turning and fading and she probably could have covered them better but she’d chosen not to, simply to make a point.

“Miss Stark, you know Captain Rogers the best out of anyone in this room. Why do you believe he felt the need to take down our intelligence service?”

Katie wanted to laugh; it was such a stupid question to open with. But the serious look on his face told her he was serious.

"Taking down SHIELD was the morally right thing to do. If we hadn’t stopped that launch over twenty million people would be dead.” she said seriously. The congressman eyed her before jotting down something on his notepad.

The questioning continued from there. Not many people in the room were sympathetic to all that they had been through. In fact, Katie would go as far as to suggest that most were trying to find a weak spot or a way for them to trip them up. An hour in and it felt like they were going round in circles. Katie was getting pissed off. Besides her Nat shifted slightly, crossing her arms over her chest, the two women resisting the urge to look at one another.

“Why is there no news from Captain Rogers?” asked one of the men of the congress.

That was when Katie lost it. She turned to the front taking a deep breath as she looked up at the ceiling with annoyance, the eye roll she had been fighting came fully as she glanced back at the moron who had been speaking “I don’t know what else to say.” she spoke, her tone laced with sarcasm. “Maybe the fact he almost died might have something to do with it. That said, I think the new rock in the middle of the Potomac speaks for him in this case.”

"Perhaps he can explain to us how he hopes this country will ensure its national security because you have dismantled our intelligence services.” The Congressman insisted reproachfully.

This time it was Natasha that spoke, her attitude ringing across the room, she was pissed as well.

“What information?” She asked angrily. “HYDRA sold you lies.”

“Lies that you took care to spread.” The Congressman reminded, pointing at her with a knowing look. Natasha narrowed her lips to his allusion but it was Katie that answered, the final threads of her self-control finally snapping.

“Ste- Captain Rogers, sacrificed everything to save the lives of millions of people when he took that airship down into the ice over 70 years ago.” she leant forward “Not to mention the fact that my dad, Howard Stark, the co-founder of SHIELD also worked against Hydra in the war.” she took a breath and looked at Natasha “Agent Romanoff was almost killed by Hydra’s most deadly assassin on a mission 5 years ago. And more to the fact, 2 years ago we fought, side by side as part of the Avengers to keep the world and its people safe. And you’re seriously suggesting now that we would knowingly put those same people in danger?”

“Passionate speech Miss Stark, or should we call you Nova…” he said, making her snort and look away “And perhaps you’re right, maybe you didn’t know…but Agent Romanoff…” he turned to Natasha “It happens that a few in the commission have the feeling that, given your state of service for our country and against it, your place is more in a penitentiary than in a senatorial commission.”

Katie looked at Nat who took a deep breath, clearly collecting her thoughts before answering with confidence. "You’re not gonna put me in jail.” She paused for the dramatic effect before letting a small smirk curl the corner of her pink lips as she glanced at a Katie before looking at the front again “You’re not gonna put any of us in jail.” She arched a mocking eyebrow as she kept eye contact with the congressman. “You know why?”

“Please enlighten us.” He replied snidely.

“Because you need us.” Katie answered for her. “With SHIELD gone, the world needs the Avengers more than ever.”

Natasha smiled gently and continued “Miss Stark is right. Yes, the world is vulnerable. And we’re partly responsible, but we’re also the most qualified to defend it. So you want to throw us in prison? Go ahead” she shrugged “You know where to find us.”

With that she gently touched Katie’s shoulder and she rose gracefully from her seat, Katie following her. The pair of them turned to face the hordes of press, all of them were shoving microphones and cameras into their faces whilst they moved to the doors and pushed their way through the throng of people.

“Move aside please…” Happy was in his element, arm round Katie as he cleared a path to the SUV, where he opened the door to allow them to slide in. He pulled away from the kerb and sped off.

“We’ll head to Miss Romanoff’s first, then I’ll drop you home Kiddo.”

“Happy, what would I do without you?” Katie smiled at him. She turned to Nat who was looking out of the window.

“You ok?”

She shrugged “Could be worse.”

“So, what’s next for you?” she asked.

“Gonna take a bit of time out.” she said vaguely, shrugging “You?”

“Steve wants to track Bucky down.” Katie sighed “Although I’m not so sure it’s a good idea.”

She didn’t reply. They rode in silence until they reached her condo and Katie turned to her.

“Nat.”

She looked at Katie, her green eyes locking onto her friend’s.

“Don’t be a stranger. Come over this week, we can get takeout and make fun out of Steve, just like normal.”

She smiled and reached across the seats, giving her a hug. “I’d like that.”

****

The days following the hearing were peaceful as Steve and Katie mostly lounged at home, unpacking some of his things that Happy had sent over. They binge watched shows, cooked, went for walks and then one night Sam and Natasha dropped in for take-out and a few beers. Sam made sure he congratulated Katie and Natasha on them both basically telling the Government to kiss their asses.

“It was the best thing I’ve seen on TV in years!” he gleefully said, as Steve dropped a kiss to the side of Katie’s head. In contrast, Steve had hated seeing both her and Nat getting grilled. He’d offered to go himself but both girls had insisted they could handle it, and he should keep his head down for the foreseeable. It was the one thing that Katie knew she could do to protect him.

It was as Natasha was leaving that Steve pulled her to one side and asked her if she could get any of her old contacts to dig up any information on Bucky. Katie pretended she wasn’t listening to the conversation, but she heard every word as Natasha tried to warn him that it wasn’t a good idea, but, stubborn as ever, Steve insisted so she nodded, and promised to do what she could.

And now, almost two weeks later, they were stood in a graveyard. Katie supposed there were stranger places to meet up with your dead-not-dead ex-boss…

“Funny, most people need a Medium or a Ouija board to speak to dead people.” Sam quipped as Fury approached them.

“I see dead people…” Katie replied in an almost perfect impression of the Kid from The Sixth Sense, causing Sam to snort and Steve to chastise the pair of them for acting like a pair of school children in a graveyard.

“Sorry Dad.” Katie rolled her eyes and he shot her a disapproving look which she met with an equally sassy one of her own, and Steve looked away before he laughed at her.

"So, you’ve experienced this sort of thing before?” Fury asked, drawing up behind the three.

“You get used to it,” said Steve, looking down at the grave stone with Fury’s name on it, placed over an empty, buried coffin.

Katie slipped her hand into his, gently squeezing it.

“We’ve been data mining Hydra’s files. Looks like a lot of rats didn’t go down with the ship,” said Fury, He was standing by Katie’s side, staring down at his own tombstone, with sunglasses on and a hoodie over his head and he looked up at Steve “I’m headed to Europe tonight. Wanted to ask if you’d come.”

“There’s something I gotta do first,” Steve responded, simply.

“I assume you gotta do it too?” Fury looked at Katie. She shrugged.

“How about you, Wilson? Could use a man with your ability,” said Fury, turning his gaze to Sam.

“I’m more of a soldier than a spy,” responded Sam.

“Alright then,” Fury shrugged, shaking Sam’s hand before going over to shake Steve’s. “If anybody asks for me, tell them they can find me right here.” He said shaking Katie’s hand last as he nodded to the grave.

“You should be honoured.” Natasha’s voice drifted across from behind the three of them, making them turn around to see her walking up to them while Fury himself was already strolling away in the opposite direction. “That’s about as close as he gets to saying ‘thank you’.”

“Not going with him?” Katie asked.

“No,” she sang coming to a stop, keeping her hands behind her back.

“Not staying here,” Steve concluded.

“Nah…” she drew out the reply. “I blew all my covers, I gotta go figure out a new one.”

“That could take some time,” Katie raised an eyebrow.

“I’m counting on it.” She smirked, turning to Steve. “That thing you asked for; called in a few favours from Kiev.”

As she removed her hands from behind her back, she revealed a brown folder, which Steve took staring down at it with a contemplative expression.

“Be careful Steve,” she added, repeating her warning and he looked at her, nodding. “You may not want to pull on that thread.”

“Take care of yourself.” Katie said, looking at her, before giving her a quick hug.  “I think I’m going to miss you, just a little bit." 

"Only a little?” Natasha teased right back. “I’ll miss you too.”

She turned to leave and Katie gently reached over to tilt the file down so she could see it, wincing at the photo of Bucky in some kind of cryo-stasis. Steve looked at her, his eyes giving away his sadness and she gently ran her hand up his arm.

“I’m not sure I want you involved in this.” he looked down at her and she rolled her eyes.

“We live together you ass.” She looked at him, sternly “And we’re in this now, the both of us. I’m not going anywhere.”

She felt like she had been saying that a lot recently, and she had. But she wanted him to understand, nothing that happened could and would ever tear them apart.

 As Sam approached Steve closed the folder, but the man had already seen it. He shot a look up to the sky, his eyes locking on Katie’s and she gave him a quick look which was almost sympathetic as she registered Sam’s frustration. It didn’t go unnoticed by Steve either, he knew this could be opening a whole can of worms, or a ‘bucket of vipers’ as Katie had said the other night, but he had to try. He owed it to Bucky.

“You’re going after him aren’t you?” Sam asked.

“You don’t have to come with us.” Steve responded

“I know.” Sam remarked, before a smirk crossed his face. “When do we start?”

**** Chapter 18

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #mcu fanfic #mcu #captain america #chris evans #chris evans characters

[walkerwords]

“The Savior Sessions” Part 13 of 33 - Negan x GN!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: AMC/GENE PAGE

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: The reader, Aaron, Jesus, and Daryl set out to find Eugene, but what they find may be even worse...takes place in 9x08 “Evolution”

Word Count: 3890

Warning: Angst, Swearing, Blood, Massive Angst (I’m sorry)

Song I Wrote To: “Game of Survival” by Ruelle

Note: So I realized that the riders from hilltop don’t make it until well Gabe speaks to Negan in ep 8, but just go with me, okay? I hope you like this one! (All official dialog used is property of AMC)

----------

It didn’t take long for you and the others to pick up the trail Rosita had left. 

After leaving the horses, you all went on foot with you and Daryl leading. Next to Dixon, you were a decent tracker, but he had taught you everything you knew and it felt nice to be by his side once again.

Jesus was on your other flank, careful not to make any sound, which of course, he never did. You never found out what the man did before the world ended, but a part of you thought it had to have been some kind of military job. There was just no way he was this stealthy without any proper training. 

His sword glinted in the setting sun, his grip always adjusting on the handle. Aaron, who had joined up with the party just as you were leaving Hilltop, walked at the rear. He was keeping his eyes on Jesus, but also the surroundings. You knew that they were together or at least had grown closer. You weren’t sure why they were hiding it, but you didn’t press the issue. 

When Jesus and Aaron ventured ahead, you and Daryl split, taking each side along the main hill, checking for tracks. When you met back with the other two, they were crouched behind an old tree. As you approached, you could see what they were looking at so closely. Just over the hill was a herd of Walkers and they were behaving oddly. Daryl’s furry companion, Dog, jogged up to your side to get a closer look as well.

“You ever see them do this before?” Jesus asked Aaron. 

“No,” Aaron said and you were in agreement. The way the Walkers were walking in the field looked almost as if they were in a corral. Something about it made your stomach turn. 

“Rosita's trail goes right through 'em,” Daryl said, stopping at your shoulder. “We should get the horses, circle around, then we'll pick it up on foot.”

“What about the Walkers?” you asked him.

“What about them?” 

“They’re just milling around,” Jesus said with a nervous look at you. “That’s not normal, Daryl.”

“No,” Daryl said with his own look of worry. “No, it ain’t.” A sudden shift in the wind had you turning to Daryl and nodding your head to the sky. He nodded in agreement, he could feel it too. “We need to move, there’s a storm coming.”

A storm was definitely coming, but you weren’t sure if you all would be able to get out of its way this time. 

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

Back within the walls of Alexandria, Negan listened to Gabriel’s attempt at getting him to open up. “You do realize that this is a bunch of bullshit, right?” Negan asked as he threw the ball at the wall again. 

“What is?” Gabriel asked with a sigh. 

“You trying to get me to clear my head and open up and be a better man,” Negan joked. “It’s not working.”

“Is that so?” the Father asked. 

“Yep,” Negan said with a grin. 

“And is that because I’m not (Y/N)?” Gabe asked smugly as the ball stilled in Negan’s hand. 

“They are definitely much cuter than you,” Negan said, not risking to look in the Father’s eyes. 

“You’ve grown quite fond of them,” Gabriel noted, placing down the items in his hands. 

“Maybe I have, maybe I haven’t,” Negan said. “What is it to you? Are you jealous? I didn’t interrupt some freaky threesome with you, (Y/N), and Rosita, did I?”

“No,” Gabriel said, patiently. “However, I have noticed that (Y/N) seems...lighter these days.” That made Negan pause again. 

“What do you mean?” he asked. 

“They went through a dark time,” Gabriel explained. “Not that long after you were going through yours. I didn’t think I would see them smile again let alone interact with any of us for more than a few moments. You changed that. I don’t know what you did, but you brought them back to how they used to be.” Negan looked over at Gabriel, absorbing the information. He only had a few memories of (Y/N) before he was locked in the cell and even then, he wasn’t ready to share them with anyone, especially not Gabriel.

However, this new information had him a bit worried. What if they slipped back into the darkness? How was he supposed to help them? 

“I wouldn’t worry,” Gabriel offered, clearly seeing the turmoil in Negan’s eyes. “I have known them for a while and trust me when I say this, (Y/N) is one of the strongest people I know. Although, they are also one of the most loyal.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” Negan asked. 

“Because I can see that they trust you. Don’t ruin that.”

“I don’t plan to,” Negan said and for the first time in all the times Gabriel had been talking to the fallen king, he felt as if he was finally being sincere. Gabriel left then, leaving Negan to his thoughts, but he couldn’t focus on anything besides you and where you were. He trusted your friends enough to watch your back, but Negan was also worried that when it came down to it, you would be the reckless one and that would be your ultimate downfall. 

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

You were walking alongside Jesus while Aaron and Daryl were ahead, keeping Rosita’s trail in their line of sight. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Jesus asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. You blinked, turning your attention back to him. 

“What do you mean?” you asked. 

“I haven’t seen you this distracted in a while. What’s goin’ on?” 

“There’s just a lot of drama at home,” you admitted. 

“Is this about Michonne?” Jesus asked, kicking at a few loose rocks on the ground, skipping them a few feet ahead. 

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “It’s…” you paused, trying to get your nerve. You wondered if Aaron had mentioned your newfound bond with Negan, but seeing as Daryl hadn’t jumped down your throat yet, you figured the answer was no. “It’s Negan,” you admitted, lowering your voice. 

“What’s he done now?” Jesus asked, but his voice wasn’t full of malice, just with curiosity. Jesus was always the person to look at things from every side and that was why you cared for him so much. 

“Nothing,” you said with a shrug. “It’s just, I’ve been keeping my eye on him at the request of the council, and well, some people don’t like it.”

“Define, ‘keeping an eye on’?” he asked. 

“We’re sort of...friends?” you offered, not wanting to expose more of the relationship. Jesus was quiet for a moment and you wondered if he was thinking about Maggie. 

“Is that a bad thing?” 

“To everyone but me, it seems to be,” you grumbled. 

“What does Negan think about this newfound friendship?” Jesus wondered. 

“He thinks that I should be careful about how much time I spend with him. He is always worried that my people are going to turn on me.” 

“Do you think they will?” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” you said honestly. “I’d rather not find out.” Jesus reached over and laid his hand on your shoulder and then glanced over at Daryl and Aaron before lowering his volume as well. 

“It’s more than a friendship,  isn’t it?” You almost froze at his words, but he took your silence as an answer. With a sigh, he dropped his hand but kept close to you. “I can’t say that I fully approve, but I always did think there was more to him than just the leather and the barbed wire.” You laughed at that. 

“There is,” you said. “There is so much more.”

“Then why worry?”

“Because it’s Negan and everyone hates him,” you reminded him. 

“You don’t,” he pointed out. “I think that counts for something.” 

“Yeah, maybe it does,” you said with a small smile. “Thanks, Paul.” He winked at you and then went to catch up with Aaron. You watched after him and felt a weight disappear off your shoulders. Maybe people finding out about your connection to Negan wouldn’t be so horrible. It wasn’t as if the world could end twice. 

Catching up to your friends, you stopped as growling reached your ears. “You hear that?” you asked Daryl. 

“That herd is followin’ us,” Aaron said. 

“Nah, has to be the wind,” you argued. “Walkers can’t follow scents like that. Can they?”

“Let’s not find out,” Daryl said, gesturing the group ahead. “We need to put some distance between us and them.” 

Nobody argued with that and so the four of you set out again, keeping to the shadows of the tree line when you could. You acted as sentry in the back, your knives in your hands as you scouted along the trees, keeping your senses alert. It had been a while since you had been out in the world like this. 

Michonne had asked you to go on runs here and there, but it had been too long since you had walked the same earth Walkers stumbled across daily. The stench of rot and new growth was in the air and it almost felt alien to be hiking through the weeds again. 

You were reminded of the time before you got to Alexandria. All those days on the road when you didn’t know what was around every corner had given you the much-needed adrenaline rushes. Then with the war, they had returned. You would never admit it out loud, but you sort of missed that feeling that rushed through your body when you were fighting.  You missed the danger. Though, you definitely didn’t miss the loss.

---------

When Daryl, Aaron, and Jesus stopped sometime later, you came up behind them confused. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked. 

“Is that the same herd?” Aaron asked, looking through the trees. Peering at the Walkers, you had a feeling it was. “If it is, it just got a whole lot bigger.”

“Herds merge, Aaron,” you reminded him. 

“I still don’t like the feel of this one,” he admitted. 

“Don't matter how big it is as long as it's going the other way,” Daryl said. “Come on.” As Jesus and Aaron followed Daryl, you hesitated as a feeling entered your gut. It was something you had sometimes felt when acting as a sniper. Whenever someone had spotted you, you got the sense that you were being watched. 

That feeling had now returned. 

Turning away from the herd, you gripped your blades tighter and followed after the others, but the fear followed you and you didn’t know how to shake it. 

----------

It was well after the sun came down, that Daryl finally picked up the end of the trail. With Dog in the lead, Daryl picked his way toward an old barn, the rest of you on his tail. “Something ain’t right,” you said to Daryl as you walked. 

“What’s wrong?” Aaron asked, hearing your concern. 

“I don’t like this, any of it. I don’t feel...safe,” you admitted. 

“I know, I feel it, too,” Daryl said, meeting your eyes. “We just gotta find Eugene and get gone. Go on, boy, go find him,” Daryl urged as the canine trotted into the barn, sniffing the straw as he went. 

You walked parallel to Daryl, something you learned to do when you would hunt together. It was so easy to fall in step with him again. He seemed to notice it too considering he was reacting to every step you were taking as well. Suddenly, Dog began to whine as he scratched at a portion of straw on the ground. 

“Good boy,” Daryl said. 

“Eugene? Are you in there?” Aaron asked above the hay mound and then through the silence, you finally heard a voice. 

“Affirmative,” Eugene said. All four of you began to dig him out, careful not to injure him further. Once you got him situated back onto the barn floor, you got a better look at him. He was shaking, sweating, and something about the way he was looking at you told you one thing, Eugene was petrified. 

“Are you alright?” you asked, getting down to his level. 

“I took a bad step and dislocated my knee. There was a herd on our six, and Rosita was forced to stash me here,” Eugene said, his hands still shaking. 

“Well, if it's dislocated, we can just pop it back in,” Daryl said, but Eugene was shaking his head. He then grabbed your arm tight. 

“We have to get out of here,” He said, his eyes boring into yours. 

“Eugene…” you tried, but he wasn’t having it. 

“The herd that followed us here is on its way back,” he said and you looked up at Jesus with cautious eyes. His own were flicking back to the entrance of the barn. “Those Walkers ain’t normal, (Y/N).”

“What do you mean?” you asked. 

“When they passed us by, we could hear them. They were... whispering to each other,” Eugene said, looking back and forth between all of you. 

“Whispering?” you echoed, a chill running up your spine.

“I know how it sounds, but Rosita heard it as well. Trust me, those weren’t no normal growls and grumbles.”

“We need to get him back,” you said. “Right now.” Daryl was agreeing when suddenly Dog began barking. Eugene froze and when you looked out the window and saw the Walkers converging on the barn, you nearly tripped over your own feet. That was impossible. You said as much. 

“They’ve got us cut off,” Daryl said. “We gotta go around them, get back to the horses and the bike,” Daryl said as Jesus and Aaron pulled Eugene to his feet. “(Y/N), you’re on our six,” he said and you nodded, already feeling the blood rush through you.

As the four of your hobbled towards where you had tied up the mounts, the herd never slowed and they never turned. The adrenaline that was pumping was slowly turning into pure fear. None of this was making any sense. Sneaking through the woods, you watched as the Walkers stumbled down the main road as you dragged Eugene along. 

Reaching a crossroads, Jesus got Eugene to rest against an abandoned car as you spread out, trying to see where the Walkers were coming from. “It doesn't make any sense. They shouldn't have doubled back like that. And they definitely shouldn't have followed us all the way to the barn,” Jesus said and you shook your head, trying to understand as well. 

“I do have a theory to posit,” added Eugene, “the Walkers are evolving.”

“Bullshit,” you said. “Walkers are dead, they are already evolved. That’s how they can even fucking walk around in the first place.”

“They're not dead in any sense that makes sense,” Eugene challenged. “It takes an impact to the cranium to stop them, which means the brain is alive, degraded as it may be. And if it's alive, it can change. Maybe even start to remember things, too, like how to talk.”

“And what? Hunt?”

“Possibly,” Eugene said and you never wanted to scream so much in your life. This was not the trip you had envisioned and it was quickly turning into a full-blown horror movie. 

“They’re right on our asses!” Aaron said as he came running from the trees. 

“We need our damn horses,” you said to Daryl. 

“You have to leave me behind,” Eugene said, clutching at his leg. “I'm slowing you down and tiring you out. Every time we stop, the Dead get closer.”

“Eugene, shut up!” you snapped. “No one is gettin’ left behind. We came out here to find you and bring you home. Not to sacrifice your ass to some mutant herd of Walkers.” 

“The numbers actually work for us,” Jesus interjected. “We can split up. You two get him back to the horses. I'll wait for the herd to get here, then I'll draw them off in the other direction. Then I'll ditch them and meet you back at the Hilltop.”

“Splitting up is never a good idea, dammit!” you said. “We work better together and you know it. When has splitting up ever worked?”

“They’re right,” Aaron said, agreeing with you.

“If anyone stays, it's gonna be me,” Daryl said and when you went to argue, he shot you down. “Ya need to keep Eugene safe. I’m better on my own. Go! I’ll turn the herd, you keep him safe!” Aaron and Jesus began to drag Eugene away and you reluctantly followed as Daryl ran off with Dog by his side. 

--------

You weren’t sure what Daryl was using to pull the herd, but it didn’t seem like it was working. The herd kept on your tail as the three of you hauled Eugene across the barren landscape. The fog was setting in and visibility was low as you picked your way across fallen trees and branches. 

Eugene was screaming in pain with every jostle between Jesus and Aaron as you walked ahead with the useless flashlight. “Come on, come on,” Jesus urged, as you came to a fence. 

“They’re still on us,” Aaron swore as you shone the light around. You couldn’t even see the outlines of their bodies as they stumbled through the dark. Thunder rumbled overhead and lightning lit up the sky, throwing shadows everywhere. 

“Paul…” you said, your voice slightly shaky. 

“Come on,” he said. “We gotta go.” Jesus grabbed Eugene again and began dragging him along the fence. You ran ahead, keeping your weapon raised when you finally found a parting in the wall. 

“Here!” you yelled as they came up behind you. Jesus knew what you were thinking immediately. 

“Yes, yes! We can use the break as a chokepoint. Slow them down,” he said with a grunt. You and Jesus jumped through and then helped Eugene over the crumbling stone, trying to keep the weight off his bad leg as much as possible. When you realized it was a cemetery you had dropped into, you almost ran back out.

However, with the growls only growing louder, you pressed on. “Follow the wall,” you said. “The last thing we need is to get lost in this.”

“Find a gate, (Y/N),” Aaron said as Walkers began crashing through the chokepoint. You were then reminded of the night the tree crashed through the wall. The first night you fought next to Negan instead of against him. His face and the promise you had made him was the only thing that pushed you through that graveyard.

You tried to clear a path as you made it to the other side when you finally found the gate. “There!” you shouted as you ran to it, but when you tried to open it, it wouldn’t move. “Shit!” you swore, kicking at the dirt that had buried your escape route. 

“(Y/N)!” Aaron called. 

“It’s stuck!” you cried. All four of you backed up to the wall as the Walkers approached.

Jesus got Eugene to lead against the wall as he drew his sword. You and Aaron also took up defensive positions, ready to fight through it. With a crash of thunder, loud enough to deafen giants, the Dead fell upon you. 

It was a flurry of swords and legs as you kicked out and slashed down on the Walkers. Heads toppled, bodies crumbled, and dark blood stuck to your face and boots. You could see both Aaron and Jesus fighting alongside you, taking out their fair share of Dead, but they were still coming and you were barely making a dent. 

Eugene took care of his own as he balanced on one leg and you went low. Using your blades, you cut them off at the knees, spinning the blades to enter their skulls after. Ducking under one, you slid your knife into another, and so on. Aaron and Jesus worked as a perfect team, much like you and Daryl. Aaron grabbed a Walker, throwing it towards Paul who spun it around to land against a headstone. With a downward kick, Jesus crushed its brains into nothing. 

Suddenly, a sound echoed across the graveyard, a sound that chilled you to your soul. It was whispering and it sounded as if it were coming from everywhere. You and Jesus looked at each other in fear as Eugene began to shake again. Raising your knives, you were prepared to go down swinging at the invisible threat. 

However, it seemed as if the universe had other plans. “Eugene!” yelled a voice that you instantly recognized as Michonne’s. You could see her arrive at the gate, her hands braced against it as she fought to open it. 

“The gate is buried!” you said as you ran over, trying to give her a hand. “We can’t get out!”

“I need you to push back,” Michonne said as you and Eugene braced yourself against the gate, forcing it back. Just then, out of the shadows came Magna and Yumiko. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Earning our keep!” Magna shot back as they began digging. Finally, the gate was freed and you pushed it open, stumbling out first. 

“Get him out of here!” Jesus was yelling at Aaron who was running to help Eugene. Getting back on study legs, you ran back toward the gate, trying to push past Yumiko. Through the bars, you could see Jesus slashing away with his sword, fighting like the warrior he was. It was mesmerizing. 

“Paul!” you shouted. “Come on!” He met your eyes and then began heading back to the fence

And that is when everything went wrong. 

Just as a Walker dragged itself across Jesus’ path, Paul swung, but the Walker ducked. In a single movement, the man who you weren’t so sure was actually Dead, twisted around and then plunged a blade right into Jesus’ back. He went still and then you watched in horror as his body fell to the ground. 

“No!” Aaron screamed as he and the others ran back through the gate, their weapons raised. Michonne pulled her katana and you followed her, tears springing in your eyes. You yelled in fury as more armed Dead came running at you, blades in their hands. All you saw was red as you slashed at them. 

A bolt came from behind a headstone as Daryl joined the fight, taking more of them down. Michonne slashed with her sword while Yumiko fired arrows. The bloody battle was over in a manner of seconds, but the pain was very real. You and Aaron collapsed to Jesus’ side and you let out a scream so loud, you thought it might have been louder than the thunder itself.

Your best friend was dead.

Daryl then leaned over and picked up something off one of the corpses. When he lifted it up for all of you to see there were only more questions than answers. It was a mask, made of the skin of the Dead and someone had been wearing it.

“What are they?” Michonne asked. You looked at Daryl and he at you and for the first time since knowing him, you had no idea what he was thinking, but you did know one thing. 

He was scared. You all were scared.

-------

Miles away, in the darkness of a cell, an iron door of a cage was left open...

TAGS:  : amaroho  @thanossexual @yes-sir-hotchner @boom-bunny @delusionalteenagewhispers @scootankle @ritajammer21​ @writteriguess @tea-atfive @jennydehavilland​ @halszka-potter​ @yespleasejayhalstead​ @fmunegan @hoemadegrace  @pulplorrd​ @writingdead0829​ @lucillethings​

#Walkerwords #savior sessions #twd #the walking dead #negan imagine #twd fics #reader insert #GN reader #negan x reader #negan x you #the walking dead imagines #the walking dead fanfiction

[sheerbeautyreigns]

DESIRE

Part 26

Paul had managed to soften Joe up by giving him a good fuck in the living room after their argument by the pool. They cuddled on the sofa and talked for a while so he was feeling a bit better about the situation. Paul had just left for the airport so Joe went about having a nice long shower to think over the mornings events and mull over what might happen tonight. He had told Paul that he didn’t want Drew to have any involvement or knowledge of their dominant and submissive dynamic. He didn’t want to be seen as submissive in Drew’s eyes. That side was for Paul’s eyes only, to which he agreed. That made Paul happy and he loved Joe even more for it. It was like a weight off Joe's shoulders.

After his shower, he dried off and changed into a loose pair of cut offs and a white tank top. It showed off his muscles and tan perfectly. He put his hair in a low bun. Figuring it would be a while before they would be back, Joe went downstairs to watch a little TV. Paul’s sofa was so damned comfortable that it wasn’t long before he nodded off.

Paul pulled up in the driveway about 45 minutes later. He could see in the window that Joe was lying in the sofa and most likely asleep so he made sure that he and Drew were quiet entering the house. Paul led the way, padding lightly into the living room. He and Drew stopped at the back of the sofa.

“Look at him, “ Paul whispered with a small smile. Joe lay on his side, an arm crossed over his chest, snoring lightly. “He falls asleep so easily. Would be almost a shame to wake him…”

“Let him rest a while longer.” Drew whispered “It’ll be a long night.” They went into the kitchen and closed the door behind them.

Joe awoke to the sound of laughter coming from the kitchen. He knew instantly that Drew was here. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, squinting at the clock on the wall. It was almost 5pm. “Fuck.” He had been asleep for about 2 hours.

“Oh hey sleeping beauty!” Paul exclaimed. Seemed he had had a few more drinks since he had left. Joe turned his head. “Hey,” Paul sat next to him. He could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to disturb you. Besides, gave Drew and I some time to catch up.” Joe raised his eyebrow. “I hope you two didn’t get started without me?”

“Of course not-” He started just as Drew walked in. He was wearing a black t-shirt and black jeans. “Got some rest in for tonight big boy?” He said seating himself on the other side of Joe. He suddenly felt overwhelmed, seated on either side by both men. “Good to see you too.” Joe smiled as Drew placed his hand on his leg leading Paul to smile devilishly at the prospect of his two boys fucking tonight.

“Long time no see…” Drew commented, reminding him that it had only been a few nights since their last encounter.

“Why don’t you two make yourselves comfortable up in the bedroom and I’ll be up to join you in a minute?” Paul suggested. It was clear that he didn’t want to waste any time. “You sure?” Joe checked, exchanging looks between both men. “Of course. You have to give our guest a proper welcome.” This caused Drew to smile. “If you say so.” Joe rose to his feet, as did Drew. Paul smiled watching as they left.

As soon as they got into the bedroom, Drew grabbed Joe and pulled him into a long, passionate kiss.

“Did he say anything about kissing?” Joe checked. “No so I’m assuming still not allowed so-” Joe cut him off and kissed him back, not wanting to waste the opportunity. “I want you so bad.” He breathed, before they both stripped off.

“Already rock hard for me big boy.” Drew said satisfied with his view. “Speak for yourself.” Joe grinned, moving forward, grabbing his hard shaft. Drew groaned, looking Joe in the eyes. At that very moment, Paul appeared at the door.

“What a view.” He said in his gravelly tone, admiring the sight of fully nude Joe and Drew together. Joe turned his head and smirked at Paul. He knew he’d be hard at this. Slowly, he lowered to his knees and took Drew’s thick cock in his mouth. “Aah fuck yeah…” Drew groaned placing his hands on Joe shoulders as Joe sucked his cock. The Scot was relaxed with Joe, not forcing it on him and Joe appreciated being able to go at his own pace.

“Baby, you’re sucking that cock so good.” Paul commented, now stood behind Joe. He could hear Paul getting undressed behind him. The older man leaned across Joe and kissed Drew. Why does he get to kiss him? Joe thought, sucking and pumping the Scots dick harder now. Drew pulled away from the kiss, feeling like he was going to explode. “Fuck Joe, that’s it.” He growled before erupting in his mouth. Joe gagged at the impact. Paul was so hard, watching this unfold. There was something different in Joe with Drew, more conviction, more hunger. The Scot fucked his mouth until he fully came. “So fucking hot, “ Paul smiled as Joe pulled away, a sweaty mess leaning against the foot to the bed. He watched as Paul and Drew started kissing again, moving onto the bed. It was clear that Paul intended to fuck Drew. He motioned for him to lie on his stomach while reaching for the lube on the bedside locker. He wasted no time in sliding his fingers into his hole. The Scot groaned looking over his shoulder. Paul was focused on opening up. Joe stood behind him, watching intently, one hand stroking his hard cock. The sight made Drew extra hard. Their eyes locked for a moment before Drew shut his as Paul’s cock started to penetrate him. “Aaah Christ,” he let out sinking his head into the pillows below. Paul pulled his hips towards him and slowly started to fuck him.

Their heavy breaths filled the room as Paul began to fuck him harder. Paul gave Joe a satisfied look as he continued to pound the Scot into the mattress. Joe moved to the to end of the bed for a better look. He kneeled on the corner next to Drew. Drew raised his head, eyes meeting Joe. “Keep going baby, keep taking it.” The Samoan coaxed him running his hand along his jaw. Paul was so turned on. “I’m gonna cum hard,” he announced in his gruff tone before he let himself go, cum exploding into Drew’s ass. The younger man shuddered, shutting his eyes. Joe took his hand, to which he squeezed tight. “Fucking hell!” Paul let out as he withdrew, completely spent. He collapsed on the bed on Joe side.

Joe took him in his arms. “I loved watching that.” He smiled leaning down to kiss Paul.

Joe buried his head in his hands as Drew thrust into him again. The Scot kept a firm grip around Joe thighs as he held him steady, legs raised up on either side of his muscular chest. “Look at me,” he commanded. Joe trailed his hands up his forehead and onto his matted hair. His eyes met Drew’s. He had never seen this dark look in his eyes before. Was it because Paul was there too? He was fucking him harder than before. “Good boy,” Paul chimed in walking around the side of the bed “Taking that big hard cock.” He smiled, leaning in to kiss Drew. When Paul withdrew, Drew once again turned his attentions to Joe, thrusting into him slow and hard. He felt so full that he felt like he absolutely couldn’t take any more. Paul sat on the side of the bed and pinned Joe wrists down on the mattress and kissed him passionately. Moans and whimpers escaped him the more Drew fucked him. “Aaaah fuck! Please!” The Samoan let out, thrashing his head to the side. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna cum right in this arsehole, any minute.” Drew growled, eyeing Joe. “Pleeease!” He cried out again as Paul continued to pin him to the bed. He smiled down devilishly as Joe tried to fight against him. “Don’t fight me baby,” he warned. He shut his eyes, feeling Drew’s hot seed fill him.

“Fuuuuck!” Drew cried out, slamming hard into Joe for a final time. Joe eyes rolled into the back of his head, in a state of euphoria, while his body shuddered, fists clenching in Paul’s grip. Drew pulled out falling onto Joe side. “Fucking hell…” he breathed looking over at Joe. Paul had now let him go and was kissing him passionately, a fistful of hair in his hands. Drew eventually got out of the bed and went onto the ensuite.

“You OK baby?” Paul checked. Joe groaned, in pain. “I feel like I’ve been split open. He’s so big.” Paul chuckled aloud. “Of course you would enjoy this.”

“Oh baby if only you knew.” Paul got up off the bed smiling. “I’m gonna get us some drinks.” He left the room and went downstairs. Drew instantly came out of the bathroom and straight to Joe side. They instantly started kissing frantically. They were so hungry for each other. “I want you to fuck me.” Drew said in between kisses. Hearing the clinking of beer bottles getting closer, Drew moved away from Joe’s embrace. A frustrated sigh escaped the Samoan. Paul appeared, cold beers in hand. “Knock yourselves out boys.” They all gathered on the bed, all propped up against the head board chilling, drinking and talking for the next while. Paul noticed that Joe felt very comfortable with Drew, more comfortable than he had anticipated.

“Baby, I think you should fuck Drew.” Paul smirked at the Scot and then glanced at Joe. “What do you say Joe?” Drew chimed in setting his beer bottle on the bedside table. Joe eyed Paul “Whatever you say boss.” Paul grinned wickedly. “I’m gonna enjoy this.” Joe set his bottle down and whipped his hair aside before moving down the bed, bottle of lube in hand. Drew kneeled before him, on all fours. Paul settled himself on the corner armchair, watching from a distance, leaving them to it. Drew spread his legs, stretching himself for Joe. He moaned as the cold lube hit his entrance. Joe wasted no time in inserting two fingers into his opening, gently massaging him at first. Drew looked over his shoulder, meeting Joe eyes. They were filled with lust. At that very moment, he penetrated him deeper, massaging his prostate. “Ahhh fuck,” The Scot breathed, it was such a good feeling but he wanted Joe cock inside him and he was only too willing to oblige. Gently, he penetrated him at first. “You like that?” Joe asked, trailing his hand down his muscular back. “Fuck yeah, deeper.” Joe went for it and slammed into him. A sharp breath escaped Drew as Joe grabbed his pelvis, pulling it up to his waist he started to fuck him hard. He knew Drew could take it. Paul watched intently, so surprised at Joe pace and control. Maybe he wasn”t as submissive as he thought. He sure had a way with Drew. The bed rocked hard as he fucked him, muscles tense, their moans and groans filling the room. “Jesus Christ!” The Scot let out as Joe drove him into the mattress, not letting up. Paul rose from his seat, moving closer to get a better view. “Oh baby…” He said, grabbing Joe tensed buttocks. The younger man looked over his shoulder. Paul had never seen this look before, so possessive now that he was fucking Drew. He turned his attention to the matter at hand, slamming, balls deep before he came. A gutteral growl escaped his throat along to Drew’s cries below. This was a side of Joe that Paul had never seen before. As he pulled out, Paul grabbed him. “You did so good baby,” he whispered, sweeping his damp hair back and kissing him. Drew gathered himself below, rolling onto his back. A surge of jealousy filled him when he saw Paul and Joe embracing. As a consolation, he finished off the rest of his beer. Joe went off to shower as he felt like a mess after that session, leaving Paul and Drew alone.

“I don’t know what you do to him Drew…” Paul started lowering to the bed. “He’s a bit of an animal isn’t he?” Drew laughed. “I’ve never seen that side of him.”

“Is he not like that when you guys fuck?” Drew asked looking at him. “I fuck him.” Paul responded. “He doesn’t fuck you?” Drew looked confused “Why?”

“It’s just an agreement we have.” He shrugged. “How can you pass that up. He’s a great fuck.” Drew was in disbelief. “I see that now.” Paul pondered for a moment. “Has tonight opened your eyes a bit?”

“I guess you could say that.”

#roman reigns #wwe #tribal chief #fanfiction #roman reigns fic #smut #d/s #drew mcintyre #m/m

[dropsofletters]

split-ends and break-ups

title: split-ends and break-ups pairing: park chanyeol/reader genre: band!au/ex-boyfriend!au/enemies to lovers!au summary: when participating in a battle of the bands to earn a position in some discography, she realizes that one of the contestants is none other than her ex. musically and physically blessed, as well as extremely sweet chanyeol is there to compete, though it falls upon his shoulders to let his competitive blood destroy his past love’s chance at success…or he could simply remember all that happened before their fall out. type: fluff/angst/romance word count: 9,688

No plethora of convincing quotes, astonishing inspirational speeches and phrases along the lines of ‘it will be alright’ could make her believe in hope. Such a harsh mindset is the necklace that hangs around her neck, digging into her skin uncomfortably, glowing in the dark when she sees the flickering lights of her apartment casting its power down on to the living room. Somewhere, her bandmate must be sleeping, specifically the guitarist, but instead of seeking for her flat pillow and her rusty bedsheets, she opts to stay up late once again, pen moving against her old notebook, writing down lyrics while her bass peacefully rests on her lap.

Not that it is any closer to sounding in its heavy tune, considering that her brain is completely dried from inspiration, wondering why musicians must suffer in order to be big. The best bands did it—she has tried to convince herself for the past two years in which they are played small gigs in local bars—, but they are truly getting nowhere. Once her apartment was only shared with herself and now, looking to save some more money to record a few songs, she had to share it with her deep sleeper of a guitarist. Somewhere in between reaching her dreams, she has lost herself. Refrigerator void of food. Soul void of happiness. Mind void of ideas.

It’s a cycle as of now.

Everything burns. The ache of her legs, seated atop a couch that can only pain her so much, cheap to its core. Her heart, it burns, simply because she doesn’t know what to do anymore—if being a secretary is even an option now that a bassist didn’t work, if people were right when they said that she should have simply stuck to something simpler. Her fingers push her bass down, trying to find a rhyme that isn’t ‘love’, for she is tired to writing songs about loving for one night and forgetting in the other. Tired is what she is, of everything and anything, of wishing for stardom but not even being able to look up at the stars in her own goddamned apartment, too tiny and closed to even have proper, wide windows.

Brand new is not her bass when she comes up with a brief hook, one that does not make her happy, the corners of her mouth turning down when anger finally lifts her off the couch. Her legs creak under her weight, putting her bass down and placing her hands on each side of her temples, fingers caressing over the skin around her parietal bones. Everything seems to be falling down for her, flashing back to the times in which people had told her that she was good—but not outstanding enough to be a musician, a well-known at that.

It’s too hard to forget when all she has ever dreamed of is to be on a stage and play the bass.

Three in the morning and the moonlight is testing her when she turns off the lights and can’t even reach for her keys, wanting nothing more to get out and look for some snacks to have in that twenty-four-hour convenience store a few blocks away. Scared, she is not, as if the world and all the bad in it paralyzed because of her disdain. Her steps are quickened, bag tossed over her shoulder and crossing her waist, a t-shirt falling halfway on her thighs, her leggings with a few holes here and there—clear notification that she was probably wearing her pajamas. Trying is not in her vocabulary anymore.

Not when the moon looks just as hopeless as she is, the wind barely blowing in such a damned place. The butts of cigarettes rest on the streets, the music is far too distant to even be pleasurable, broken glass shatters under the weight of anyone’s shoes, the drinking habits of the city toxic in its vast meaning. A deep sigh is enough to make her feel like this city doesn’t even hold oxygen anymore, simply living off monoxide. Some people are sleeping on the streets, highlight of the poverty that no one does anything to fight for, and she closes her eyes while quickening her steps.

Musicians are never fully happy, someone once told her, or maybe she read it in a magazine. What a curse that comes with the most beautiful of unions—through tunes and melodies, comes saddening memories of never reaching the dream she wished for.

On behalf of destiny, something stops her, a rock on the way that almost has her tripping over her own feet. Flip-flops are definitely not a good idea to go out in, but it is enough of a distraction to have her rolling her eyes. Leaning her hand against the brick wall by her side, she takes the rock out of her shoes, looking to the side simply to catch a glimpse of the harsh surface, covered by something that she can’t quite describe. A pamphlet, she realizes soon after, folding it in between her hands to bring it closer to her face.

A few guitars, the typical, half-assed job graphic designers do in most occasions when describing music. What catches her attention is the price of this competition, a battle of the bands with the chance of signing with a discography and some money with a few zeroes added to it. It’s enticing, glorious, enough of a push and put in such a place for her to save the pamphlet inside her pocket.

In the future, this will only be a flashback for her memoir, when everything was difficult before that battle of the bands turns her and her band into stars.

Or she sure hopes her future reads out that way.

🥁

“Maybe, we should get a band tattoo in commemoration of this moment.”

Slipping the yellow straw in between her lips to take a sip of her smoothie, she lifts her eyebrows at one of her bandmates, the vocalist to be exact. “I don’t believe your choices in tattoos, Hee Young.” She adds, looking at Hee Young as she picks from the variety of noodles in the gas station little convenience store. Maybe, this is part of the rock lifestyle, simply living off whatever snack is easier to pop in some boiling water or in the microwave. Not caring is the new black, some may say if you ask them. “Someone with a butterfly tattoo with the name of her ex on her left ass-cheek is definitely not a person to be trusted.”

Hee Young lifts her gaze, puffy and frizzy hair short and resting under her earlobes, pierced from top to bottom. Her voice is sweet compared to how tough she looks, tall and long, unapproachable at its finest. “Says the bassist with the bright yellow pants. Learn how to dress and then we can talk aesthetics.”

The only male in the group, and the drummer, pops his head from behind a rack of sunglasses, sporting ones with hearts on them. Andrew’s softened heart is too big to even be in a group with three of the most complicated, least understanding women in the world. The youngest simply wants to have fun, he says, loving the process of learning more than the success lifestyle. “Don’t cause a fuss.” He says, embarrassment coating his words. “You two are always fighting.”

“She’s the Paul to my John, let us be.” She argues, taking another sip of her smoothie before nodding her head towards the bathrooms outside the shop. “Should I go check up on Seong Im? She hasn’t gotten out in a while.”

“That’s why our diet should not only consist of noodles and salty, greasy snacks.” The youngest and yet wisest Andrew indicates, pulling the pink sunglasses down his slim nose. “It causes diarrhea.”

“Gross.” Hee Young whispers, putting the noodle packs back down on their spots. “What would you buy for a normal dinner? I think we deserve it after getting accepted in the battle of the bands.”

Andrew bites down on his bottom lip, quirking the corner of them up soon after. “…Salad sounds healthy.”

“I doubt we’re going to find vegetables in some gas station, Drew.” She argues, only to earn a shrug from Andrew.

“It may be about time for us to stop buying stuff in the gas station, then.”

“We have one hour of being a casted band in some contest and we’re already speaking as we can afford that.” Her voice is uneven when a smile appears on her face, patting her hand against Andrew’s shoulder. “But if it makes you happy, buy whatever. I’ll go look for Seong Im and wait in the car.”

What she hears in the background is the sound of Hee Young trying to convince Andrew of getting some snacks, to what he can simply deny her offers. The air fills her lungs when she opens the door, looking around the half-empty gas station at this hour of the night, some of the workers having dinner by the pavement. Her movements are slow when her fingers look in the pockets of the yellow pants that Hee Young always curses, reaching for the keys and twirling it in between her skilled bassist fingers.

Yellow is a color of happiness. The sun. Her first guitar and maybe, even the color of the dress she wore when she had her first kiss. When things were easier, definitely so, when musicians seemed cool instead of troublesome and filled with worries. The straw brings her happiness, too, her greens inserted in a drink that has her sighing at the precious coldness, the color seeping from her body now that her band got accepted after their audition. They are going to be able to compete for a contract with a discography, something that any musician is fighting and thriving for, to be treated like royalty in a world of warriors.

Her knuckles knock against the bathroom door, hearing a loud: “What?!” coming from the inside. That voice, definitely a bit obstinate, belongs to her guitarist perfectly.

“Are you okay in there?”

“Yep. Having the time of my life!”

“What happened? Indigestion?”

“…Don’t wanna talk about it.”

With a smile playing on her features, she nods her head. “I’ll be in the car when you get out.”

Near the shared car between her guitarist and herself, however, there is another car parked, a man standing beside it to fuel it. His back is turned to the workers, his profile clear to her and oh lord, does she know those features. A tall man with a nice profile, plush lips matching his slightly wide nose, big eyes innocent when he is doing most tasks, determined when playing the drums and a haze when he used to look at her. Those big hands, one resting on the windows of the car, had wrapped around her waist, rested on her thighs and explored all of her once or a hundred times of her life, in that damned car of his, with the music blasting just like it does right now, the people inside it the bandmates that she had once shared spots with.

A bassist for another band—Park Chanyeol’s band—she had once been. At the time, she was dating him, like the poor, oblivious woman that had fallen in love with him simply to break it off thanks to musical differences. Chanyeol wanted to experiment, while she wanted to continue to grow in the punk and rock spectrum of music, leaving them more separated than they had ever been. Three years later and she is in a new group, while he continues to shine in his beauty, unaware of her existence and yet, so close to her.

Something tells her that this is not the last time she is going to see him, much more when she gets closer and tries to get inside her car from the back doors, not wanting to be noticed by him, only to see a name-tag just like the one resting on top of her white tank top, reading his name and the title of the battle of the bangs competition.

No way.

No fucking way.

She was going against the band that had created her as an artist.

When Chanyeol lifts his gaze, she plops her body down in the backseat, looking up at the ceiling in hopes of not being caught by him. What she needs right now is to figure out the reason of her nervousness, why competitiveness settles inside her body in pure revenge for having him break-up with her thanks to the constant arguments about music. What he was once said was ‘great music’ could never compare to hers, she tries to argue with herself, though her mind tells her that Chanyeol’s group is fully capable of winning, too—

But no.

They are not.

Not when this is her chance of finally showing that ex-boyfriend of hers that her vision was right. Pride, oh such a damned thing, and the reason why she sits up to look at Chanyeol’s old car drive by. Pride has become her best friend just now.

🥁

When on stage, she feels like a different woman.

People are told what to do eighty percent of their lives; some understandable, some mere stigmas, some simply because of the individuals they surround themselves with. In her opinion, though, her bass gives her rules that adjust to her. She is not broke and misunderstood when on top of the stage, rehearsing in that same place in which they are going to perform just a month from them. She is not the girl-next-door turned into a nightmare when the bass pumps from her veins and her arteries to the crowd, musicians that equally appreciate and envy, all rats seeking to thrive from the same source of food. Some are behind the stage, others are resting on some of the seats, other seated in the floor but when she turns around and shares a smile with Andrew, she feels like she belongs.

Women are expected to be a million things, straight-up perfect. They are expected to be or not to be, never in between, never able to show that they are weak or if they are, they should cry for everything and anything, unable to help themselves in the eyes of the world. In her silence, people would think her troublesome personality comes from a space of clear trust issues, but that is not the case. She found other people just like her, who lifted her up when they needed to fight together. The joyful Andrew, too sweet to even be true, kicked out of his high school for bad grades back in the day and still fighting for a happy ending. The comedic Seong Im, definitely gorgeous enough to be a model and still, releasing some of the best guitar solos she has ever heard. Hee Young, the one that put them together, her middle school enemy and now, her best friend. People who had given their life out to craft music and now were fighting for a chance to be alive.

To be a band.

Her foot rests on the side of Andrew’s drum-set, smiling to him when she moves her fingers on her bass with tranquility, not missing a single tempo, the two in charge of making a song much more understood. Much to her disappointment, however, there is a point when she can’t even listen to her bass, the amplifier releasing an elongated, high, shrilling noise before her bass comes to a halt, though her movements don’t. her eyes widen, turning around and trying to turn the device on with her foot, only to see the lack of a flickering light that either shined green or red. Her eyes look for her guitarist, Seong Im losing her tempo thanks to the lack of the bass, the song falling flat when all they can hear are Seong Im’s late chords and Hee Young’s booming voice.

The crowd suddenly starts laughing, because life is a fucking sitcom and everyone needs to play along to their roles. People like them are meant to follow the stigma that is expected from them—to fail. Her fingers hook around her bass, settling it down as she rushes down the set of stairs that led down to the crowd’s spots. Thus she rushes around them, walking towards the backstage area, watching a lot of people get ready, either look-wise or in the music spectrum, though at the depths of musicians, mostly guitarists, she gets to see the big amount of cables that connected to the amplifiers and microphones, pushing a few people out of the way with her rushing, the pink beret on her head almost falling off it from the commotion.

By the cables and amplifiers, there are two men seated. One of them shorter than the other, bulkier, a cigarette falling from between his lips, the slit on his eyebrow and the rounded cheeks clearly making out the figure of the vocalist of Chanyeol’s band. Sam, the precious Sam that had been the one to put the two together, the first person to put a cigarette in between her lips, the friend that would accompany her to their first gigs, the songwriter of their group before Chanyeol and herself took the lead. Sam has always bled music, just like the past lovers do, yet he seems to be so passive about it, peaceful even.

Chanyeol and her could never do that.

By Sam’s side, however, much more obstinate and ambitious comes the magician that always captures her heart when he stares up at her, reminder of the days in which he made her feel like a goddess by pressing his lips to the spaces in her knuckles only to profess a passionate love for her, deep and profound. He would always look at her with wide eyes then, and to see him exchange that glance with her once again is nostalgia at its finest. It brings the food she had eaten earlier up her throat, the ache of her chest suddenly making her realize just how much she had changed from when she had started her path to music stardom.

Her closed-off shoes kick his knee, making him hiss when he holds it close to his chest. “So is this how we’re playing now? Are you sabotaging me?” The Chanyeol from the past would never be able to do such thing, too filled with softness inside the broadness of him to ever sabotage her. His legs lift him up from the floor simply to shake his head.

“I would never do that! I did not even know you were competing until I saw you up the stage!” Chanyeol argues, his voice a bit lifted in tone thanks to the ache in his knee, eyebrows moving with every word that escape his plush lips. A part of her, deep inside her brain, is telling her that she has got it twisted. Chanyeol is not one of those crazy men in the industry, and yet, she is here doubting him.

“You’re the only person here, though.” She argues, watching as people surround them in needs of hearing something more. “It would not surprise me. It was always about competition in between us two—”

Chanyeol releases a soft breath, reaching over to where she is simply to place a hand over her babbling mouth. “It was never like that. You were the one that saw it like that.”

Her tongue sticks out to get him off, though it works fairly soon, having his big palm running across his dark tee to get the saliva off. “Okay, so who did it? My amplifier is clearly disconnected and it was not like that before!”

Apart from being her ex-boyfriend, Chanyeol had once been her best friend. It’s shrilling to see such a tight bond of when they were younger, sharing anecdotes over bass solos and drum-kits, turn to dust now that they are older. Maybe, that is what love does—it destroys people, leaving them like a shell of what they used to be, or simply turning good memories into bitter ones. There are hundreds of songs she can’t sing anymore in fear of remembering him, the only man she has ever truly loved, the one person who has slowed down her world and turned it into beauty before they decided to shoot it down.

The sound of sweet laughter has her turning around, the warmth of Chanyeol’s body seeping through her skin when her back is turned to him. “We were just playing around with the cables. Chill.” One of the member of the duos competing adds, shrugging her tanned shoulders and crossing her arms over her chest.

“…So you were the one to do it?”

“We were trying to connect our amplifier and fucked it up. There are too many wires there, honey. I’m a bassist, not an engineer.”

Something about the woman with the orange hair, definitely bleached to utter lifelessness, speaks about the world as it is today. When people suddenly became swords instead of the battlers, wanting nothing more than to hurt those who got close to them or entered their territory. People cannot age, they cannot be better, they have to remain mediocre just like them. The world is all about surviving, but how can one survive when its entire population wants to slaughter each other? “I’m not playing games with you. You can’t do that type of shit. It’s not a game to me. My entire band looked bad because of you.”

“With a name like that, I doubt I did much work.” The woman says, her lips parting to retort to her comment, though the tall man behind her speaks before she could.

“Hey, calm down. You don’t have to talk to her like that.”

“It’s a competition. It’s what people do.”

Her fists bawl together, nails clinging to her skin when she pushes her body forward, ready to launch a punch on this woman’s face, a side of her that she had never seen suddenly growing inside her. They are fighting for a spot in a discography, only to be manufactured versions of who they really are, their friendships highlighted for the crowd to eat up like candy. That is as good as it gets, she imagines, stress taking the best of her when she nears the other bassist, only to be stopped by a pair of long and skinny arms wrapped around her, familiar to her skin when his booming voice can only whisper to her to lay off.

Not in those words, exactly, Chanyeol is intelligent enough to tell her that everything is going to be okay.

All force leaves her body, this demon that overtakes her when realizing that her dream is only a few fingers away and yet, she can’t grasp it. The sabotaging woman is angry, as it seems, placing one hand over her chest and cursing her out. Her name rolls off her tongue easily, like she knows her, the only thing this bassist is capable of seeing is her mistakes. Instead, she gives a glimpse of her back, turning round to see the long column of Chanyeol’s neck, his Adam’s apple prominent, the neck in which she used to hide her face in her toughest times and now, she feels like if she tried, she wouldn’t recognize the man in front of her.

“Hey, just ignore her. You’ll get disqualified if you fight. You’re not like this.” He tells her, as if repeating what she already knows.

She’s not like this.

She’s not like this.

She’s not like this.

But she has to for the dream.

“I will. I just—I—” Her voice is cut off when she finally catches a glimpse of her bandmates, all waiting for her. There are moments in life in which she feels lost, suddenly wondering what happened to the sweeter side of life. One of those memories come from them; those three people that see her every day, Sam and Chanyeol…all definitely a reminder of the golden woman she used to be, now desperate, clawing to the bits of dreaming that are left for her. “I’m sorry I blamed you.”

“Hey—”

Without much due, she goes over to her bandmates, welcomed in arms that wrap around her and make her feel safe. She doesn’t know the person she used to be in the past or the one that hopes in the future, but she wants to better this version of her. Of now. And she wants to do it as peacefully as possible.

On the stage, she is not her split-ends or her cheap clothing, she is not the roughness of her fingertips or the troubled financial status she is going through. On stage, she is an artist. On stage, she feels like she can breathe.

And no one can get through her path to the spotlight, that is for damn sure.

🥁

Her feet barely touch the ground, preparations for the big night of performance taking the best of her, sleep ridden body resting against a comfortable seat, trying to ease the ache on her limbs. Her fingers carefully play the bass, a little bit softer than normally, coming up with whatever is going on through her brain as she wonders if she should go back home, wrap herself in the blankets on her bed and lay her back on a grainy mattress. That, or she could stay here, being one with the empty practice room, getting used to the lights on her, finding inspiration on the beautiful notebooks they were gifted thanks to the competition and practicing a bit more with this equipment she can’t get enough of.

Over anything, she is a music freak. The type of person that sat down during her recess at school simply to read the old music books in the library, the one that had fallen in love with another musician when she really felt like dating. The type of person who would only stop her crying if she listened to music when she was younger, or the type of person that does not bleed disappointment in her lyrics or tunes, but instead focuses on showcasing the million parts of her heart that connect with a note. Be it D or E or even B, whatever she feels is painted in hues of colors.

Sometimes, the words in the paper do more than talk to her. Sometimes, they get to be alive, as well.

But she is not a singer. Damn her and her voice, she has always thought she is a bit too rough, for she doesn’t have that angelic nature that comes with a singer, that charisma that connects a person and brings them to tears. Perhaps, the sound of her bass would never be the tranquility to a person’s hearts, but the lyrics behind her own band are her own. Someone out there would learn to breathe with happiness again with her own hopefulness, coming from the depths of her still innocent soul that asks for a happy ending.

Or a happy development. A happy beginning never happened, either way.

But it will happen, it sure will.

The sound of a person’s voice in the otherwise empty practice room captured her attention, making her halter her movements as she turns her face to the side, almost poetically. The music is what bounds people for life; a dedicated song, a handwritten piece, anything can be a reminder of the most atrocious or beautiful moments of life. In this case, a deep voice fills the air with the sound of words she had written years ago—stupid, lovesick, the type of song that would have made her giggle and now has her rolling her eyes while some kind of feeling settles in her gut.

Besides all memories that she shares with Chanyeol, songwriting is one of them. It is as if they are one and the same, like someone copied and pasted their artistic soul into the same person. Though, they are not quite like soulmates, breaking up with Park Chanyeol felt like the worst moment of her life, being ripped apart in half with what they had become. Second chances never came, too bitter because of the one thing that connected them. What had once been the reason behind their ‘hey, you like that song too?!’ became the end of their relationship.

Funny, considering Chanyeol was the first one to tell her nothing would happen to the band they dated…and he kept his promise, until she decided to leave for something ‘more of her own’. His own heartbreak heightened then, telling her if their friendship and the future of their group was meaningless to her. At the time, it was, and now that she is older she wonders just how much things could have changed if only they stopped competing against each other. Or, for the matter, trying to push their own beliefs on the other when they just wanted to change.

People grow…they can’t ever stay the same, and to expect that from someone is deadly for any type of relationship. Platonic or romantic.

That song he is singing is the first song they ever composed together. The tune? A mess. The lyrics? Too full of love. The memory? Enchanting.

She swears she can see the Chanyeol in their old apartment, shared with two other people, when she enters the practice room and immediately realizes her existence. An entire week has passed and yet, she cannot keep herself by his side for more than a second. She doesn’t want him to ask how she is doing, or ponder why she is obstinate and short-tempered now. It only comes to show that she is the same person that had left the group three years ago. However, his eyes soften, half-covered by the bucket hat on his head when his lips pout out to speak to her.

“It’s midnight. What are you doing here so late?”

She plays another note in her bass, throwing her head back and looking up at the sky. “Answer that same question first.”

“I was…uh…” He clears his throat after trailing his voice. “The equipment here is good and I wanted to try out some of the instruments without getting weird looks from anyone.”

Oh, right, how not to expect such a thing from the ever-talented Park Chanyeol, guitar player, bass player and singer, also leaving some trail of him in pianos and whatever he touches. Her life, included. She looks at him, then, pondering if she should comment about the song he was just singing. “I was here practicing.” She whispers, watching as he nods his head and trots over to the stage, pushing his backpack down on the floor before reaching over for the guitar. “Why don’t you take the microphone first?”

Chanyeol’s cheeks lift up in a smile at that, that infamous dimple appearing out of nowhere. “Why? Do you want me to?”

“You’re a singer hidden behind a drum-kit.” She tells him, stopping her motions on her bass before giving him a smile of her own. “I always told you, you should have been a back-up vocalist.”

His long fingers wrap around the microphone, as if pondering, and this is the way he is. He listens to people, to criticism, curiosity is just one of his traits. “…Ah, no, I’m not fitted for that position.” He tells her, looking ahead as if a crowd was in there, only to break his gaze and turn back to her. “I was meaning to tell you earlier this week that your music is sounding a whole lot better. Your technique has improved.”

“…I have had time to practice.” She confesses, aware of how her life has only revolved around music lately. For better or for worse. “I maintain my ground by saying I will only be fully pleased when I see you as a vocalist.”

“Oh, come on, you’ve heard me sing. I’m not that special.”

Like the hug of a person that smells just like them, not like perfume, not like body-wash, not like sweat or anything of the like. They smell like skin, soft and warm, like the place you belong in. That is how Chanyeol singing feels like. He never noticed it then, how all the anxiety she could have felt for the future was healed with just the sound of his voice, singing or not. “You are special.” She admits, standing up from her spot and cracking her knuckles. The common ache of a bassist. “I mean, you’re my ex, but I’m not stupid. I know talent when I know it. I sing like a dying rat, and you were the one to help me out with songs when we composed together.”

“You remember?”

“Of course I do!” She answers, pushing her hands in the depths of her pocket. “Sometimes I think of a rhyme and I am like: “Shit, this is so good” and then I realize I used it for our songs.”

Chanyeol chuckles at that, shaking his head and his whole body, like he does when he is extremely happy. “I do that, too.”

“Do you remember our first song?”

“…It’s cringe, though.”

“I know,” She answers, aware of how she would have expected him to simply press his mouth to the microphone and sing the words out. She sits by the edge of the stage by then, jumping down before shrugging. “I just wanted to remind you.”

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“Alone?”

Reaching for her bag in one of the seats, she nods. “I have my pepper spray, my taxi number and a few punches if someone tries to try me.” Chanyeol’s lips quirk up at that, as if he is always amused by her, or perhaps he knows her enough to acknowledge that she is, indeed, one of the strongest yet softest people he knows. “Go home safe, Chanyeol.”

“You, too.” He says in the microphone, earning a laugh from her that she tries to muffle, pushing the entrance doors open before being welcomed by the elongated hallway.

The best part is when she hears Chanyeol humming to himself, the tune of their first song together clear, solid, like he has never quite forgotten it.

She is not Chanyeol’s first love, she believes, but she is surely one of his most astonishing ones.

🥁

The commotion of the city is loud in the background, but she can’t bring herself to care when the entire world rotates around the fact that there is a Rolling Stone magazine editor in the room, a journalist, the best of the best, looking for a band to interview before the grand event. Seong Im had insisted on wearing a dress for that party near the beach, the big flowers on the fabric contrasting with her dark skin, but she was against prepping herself too much for the party. Maybe, she should’ve. It could have caused more of an impression on the dress-cladded journalist that was inspecting the talents around the party, their appearances and how they seem to act in such a spot after their brief performances.

For a moment, she pretends to concentrate on the scenery outside of the wide windows, though her eyes catch a glimpse of the journalist every once in a while. The sand is almost crystal clear, the waves moving with one another, glistening under the rounded and full moon. The sky is almost black, she realizes, the same shade of her ripped jeans, something just to keep in mind. However, when she looks towards the journalist’s table, she realizes Chanyeol is nearing her, looking far more put together than she does, with a black button down that shines—perhaps, glitter is the new fashion for him—and a tight pair of pants, perfect on his legs and his calves.

Her feet pick up their speed, as fast as she tries to live through life, moving to his side before wrapping her hands around his arm. Well, it was meant to be his arm, the one with the house and the rose tattooed on it, she recalls, remembering the time she held his hand when he got them done. Nonetheless, that is what she is holding—his hand, warm, soft, delicate, like he is used to wrapping his fingertips around hers, barely slotted together and yet, imminently there. Chanyeol brings back all the memories in a simple touch, like she forgot how safe she felt when they walked together, hand in hand, instead of walking alone in separate ways. The tattoos on his knuckles match well with her skin, with the bracelet around her wrist that he may have given her in the past and when she looks at him, she can only babble an apology.

“I—I’m sorry.”

“Why are we holding hands?” Chanyeol asks, quirking his eyebrow up at their slotted hands, but the brief smile on his face speaks otherwise.

“I need you not to talk to the Rolling Stone journalist.” She tells him, placing her hands behind her back and she may as well tie them behind her back because there is no way in hell that by rushing to Chanyeol, she had held his hand. Some fish just don’t swim too far from the ocean. “…I have rehearsed my interview with her for the past week and I am about to approach her. I need to get that article. Please, just don’t.”

Chanyeol crosses his arms over his chest then, like he is trapping all his feelings in his chest. “I also want to be interviewed, silly.” He tells her, soon after rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. Don’t look at his forearms, she tells herself, but she partially wonders if their couple tattoo is still written in his skin. An emptied, outlined heart in half, the one that unites with her left arm, while his is on his right arm. It’s still there, like it is too hard to forget the mess they had made. “It’s the Rolling Stone magazine. Anyone wants to be there in an article.”

“…You already have a bit of fame around the city. I don’t.”

“What’s a little bit more of fame?”

Pushing her lips upwards, she tries to cover the half of her tattooed heart on her arm. Had he noticed? “You start to sound like me.” She tells him, aware of how star-struck and thirsty for fame she can be. “You never did it for the fame.”

“I could’ve changed.” He prompts.

“I hope you didn’t.”

“Why?” Chanyeol questions and she tries not to think about the amount of times she held on to him, and suddenly wrapping her arms around him and talk about their lives sounds like the best idea. She hasn’t realized that not a single person has ever made her feel like Chanyeol, not pre-him, not past-him. Everything would have been better for them if only music had not gotten in the way and now, music is what unites them again.

It’s easier to lie, but there she is, being truthful because Chanyeol’s eyes are enough to capture her. Brown, lord, so brown that she feels lost in the forest that is him. His skin glistens, his youth radiates even through aging, like he will always be Chanyeol, but not hers. “Because you are what the music industry needs.” She reassures. “Hookers, alcohol and drugs are overrated, they are an aesthetic. Music shouldn’t be about the visual; it should be a lifestyle.”

“That’s the type of visual you liked, though.” He tells her, pointy in his words like he is trying to prove that she was half of the reason why they broke up. The rest is his fault, as well. “You wanted the rock lifestyle. Why can’t I have it now?”

“Is this your way of telling me you like hookers?” She tries not to get him too close, changing the subject while staring at him and Chanyeol’s smile quirks up, embarrassed in the way his cheeks tint.

“Why? Do you care?”

“I do.”

But he doesn’t let go. “Why?”

“Because you aren’t like what you’re trying to make yourself to be,” She tells him. “You are one of the few hopes I have in society, actually.”

Chanyeol smiles at that, half hiding into himself but he is unable to. Too tall, too elongated, misguided body-wise, like he holds this skeleton simply to protect his softened heart. Maybe, making a mistake with her had made him a better man. She likes to believe so. “All props to hookers, don’t get me wrong, but I got out of a romantic situation not too long ago and I realized I’m more of that type of person. I’m tired of casual dating and hook-ups.”

So, he had dated. It’s expected; handsome and charming. She shouldn’t be mad, but she would be lying if she said there isn’t a ghost of jealousy inside her. “I see,”

“What about you?”

“I have never been with a hooker, if that’s what you’re asking.” She answers, bringing a laugh out of him.

“I’m asking if you have dated after…” His words trail after that, trying to find his place to ask that question. Their mistake, as she likes to call it. “After us.”

Say you did. Say you did. Lie to him and say you did. “I went out on dates, but…nothing serious.”

“I imagined you would have gotten someone by now.”

“I don’t need anyone, let’s start there.”

“Oh, I know.” Chanyeol tells her, looking down at his hands before chuckling. “Rather, I think people would need you.”

She scoffs at that. “I’m a mess,” She admits, because this is Chanyeol she is talking to. His hands could never hurt her heart, at least not intentionally. “I doubt I’d be any help for someone.”

“You helped me.”

“With what?” She asks, aware that Chanyeol had helped her grow more than he realized, before and after their relationship.

“Finding my place in music. You leaving the group had me devastated, but it gave me direction.” And that is the beauty of Chanyeol, how he stands up and dusts himself off as he travels endlessly. Maybe, that is why he helped her so much, just like she helped him. He showed her that one bad song isn’t a bad album; a painful memory isn’t a lifetime worth of sadness. Some people have to move on, for their sake, for their happiness, to find the light and the will in the world.

“Chanyeol—”

The man looks to the side, as if ashamed, pointing at the direction of the journalist as he sighs. “Someone took our spot already.”

Another band is seated with the journalist, as if they belong there, as if they are the new legendary small group. Somehow, she doesn’t care. “I don’t care.” She says. “Fame isn’t for me anyways.”

“You think so?”

“It drained away my light in my hunt for it. I can only imagine what it will do if I reach it.” She answers, licking the inside of her cheek before humming. “Have you eaten?”

“I was thinking of ordering something just now,” He replies. “Want to join me?”

“Sure, we can catch up.”

His eyes, brown and deep, a forest that starts to clear, light up at that. “I would love that.”

🥁

With a lollipop placed inside her mouth, Seong Im is seated on the hood of their old car, in front of the venue in which they are going to play in. The night is packed, only a small group of people—friends and relatives alike—gathering to see the stars. Well, as rock-star as it can get to battle for a position in a discography. Instead, her band is much too occupied in talking about the other individuals in the competition. “I don’t know. He’s nice and all, but Chanyeol looks like the type of dude who fucks in front of a mirror just because he thinks he’s hot. He probably flexes, too.”

She presses her lips together, looking inside her box of guitar picks before sighing. “He isn’t.”

And she should have shut her mouth entirely and sincerely, simply because there is a moment of dull silence before she realizes that she has just confirmed that she has a way of knowing. She doesn’t look up, however, pretending to be torn in deciding between two picks before Seong Im kicks her side softly. “Hey, how would you know that?”

Hee Young is the next one to speak, braiding her hair and interrupting her voice warm-ups to reiterate. “She definitely knows. They dated for like two years.”

Two years and eight months, to be exact. Not that long now that she thinks about it, it could have gone for longer if only they had put themselves first, even before music. The reminder is definitely not soothing and now that she gets to hear Seong Im gasp with one arm wrapped around Andrew’s uninterested persona, she speaks up. “Why didn’t you tell us that? We thought you hated him!”

“I don’t,” She announces, shrugging her shoulders soon after at the memory of the nights in which pressing her forehead to his was the only moment in which her headaches would stop. That being poor with him was what had pushed her to want to be rich and successful. That diamond rings only seemed to shine bright if he was there. “I could never hate him.” She has tried to, and for a while when they were dating she thought she hated him, but the fire from his soul would always be eased by the rain of her. There would never be anything more comforting than knowing she really tried with him.

“…So…that’s the band you were in before.” Seong Im finishes, blinking rapidly before resting her palm against her forehead. “Why did you leave?”

“We didn’t break up in good terms, I guess.”

“And why don’t you hate him? You should, if you ended up badly.” Her roommate continues, making her roll her eyes and close the lid of her woodened box.

“Because I was different back then. I let everything take the best of me, we fought too much…” She replies, wondering if things would have been different had she not being so closed up in her taste of music and had Chanyeol been more connected to his roots, not as experimental as he wanted to be. One too risky, the other too safe. “But it happened because it had to happen. I am here with you guys because of it.”

Hee Young chuckles. “You were heartbroken for a few months; dare I say a year.”

“Well, music put me back on track.”

“And music made you lost the love of your life.” Hee Young retorts, earning a sigh from her.

“I’d lose that and much more to music. I’m sure he thinks the same.”

Seong Im pushes her weight off the car, taking her by the arm and looking around the street before pushing her towards the car nearby, coated in layers of water and soap, all indicator of someone washing it. The car is not as old as hers, but she has definitely seen it before—and has been in it, as well—, and just when she looks in front of her after watching the smile on Seong Im’s face, she realizes who is washing this car.

It is a good look, too.

His sweater is wrapped around his waist, leaving him in a tank top even through the cold night. He must be freezing, too, with his hands rubbing furiously at the window. Chanyeol seems to be having a hard time, a pool of water by his feet settling him down. His eyes turn back at the sound of heavy steps and a squeal, both coming from her, and when he notices her, his frown seems to erase slightly. He calls out her name in such a way that seems like a song, enough to take the oxygen away from her lungs and she realizes then that music has really taken her life away. This man could have easily been by her side, she could be wrapped in his arms in this cold night, but they are too far away from each other, exes at their finest.

He is still kneeling, trying to get that spot in the window when she speaks up. “Did a bird poop on your car?”

“You’re saying it as if it didn’t happen,” Chanyeol comments, bringing laughter up in her when she kneels by his side, taking the other cloth bathed in soap to help him clean whatever content is on the window. “I had to go get some water inside and clean it. Just how embarrassing would it be if the journalists here saw my car with some bird shit on it.”

“It’s iconic.”

“It isn’t.” Chanyeol argues, his body shivering, the goosebumps over his arms noticeable. It is then that she realizes she is staring at his profile, his recently dyed red hair a reminder of that conversation they had after practice one of these days, in which he asked her for tips on how he could dye his hair on his own. It looked good, actually. She pushes her body closer to his, in a position in which their arms are placed together, earning a gasp from him. “…You…”

She looks down at their arms, realizing that the heart had formed, making her hiss softly. “Yeah…”

“You didn’t get it covered.”

“I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“Do you really want to know?” She questions, watching as Chanyeol places one hand on the side of his face, his elbow resting against his strong knee, staring at her as if he can’t believe it and with amusement he chuckles. He really can’t, as it seems.

“I didn’t cover it because I love you too much. You were my best friend before we dated, I can’t simply erase you like that.” He whispers, like he doesn’t even want the wind to know. The rivers inside her become troublesome, reminder of how she had always tried to push him out of her body, saying that they would have never worked out and that he was the one at fault for never understanding her. The toxicity of them came when they decided to work together…or when they became obsessed with growing. “Truth is that I didn’t expect you to keep it on.”

So, this is why she fell in love with him, because he is sentimental above anything else. Chanyeol had once told her he loved her, a thousand times at that, but the first one is special. Seated by a window, looking out at the snow, he said the warmest thing there could ever exist. He spoke about his demons, the insecurities that ate at him, how he tried to move on too fast…to be faster than life itself, and how that kept biting at him. What dresses him in toughness is unable to keep him from her, show the real colors of the man she has loved. Continues to love in the depths of her heart, too. “…It’s part of me by now.” She tells him. “If I covered it, I was afraid I would lose me.”

“You wouldn’t,” He tells her. “Because you’re not my half. You are more than that.”

“…I know.” She replies. “I wish I had known that sooner.”

Her knees are about to give in, just in time for Chanyeol to stand up and take a dry cloth, rubbing at the windows with ease. “I guess it happens to the best of us.”

“Being friends, dating, breaking up and one of them leaving the group because they couldn’t even stand the other?” She asks, making a smile appear on his face. “That’s not very common.”

“But it’s our story.”

“So?”

“That makes it better.”

The sound of her band name being called makes her turn around, albeit hesitantly, because she doesn’t want this moment to end. She is being called to get ready, earning a sigh from her when she stares back at Chanyeol, only to see him stare at her like he wants to learn her. Study her. He needs to keep her in his memories for when he is old and he is bound to forget. “I have to go now.” She says, walking backwards just in time to see him lift a thumb up.

“Good luck in there.”

But the toughest of lucks was losing a man like him.

🥁

The skies above mock her, shining with city lights and clouds and stars, all too bright for her, a reminder that success is not knocking at her door. The thick yellow jacket on top of her white hoodie is supposed to make her feel more at ease, even remotely happy, but giving her best on stage only to come up on third place was definitely a low blow for them. Andrew took it the best, celebrating getting such a spot, but the women in the group were devastated. The victory goes to Chanyeol’s band, she tries to process, happy yet a bit puzzled.

What would her group do now?

Sam had taught her how to smoke and she doesn’t do it at all, but right now it sounds like a great idea, going for a drive and stopping at the usual gas station simply to pick up some snacks. Much to her delight, however, the same man that she has been watching for the past month, talking and reconnecting like they will earn something from it, is fueling his car just at that moment. Just like her, he is wrapped in cozy clothing, the tips of his ears red, bringing a smile to her face when she pushes the box of cigarettes to the depth of her coat. Now, she doesn’t need them.

“What’s up winner?” She asks him, making him widen his eyes and press a hand to his chest. Chanyeol turns around to look at her, smiling at the sight of her, though a bit nostalgic.

“Doing great.”

“I’m glad.”

“What are you doing here?” He is the first to ask, leaning his body against his car. His arms are crossed over his chest and she still feels giddy at the reminder that under those clothing, a tattoo keeps them connected.

“I’m going to grab some snacks, you know.” She tells him, clicking her tongue soon after and nodding, as if nothing is wrong. Actually, she is healthy and she got some recognition from her hard work. Her band may not be fine, but the future may be brighter, with less debt and more fame.

“Good,” He says. “Actually, I was planning on asking you something.”

She nears him, copying his position against his car. “What would that be?”

His lips part majestically, though a bit confused in their approach. “Sam and I were talking, along with our groupmates, and we figured we could have two bassists. You could join us before we sign our contract with the new discography.”

Chanyeol may be her past and god, he was one hell of a good past, the ignition of her dream of music…but her friends were there for her when they had broken up, she created a new world and discovered that her story with Chanyeol was mistaken when they added another lover to their sheets and their hearts. Music. “I’m going to say no.” She denies. “I am happy with my guys. Nothing against you…or your band, but I am not betraying my own.”

“I expected you to say that.” The wind blows near them, moving the strands of his red hair, his cheeks getting touched by the gentlest of pink touches. Chanyeol rarely blushes but the wind serves to caress his tan skin. “You were always too loyal.”

“That’s a good thing. We dated, after all.”

“We did.” Chanyeol comments, hearing the sound of his car getting completely fueled before paying attention to the task at hand. “I wanted to ask you something else—”

“What would that be?” She quirks one eyebrow, aware of how Chanyeol’s deep voice is doing its best to look for her joints and her bones, drag her back into the beauty of him.

“Since we won’t be able to see each other almost every day from now on, I thought I could take you out on a date.” For old time’s sakes, and to mend what was once broken. Like split-ends, their split will never end, for they will always come back together. “…Not that you have to say yes.”

On the tip of her toes, she reaches forward to shorten the distance between the two, her lips touching his in one of those brief ‘good morning’ kisses she gave him when they just woke up. At the time, Chanyeol was not much of a morning person, but he must have lit up this entire night with the taste of coffee-brewed kisses. She smiles, showing a big part of her teeth when she says: “Did you really think I was going to say no?”

Caught red handed, Chanyeol wraps his arms around her waist, leaving his mouth slightly ajar to kiss her softly, like he wants to serve every night they spent alone in just one try, bring warmth to every corner of their souls. He wants the ‘us’ they crafted back, the one before music could get in between them. “No.” He whispers. “I missed you so much.”

For the first time in over three years, she can wrap her arms around his shoulders, rest her cold nose against his neck and breathe in his scent when she promises herself they can get through this, they can love each other again, not like they ever did, with one heart palpitating to connect them, creating music that they could only share with each other.

“Not more than how much I missed you.”

#chanyeol scenarios #chanyeol #exo scenarios #exo #kpop scenarios #writing #exo au #exo fluff #exo angst #chanyeol au #chanyeol fluff #chanyeol angst #drummer!chanyeol #tell me what you guys think please!

[lovelyirony]

Hey!! Can I have some Sharon&Tony fam moments, specifically because Peggy invited Sharon and her gf Nat to dinner and Tony came bc reasons. I just wanna see the dynamics between Sharon, Tony and Peggy. Thanks either way also the anon who hates your writing,,, has really bad taste lmao

i’m very interested in this prompt! thanks for sending it in, and thank you for the nice compliment! 

Sharon had been dating Nat for all of six months when she suddenly got a call from Peggy. 

“Bring your girlfriend to dinner,” she said. “We’re having Italian, Tony’s cooking. I’ll see you at seven.” 

And that’s the entire phone call. Peggy had never much cared for phone calls, and only makes them to announce what she needs/wants, what the goal for the day is, and then hangs up. 

Sharon hasn’t even had dinner with her parents to introduce Natasha. 

(They know about her, but her mother is insisting on calling them “close friends.” Her father just straight-up wants to know if Natasha can golf, and whether or not she can beat his enemy golfer, Richard. Also, if she can hold her liquor. He’s not going to be meeting her for a while.) 

So this is a bit nerve-wracking for both parties. 

Sharon because she’s not entirely sure what Peggy is going to be doing, or why Tony is cooking. Aunt Angie is usually the one who takes over the kitchen and creates such beautifully-tasting meals that it would make the Pope cry. 

(Angie actually brags about this to the picture of John Paul II that she’s hung up on the fridge as a joke.) 

Natasha, however, is terrified that she’s going to be put six feet under for even looking at Sharon. 

It’s not a well-kept secret that Peggy is one of the most terrifying agents for a reason. 

- 

This does not translate when Natasha is at the front door with her girlfriend and Agent Carter answers the door in a very-obviously-handmade sweater with a teddy bear holding a bouquet of flowers knitted on the front. 

“Your Aunt Angie is having fun out of ‘retirement’,” Peggy says, using air quotes. “I think you may be getting cross-stitched Christmas stockings by the end of November.” 

Sharon grins, going in for a hug. 

“Hey, Aunt Peg. Thanks for dinner tonight.” 

“Don’t thank that old bat, thank me instead!” Tony yells from the kitchen. His apron has flaming skulls with crossbones lovingly hand-painted. “Look what Angie made!” 

“Very creative,” Natasha says, raising her eyebrows. 

“I’m getting into AC/DC,” Angie says,entering the kitchen. “I think they’re neat!” 

“Neat,” Sharon responds, shrugging. “Tony, you never cease to amaze me.” 

“Trip told me that I couldn’t convince her to like rock music,” Tony teases. His attention refocuses on Natasha. “Natasha Romanoff, nice to finally meet you. It’s been ages since I’ve seen you.” 

Sharon’s eyebrows raise. 

“You’ve seen her before? Nat, what’d you do?” 

“Classified, darling,” Peggy says with a wink. (In reality, not that classified: Natasha just had an extra assignment to check in on Peggy’s favorite nephew.) 

- 

They all sit down in the family room, Sharon sinking into the couch. Natasha is trying to remain as prim and proper as she can, at least until Tony laughs. 

“Nat, it’s fine. Peggy won’t kill you in the house. Too much clean-up.” 

That actually does relax her. 

Peggy smiles fondly. 

“So, how did you two meet?” She asks. 

- 

The actual story: Sharon wasn’t supposed to go on a mission. But she fell asleep in the car that was used to transport Natasha to the venue, and ended up being a help. 

Natasha was entertained by this woman who had slept in the car, thinking that she’d be up in twenty minutes, but was not. 

- 

“We met by chance in the office,” Sharon says. “She asked me for coffee, I accidentally got the location wrong. We walked to meet in the middle and instead got the best dinner I’ve ever had.” 

Natasha grins. 

Peggy and Angie smile. 

“Sharon, you are still so bad at lying,” Angie remarks in a ‘how-cute-is-that’ tone. “You get it from Peggy.” 

Peggy looks affronted. 

“I’m not that bad at lying.” 

“Neither am I!” Sharon defends. 

Tony and Angie share a look. 

“Yes you are,” they say in sync. 

“You always move your legs when you lie,” Tony says. “Just an observation.” 

Natasha laughs. 

She tells them the story. 

Peggy cackles. As it turns out, she had done the same thing in one of Howard’s cars once. 

- 

As they sit down to dinner, Natasha feels comfortable talking with her aunts and her cousin, and they laugh together. 

“We’ll have to do this again,” Tony says, fondly. 

“And this time, you invite Rhodey,” Sharon says. 

“Oh come on,” Tony says, rolling his eyes. “He’s just a friend. I’m fairly sure he’s just a really comfortable straight guy.” 

“Oh sure, he’s a really comfortable straight guy who stares twenty-four/seven at your ass,” Natasha mutters under her breath as they wave goodbye to Angie and Peggy. 

“He does not,” Tony hisses. 

“He does. I’m scared of that,” Sharon says. “So go cook him dinner and then ask if he wants to get ice cream and then maybe ask him out. He’ll probably say yes.” 

“No he won’t.” 

“You’re stupid,” Natasha says. “I don’t care if you just revolutionized green technology for the second time in a year, you’re still the stupidest person I’ve ever met.” 

Tony huffs, but gets into his car. He rolls down the window to flip them off. Sharon responds in kind, and Natasha blows a kiss. 

They giggle together as his tail lights jet away into the dark of the night sky, and they’re left alone. The porch light is illuminating Natasha’s face, showing how striking her green eyes really are. 

Sharon gives her a cheek-kiss. 

“Let’s go home.” 

#lovelyirony writes #sharon carter #tony stark #natasha romanoff #natsharon #peggyangie #cartinelli #y'all still use that? i use it #peggy carter #angie martinelli

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

Hi there! I love your works so much, can I request yandere style lost boy headcannons? I mean i know they are pretty much into slowly getting what they want eventually but what if that was upped?

“Hey I just wanted to stop by to say I came across your blog on another i love the way you write the boys so much it made me watch the movie I was wondering if I could request something with them how they would be in a yandere situation?” -Anon

So, I got two asks for a yandere situation, but I feel like they’re asking for different things. The first one seems to be what if the boys were the yanderes, and the second is what if their s/o is the yandere. Since my serial killer au is basically a yandere s/o situation, I’m gonna focus on the boys being the yanderes. Hope you enjoy!!

Poly!Lost Boys x Yandere Situations

They pretty much already are yanderes. The minute they notice you, they begin watching you from afar. Even if you’re not technically theirs yet, they still feel a possessiveness over you. You’re their mate, and no one else is allowed to have you

They hide it well. Behind their smiles and their teasing, you would have no idea the things they do each night. Paul teases you and flirts with you, and Marko is constantly giving you affection. David will give you smiles and soothing words, and Dwayne stands like a silent, gentle statue besides you

David followed you everywhere. With or without the boys. On the nights you hadn’t gone to the boardwalk, he’d tracked down your scent. He wanted to make sure you were safe, and that you weren’t with anyone else. If you were, he’d drop from the sky the minute you left. It didn’t matter who they were. No one was allowed to have your attention, and no one was allowed to keep you from coming to the boardwalk. You’d told him once how your friends kept disappearing, or how they would change rather suddenly. He’d given you a small frown and brushed your hair from your face, commenting on how odd that was. He, then, gave you a charming smile and said, “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.” He told you, and it had given you a small wave of relief. You could tell that he meant it, but you didn’t know how much. He offered to pick you up from work if you were nervous that something weird was going on in Santa Carla, just so someone could walk with you to where the other boys were from the shop on the boardwalk, and you’d been too grateful to deny it. He picked you up from work every night (always late shifts at a local tourist trap), and you couldn’t remember when you’d told him where it was. You couldn’t remember when you told him a lot of things. But you always pushed it off as your own forgetfulness. Cause how else would he know your favorite color (the same color as the walls in your room) or that you liked to collect cassettes. If you ever asked him how he knew something, he’d always furrow his brows in confusion and say, “You told me? Last week, remember?” And suddenly you would. Just a fragment of an image, but it was there. Like it had always been. You also hadn’t remembered leaving one of your scarves at the cave. When you’d found it, David had assured you, just like all those other times, that you’d simply forgot about it. You didn’t know that he’d knicked it from your room.

Marko always seemed to pop up around you wherever you were. Of course, that was only at night so it wasn’t that noticeable. It was just coincidence, right? He popped up at your work, and he seemed pleasantly surprised when he saw that you worked there. He’d chatted a bit, bought what he needed, and then promised to see you later. Your co-workers had giggled and asked who he was, and you’d told them, “Oh, that’s just Marko.” You’d waved it off, but Marko started dropping by more and more. You’d see him at work, when you went out to get take-out, when you went to the store or the laundromat. It was always obvious that it was just a coincidence, or at least he made it seem so. You didn’t know that he’d learned your schedule and your habits, and he knew just how to make it seem like every meeting outside the boardwalk was a simple, happy accident. He’d joked once about it being fate that the two of you seemed to bump into eachother so much, and he’d seemed more than pleased when you jokingly agreed. After that, he became far more touchy. Small brushes of his hand against yours became him holding it. Short hugs became an arm around your shoulders or waist. Once, when you’d been talking at the laundromat, you hadn’t realized he’d been practically boxing you against the washing machines until you went to take a step back. He always joked that maybe you were meant to be. You had so much in common. Same favorite places to eat, same music taste, and you even went to the same laundromat. You had to brush it off, because he couldn’t be serious. Could he?

Once, Paul told you that he had missed you, even though you’d seen him just the night before. It had been something he’d said in passing right as you came up to them, and he’d pulled you into a tight hug. You’d laughed it off and given Marko a hug right afterwards, and you hadn’t noticed the way Pauls eyes lingered on you. He hadn’t just missed you. He’d been devastated when you’d left early the night before, and he’d been holding your hand when you said you had to leave that night. His hand has subconsciously tightened, almost enough to hurt. But, he’d covered it with a smile and an offer to drive you home. You’d rolled your eyes, reminding him that you drove to the boardwalk. He’d teased you right back, saying, “What, don’t want me to know where you live?” And you’d laughed as you gave him a small push. It didn’t matter anyways. He already knew. He started offering more and more, however. He wanted to hang out with you alone, and you started to suspect that perhaps he had a crush on you. You wouldn’t be surprised. He flirted with you constantly. One time, when he’d brought you back to the cave, he’d made it clear that he didn’t want you to leave. “Oh, c’mon! It’s not that late.” You had rolled your eyes and told him you were tired, and he’d smiled his laid-back smile. “Stay for just a little longer, please? We never get to hang out with you!” That was a lie. You hung out with them every night, even after your shifts. “C’mon, stay. For me?” He had begged like that for another few minutes, and finally you had agreed to stay for another hour or so. You didn’t want to be so tired that you couldn’t go home, and Paul had offered, once again, to drive you. That way, you could stay until four in the morning. If you wanted to, that is.

Dwayne was always quiet around you, but his small smiles and intense gaze was almost too much sometimes. You had started receiving letters a few weeks after you met the boys. You didn’t know who they were from, and you never would have guessed they’d be from the brunette. He was always so quiet. He seemed to clam up whenever you were near them, but really you had no idea that he was just doing his best to keep his feelings to himself. You made him nervous, paranoid. He was worried he was going to scare you off, so he sent you letters instead. They were the only way he could get his feelings out, and, at first, he’d obsessed over whether or not you would guess that he was the one who was sending them. But you didn’t. He would watch you take it out of your mailbox, and he saw how you’d smile whenever you saw the familiar envelope and seal. He didn’t have a proper way to wax seal it, but he thought it was far more romantic. He saw how you seemed a little happier whenever you got his letters, and he’d once heard one of your co-workers, another young girl, tease you for having a secret admirer. He’d frowned when another one of them had said it was a little creepy. He and David had shared a look, and it was decided that they wouldn’t last long. Finally, one day, you told them about it. Dwayne was positive that if his heart could still beat that it’d be hammering in his chest. But you had no idea who was sending them to you. He tried to make it a little more obvious, just subtly. Leave little hints and clues, but nothing that would tip you off too much. Finally, you’d asked him about the letters one time. You’d asked about how your last letter had a line from one of his favorite books, and he’d hummed. He’d confirmed that was true, and then he’d watched you flip through the pages of it. Finding the line itself. He gulped. The line was underlined, and he quickly looked away before you could look back at him.

It had taken you awhile to confront them about it. You couldn’t be sure, but you thought that perhaps they all liked you. When you’d subtly asked them one night if any of them would date you, under the guise of a conversation about how no guys seemed to want to talk to you anymore, they had all been painfully obvious. Well, now that you knew what to look for. Paul had fidgeted, but he’d quickly hid it under one of his smiles. He was quick to say, “Why, you offering?” It was clearly teasing, and you rolled your eyes. Marko had leaned his head on your shoulder, murmuring something about how, “I mean, that wouldn’t be too terrible.” With a mischievous grin on his face. David had blown smoke out from his smiling lips. “You’re always with us anyways. We practically are already dating.” He’d commented, and Dwayne had barely looked up from his book. He said a small, “Yes.” And that was it. You’d hummed, and told them, “Thank you.” And you had barely waited a beat before Paul had cracked. He wasn’t subtle at all when he asked, “Would you date any of us?” And you had to keep your smile to yourself. You didn’t know how obsessed any of them were, or how possessive they had become. You thought they had a simple crush, so you’d flipped the page in your book and said, “I guess.” 

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys imagines #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys david #david the lost boys #the lost boys dwayne #dwayne the lost boys #marko the lost boys #the lost boys marko #paul the lost boys #the lost boys paul

[circleofcavan]

Nebraska

Macey daydreams about spending winter break somewhere else, with some envy sprinkled in there, too; suite shenanigans and some $300 Bose noise-cancelling headphones. One-shot. Content warning: themes of parental neglect, mentions of alcohol use, smoking + abuse.

(Read it on AO3 here.)

There are moments when Macey wishes everything could just be stable and balanced.

“Normal” is too much to ask for; it’s a big ticket item that’s just out of reach, that she hasn’t worked quite hard enough for just yet. Instead, she’d settle for stable: an ideal situation with no boat-rocking, no absent fathers or narcissistic mothers, no forced appearances or quick-changes in the back of limousines, no hidden hangovers, no concealer on the bruises along her upper arm. Stable. Secure.

Idealistic. At this point in her life, there’s no chance she’ll ever know balance. If she keeps down the path that Gallagher has her going down, it’ll be a constant chase – maybe not a sprint, but a jog, and even that can get exhausting after a while.

She envies Cammie, even despite her hardships. Cammie has support, she has crumbs of normalcy to cling to, a warm home to run to during breaks and tight spots and panicked moments. She has options, even when she thinks she doesn’t. Even when she feels like every door is closed, there are always more.

Macey watches her chatting with Bez and Liz, her feet curled under a blanket, back to the wall of their suite. Cammie has a slight smile on her face, a fullness in her cheeks that made a return when she did, another escape on a lark that she magically realized had consequences; Bex is trying to reverse engineer a heist, Liz is French braiding Cam’s hair, which is brown now, thinner but longer. She can only slightly hear her roommates over the music she’s blasting, $300 Bose noise-cancelling headphones be damned, but she can imagine the conversation, more or less – more homework trouble, more boy trouble, more girl trouble, more acne trouble, more TV cliffhanger trouble, more “I can’t believe I got a B on this test” trouble, more normalcy. A feeling she’ll never have.

The conversation halts for a moment, all of them on the precipice of laughter, but they look to her, expectant, waiting on an answer; she points to her headphones and down to her book (Art of War, of course), and loudly yells “What?” as though she’s clueless and miffed, out of the loop. Bex laughs, Liz joins in, Cammie smiles and her volume goes back up. Stability. Everything is level again.

She’s damn great at playing the part, something she was born to do. (Is she talking about herself or about Cammie? She’s not sure. Projecting, much?) Macey is the perfect daughter, even when she’s a rebel; she’s the supermodel even when she’s strung out and hungover in the Great Hall at breakfast, stumbling through Farsi between sips of Gatorade; she’s America’s Sweetheart, Vermont’s darling, even though she hasn’t been back to Vermont in years. (Not that there’s anything there for her, aside from a hiking trail where she used to run or smoke cigs, plus the parking lot where she had her first kiss – awkward, sloppy and too much teeth – and her childhood home – her permanent address, she should say, because it’s not like she’s ever really felt like it was a home for her at all.)

They’re talking about winter break plans now. “Nebraska”  floats past the music, clinging to her brain, cloying and sweet. What she wouldn’t give for a proper, home-cooked meal, a scratchy wool blanket, a too-warm-but-too-cold room with a draft. Farm smells. Barn chores. Callouses. Sweat. Burnt coffee in smooth metal thermoses, a cold winter sun, some dustings of snow, a hot mug of potato soup – a too tight pickle jar lid. It’s so vivid it hurts, digging into her brain like it’s eating her alive from the inside out, starting at her brain and burrowing its way into her heart. Nebraska.

She can only imagine what that reality would be like; there’s something lived-in about it that she won’t be able to come close to touching, an inherent familiarity that she’s just not cut out to experience. Her winter break will likely be Aspen or Geneva, maybe both, and that’s a dream, too – she’ll probably see some classmates there as well, the ones that fit the Gallagher mold, the one that she’s apparently supposed to fit, too.

The trip will be booked as a family affair, but her parents will be anything but present, her mom chasing after seasonal ski patrol staff, college students in their prime, her dad on “work calls,” probably brokering some deal that will just line his pockets a bit more than his congressional salary. She’ll be drunk and alone, partying with ski bunnies or diplomats’ kids, settling into her old-money-rich-heiress role like she has so many times before.

Maybe if she’s lucky she’ll be able to slip away – if they’re preoccupied for a few days into the weeklong trip, she could pack a bag and hitchhike her way a few towns over, blending in like she’s new in town and visiting extended family, weaving a cover story for herself and patching it up every time she gets caught in a lie. She might have normal clothes on but she’s still anything but; they’ll remark on her beauty and her perfectly-manicured nails, ones that wouldn’t be in such pristine condition if she were just a girl from just a farm in just Nebraska.

Then she’ll get call after call to her phone, her parents demanding an appearance because it’s time to fly home now, and she’ll have to abandon the fake life she created for herself in this little mountain town, the cover that was just on the verge of being blown. She won’t be a girl from Nebraska with boy trouble and homework trouble and normal trouble, she’ll be the Macey McHenry, heiress and stone-cold bitch, sugary-sweet but too much to handle.

She’s not sure how Bex was able to get on her bed without her knowing, but she’s got a hand on the right ear of her headphones before Macey can turn to stop her with a bewildered laugh. “We’ve been trying to get your attention for ages,” Bex says, sitting back on her haunches, glancing at Cam and Liz. “What movie do you want to watch tonight? Tina’s running a Bourne marathon, but we were thinking Clueless, but then we realized you haven’t picked a movie yet, so it’s your call.”

Macey slides the headphones off fully now, settling them around her neck. She pauses her music. She pauses herself. Maybe this is the closest to stable and balanced that she’ll get: the closest thing to normal is four teenage girls watching 80s movies in their pajamas, LUSH masks smeared on their faces, shitty manicures and burnt microwave popcorn, falling asleep on the floor next to an overheated laptop and projector and her roommates, snoring softly.

Tomorrow’s Saturday. She could sleep in, pretend like the meal she’s having is home-cooked. She could wander around the halls and act like this was the home she deserved all along, because it was, and maybe even talk a bit more about winter break plans. Macey knows enough social graces to not invite herself to spaces where she might not be welcome, but maybe it could happen; maybe things will balance out in her favor. It might not be Nebraska, it might be London, or maybe it might just be here, in the mansion, if she can talk her way into it. The only people who normally hang back anyway are ones who either can’t go home or won’t go home, and Macey surely falls into both or either.

But that’s neither here nor there, and they’re still waiting on an answer. Macey dogears her book page, the same page she’s been stuck on this entire time, reading the same paragraph over and over, and sets it aside. “Clueless for sure,” she finally says, forcing a grin, cutting a glance at Cammie. “But only if we stay up way too late talking about how much Paul Rudd kind of looks like J-O-S-H.” (He doesn't.)

Liz squeals, Bex laughs, and Cammie blushes. Mace flashes her a knowing smile and grabs her blanket, ushering them up, while Bex says something about stealing cookie dough from the kitchen. Liz is convinced that they need to swipe Madame Dabney’s projector, even though there’s a perfectly good one in their room (apparently the one that isn’t theirs is 10 times more energy efficient and smells like the essential oil of their choice), and Cammie is watching her, grabbing her hand, helping her up. Cam’s hand doesn’t have callouses yet, but it will, and Macey thinks about what they’ll feel like after break. Will they be rough and ragged, or torn, exposing new, smooth, bright pink skin, the outline just barely visible?

Macey snaps back to reality for a moment; Bex and Liz have left on their respective conquests, and Cam is lingering near the door. “You coming?” she asks, gesturing to the hallway with her chin, and Macey can’t help but remember the annoyed (and annoying) girl that she met on her first visit, the one who just wouldn’t leave her alone. “You know we can’t let them traipse around by themselves; Liz will end up with a sprained ankle and Bex will probably burn the place to the ground.”

“Let’s do this,” Macey shoots back, grabbing a compact fire extinguisher that Liz had made in the labs a semester prior. This was normal. And she’d create balance and stability where she could, starting with her two renegade roommates. “I’m right behind you.”

#gallagher girls #macey mchenry #cammie morgan #gallagher girls series #gallagher girls fic #also on ao3 #one shot #ally carter #hahahahah this is my distraction from zoom university

[let-me-write-shit]

Somebody To You: 24

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Word Count: 4,942

Warning: Angst (don’t hate me -it’ll be fine!)

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CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

She felt it in the air the second they exited the plane. Vacation was officially over and the heaviness of the ‘consequences’ from the events over the past week bore down on her shoulders like a fifty-pound boulder - not unmanageable, but annoying enough to notice. She knew she should call Harry and let him know she landed safe and sound like he asked. She knew they should have a conversation about their mindset on where their friendship stands. But none of that seemed important right now. It was late. All she wanted to do was hug her parents and go to bed. 

Zoey’s mom practically balled at the sight of her eldest daughter, elated to finally have her home after being on the other side of the country for four months, though she knew the reasoning for her visit wasn’t a pleasant one. Her dad, on the other hand, was more empathetic. He was always the voice of calm and reason, and he always did his best to put himself on her level. He didn’t need to say anything. His hug said it all. All-encompassing, warm, and tight. It made her feel safe and understood. It made her feel loved. The only time an embrace made her feel like this in the past four months was when she was with Harry. The realization would have been enough to make her cry if she had the energy.

During the whole ride home their mom blathered on about how happy she was to have them home and asked about every little detail of their trip to Rome but gave them no room to speak as she carried on talking. Zoey and Katie shared a look with their father, who glanced at them in the rearview mirror, and they could see the corner of his mouth twitch upwards in a knowing smile at their impatience as the red brake lights from the car ahead of them illuminated on his face, making them stifle a giggle. 

Their mom was still talking by the time they reached home. Their dad collected their luggage from the trunk and followed the girls inside, flicking on the landing light. She would have stayed up all night talking to her daughters if he hadn’t stopped her.

“Mary, they’ve had a long flight. We should let them get to bed,” her dad sweetly said, leaving their bags by the coat rack beside the front door.

Their mother halted her talking, turning her head to see her daughters standing slouched, eyelids fluttering in an attempt to stay open while deep, dark circles formed under their eyes. Mary’s hands fell to her side and her head drooped in defeat.

“Oh, alright. The bedroom is all made up for you two. We’ll talk more in the morning. I love you both,” she gave them each a tight hug and kiss on the cheek.

“Goodnight,” the girls yawned, hugging and kissing their dad goodnight.

Just before they began to climb the steps, Mary called out, “Oh, Zoey!” catching her attention, she turned to look at her mom with an eyebrow raised in the middle of a yawn. Her mom continued with a smile, “That friend of yours...Harry? The one that arranged all of this? He’s a sweet boy. You tell him we really appreciate him looking after our girls for us. I was worried about the crowd you’d get into over there in LA, but if they’re anything like him, I know you found yourself a good one.”

She didn’t know what to say, so she just grinned, nodded, and continued up. From the way she worded it, she wasn’t entirely convinced her mom understood who Harry was, which was shocking because you’d think that Katie would have made a bigger deal about it after having met him. Although her parents weren’t home when he first stopped by and knowing how protective her parents were, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume that Katie had failed to mention a boy in their home while they were away, especially if said-boy was a famous musician. Plus, her parents didn’t keep up to date on current pop-culture. She made a mental note to talk to them about it at some point during her stay when she was a little more aware and lucid. 

It was only 10 PM, but it could easily have been 2 AM by the weight of her legs as she climbed the steps. It felt like she had rocks in her pockets weighing her down, she almost debated falling asleep right there on the steps. Luckily, she made it to the room, unable to close the door with enough force to fully shut, it cracked open with a sliver of light from the hall running a glowing line of orange on the wall where Katie’s bed rested. She was already passed out on top of her sheets, shoes still on. Zoey managed to kick hers off before plopping on the air mattress in the center of the floor, pulling the blanket haphazardly over her face before sleep overtook her.

The clanking of pots and pans and the loud echoing of her mother’s voice as she bellowed to her husband in the morning stirred Zoey and her sister awake, both girls groaning and shoving their faces into their pillows. Neither of them got the ‘morning person’ gene that both of their parents seemed to have. Reluctantly sitting up, Zoey checked her phone briefly to see a few missed texts from her friends letting her know that they were home and wishing her good luck on her visit with Paul today, as well as a missed call and text from Harry, who simply texted her to sarcastically say ‘Hope your plane didn’t crash’. She grinned, rolling her eyes and almost texting him back before the smell of bacon and eggs wafted into the room, catching her attention. She’ll text him later, she decided, practically skipping down the stairs to the kitchen.

Throughout breakfast, she listened to her family gush over her being home and how happy they were to have her back. Her mom, and to her surprise, her dad as well went on and on about how much they wished she would move back home and how they could turn their office into a room for her if she wanted, doing their best to convince her to stay by reminding her of all the things she’d miss out if she went back to LA, like their traditional fall farm trips and week-long Christmas celebrations filled with light-looking and gingerbread building competitions. And she had to admit, she missed it here. It was no Italy, but the view of their green backyard with their old swing set and trampoline, and the taste of her mom’s cooking filled her with nostalgia.

With each bite of food, her mind became clearer and more awake, reminding her of the reason for her visit. Pops. Katie offered to join her in visiting Paul, but, honestly, she needed to do this on her own. It’d be hard enough seeing Paul, knowing of what was to come, but she’d also be forced to see Michael, whom she hasn’t been around since the day she left, and she didn’t know how he would handle seeing her again. 

The whole drive over to Pops’ house she twisted and pinched the ends of her hair, nervous. How was she supposed to act? She’s known these people for five years, but what do you say to the people you care about after not speaking for months, knowing one of them was going to die? Was there proper etiquette in situations like these? 

As she pulled into the driveway and looked at the front of the familiar brick house, her heart ached. It looked just the same as she remembered it, with beautiful hydrangeas lining the flower bed and a flag hanging from beside the door adorned with flowers inside of a watering pail that read ‘Home Sweet Home’. Before she could even turn her car off, the door opened and out stepped Michael. He looked as though he hadn’t slept in weeks, but had recently gotten a haircut which made him look more mature, despite his sleeve of tattoos and choice of clothing; a baggy white shirt and some black skinny jeans. A hesitant smile formed on his face as she got out of the car, meeting him halfway up the driveway.

“Thanks for coming,” he hugged her, squeezing her tightly.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and sunk into the embrace, the sound of his voice and the weight of all that it carried pressed down on her with him. She was doing fine up until then, and the realization began to kick in. Her palms clenched the back of his shirt a little harder while she forced back the tears that threatened to expose themselves. He knew. And he held her a little longer.

When they pulled apart Michael coughed and took a deep sniff, avoiding eye contact to try and poise himself. As soon as he felt he had his emotions under control, he looked up, and faltered, taking his first good look of her since she got here.

“Your hair is down,” he noticed.

She blushed, suddenly feeling self-conscious, “Yeah.”

He chuckled, shaking his head and looking back at her before nodding, “It looks nice. Anyway,” he cleared his throat, “Come in, he’s waiting.”

Too many thoughts were running through her head at the moment and she couldn’t hone in on one in particular. She felt guilty for being here, knowing how Michael was still struggling to come to terms with the end of their relationship. She felt like she was somehow flaunting that she had moved on and was happy, even though she knew that she’d never do that. She worried if she was giving him the wrong impression by coming, concerned that he’d think there was a chance of them rekindling their relationship. She was afraid to see Paul, wondering if he would treat her any differently now that she wasn’t dating his son anymore. And how would Michael’s mother feel having her back in the house after practically abandoning them for months?

But all of her worries seemed moot when she stepped into the living room, greeted by enormous smiles and cheers at her arrival. His mother stood from the couch, barrelling towards her and pulling her into the warmest embrace, pressing their cheeks together and praising her appearance while stroking her hair. Zoey couldn’t help but giggle. It was such a typical greeting of hers that it was almost amusing. 

Paul, on the other hand, stayed on the couch after a few failed attempts at getting up. He looked frailer than the last time she saw him and was very obviously tired. His eyes looked sunken and his skin looked dull, but he had the same bright and mischievous smile as always, shaking his head at the sight of her.

“You leave us for LA and come back a whole new person,” Paul motioned towards her changed appearance; hair down and dressed more confidently. “You look great, Zo-bear. California looks good on you.”

“Thanks, Pops,” Zoey smiled sweetly, making her way over and gently hugging him. 

His hugs weren’t as tight and encompassing as they once were, but she still felt every ounce of love he contributed and her heart only sank more. The tears she tried so hard to hold back threatened to spill again, and she hiccupped in an attempt to conceal it, but Paul noticed. And the look on his face when she noticed her glassy eyes was enough for Zoey to lose her fight as they began to fall, trailing down her cheeks. 

“Whoa, hey now,” Paul whispered, wiping her tears away with his thumbs while clasping his hands on either side of her face. He managed a playful grin and said, “No crying in my house. I’m not dead yet.”

The four of them crowded together, Zoey being sandwiched in between Michael’s parents whom each took a hold of either one of her hands as they urged her to tell them all about her trip to Rome. Mr. and Mrs. Katro had always welcomed Zoey with open arms, instantly taking to her maturity and charm from the second they met her, and they always made it clear to Michael that he couldn’t do much better than her. It was something that Zoey was proud of; her relationship with her boyfriend’s parents. She knew how lucky she was; not many people were as fortunate. 

That being said, when she and Michael broke things off, she was so worried about how his parents would react that she avoided seeing them, not even saying goodbye before she left. She was grateful that there were no hard feelings, but it now left her with a ton of guilt, no matter how kindly they treated her now, she had to live with the way she decided to leave the first time around. How could she go back to California now? She wanted to be here for Paul. He always treated her like family. How could she go home knowing that this time around it would be their final goodbyes? Knowing that she wouldn’t be here for his final moments? How could she leave knowing that she wouldn’t be here when Michael needed her support the most? Especially after all he did for her when Jess died. The more they talked, the more thought she put into her parents' offer of letting her move back home. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Pops was doing a good job at deflecting all of the more serious discussions surrounding his cancer, making light of the topic, and turning everything into a joke. It was a typical response of his. He was never too serious, and Zoey knew he’d react like this. It was his way of protecting his family and showing his strength, but she could see it in his eyes; he was scared. Still, the day was filled with mostly laughter and talk of old memories. 

She had stayed longer than expected. It was getting late, now, and Mrs. Katro invited her to stay for dinner, which she agreed to. So, while she cooked, Zoey, Michael, and Paul continued to talk about California. They wanted to know more about her life in LA and the new friends she made. She told them all about Nancy and Rory, her wonderful roommates who were so fun to be around. They were interested to know about their popularity, recognizing Rory’s name swirling around in the various pop-culture social media accounts, though they didn’t closely follow those kinds of tabloids. Pop-culture wasn’t necessarily in Michael’s radar. He tended to stray more towards the punk-rock scene, being in a small-town band as a guitarist, himself, which always amused her as he was the sweetest, most gentle guy she’d ever met. 

She continued informing them of her co-worker friend and confidant, Andy, as well as giving them a general summary of Brett, deciding it was probably best not to discuss the intimate details of her relationship with the Australian hunk with her ex-boyfriend and his father. Zoey didn’t even bother talking about Harry. They may not be into pop-culture, but they definitely know who Harry is, and she wasn’t exactly keen on talking about him when she still wasn’t sure what was going to become of them.

“So, I was thinking,” Michael eased, leaning his elbows onto his thighs. His skinny arms flexed a little as he looked over at her, “I don’t know what your plans for tomorrow are, but I thought maybe we can go over to Jess’s house and visit her parents.”

Zoey grinned, looking at Michael. As she said, he was always one of the sweetest guys she knew. His parents raised him well. She nodded, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Are you going to his show with us tonight?” Paul asked.

Zoey cranked her head to the side, confused, “Michael? I didn’t know he had a show tonight. Must be embarrassed to take me out in public,” she joked, “I don’t blame him.”

The father and son laughed and Michael put his hands up, “No, come. The guys would love to see you. We’re playing at Slyfox.”

“My old bar?” Zoey asked, earning a nod. She hadn’t been there since she quit after Jess died. But she had to admit, she missed her old co-workers. It might be nice to see them again. “Yeah, sure. Can we stop by my house so I can change, though?”

Just as Michael was about to say something, her phone began ringing in her pocket. She pulled it out to see Harry’s name displayed on the screen attempting to Facetime her. Paul noticed her hesitation and urged her to take it. 

“Go on, answer it. You’ve been talking to us all day, we’ll just be in the kitchen helping Carol.”

Zoey nodded, quickly excusing herself to the back deck before she answered the call and Harry’s face popped onto her screen. It was dark on his end, a soft, warm glow barely illuminating his face, making the picture grainy, but she could see the almost surprise in his eyes when he saw her.

“You answered. Wasn’t sure you would. I haven’t heard from you all day,” Harry said, his British accent sounding more foreign to her after going over twenty-four hours of not hearing him or Rory speak. 

She winced, “Sorry, I’ve been a little distracted. What’s up?”

Harry shrugged, “Not much. Met with Mitch and the boys for lunch. Talked about getting some time in the studio soon. What about you? How was your visit with Paul?”

“I’m still here, actually. But it’s going well.”

His eyes widened, but she couldn’t quite see the expression, “Oh, sorry. Do you want me to call you back tomorrow?”

“No, it’s fine. They’re just making dinner now.”

“Oh, okay,” Harry hesitated, “Well, how are they?”

Zoey sighed, pacing the length of the deck. She had been trying to remain positive, but seeing Paul like that was hard. And knowing that Michael would soon be left without a father was heart-wrenching. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to leave here in three days. How do I say goodbye to them?”

Harry frowned, nodding understandingly, “I know. It feels like you’re abandoning them, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah!” she huffed, slumping in one of their patio chairs, looking through the window to their kitchen, both parents and their son laughing with each other as they gathered around the stove, “My mom offered to turn their office into a bedroom for me if I wanted to move back here.”

“You’re moving back?” Harry sat up suddenly on his bed making the light shift on his face.

“I don’t know,” she groaned, “I was thinking about it.”

“But what about Nancy and Rory? And your job? You love it in LA.”

“I know. I just don’t know if it’s worth risking missing his final moments. Michael’s going to need me.”

“Yeah, but you can always fly back,” Harry countered, “He’ll have his mom and his friends, too.”

“I know, but…”

“I know you feel like you have a responsibility,” Harry cut her off, “but you also have a responsibility to yourself. California has been so good for you. Don’t jump into a decision yet. Just think about it.”

Zoey nodded. He was right. Moving across the country isn’t easy. She needed to weigh all of the factors before making such a big decision. She got a better look at him, his hair extra floppy, and his swallow tattoos peeking into view at the bottom half of the screen. He was shirtless.

Zoey glanced back through the window to make sure the three family members were still preoccupied before she started the conversation, “I miss you,” she said.

Harry nodded, a small smirk twitching at his lips, “I miss you, too. And that rose tattoo.”

In seconds, her mind flashed through all of their little moments in Italy; hidden kisses, discreet hand-holding, sneaking away to have sex. Did he think about it as often as she? They still needed to have a conversation. She didn’t know if she was supposed to act like it didn’t happen, or if there was some sort of expectation from her. She needed to know where to set her boundaries. 

“About that. Should we maybe talk about that, or….?” she trailed, “I just don’t really know what the expectations are. Like, is this something we’re going to explore, or was that just some sort of vacation booty call?”

She could see the discomfort as Harry tensed up. He stuttered, “I-I don’t know.”

Her heart dropped. How could he not be sure when she hadn’t been more sure of anything in years? How could he deny the chemistry and the ease of it all? “What does that mean?”

Harry’s eyes darted around, trying to find the right words to say. But the more he thought, the more he flustered he got, “You know how hard this is for me.”

“How hard?” she recoiled, offended by that response. Not because it could mean he wasn’t interested in her in that way, but because of the lack of an answer she got with it. It was a simple question. Why did he have to beat around the bush? Why was his response to a simple question so defensive? “You’re talking about the situation with Rory?” she verified, earning a slight nod from him but before Harry could speak, she interrupted, “Your excuse with Rory was that you were touring and relationships during a tour were complicated. You’re not touring now, so that must not be it.”

Harry shook his head, “No, it’s not that. I don’t know. You mean a lot to me. You know that. And believe me, Italy was amazing. Like...amazing. But I haven’t been able to talk to you the same way since.”

Zoey’s eyes furrowed at his condescending tone. She repeated, “You can’t talk to me the same way?”

Again, before Harry could respond, they were interrupted by the squeaking of the back door sliding on its track. Michael poked his head through elongating his mouth in an apologetic expression for his intrusion and softly informing her, “Sorry, just wanted to let you know that I told the guys you’d be coming tonight and they’re stoked, and I just got off the phone with Mrs. Lewis and she’s expecting us for lunch tomorrow.”

Zoey forced a smile, “Okay, great. Thanks.”

Michael nodded and shrank back inside, closing the door behind him. She turned her attention back to her phone to Harry who sat confused, “What’s going on tonight and tomorrow.”

Zoey rattled from the interruptions, shook her head, and answered, “Michael has a gig with his band at the bar I used to work at, so I’m stopping by to see some old co-workers. And tomorrow we’re going to visit Jess’s parents to see how they’re doing.” But when Harry scoffed, she was taken aback, “What was that?” she urged.

He shot back, his tone icy, “You’re sitting there forcing a conversation about the future of our relationship meanwhile you’re spending the entire weekend with your ex-boyfriend who’s still in love with you? That makes perfect sense. Is that why you want to move back there? It’s to be closer to him, not Paul, right?”

Zoey’s mouth fell, shocked by his insinuation. This is not how she wanted the conversation to go. She wasn’t expecting this to turn into an argument, and she felt stupid for not realizing that it could have. She knew that there would be consequences, she just didn’t know if it would be good or bad. She supposed this answered that question. Still, frustration rose from within her gut. Harry knew her better than most. She even hazard a guess that he knew her better than Michael. How could he even think those things?

She felt the urge to defend herself, and she did, her demeanor angrier now, as she tried her best to keep her voice down, “You’ve got to be kidding me. Harry, I’m here because a man that I love and respect is dying. And I tell you that while I’m visiting that man, who will be attending the show tonight, by the way, I’ll also be visiting the parents of my dead best friend. But you’re concerned that my ex will be with me when you should be more concerned with the fact that I have so much death surrounding me that I feel like I’m dying myself. You, of all people, should understand that,” she spat. 

Anger rose in her as she continued, “How often have I even mentioned Michael to you aside from when you’ve asked? You don’t think I would have stuck around here if I still wanted to be with him? I’m the one that ended our relationship in the first place. Meanwhile, you’re over there not even sure of what you want to do about us. I’m just another indecision in your little black book of could-be girlfriends. Another idiot that left it all out on the table just for you to shrug your shoulders at.” 

Zoey began to laugh. She couldn’t help it, she always had a bad habit of laughing at inappropriate times. But how could she not? She felt stupid to believe that she could be anything more to Harry. It was a miracle enough that he even knew who she was. But she didn’t deserve to be one of THOSE girls. If the past year has taught her anything, it’s how to love herself more. She deserved better. “You say I’m forcing this conversation, but you could just have easily told me that you didn’t want to date me and it would have been fine. I would have let it be and we could have carried on like things were. Instead, you make excuses like you always do. You say you can’t talk to me the same as you used to, but who’s fault is that? I haven’t hidden anything from you. I haven’t treated you any differently. You can’t blame a kiss on the lack of communication. The lack of communication is because of your own insecurities, not because we fucked.”

Harry listened. She knew he was hanging onto every word she said. She knew that she had plucked at one of his heartstrings by the tremble in his jaw and his unsteadiness of his hands, but he needed to hear it. She wasn’t saying any of this to be mean. She couldn’t fault him if he didn’t want to be with her, but he also needed to understand how his actions made people feel. His indecisiveness in relationships and the assumptions he makes based on nothing but jealousy affected more than just herself. And if anyone can get that through his head, she could. Even if it meant ruining their friendship.

Her demeanor had calmed, though her head and chest were still pounding. She sighed, looking at Harry through her phone, “I’m sorry you feel like you can’t talk to me anymore. Really, truly I am. You’re my best friend and I wish it weren’t that way. But if we can’t be honest with each other and say what we really feel…” she paused for a moment, contemplating whether or not she wanted to say the words. But she saw no way around it. She valued herself and her friendships more than that, “...that’s not the kind of friendship either of us deserves.”

There was a long silence. So long she was sure the sun would set any minute. Finally, Harry spoke, his voice quivering, “What are you saying?” 

Zoey’s head fell, not wanting to see the sadness in his eyes. She still wasn’t sure she was doing the right thing, but she needed to have faith in her decisions. There was too much on the line right now than to be selfish enough to force a seemingly one-sided friendship. Her voice was soft, so soft that it was barely audible in a desperate attempt to hide the shakiness as she spoke, “I’m sorry, H. I’ve got to go.”

Harry’s phone went back to the home screen as Zoey ended the call, and he stared at it, half expecting to see Zoey’s face reappear at any minute, laughing and telling him that she was just kidding. But, when that didn’t happen, he screamed and threw his phone across his living room, loudly clamoring as it collided with the bottom of the wall and bouncing several times along the hardwood floor, sliding the length of the room. Why the fuck was he like that? Why did he always have to immediately jump to offense as soon as anyone got too close or things got too uncomfortable? He did it to himself every time. She was right. Every word she spoke. 

In truth, he never suspected she thought anything more of her relationship with Michael than what she said in the past. She never gave him any reason to doubt her. Harry believed her, so he didn’t know why he would even accuse her of anything else. The accusation was impulsive to him, immediately jumping to it because that’s what typically happened when in situations like these; the girl he was interested in always left him for someone else. Just like Rory and Brett. He fucked up. He knew he did. But how does he fix it?

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