#someone told me toots sounded silly

[becca-e-barnes]

this is giving me major brothers best friend vibes

God yes!! Especially if there’s been loads of pining beforehand. You both really wanna see if the other is all talk so when he does eventually get the chance to (tr)eat you right, he’s giving it everything he’s got

And then after you cum, he’s sitting there, looking up at you, harder than he can ever remember being before, watching you try to suck in deep breaths because you’re just wrecked

“Well toots? What’s it like to get some decent head for a change?” He’d be so smug, standing up and wiping his mouth with his sleeve but you don’t even miss a beat

“I don’t know Barnes, you tell me.” Before he even has a chance to register what you said, you’ve pressed him back against the table unbuttoning his jeans and sinking to your knees. He’d let out such a content groan, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth, eyes squeezed shut.

#asks answered <3 #bucksdolll #someone told me toots sounded silly #so I stopped using it #and then someone recently told me it was adorable #so I’m back on my toots bs #bbf!bucky #I’d burn the world down for TJ #Twitter link #wiping his mouth of his sleeve is so hot to me idk why

[paroxysmal-distaste]

proximity. || ch11, insane

tw: mention of blood, but for like a brief second XD

◬ Chapter 11 - Insane ◬ ◬ Pairing: Bill Cipher x Fem! Reader ◬ ◬ Date Published: 29/11/2018 ◬ ◬ Word Count: 1388 ◬

Loud, very loud laughter echoed across the forest. It strained your ears from its vibration and unsettled your nerves from its unhinged feel, causing you to cross your arms over your head.

You fixed your stance as Bill straightened himself up, stretching his arms in front of him and flexing them. He turned his neck to the side, an audible crack bouncing across the branches and he let out a low whistle, "This guy's gotta get his screws tightened!" For a moment, he held up his wrist and wiggled it up and down, increasing the speed enough for it to make a slapping sound and for his hand to be reduced into a blur.

"Bill! Did you just—"

The accusation was there, it was on the tip of your tongue, but you paused when he looked at you in disinterest, folding one of his sleeves up over his forearm as he stared right at you, "What is it? Can't you see I'm busy breaking in my new body?"

The silence that came from you made his smile grow wider, moving to fold up his other sleeve, "That's what I thought."

His irritating comment pushed your further, "Bill, you promised me."

Bill ignored you, and instead took off the circular glasses off the bridge of his nose and turned them around to stare at his reflection. He flinched at the sight of himself in the lenses, "You couldn't have gone for anyone more unattractive, now could you?"

Your eyes shut tightly, gritting your teeth, "BIll you just killed him! I just saw him disappear! You... you told me no one would get hurt!"

"I, didn't tell you anything. All I said was their soul was floating around in the mindscape. Plain 'n' simple toots." He turned his torso to check himself out, spinning in a circle like a dog.

You bit your lip, lessening the grip on the fists you didn't realised had been formed, "So... so he's not... dead? Just... not visible?"

Bill stopped his silly movement, looking up at you in some sort of realisation before spreading his arms out, "Of course not, toots! You outta hold a bit more faith in me, don't cha think?"

"I don't think that's the issue," you didn't like not knowing things, understanding, feeling naive. It wasn't in your nature to not know, and Bill's all-knowing presence made you feel meek and unsure of yourself, especially in the one area of things that interested you the most, "Alright, um sorry."

"That's more like it!" Bill continued to play around with his new body, bending his limbs and slapping his cheeks alternatively with a popping sound releasing from his O shaped mouth, "I stand by what I said, toots. You couldn't be a little less subtle? He's got the one damaged eye, it's like you want me at a disadvantage."

A chuckle escaped your lips, "Not necessarily, but it is an added bonus to keep you in check, to make sure it doesn't let you go running off on your own. Besides, he's not even a bad looking guy, we just... we just need to polish him up a little bit."

Bill held the glasses with his left hand and let it drop loosely to his side, putting his right hand between his eyes. He blinked, one eye after the other.

"Don't do that, it's weird. And creepy."

"Don't ruin my fun, this is only temporary, remember?"

"Sure, and I can help you act like a normal human later, but for now, we have to go. We need to get home and get you looking like someone that didn't just crawl out of hell."

"But I did."

You two had just arrived home, with Brendan's doll-filled satchel slung over one of house's stools. On the way back, Bill, of course complained about the very reason why human bodies were the worst (they get exhausted, you can't absorb other people's flesh through their skin, etc etc) the entire time. It seemed like no one really lent an ear to him despite his age, and his constant talking went one ear an out the other for you, something you didn't really mind.

"I'm no magician, but I'm gonna try my very best to make you look presentable, alright?" You declared as you pushed Bill's shoulders down into a chair, stationed in the middle of your living room.

"Be a little gentler, will you?" He's complaining?

"Sorry princess." You joked, the smile on your face was evident as you turned away to conceal it and instead fiddled with some old scissors you disinfected earlier.

Bill grumbled quietly, puckering his lips to blow a piece of blonde hair from his fringe up, flying it to the left, "How long is this going to take?"

You snipped at the air swiftly, "Psh, why? You got somewhere to be?"

"Listen kid, I'm not gonna sugarcoat it. I'm just here to get my end of the deal, cut me some slack." He waved his hands around, dropping them to his thighs when he finished.

"Bill, it's been 2 days. I thought that for an immortal being like you that's trillions of years old, you could wait for a little bit. Just relax for a moment." You muttered as you snipped a piece of his long hair, unsure of where to proceed next. You tapped your chin before pointing your finger up in reference to a sudden lightbulb, "Aha! I think I got it."

Snipping away at his hair, small chunks at a time, your little inspiration was put to a stop when you moved the scissors across over his head and accidentally cut a small line on the nape of his neck. Bill let out a hiss.

The line was as long as a thumbnail and barely grazed the skin- small but evident with the red that was beginning to gloss over in the area

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," you blurted instantly, heat flooding your face in embarrassment and instinctively pressing your palm against the wound, "My hands are clean, don't worry."

"Do it again," he stated abruptly, making you blink twice, before wincing. Didn't sound really much like a threat, but a legitimate request, "I don't mind," he turned and grinned largely at you, something that was nothing short of unsettling.

An obvious grimace settled on your face, "I'm not going to intentionally cut you so that your masochistic tendencies can be tamed," you frowned, snipping off the entire chunk that was his ponytail.

"Why not, toots? If you did it once, you can do it again."

You sighed dramatically.

"I'm askin' for it, aren't I?"

With the following quiet from you, he assumed you weren't going to do it, so it shocked him when he felt an additional split on shoulder, resulting in him jolting from the sting.

"Is that what you wanted?" You spoke from beside him as he went uncharacteristically silent. "Don't get used to me doing that." You added as you walked away to wash your hands and fetch a couple of band-aids from the cabinet.

"And you, don't push it." He snapped instantly, annoyed at the way you made him react. He could go around slamming his hand in drawers or stabbing forks into his forearms, but the surprise factor of being hurt by someone else was something he thoroughly enjoyed. Something he wasn't going to admit to you, especially since it seemed like you weren't going to repeat the action any time soon to soothe his desire.

After you returned and patched his cuts with a few band-aids, you resumed your work. You clipped close to his head, but kept a little bit of his dark brown hair there, almost like a military cut, except, you left a large fringe at the top that you noted was blonde.

The entire colouring of Brandon's hair was eyebrow raising to say the least- the guy had naturally dark hair but had bleached the top of it in that obviously fake blonde colour. At least it was a style that matched Bill's so you did your best to clean it up in a way that would better suit him.

A few moments later, you came back with shaving cream and a pack of disposable razors. You held them up with a smile, "My brother bought a whole load of these last week."

Bill made a reach for the pack but you smacked his hand away, and he replied with a quiet 'ouch' as he rubbed it. "That didn't even hurt, you baby."

"Hey-!"

"-Listen, I'm gonna be the one to shave you, because you're gonna cut yourself on purpose. I'm sure you don't have that much experience with grooming human bodies anyways." You told him like a mother told her child, and Bill looked away in annoyance without a word.

As you carefully used your fingers to spread the shaving cream around his chin and face, you suddenly became aware about how close you two were.

It was way too intimate for you, someone that had spent most of their time locked away, head buried in papers, mind occupied by work, but you continued, ignoring the prodding thought and set it aside as a nuisance.

"Brendan's doll collection actually looked nice. I think we could put them to use, hm?" Your voice was low as your eyes flickered to Bill's for only a mere millisecond, only to notice he was eyeing you already.

Bill snickered, "Is that some pathetic attempt at an icebreaker? I've heard some bad ones before, but wowee, that one sure does take the cake."

You puffed your cheeks out automatically and turned away, "You don't need to bully me for it. I'm not well equipped for conversation, and you already make it hard as it is."

He laughed his echoic laugh as you gently ran the razor over his cheek and down his chin. With you preoccupied with his cleanup, Bill had nothing else to do other than to stare at your concentrated features, watching your every move. Your tongue poked out slightly in attentiveness, to your cheeks radiated an obvious heat across them. He decided against commenting this once though. Just this once.

You on the other hand, used every inch of your willpower to keep your eyes on the shaving to save yourself whatever teasing would come if you didn't.

Thank God.

Finally finished, you took a clean, damp rag from your left and gently wiped off the remaining shaving cream on Bill's face.

Letting out a deep breath, you took a step back and observed him,

Bill looked... nice.

Alright, who were you kidding? Your polishing up revealed how handsome he actually looked and Bill could definitely see that.

"Wow, you did wonders on him! I appreciate it, toots. I certainly didn’t expect this from him or you." He stood up and looked at himself through the hand mirror which was previously rested on the table, running a scarred hand across his cheek. Bill made multiple silly poses and you tried your best to stifle a laugh, ignoring his backhanded compliment, "Brendan's body was just a diamond in the rough, I guess."

"Brendan's? It's not Brendan's body anymore, it's mine." Bill turned around and stared at you, expressionless.

"For now." You quirked an eyebrow.

He suddenly grinned, "Hm. Right. For now."

"Oh! Also, I got some clothes prepared for you-" You scurried out of the room to present to him a folded set of men's clothes, something Bill held up with a slight disgust as if you presented him with a dead rat, "You want me to wear this?"

"They're my brother's. I don't know if they're going to fit you, but we'll make it work. Here." You passed him a stack of neatly folded clothes and he raised an eyebrow at them for a moment before taking them, "These better be for now only. I wanna see a new set by next week, preferably in yellow."

"I'm not here to take requests, Bill. You take what I give you. Either way, I'm pretty sure Gravity Falls shopping malls won't be offering you anything better than what I've got here."

"Toots, if you took my powers, you've got the ability to create things outta thin air. I could always in my dimension, but because you're here and not there, then you could manipulate things all you want permanently!"

You paused, searching his face for any sign of uncertainty. "I... wouldn't know how to do that."

"It's simple! I can teach you."

You shook your head, "Fine, but go get cleaned up first. Those clothes stink and I'm lighting them on fire and quarantining the ashes the second you leave the bathroom. Shower's in the room behind you to the right. Change into them after, and please- please don't fall."

"I may be relatively inexperienced to these meatsacks, but I'm not that incompetent." He glared at you mockingly, a ghost of a smile on his face from your own teasing.

"We'll see about that." You grinned, pointing a finger at him before walking away.

"Whaddya think?" Bill asked and spun around in front of you, hands spread from his torso and eyebrows raised curiously.

"Not quite." You frowned at him, as he looked back at you, annoyed at your negative response. "You wouldn't mind if I just-" You walked over to him and raised your hands. "May I?"

Bill, in a higher pitched teasing tone said, "If you must," and you ran your fingers through his hair, touching it up in places where it was sticking up. You fixed up his fringe and you delicately straightened up his shirt. Flattening the crinkles, you ran the palms of your hands down his chest, letting out a sigh.

You weren't really thinking, until you processed what you just did when you started to become aware of how close your faces were again. Your eyes, previously looking down at his buttoned shirt, flickered up to his face. Unfortunately for you, his eyes were already trained on you.

After the eye contact, you assumed he'd look away or make a comment, but it freaked you out further when he kept his focus. The stare didn't even seem phased, rather, more intent. This time, you could feel heat rising to your cheeks once more, and he would have to be an idiot to not see it. Quickly rushing away, you missed him smirking with pride, satisfied with your reaction.

"Sorry," you whispered lightly, making Bill's ego inflate bigger than the size of a hot air balloon.

You stepped back from him almost immediately and turned around back to your materials purposely avoiding eye contact. "Don't sweat it toots." That reassured you a little.

New topic new topic new topic.

"Next objective now, is to figure out a way to transport my powers to you. Any ideas?"

"You mean my powers."

You waved him off, glancing at your front door, "Whatever. Means the same thing, right?" Taking a stroll outside was beginning to look far more tempting than being here with Bill who has enough material to tease you for a week.

"Ah ah ah-" Bill tsked, wagging a finger at you.

You stopped at the front door, your hand curled over the handle, twisting it and leaving the door ajar just slightly. The growing feeling in your gut was left ignored, "What is it this time?"

Bill slammed his hand against door to shut it, prompting a squeak from his sudden action, "Hold on toots, you've been dragging me around for quite a bit now. When is it my turn, hm?"

You exhaled, blinking up at him, "What? I didn't know there were turns. What is it?"

"I want to pay a little visit. To good ol' Pinetree."

#bill cipher #bill cipher x reader #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls #dipper pines #bill the triangle guy #proximity

[nelson-riddle-me-this]

multiples of 5

5. name an album you feel is perfect

As far as morose ballad albums go, it doesn't get much better than Sinatra's Only The Lonely (1958). Hauntingly intimate arrangements by Nelson Riddle, excellent choice of songs, excellent programming, and a lovely cover painting by Nicholas Volpe.

10. what was your first concert?

Probably a concert my parents took me to when I was very young, organized by the SoCal 'smooth jazz' radio station 94.7 "The Wave". I'm told Stevie Wonder performed, I don't remember anything but being excited to finally have a ring pop.

15. have you ever traveled outside of your area to see a concert? if not, would you want to?

My dad and I went to some casino a ways into the desert to see Brian Setzer's holiday show. I really like him - his blend of punchy big band, and high-quality rockabilly guitar+vocals is really fantastic.

20. who (if anyone!) is your least favorite member of your favorite band?

These band-centric questions kinda bug me as they're generally intended for a more rock-oriented crowd. So Imma plug a player I really dig, who worked a lot with Quincy Jones, Toots Thielemans. He plays harmonica, guitar, and his signature whistling+guitar doubling is such a wonderful and joyous sound. I love everything he does, truly one of my favorite musicians of the 20th century.

25. name a song that makes you think about someone you love

Barbra Streisand's recording of "My Pa" makes me think of my dad. He really does a lot for me. From watching silly old movies with me [last night's was Moon Over Miami (1941)], to helping me take care of things, giving me advice, and instilling on me his silly and intelligent sense of humor. I love him dearly.

30. name an album you really love that you haven’t listened to in awhile

Giacchino's score to Ratatouillie (2007)

35. name two musicians who haven’t already collaborated on anything who you think would sound great together

Bringing two obscure young '60s jazz/trad. pop singers together - how about Sue Raney and Joanie Sommers? They're both still alive, and I think Joanie's less studied approach could liven up Sue's very precise technique, but also Sue would encourage Joanie's musicality and vocal technique. I think they'd have a blast together.

#thanks clyde :D

[jojo-reader-hell]

imagine being Jotaro's twin, and you wake up one morning. You look in the bathroom mirror, only to realize you have fangs, claws, & slit pupils. You scream for Jotaro, who is groggy from the lack of sleep. He glares at you, "wait that's it? For fuck's sake, i thought it was a spider or something." Then he yells for your dear mother. "It's y/n, they're finally going through their transformation." Holly squeals before rushing over to you. (It turns out the Joestar family is a werewolf clan!)

I loved this idea so much that I kinda got carried away writing for it! I definitely would like to turn this into a two parter, so keep an eye out for the AO3 link! Until then, hope you enjoy!

Werewolf!Joestars and Werewolf!Reader

...

“WAAAAAAAAAAAH!! BUBBA! BUBBA!”

Big brother instincts activated, Jotaro slammed the door to his room wide open, nearly putting a hole in the wall and causing the door to dangle haphazardly off its hinges. His footfall was heavy, bounding through the hallway and nearly knocking down the decorative plants. In the back of his mind, whatever wasn’t preoccupied with getting to you was worrying about his mother’s nagging about the second door he would have to break to find you. But door be damned, he had to get to you. You never screamed this loud unless something was terribly wrong...

He skidded to a halt in front of the open bathroom, thankful for once in his life that you had the nasty habit of leaving it open, and saw you curled into a ball on the floor. Jotaro wasted no time in dragging you up to sit on your knees and asking where it hurt, only to stop dead in his tracks when he got a good look at you.

“B-Bubba!” You whined, an unmistakable edge to it as you clutched your face. “I’m ugly!”

“You’ve always been ugly.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and you only cried harder and more violently, a little blood dribbling out of your mouth where extra canines had been growing over your normal set.

“What’s happening to me?!” You wailed. “Everything hurts, my mouth is bleeding, my hands are furry, there’s a fuzzy thing on my butt and when I tried to pull it off I scratched myself with my nails-...”

“Good God, just shut your yap already!” Jotaro snapped. “You’re alright, stand up by yourself!”

“Jotaro! What’s wrong?! What’s happened??”

The pattering of your mother’s slippers echoed throughout the hallway, she nearly slid on the wood floors when she came to an abrupt halt, watching in horror as Jotaro yanked you up violently by the arm and tried to get you to stop screaming and wailing. Evidently it wasn’t working, because the louder he barked orders at you to shut up the harder you cried, yelping every time he yanked you the wrong way.

“Fuckhead over here is going through the change!” He answered back, as though you’d merely gotten a zit. Jotaro was dangling you by your arm painfully, and you tried clawing at him to make him put you down.

Nothing bullied him into letting go until a dark look crossed your mother’s face.

“Let go Jojo.”

She used a voice you never heard before, and even more shocking was the fact that Jojo finally listened for once instead of bullying her and calling her horrible names. He immediately dropped you into her care, feigning disinterest like a scolded pet.

“Oh, my baby!” She cooed, a huge smile coming over her face as she took over trying to get you to stand on your own. “It’s going to be all ok now, sweet baby. Nothings wrong, and you’re not ugly. You’re growing up!”

“H-hwat???” You blubbered, acting like a child as your mother mopped up your face with her apron, not caring that your bloody mouth was staining the white fabric.

“Look baby! Look how pretty your fur is, oh... how cute, I hope you have the same pattern as your grandpa. Even your little tail... we need to get you all nice and brushed.”

“But I... I don’t understand!” You couldn’t wrap your head around it, your mother was more concerned with gushing over you and reassuring you about how cute you were, and all you could do was babble questions until your brother put it bluntly for you:

“You’re turning into a wolf stupid.”

“Jojo, we need to be encouraging.”

Your mother’s voice had a certain conviction to it, another mystery wrapped in an enigma as she glanced disapprovingly at her son. She began to tell you all about the changes that would take place over the next few months, asking if you remembered those puberty videos they showed you in school when you were eleven, and you did, quite vividly if you were being honest. Every month during the full moon you’d just go through the motions of transforming, until your body got used to it and the process became as natural to you as breathing. She assuaged your fears: no you weren’t going to become a bloodthirsty animal. No you weren’t a danger to your family. No you weren’t going to suddenly find other wolves attractive or any other silly fear you had. All it was she said was an extra step in growing up you had to take, kind of like puberty 2.0. Well, it was sort of like that for the Joestars anyway, going back as far as your great great grandfather’s parents, the mythological monster part coming from his mother Mary who was one of the last of the werewolves. The lineage was diluted, hence the pain at the beginning that was inevitable, because in order to be with her beloved for all eternity she had to bite him to turn him, thus every Joestar since had to experience a rather horrific baptism by blood when they came of age. It could have been avoided if the lineage had been kept human free, and you would have been born a fluffy puppy instead of a baby, but then where would we be if we couldn’t choose the ones we loved your mother reasoned.

“The only tricky little detail is keeping the secret of our immortality. Usually when we’ve felt enough is enough here among humans, we just pop off into the woods and enjoy our nice long life with our loved ones. You’ll even age differently, your face will stay wrinkle free, and the only difference is your hair will turn grey!”

“Wait a minute... you mean we can’t die and we just leave society to live in the woods?”

“Uh huh!”

“Like, the actual woods around our house?”

“Of course baby. Everyone lives in the woods, who do you think you hear howling every now and again when the moon is full? If you’d like, you can spend your moon time with your Grandpa and Granny, or Papa Jonathan and Momma Erina will be there to take care of you too!”

The way your mother put it, it was like being a werewolf was as simple as going on a fucking family vacation every month.

When the pain came back you didn’t care to even acknowledge the insanity of your mother’s nonchalance. All you knew was that it felt as though somebody was taking you by the arms and legs trying to yank them out of the sockets.

“It hurts...” you cried, “Can I please have something for the pain?”

“No honey... Now that it’s taking over, we can’t give you any anti inflammatories for the pain, it’s too dangerous. We have to be very careful with certain foods too, no chocolates or onions, no coffee, no more cooked bones, no nuts, no avocado. You’ll have to be very careful with your diet from now on, those things can make you very sick. But I have an idea, maybe it will help if you shift completely and we get some food in you.”

“How do I do that?”

“Just relax, don’t tense up because of the pain, it just has to happen. Breathing helps as well, if you want, mommy can shift with you and I’ll show you how to breathe.”

She shooed Jotaro out of the bathroom, giving him some sort of a nonverbal signal that made him snap to attention, for obvious reasons she explained that it would be best to do it in private. You could hear Jotaro on the phone with someone, informing them of your latest development with the Joestar gene and instructing them to bring lots of something, whatever it was you didn’t catch it because your mother closed the door behind her. She helped you change and folded your clothes painstakingly, holding your hands in hers as she instructed you to keep your eyes trained on hers.

“In and out sweetheart.” She told you, inhaling through the nose and exhaling out through the mouth. “In... and out...”

She made a soft sound with her pursed lips, and you mimicked her even though your body was in excruciating pain. Eventually you could actually feel the smoothness of the transition, once the tension left your body you noticed the pain had disappeared and your bones just simply shifted out of place and wherever they needed to go. When you finally came to, you noticed that the world was a whole hell of a lot bigger, a fact that made you completely terrified. Your whole body was seized by shaking and it only made your fear worse, but when you looked at the mass of cream colored fur in front of you, you actually voiced your fear with a loud yelp.

“Baby, shhh, it’s mama.”

A large wet nose pressed against your soft cheeks, a large warm wet tongue lathed at your face, so familiar... you felt like you remembered something like this, maybe when you were a baby, a memory of you cold and wriggling against the same warm cream colored fur surfaced and soothed you somewhat. When you finally looked up, you immediately recognized the warm green eyes staring lovingly back at you.

“Mama...” your voice was startling, almost high pitched. When you looked down at yourself, you noticed little beany paws where your feet and hands should have been, completely covered head to toe in fuzz the color of your hair.

Making yourself go cross eyed revealed a soft muzzle and little black nose, but it hurt to focus too much and you had to stop, turning to the side and noticing a soft rotund puppy body where your own used to be. You were still the same size, but when compared to the adult body of your mother, you felt incredibly small. She was gigantic, rear end pressing against the door as she struggled to stoop in the bathroom, a huge bushy tail nearly the size of your body thumping against the sink and displacing a couple of toothbrushes.

“It’s okay baby. There’s a lot of changes happening, and when you’re born into it you’re luckier than if you’d been bitten like your Granny Suzie or your great Granny Lisa Lisa. Everything is gradual, and you’re not going to burn so much energy. It’s so much easier going through this, you will be smaller than the rest of us for a while until you’re out of high school, but that’s ok. It’s just like growing up all over again, except this goes much faster, isn’t that exciting?”

You couldn’t help the whine that escaped as she mouthed your neck and picked you up. Being dangled from this height didn’t exactly help you when you were already a fearful person to begin with, and it certainly didn’t help that your mother was now the size of the mega fauna they had at the museums. But it was all a matter of perspective. You’d never seen a wolf this close before, only from far away at the zoo on rare occasions, and certainly not from the perspective of being small enough that her mouth almost dwarfed your body, her hot breath steaming on your pelt as she scratched at the closed door with a large paw.

When it opened, Jotaro was there, looking far too annoyed at the fact that you made such a fuss about your changes. He raised an eyebrow as your mother tried to wriggle out of the narrow door frame into the hall with you still in her mouth, and even more shocking was the fact that after she’d placed you delicately on her oversized bed to snuggle with you, you saw Jotaro just close his eyes and lose himself into his own impossibly large wolf form, not caring that his clothes ripped. He laid his head next to you, nosing you as your mother’s bushy tail encircled you protectively, and she began to clean you in a similar manner to a cat cleaning a kitten. Was it the same for canids? Probably. You’d never owned a dog before and suddenly you were very aware of why this was. Especially the way your brother acted, he was a grumpy asshole as a person, you could only imagine what he was like as a monster.

Curiosity compelled you to look around the room, everything so different from a wolfy perspective. Your perception of colors was vastly different, as was the way you perceived the room itself. Often you’d find yourself staring at things that seemed to mystify the primal part of your brain. You were compelled to gnaw at the tassels on your mother’s bedspread, but her gentle nip on your ear discouraged you. Things you knew to be red and green were nearly invisible, fading to grey or an interesting shade of yellow that you didn’t think could exist. Her dresser table interested you the most, as you could see your little ears in the reflection. Lifting your head up a little bit more however, that was a different story as the human reasoning part of your brain suddenly seemed to shut down.

“MAMA!” Your voice was a shrill scream!

You stood on your hind legs and began screaming, hackles raised and your poor little tail between your legs. The sounds you made were so loud and scared that it made your brother flinch.

“MAMA MAMA MAMA MAMA MAMA! THERES A MONSTER ON THE DRESSER! THERES A MONSTER ON THE DRESSER! MAMA HELP ME THERES A MONSTER ON THE DRESSER!”

...

“Oh that’s adorable Jonathan! Where’d you find that?”

“It was mine when I was a pup!” Jonathan Joestar said, a look of pride on his face as Suzie examined the tiny blue collar with a brass bell he had in his hands. “My mother got it for me because I had a tendency to wander, this way Holly can use it on the little one. Jotaro was too big for it, but I figure it’s just the size for my little bundle of joy!”

“I figured it would be best to just bring meat, and lots of it considering how ravenous of an appetite Jotaro had when he turned.” Joseph Joestar insisted, he and his wife carrying two large fresh kills apiece.

“We can’t feed the baby that!” Jonathan’s wife Erina looked scandalized, holding far too many sweaters that looked similar to the ones pet owners got for their spoiled dogs. “We’re just going to get the little one dirty, and then Holly’s going to have to clean up the mess later on after we make sure the little one is asleep.”

“Once we get the little one fed, then we can give out presents, matter of fact it was very smart of Joseph to bring so much. Whatever the little one doesn’t eat, Holly and Jotaro can have.” reasoned Jonathan’s son, a hulking creature named George who was every bit the spitting image of his father, and the only one of the bunch comfortable enough in the open to remain in wolf form. “Better to be full of food than stressing about the new changes on an empty stomach. Especially if the two of them had to waste energy and shift from the sound of Jotaro’s phone call. It wouldn’t hurt to be fully shifted when we see them either. After all, Holly is the alpha, it would be helpful for her to be surrounded by familiar faces instead of a bunch of humans.”

They all agreed, stopping short of the little cabin in the woods where Holly lived with her two children, helping each other to change out of clothes and stashing them in strategic places on the porch before transforming into creatures so large some of them had to hang back, unable to fit on the small space of the porch. Jonathan took the lead, a smile on his canine face as he politely scratched at the door.

“Jojo!” He barked, tail thumping wildly against the wall as he scratched the door again. “Jojo it’s us! Please let us in!”

He was interrupted by the shrill sound of a puppy’s yelping, the door flying open only for the mega wolf to be nearly bowled over by a very frightened young werewolf being chased by an alpha female.

“HELP! HELP! MONSTER!” You cried, taking off into the woods as your mother chased at your heels.

“Baby! Baby please come back! It was only your reflection! There’s no monster in the house!” Your mother barked after you.

“MONSTER!”

A very irritated and nearly naked Jotaro appeared at the door much to everyone’s shock, scratching his rear through the leftover shreds of his pants.

“Good grief, at least you brought me something to eat...”

There wasn’t even time to scold him for taking a large portion of the kill, he simply took it and went back indoors, dragging it off into a corner to gorge while Jonathan tried to help your mother chase you down.

#i love the idea of werewolves being a few degrees seperate from being ditzy dogs #i live for this #also i live for puppy werewolves so reader is younger in this #jojo’s bizzare adventure #jojo’s bizarre adventure stardust crusaders #jonathan joestar x erina pendleton #jonathan joestar #reader #reader is a joestar #werewolf!reader #holly kujo #joseph joestar #erina pendleton joestar #erina pendleton #elizabeth joestar #lisa lisa jojo #george joestar #george joestar II #suzie q #jotaro kujo #werewolf au #everyone lives #platonic

[dangan-happy]

(I want Mikan to have wheelies to escape her feelies. | I've never really done this before, but uhm.. I'd like a little comfort from Izuru, Rantaro or Nagito if that's okay.. also tw for s/h and a little self deprecating, though nothing too explicit. Sorry.)

I just.. accidentally triggered myself, I guess? A few years ago I stole my fathers swiss army knife and tried something stupid for the first time. I felt like a worthless whore and I know I did it for attention...I did it to be like a few people close to me. The thing is, I couldn't look at swiss army knives without thinking about it after that, but I thought I was over it. It's like how cheap plastic sharpeners made me think about it, but now it rarely happens. It's not like I did it many times, either. It's not like I enjoyed it or needed it. Maybe once or twice it wasn't so bad, and maybe I liked watching the color run down a little but it was punishment, and even if I feel like I hate myself I know I don't need to do that anymore. I just used that same swiss army knife to open a package and.. having it in my hand, all I could think about were my ankles. I'm safe, I'm not doing that again. But it just won't leave my head. I want to cry and hold on to someone but I don't.. want to talk about it with anyone. I feel disgusting for having done that and one time I tried again after a breakdown and I'm scared it'll happen again. I can't really say I'm working hard or doing my best, but I'm trying a little. I don't think I'll ever really do it again, and I know I can hold back if I just walk away for a bit, but I'm still scared that I'll stay and.. be awful again. I want to do better, for my friends. I don't want them to have to deal with me, I want to help them. So I guess..I should try helping myself, right?

Hey anon, don't worry about it. I'm a little more self deprecating than I'd like to be myself, and while those feelings aren't good, they're nothing to apologize for. Don't ever call yourself a whore, got it? You told me exactly why you did it, and that's sadly a really common reason that people try those things. You just wanted to fit in with the people around you, and that doesn't make you a whore at all. It was a bad choice yeah, but you know that and I'm proud of you for that. Yeah, I get it. That's  the thing with habits like this. Sometimes you think you're over it, and then out of nowhere you jump back into it out of the blue. It sounds like some of the objects you mentioned are visual triggers for those urges, so that might be something to keep in mind. I really am glad to hear that you didn't do it often. Yeah, I think you might have some psychological thing linked to doing it. Something like this always happens for a reason, it's not an action people do for no reason. Even if it's not the typical reason for it, it doesn't discredit that you did do it for a reason, and that you were driven to that point. I'm real sorry you were, but again I'm glad to hear that you didn't do it too much. Hey, it's perfectly understandable that you were thinking that way ok? That knife is linked to the action, it's a thought pattern. It's a natural, very real thing sadly, and it doesn't make you disgusting in the least. I'm really happy to hear that you said you're safe for the time being.

Hey, trying at all is amazing ok? You're strong in your resolve to not do it again, and that's real admirable. That's still a huge step forward, even if you aren't giving it your all yet. I'm really proud that you can hold back. Seriously, that's so, so amazing. So many people get sucked into the pattern, and knowing that you have the strength to walk away even if there is still a possibility of it happening again. Yeah, you should always want to do better for your friends, but mainly for yourself. You deserve to be as happy and as pain free as possible. You matter, no matter how many self deprecating thoughts you have. You're a person too, and you deserve to be happy. Since there is still a minimal risk, there's no shame in avoiding blades or that specific blade if you want to. Treat yourself gently, even if yours is a more minimal case on the grand scheme of things, you're still recovering, and you can take all the time you need. I know you really don't want to talk to someone, but honestly I think it might be a good idea to. Reach out to a counselor or therapist. These people are literally trained to help with problems like this for their job, and they won't find you disgusting. Honestly, no one should because you're not. I know you can use your full effort to do better. I know you want to do better, even if it's not for yourself right now. I think the first step is reaching out to a professional.

I know it's scary, but trust me, I wouldn't recommend it if I didn't think it would help. That'll make it easier for you to use your full effort to get better, and it might even start to let you see what an amazing person you are. You're strong and brave and really kindhearted for wanting to get better for your friends. But you should want to get better for yourself too, ok? Don't discredit yourself. I know you can't see how many amazing things there are about you right now, but hopefully with some time you will. You're not a whore and you're not disgusting. You're strong and amazing and you deserve all the happiness in the world. Good luck ok? If you can do this much with little effort, I can't wait to see what you can do with all of it.

Not to toot my sad little horn. But I feel as if I’m the king of self deprecation Anon. First of all; you aren’t a worthless whore. That’s wrong in so many ways. As far as I’ve seen you’ve done nothing to exhibit such a thing. No need to put yourself down as well, you were just following a trend, it happens when you’re younger, and they aren’t always for the best. I’m glad that you didn’t continue it even further. It’s normal that that would trigger something. Going through a traumatic moment like that is not easy. I know it sounds silly. But try and stay away from some of the things that you’ve found that may trigger you. For your mental health. And I’m sorry for getting stern. But you deserve no punishment whatsoever. Nobody ever deserves such a thing; unless they’re into Despair.

Hating yourself is something I’m all to familiar with. But Anon, I don’t know what’s happened in your past, but I assure you, you surely don’t deserve to hate yourself. Hopefully you’ve learned to love yourself. It’s a hard thing to learn, but that’s the best step you can ever take in reaching Hope and happiness. I recommend honestly throwing the knife away. Unless your grandpa gave it to you for sentimental reasons of some sort, perhaps hiding it away somewhere that you won’t consider looking for it. Maybe have someone hide it away. Getting that item out of your life seems like a good step to me in this recovery. I recommend actually talking to someone however. I know you don’t want to; but that’s always a good option. Talking about things like this is always good; helps you get things off your chest and have another shoulder to lean on, someone to help you through this Despair. Specifically a therapist if you’re comfortable with that. A trained person who knows how to handle and help people with these sort of things are always the best. For relapsing; you shouldn’t feel disgusting about doing it again. You know it’s not healthy and that’s all that matters. Sometimes people relapse, and that’s ok. As long as they seek help in the end is what matters. When this feeling returns, I beg of you to what you can to stop yourself; take a walk or go talk to a friend to distract yourself. That’s what friends are for; to help you during your hard times. If they don’t; can you truly call them friends? I urge you to talk, at least a little bit with them. You and your friends are together so you can help each other grow! I believe in you Anon, try getting in contact with a therapist as soon as you’re able to, perhaps look up things as well to help with triggers? Do a bit of research.

#danganronpa #danganronpa roleplay blog #ask #rantaro amami #mod rantaro #nagito komaeda #mod nagito

[confusednarcissistwrites]

Hotsy Totsy PT. 2 (T.C.)

Soooo obviously the posting schedule isn’t all I had planned 😅 I’m just going to start posting as I have them ready for you so I don’t put undue pressure on myself and procrastinate my life away lol

Enjoy!!

Stepping out of the wild club and into the cool of the summer night gave Timothée a dizzying sense of deja vu, sending an ache through his chest. Your name reverberated through his mind like a shout in a cave. His trembling hands reached up and ran through his hair as he fought to gain his bearings.

“Tim? What’s going on?” Nick’s brow was drawn together in concern as he followed his friend out into the alleyway. Timothée had always been a hard person to keep up with as he was very connected to his emotions. It often was stressful, but being so close to someone so eccentric was refreshing to Nick; he’d dealt with far too many fake people in his life.

Timothée’s hands fell, meeting his friend’s eyes. “That’s her, man. That’s the girl. That’s-

“Y/N,” they said in sync.

Suddenly, it clicked. Nick felt stupid for not putting the pieces together sooner. He’d known that you had attended college to study musical theater on your parents wealth and your gifted vocal talents, but he didn’t realize that it was the same college Timothée had attended there in New York; he hadn’t even known of the young actor at the time. There had only ever been murmurings of this girl Timothée had met before he’d been drafted, all of which were prompted by heavy alcohol consumption. He’d known her name was Y/N, but he didn’t ever think that it could be his Y/N. He’d only really known you when you were both small children through family events. A little surprised smile crept onto Nick’s face. “Well, this is perfect then! I can get you in to see her-”

“Are you insane? I can’t see her” Timmy interrupted as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He shook his head and anxiety filled his stomach, his arms locked tightly around his torso; there was just no way, not yet at least. He wasn’t prepared for that at all.

“Well, why not? Weren’t you two close?”

Timothée scoffed, turning away from Nick. “I just- I can’t even begin to explain this to you now. I’m going home.”

Nick felt that tug at him a bit. Timothée told him everything, sometimes to a degree that was uncomfortable. However, he continued to refuse to speak about you and what had caused all this tension between you. He stood and watched his best friend’s lanky form disappear around the corner, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

***

The next day, you woke up in your husband’s arms from dreams that made you wish you could sleep all day. Flashes of bouncing brunette curls and honey-pot eyes made you ache to your very soul. However, that was pushed to the back of your mind as James’ blue eyes blinked open, feeling you shift in his arms. “Hello, dollface,” he smiled, his voice rough with sleep and his stick-straight, black hair sticking his way and that, making you laugh softly.

“Good morning, Jamesy,” you smiled. Giggles escaped you as he began pressing tickling kisses along your neck before slipping out of bed and heading into the en suite bathroom in all his naked glory. He was handsome, charming, and a businessman, but now, it suddenly felt like something was missing. Perhaps there always had been. You stood, cursing yourself silently and pushing the corrosive thoughts away once again. You followed after him, slipping into your silky kimono before allowing your hands to snake around his middle while watching him carefully shave his face in the mirror.

“What’s gotten into you this morning?” he chuckled, feeling you press kisses along his shoulder.

“I just… miss you, sugar” you murmured, pressing your nearly naked body against his. This made it obvious to you when he tensed up, rejecting your touches.

“Sorry, toots, don’t have time to play. I’ve got to meet up with a new girl today.”

You cringed at his words, retracting from him to rest your back against the wall, your robe drawn tight and your arms crossed over your chest.

Seeing your face in the mirror, he quickly rephrased. “A new act, darling, a new act.” You just sighed and left the bathroom, a scowl on your face. He didn’t make it any easier for you to pretend you weren’t still thinking about the night before.

***

Nick hung up the phone and stood, slipping on his jacket.

“Where are you headed? Don’t tell me you’re still out chasing that bearcat, are you?” Timothée questioned, a tired but teasing look on his face. He sat cross legged on the floor with his shirt sleeves cuffed up to his elbows and his hair disheveled as he read over a new script. A hundred fine, luxury options for seating in his home, and yet he chose the rug next to the fireplace every time. Nick had never seen him look quite so aged.

Nick laughed, shaking his head. “Mildred? I’m afraid she’s engaged to marry next weekend,” he said in a bittersweet tone.

“Ah,” Tim replied awkwardly. “Don’t worry about it, Nick. You’ll find her soon.”

However, his girl problems were far from the first thing on Nick’s mind. He had just received a call informing him that he was invited to join his cousin for lunch. Before Timothée could ask more questions, he gave him a curt nod and left the room, travelling down the long flight of stairs to the front door. Thoughts swirled in his mind as he hailed their driver. He figured you had seen him with Timothée the night before, and that was what had prompted your call. Perhaps he’d have better luck getting information out of you than he had with Timothée. He hopped into the backseat, relaying the address you’d given him to the driver, trying to put the pieces together.

Meanwhile, you were preparing for his arrival. You wore a simple shift dress with a long string of pearls and wave in your hair as you laid out on the loveseat.

“Why are you having him all the sudden? Hasn’t he lived in the city for awhile now?” Jordan asked, sitting down on the coffee table in front of you.

“Well... because I’m setting you two up, of course!” you replied with a teasing grin, feigning innocence. You weren’t sure if even you knew your true intentions behind having your cousin come to visit, if you were honest with yourself.

On cue, the doorbell sounded.

Nick was greeted by the butler who kindly welcomed him and escorted him into the parlor where you were chatting idly with Jordan. You sat up, peeking at him over the back of the sofa. “Cousin Nicky! Oh, you are so much taller than I remembered you! My goodness, just look at you! You are a real charmer now,” you beamed, making him blush and look at his shoes a bit.

“Oh, stop it, Y/N,” he grinned. You hopped up, hurrying over to him and enveloping him in a tight hug. Something about seeing him eased anxiety pinching in your chest. Nick grinned and hugged you back, relishing how familiar you were to him even after so long.

“Look at me? Look at you! You’re a star, darling,” he flattered, giving you a little spin and making you giggle. Nick felt the warm glow radiating off of you that always lured everyone in, making you so irresistible. However, unlike the others, he could also still see that little girl who had performed loud and proud to all their captive family members at every Sunday brunch. You’d always been a crowd pleaser, often to a fault.

Jordan cleared her throat a bit, reminding you of her presence. “Oh, yes! Nicky, this is my best gal, Jordan,” you said, gesturing to her. She approached Nick, allowing him to take her hand and press a gentle kiss against the back of it. Jordan was tall with an athletic build and an overwhelming aura of confidence. He had short, black hair that framed her sharp facial features, but warm eyes full of mischief. Nick was instantly intrigued and also incredibly intimidated.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she smiled, trying to play nice though it was hardly in her nature.

“The pleasure is mine,” Nick replied coolly, giving her his charming smile.

The afternoon was spent over tea and sandwiches and scones, the three sharing many laughs and stories, becoming acquainted with one another. The girls spoke of show biz while Nick expressed his newfound interest in writing.

However, you were all interrupted by the arrival of the man of the house. You stiffened a bit at first but quickly slipped back into yourself. “Darling, you’re home!” you cooed, hopping up and wrapping yourself around his arm.

James grinned, giving you a little spin, completely opposite of his attitude that morning. “Hello, doll,” he hummed, pulling you to meet his lips.

Nick tried to hide his shock and sipped his tea. He felt silly for thinking she lived in this big house alone, but he really hadn’t even considered a husband being in the picture. He took the man in as he stood to shake his hand; he was average height with a stocky gait and, though he was dressed as a businessman, he was clearly disheveled and smelled of alcohol. Jordan let out a little sigh at his presence before getting up and fixing a cocktail.

Nick struggled not to grimace as James took his hand, giving it a hardy shake. “You must be Nicky, my girl’s cousin. Nice to meet you. James Elliot is the name” he greeted.

“It’s just Nick, actually, but it’s nice to meet you too. I’m afraid I really should be going-“

“Oh don’t be ridiculous! You must stay for dinner,” you interjected, hoping he could sense your underlying tone.

Nick forced a little smile. “Alright, Y/N. I would hate to be a burden.”

The group gathered around the table making idle chat over a chicken dinner. You giggled over James’ every word and spoke as if everything was a shade of rose, nauseating Nick and Jordan who kept matching sideways glances at each other. It was as if you were playing a scripted role. About three quarters of the way through dinner, however, the phone rang from the parlor, silencing you in the middle of your story. Nick sensed tension settle over the table and watched curiously as James hopped up to answer it. He quirked a brow at Jordan, but she simply shrugged and sipped on her wine. You were quiet for the first time that evening, looking down at your food with sickness settling in your stomach. Nick could see that James was smiling into the phone before he hung up and returned to his place at the head of the table.

“Who was calling, James? It seems a bit late,” Jordan questioned.

“Oh, just business,” he replied nonchalantly.

The phone began to ring again.

You audibly sighed, giving James a look. Every night, it was the same game; only this was even more humiliating with your cousin there. You never asked because you didn’t want to know. Maybe because you already did. He placed a warning hand on your shoulder and squeezed as he brushed by to go answer the phone for the second time, making your hands shake.

As James left again, you stood, deciding you’d had enough. You stepped out onto the patio attached to the dining room and fought to breathe. The anxiety attacks had come for about as long as you could remember, but they’d recently evolved into near episodes. Your knuckles were white around the railing as you stared across the bay through tear-fogged eyes, trying to get a grip. You barely registered the sound of Nick stepping out onto the balcony with you.

“Y/N, are you alright? What’s wrong, darling?” He couldn’t help but feel protective over you despite all the time you’d spent away from each other.

You swallowed the knot in your throat, trying to focus enough to speak. “I think everything is pretty terrible, Nicky.”

He took your hand in his, his back against the railing as he faced you with pleading eyes. “Why do you say that?”

“I have everything. I found everything I wanted in life, but it’s never enough.” You continued to stare blankly out at the water. “I fight every day to stay ignorant, to be a beautiful fool. That’s the best thing a girl can be in this world.”

Nick watched you sadly, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. Never could he have imagined the girl he’d seen on the stage the night before coming home to be the wilted flower before him. He gently tugged on your hand, pulling you into a hug. You relented, feeling some of the tension release from your chest as you exhaled against his shoulder. Nick was just as safe as you’d remembered.

***

After a few awkward, tension-filled goodbyes, Nick and Jordan were escorted out to their drivers.

“It was nice to meet you,” Nick said, trying to be polite despite the obvious discomfort the evening had brought.

“He’s sneaking around with girls from the club,” she said bluntly, stopping Nick in his tracks.

He stared at her dumbly, trying to understand.

“I thought everyone knew,” she sighed, kicking at the gravel. “You know he owns the speakeasy, don't you? He’s sneaking around on Y/N, but she won't confront him because she’s afraid he won’t let her keep performing. He’s given her everything she has here.”

Suddenly, everything you had said on the balcony made sense. Nick ran his hand over his face, still speechless. “I-I just.. wow, um-“

“Yeah.” Jordan was your only confidant through everything that had been going on, and though she carried the weight like a champ, she did ache for you. The only reason she didn’t take things into her own hands was for your sake. “Well, Nick. I’ll see you around,” she said finally, giving him a sad smile before climbing into her cab. Nick did the same, feeling about a thousand pounds heavier than when he had arrived. It wasn’t until then that he remembered his mourning roommate back home. How was he going to relay all of this to him? Letting out a sigh, he laid his head back against the headrest, watching all the people and twinkling buildings pass by outside his window. Perhaps it could all just wait until tomorrow.

When he finally made it back to the mansion, Nick dragged himself up the stoop and inside. As he made his way up the staircase on his way to his room, he spotted Timothée in the same place he’d left him. He was gazing into the fire now with his script abandoned beside him.

“Aye, Tim. What are you still doing up?” Nick asked, leaning around the doorframe. Tim jolted and groaned, rubbing his eyes, clearly startled by his roommate’s return. Nick made his way upstairs toward his room, ready to be out of his suit and not yet ready to tell Timothée where he really had been and what he had learned while he was there.

Timmy held his head in his hands, his elbows propped against his knees. He’d spent the whole night concocting ideas of how he could see you without actually having to see you. All this along with feeling sorry for himself, of course. He’d imagined seeing you again for the past five years and yet, now that it was actually right before him, he had no idea what to do. He stood up with a heavy sigh, anger building internally with himself. Sipping down what was left of his whiskey, he resolved what he had to do.

Long legs carried him swiftly to Nick’s bedroom door where he knocked softly before opening it.

Nick raised a brow, in the process of getting changed. “What is it?” he questioned, seeing the slightly wild look in Timothée’s tired eyes.

“I need you to do me a really big favor.”

TAGLIST: @londonmademedoit @cathyoliveros10

#timothée chalamet #timothée chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet fluff #timothée chalamet blurb #timothée chalamet imagine #timothée chalamet series #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet fluff #timothee chalamet blurb #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet series #1920s #hotsy totsy #confusednarcissistwrites

[fly-flower-fanfics]

Crafts and Kisses

Alpha Loki x Omega Male Reader

Warnings: None, I think.

~~~~~~~~~~

Things were different ever since I moved in with everyone into Tony's tower. I got to see my friends more often, and I wasn't as lonely anymore. My depression — although still bad — had decreased significantly. Life seemed to be all around better than ever before.

Bruce was my best friend. He was the one I went to constantly and for everything. He was always reminding me to take my antidepressants and heat suppressants, telling me that it was time for meals, and where I'd last left certain items.

If my head wasn't attached, I'd probably need Bruce to find that, too.

Natasha and Clint were betas, and I found it a bit comical that the only two betas in the building were together. Usually Bruce, the two of them, and I would be at home, cuddled up on the couch watching movies like best friends and couple do.

Lastly, you had Tony, Thor, Steve, and Loki that were the alphas. Tony and Steve butt heads sometimes, but Natasha was able to shut the two of them up almost instantly. Thor was the softest alpha around, literally acting like everyone was apart of his pack. Not going to lie, Thor was the best cuddle buddy when Bruce was shut up in the lab.

Loki, on the other hand, was an alpha that I didn't quite understand. It wasn't because he was an alpha; I wouldn't understand him if he was a beta or omega, either. He was just...odd. I never really interacted with him because he was always sneaking around. He'd stopped being a villain — as much as he could — so he wasn't doing anything wrong. Something was just different about him.

I didn't really think he would like me.

My powers were rather insignificant to everyone else's. All I could do was control electricity: turning on and off lights, appliances, etc. It was, however, good for playing pranks and charging my phone when I forgot to.

Because I was the newest addition to the Stark-Avengers Tower, I wasn't as open with everyone. Bruce knew I was an omega because omegas knew other omegas instantly. The others didn't ask because status was a bit of a sensitive thing. I just knew what everyone else the Tower was because they were so open with one another.

I'd only reached that point with Bruce, and everyone seemed okay with that.

Currently, I was in my room, laying on my bed and listening to my music blare through my headphones. My fingers were dancing to the tune above me, painting a picture with the air around me. I knew I looked silly, but I didn't particularly care at that moment. I was trying to picture what a painting would look like based on this song. And, not to toot my own horn, I was doing a damn fine job at imagining it.

Painting it? Now that was another story.

I was an artist, yes, but I was more into creating things and working with things like papier-mâché and clay. Painting wasn't my strong subject, but I wasn't terrible at it. It was just my ideas seemed to always be a bit too far out of my skill set, and I'd end up with a knock-off version of my idea.

I sat up in bed with the idea perfected in my head. I shoved my phone into the waistband of my boxers and rushed out my room towards the empty room Tony let me claim as an art studio.

On the way, I nearly crashed into both Clint and Thor. The two of them just laughed me off as I shouted an apology, spinning on my heel and waving at them. Whenever I had an idea, I always ran around to try and do it, and everyone knew it. Unfortunately for me, there was one other person I nearly rammed into: Loki.

I quickly apologized, but instead on continuing to run like I had with the others, I was frozen in place.

Why? It's not like I was scared of him or anything. He intently stared down at me; his green eyes felt like the burned straight to my soul. I didn't move, unsure of what the god would do or say. I never really got time to spend with him, and I didn't want to waste it, even if I had an idea.

The one corner of his mouth quirked up in the smallest movement that I had ever seen — barely seen — and he stepped to the side with a small nod of the head. Immediately, I smiled at him, brushed his cheek with my fingers, and went off running down the hall once more.

I never saw Loki as a threat to me, nor did I want to treat him any different than I did anyone else. I knew Tony and Steve treated him like an outsider, and Bruce and Clint were rather wary of him, too, and normally kept their distance. I was touch-feely with everyone, and Loki wasn't going to be spared of it either. At least, he hasn't told me he didn't like it with from our few interactions.

In fact, I don't think I've ever heard him talk at all.

Any thought of Loki and the others left my mind as soon as I reached the door of my makeshift art room. Opening it, I stepped inside and let the door close behind me. My paints were all set up in a corner already along with a clean canvas; I always made sure to do that when I left the room so I didn't need to prep when I had a brand-new idea.

I walked over and sat down by the table, pulling out a bunch of bright colors. After an hour, all I had was a rather beautiful mix of colors that looked like a splatter paint gone wrong. Even though I was disappointed that it was another idea that received a knock-off version, I didn't let it drag me down entirely.

I decided to go move to another kind of project: papier-mâché a mask.

With no set plan in mind, I plopped myself in front of the new table. It only took a few moments to get everything altogether, suit up into an apron, and get to work. I always stained the glue-water mix with a colored stiffener that would make it firmer when it dries. I'd always use clear glue because the white glue looked too much like something else. I made the mistake of using it once, and Tony made sure I never forget it. Clear glue looks like mucus, though, and that's disgusting, too.

I stained it purple today. Not that it mattered, but I liked the soft lilac color. I began placing the strips of newspaper onto a mask mold. It was peaceful enough until I realized one thing missing: my music. Whining, I got up and drug myself to the sink to wash my hands. I stuck my headphones in while I returned to my seat and pressed play.

New songs flooded my ears and motivated me to work. By the time I'd gotten the basic mold down to where I wanted it, I still didn't know what I wanted to make out of it. Then a song popped up that decided it for me: Miss Mysterious by Set It Off.

I knew I'd have to let the mask dry a bit before I'd start cutting into it, but I knew exactly how I wanted it to look. Half a mask, a bit like the Phantom of the Opera's, with a curled horn off to the side. It didn't sound as cool explaining it, but it was beautiful inside my head.

My fingers worked with the slimy mixture and the newspaper to create a thin, curled horn. I'd paint it a dark green, maybe add gold highlights to it or bells. Something like that. Something that would show how beautiful it was, how elegant it would be.

I sang along with the song. I could reach the high notes, and I wasn't the best at singing, but I was good enough that no one complained about my voice. Or at least they never complained to my face. Either way, I sang the song like no one else was in the room simply because there wasn't.

My hands glided over the mask, adding new pieces, creating the horn, and calling myself names when I'd accidentally drip the stuff on the table. I'd always then try and scoop it up in my hand but end up making it worse since my hands were covered in the gluey goop.

I'm sure if someone was outside looking in, I definitely was a sight to see. And I didn't care.

Once my mask was to the point that there was nothing left to do but let it dry, I stood up to go wash my hands. As soon as I turned around, I let out a scream.

"Loki?!"

His eyes lit up, just a bit more than usual, and I could tell he was laughing at me. Then, his lips began to move, but all I could hear was Who Is It by Michael Jackson blaring in my ears. I held up my hands to show him the goop they were currently covered in.

"Lemme wash my hands, and don't you dare leave, or I'll dip my hands back in it, find you, and touch you." I was sure I was speaking rather loudly because I could hear myself over my music.

I barely caught Loki's glare, and I smirked to myself. There was a fifty-fifty chance he'd actually leave, which meant there was a fifty-fifty chance I'd get to chase him with goopy hands. I washed my hands in the sink, making sure I got rid of all of it because it did stay a bit sticky when it remained on my hands.

I was equally surprised and disappointed to see Loki still standing there once I turned around. I removed my headphones from my ears, draped them around my neck, and gave Loki a slight bow while twirling my hand.

"You may speak now, my lord."

I heard the god snort. It was very soft, almost like a sharp inhale when one would be sick. His lips twitched slightly as I straightened up, but other than that, his face remained stoic. I knew that I was able to pull emotion from him, but I didn't understand why he tried to hide it.

Was it something I did? Something I said? Maybe it's just the way I am. Had I offended him in some way without realizing it?

His chuckle broke my train of thought. I blinked and saw the small smile on his face.  I don't think I've ever seen him smile before. Even though it was hardly a smile, it caused me to smile.

"Are you always this energized, Y/N?"

His voice made me freeze. He knew my name. Well, duh. Of course he knew my name. I did live in the same building with the man. Oh god, I'm being stupid. What the hell? This isn't that big of a deal.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah. It runs in my genes, I guess," I answered, wanting to slap myself. I couldn't have replied in a more dumbass way. Conversation was never my strong point.

Another smile tugged the edge of his lips. "Of course."

"Can-can I help you with anything?" I asked, scratching the back of my neck nervously before turning on my heel to replace the paints and canvas. "Not that I don't enjoy your company, it's just strange that you're here in my studio. Especially since we haven't really talked the much."

How long had he been there? The thought hit my like a punch in the stomach and made me hesitate for a moment. I'd finished my mask and turned to see him. He couldn't have been there that long, right? Art is boring to watch to most, and I'd assume that watching me papier-mâché was not on his list of 'fascinating things to do today.'

"Just stopping by."

God, I hated his answers. I mimicked him in my facial expressions while my back was turned to him. Couldn't he give me more solid answers? I cleaned out my brushes in the sink and glanced towards him.

"Why?"

He seemed caught off guard by my question, but it was perfectly reasonable considering our past — or lack there of. Instead of an answer, when Loki regained his composure, all I received was a shrug.

"Did you want something?" I asked, trying to hide my nervousness now. I went to the closet to grab a new canvas, tucking my lip between my teeth. There was a chair within reach of my foot, so I pulled it closer to me with the top of my toes and stood on it to grab a new canvas.

Did he want something? Did I accidentally take something of his? It happened sometimes since I was usually so scatterbrained. I tried to scan my brain of the items I'd last had in my possession, but all that I could think of was my paints and some newspaper.

"Oh, my dear omega."

I nearly slipped off the chair when the words left Loki's lips. The canvas did fall from my hands and clatter to the floor, and I dove after it, picking it up. How did he know that? Bruce wouldn't snitch on me, I knew that.

"You reek of anxiety," the god continued. "You seem to forget that my senses are heightened over your Midgardian senses. No matter what you use to mask your natural scent, I can see right through it."

I walked my now slightly dusty canvas over to the table and laid it down. Did that mean Thor knew, too? If Loki did, then Thor had to. Bless them both for not saying anything. I proceeded to busy myself by making sure every little dust particle was off of the canvas. The lights dimmed slightly for a moment as my anxiety increased.

He's here to make fun of me.

Loki never thought highly of omegas or betas, for the matter. That was clear to me. Loki only ever seemed to respect other alphas that were able to take him size him up for a good fight for dominance. I always assumed that he and Tony would eventually get together, no matter how much the two currently avoided one another.

Clearing my throat, I straighten up and hung up the apron I had been wearing. Finally, after what simultaneously felt like centuries and mere seconds, I turned to face the prankster once again. My fingers were tingling, and I knew that just once more word might cause me to blow all the bulbs in my studio.

Tony never got mad at me for it because really, what was a few light bulbs to a millionaire? But I've been trying to learn how to control my powers in moments of high and nearly uncontrollable emotions.

"You didn't answer my question," I replied, letting a smile form on my lips. It wasn't nearly as large as my normal smile, but I wanted my normal persona back.

"Bruce is sick," he replied. I knew that. Bruce had gotten ill yesterday, and I told him I'd go see him later, no matter how much he protested. "Can't seem to get it if bed right now." A look of disgust floated over the God's beautiful features. "So I brought these for you since it seems you've forgotten them."

Loki held out a small, silver package towards me, and I recognized it instantly. My heat suppressants. Now that I was thinking back again, I couldn't remember the last time I'd taken them. A dark blush heated my cheeks, but Loki didn't seem phased by it whatsoever.

"We don't want you going into an early heat." I wanted to die at the words he was saying. Did he not understand how embarrassed I already was? I noticed the lights dangerously flicking as I took the package from him. I saw Loki's eyes glance up towards them before I turned to grab a bottle of water from the small refrigerator I kept in the back.

"How do you hide your heats?"

I nearly choked on the pill and water, but managed to get it to stay down. While I was able to save that, the light bulbs weren't so lucky. They popped, drowning the room in darkness that was almost pitch black. "Oh, dear. I do seemed to have caused some discomfort."

I wanted to punch Loki in his stupid, pretty face. I was a mixture of embarrassed and angry because he had no right to do this. Who was he to come stomping up into my safe haven and talk about my heats and being an omega? Then he plays it off like a joke? The nerve of the motherfucker.

Since I knew the room like the back of my hands, I had no issues navigating to the one corner of my room. I leaned my head against the wall and breathed out a sigh. I wanted to unlive the last ten minutes of my life and leave before Loki had ever entered.

"Y/N?"

Damn his voice.

Silence was my reply.

"Y/N, don't make me ask again.

Even though he wasn't my alpha, I found myself turning toward him before cursing and facing the wall again. Calm down. Count to ten.

"Y/N, please."

"What?" I hissed out before turning to face him. I didn't want to deal with this right now, but the two of us were stuck in here until Tony would manually unlock the door since that, too, was powered by electricity. I couldn't do anything because, more likely, I blew the fuse connecting all of that.

"It's not that big of a deal."

"Says you," I growled. I didn't like people finding out things about me without my permission. It was weird, I know, but I didn't like when people knew things that I didn't tell them. "No one hates you for being an alpha."

"And no one would hate you for being an omega."

I didn't reply this time. He was pissing me off, but I tried to calm down. I guess it wasn't that big of a deal... It still really bothered me though. Taking a deep breath, I tugged my hair, and then let it out slowly.

"I'm not ready to admit it, okay?" My parents had been very disappointed in me for being an omega and a gay one at that. Their only son was into other men and the weakest on the totem pole. Whether society really frowned upon omegas or not, in my mind, they did. Everyone did, and I was scared to admit it. Bruce didn't even know why I didn't tell people that I was an omega.

"And you of all people!" I nearly spat at him as I whirled around. "You're the one that would hate me for being an omega. I know the way you talk about them. God, can't even believe you can stand to look at me." I ground my teeth together.

This was way out of my comfort zone and personality. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks, causing me to curse aloud. I hated crying when I was angry.

I jumped when a hand fell on my shoulder, nearly decking Loki in the face. Was that really necessary?

Even in the darkness, I swore his green eyes were he only things that I could see perfectly clear.

"Calm down," he whispered to me softly, pulling me into a hug.

The coolness of his body helped my anxiety and the way he pet my hair caused me to let my guard down.

"Just listen to me," Loki continued. I was about to speak up, realizing what was going on, but Loki quickly shut that down. "You may not speak, do you understand?"

I closed my eyes and nodded against his chest. He's not my alpha, what the fuck am I doing?

"My omega, I kept my distance so I could keep watch on you. I kept my distance so I could se show others were interested in you. It also had come to my attention that you were into my brother." I could hear the jealousy laced in with his words.

The faint scent of possession filled my senses.

"I want you all to my own."

My knees felt weak at his words, and I found myself kneeling at his feet. As much as I had tried to push the feelings away, Loki was always the alpha I had wanted. He was off, odd, and different. Something about him always made my heart race.

I closed my eyes as I felt Loki's hand settle on my head. I rested my head against his thigh, closing my eyes. The amount of submission I felt was incredible, and I was incredibly embarrassed. Yet I didn't fight it as much as I normally would have.

"I didn't want you to hate me," I breathed out, hoping that he wouldn't hear my words.

"I would never." He backed away and knelt down to my level, sitting on the floor and pulling me between his legs. "I only ever wanted the best for my omega."

"You want me to be yours?" I asked softly.

I felt Loki's lips press against my skin at the base of my neck, near the place where he would mark me and claim me as his. "Yes."

I closed my eyes, letting myself enjoy the feeling of his cool lips against my skin. "Loki...I-I just... I don't wanna jump right in... I want you, but I want a relationship, too..."

"Then a relationship we shall form," he promised, tilting my head back to kiss my lips.

#marvel #marvel x male reader #marvel fanfiction #loki x male reader #loki fanfiction #loki #gay loki oneshot #lgbt #alpha #omega #alpha loki #alpha omega fanfiction

[svucarisiaddict]

Could you write about the reader working as a detective with Sonny, they dated for a while and have a baby/toddler together but the relationship didn’t work out so they’re trying to just be friends but then the reader finds out Sonny has a date/maybe she turns up at the precinct to meet him and the reader gets upset and realises that her and Sonny belong together 💕💕

//changed this up a bit as far as readers career. Thank you for the prompt!//

“I bet I know who that is,” you said to Autumn, your two-year-old daughter when the doorbell rang. Picking her up from the high chair you put her on your hip and walked to the door.

When you opened the door she squealed in delight. “Dadadada!” She reached her arms out to Sonny.

“There’s my girl!” Sonny took Autumn from your arms and hugged her to his chest. “I’ve missed you so much.”

The interaction made you smile. Sonny was such a good Daddy. Even though things hadn’t worked out with you and Sonny you were able to remain friends and co-parent Autumn. He followed you into the apartment to grab Autumn’s bag since she would be staying at his place for the weekend.

“So, what are you two up to this weekend?” you asked as you finished packing Autumn’s bag.

“Oh, you know, the usual. Clubbin’, playin’ the craps table in Atlantic City…” Sonny teased.

“I’ll give you  $5, play it on red,” you said back and smiled. “Autumn, your Daddy is silly.” She giggled when you tickled her side. Going to tiptoe your kissed her cheek. “You have fun, toots.”

“You still use that strawberry shampoo.” Sonny looked down at you.

“Yeah-yeah. You remember that?” Taking a couple steps back you gave him a confused look.

“I remember everything about you.” Sonny held your gaze for a beat then shook his head. “I, uh, I’ll have her back Sunday afternoon.” He grabbed Autumn’s bag and left the apartment.

“What the heck was that about?” you said to yourself.

A couple of weeks later you got called into work on a Friday evening. “Shoot,” you said when Sonny’s phone went to voicemail again. It wasn’t unusual that Sonny had his phone on vibrate and not hear your call. Deciding to take your chances that he would be at the precinct you loaded up Autumn in the car.

“Hey, Amanda. How are you?” you said in greeting.

“Great. You?” She smiled and took Autumn from you. “Y’all need to come over for a playdate.”

“That would be fun. Just a little frazzled. Got called into work and can’t get ahold of Sonny. I was hoping to catch him here.”

“Y/N? What are ya doin’ here? You and Autumn okay?” You turned at the sound of Sonny’s voice.

“We’re fine. I got called in,” you answered. “Can you take Autumn? I can pick her up later as long as work-”

“Yeah. Yeah. Of course,” he responded.

From the corner of your eye, you saw a woman approach you and Sonny. She touched his shoulder. “Sonny. Sorry, I’m late.”

Sonny spun on his heel. “Kate. I thought I was meeting you at the restaurant.”

“I thought I’d surprise you,” she said. She gave you a sideways glance.

“You have a date. You should have said-” you started.

“It’s not a big deal.” He turned toward Kate. “Can we do dinner another night?”

“I’m not a big deal, right. So why does it matter?” she snapped.

Amanda raised her eyebrows and stood to leave the room with Autumn with you following her.

“She is a piece of work,” Amanda remarked as the two of you watched the exchange.

You crossed your arms over your chest. “How long has he been together?”

“I wouldn’t say they’re together. They’ve had a few dates.” Amanda put Autumn down to toddle around the breakroom. “You know he still talks about you all the time. What a great Momma you are. How much Autumn loves you. How beautiful she is because she looks like her Momma.”

Turning your head you looked down at where your daughter was pressing her face against the glass of the vending machine. “Sonny can’t say a bad thing about anyone-”

When you turned back to the window Kate was storming out of the precinct. Sonny entered the break room. “Sorry about that.” He gave you a tight smile.

“I ruined your date. Didn’t I?” you asked.

Sonny didn’t answer but picked Autumn up in his arms. “Text me when you get done. If it’s too late she can stay the night with me.”

You nodded your head. “Bye baby girl. Love you.”

By 10pm the travel nurse was there to relieve you. As you were walking to your car you sent Sonny a text letting him know you were done. He sent back a short video of Autumn running around his apartment with the caption, ‘she’s wound for sound’.

Twenty minutes later you were knocking on Sonny’s door. “It’s open,” he called. “She literally crashed two minutes before you got here.”

Autumn was asleep on the couch, dark hair falling into her face, one sock off and mismatched pajamas. She recently took to picking out her own clothes which some days could be very interesting.

“Want a slice of pizza?” Sonny asked.

“No. Thanks. I’ll get out of here and pick her up in the morning. I already ruined your evening-”

Sonny interrupted. “I got to spend the evening with the most beautiful girl in the city. I wouldn’t call that a ruined evening.”

“Good point,” you said. “We did good with her didn’t we?”

“Better than good, we did fantastic,” Sonny replied. “I know you didn’t eat. Sit down and I’ll warm ya up a couple slices of pizza.”

You smiled up at Sonny. “Thanks.”

While Sonny warmed up the pizza you tucked Autumn into bed.

You and Sonny sat and talked for what you thought was a half hour at most but was actually almost two. “Man I better go.” You pushed back from the table and stretched your body.

“Stay here. It’s late. Besides, you’ll be back in a few hours to get Autumn,” he offered.

“I’m not sure.”

“I really don’t like the idea of you out this late alone. I’ll take the couch and you can have my bed,” Sonny said.

“No. If I stay, I’ll take the couch. You’re too tall. You get a kinked neck whenever you sleep on the couch,” you countered.

“Still just a stubborn as the first night I met you. Good to know some things never change,” Sonny teased.

“That’s not the only thing that hasn’t changed.”

Sonny’s eyes scanned your body. All at once his lips were pressed to yours, his arms around you pulling your flush to his body. Your body went up in flames. God how you missed his touch.

Your hands went to his back clutching his shirt. It was like you couldn’t get close enough to him. Images of Kate filled your mind making you push Sonny away. “Stop.”

Sonny gave you a confused look. “What? Why? Don’t you want me as bad as I need you?”

“More than you know. But I won’t get in the middle of your relationship with Kate,” you stated.

He raked his hands over his face. “There is no relationship. We went out on three dates. She was jealous that I chose Autumn over our date tonight. Told me that you should’ve found someone to babysit instead of bringing her to me.” He rested his hands on his hips. “I told her you and Autumn would always be priority over anyone else.”

Tears were stinging your eyes. “I’m a priority?” You pointed to yourself.

“Of course you’re a priority. Y/N you're the mother of my child. You gave me the most precious gift.” Sonny reached out to touch your cheek. “I love you, Y/N. I want you back.” Sonny's eyes glistened with his own tears.

“I never stopped loving you.” You covered his hand with yours. “When I saw you with Kate...I was jealous.”

“There was never anything to be jealous of. You were the last person I was with,” Sonny confessed. He dropped his hand to your waist.

“Same for me.” It was the truth. From the time you and Sonny broke up you hadn’t even kissed anyone else.

“Can we give us another try?” Sonny’s blue eyes pleaded with yours.

“I was always yours Sonny.” You gently grasped the back of his neck to pull him down for a kiss.

Giggling from the hall got both you and Sonny’s attention. He smiled against your lips. “We’ll pick this up later.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” You gave him a quick peck on the lips.

“Miss Autumn Juliet Carisi, your Momma and Daddy can hear you,” Sonny called out in a sing-song voice.

She dashed to you and you scooped her up. Sonny wrapped his arms around both of you causing Autumn to squeal with delight. “Gotcha ya both and I’m never lettin’ ya go again.”

#sonny carisi #sonny carisi x reader #fluff #autumn carisi

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Chapter 2 - The Rogue and The Bard

“Okay, so…You really go play board games with 12 year olds?” Billy asked, raising an eyebrow, not believing what I was saying. “Yes. Dungeons and Dragons, it’s called.” I tried to explain to him. “And you’re…Uh…Part of their ‘Party’ ?” he continued, looking at me in disbelief. “Yes. Mike is the Paladin, Will is the Cleric, Lucas is the Ranger, Dustin is the Bard and El is the Mage.” I smiled, looking at him  as he drove us to school. “And what are you, babe? The charmer of the group? The Fox?” he chuckled, looking at me. “There’s no Foxes in DnD, you, idiot.” Max grumbled from the backseat. “I’m the Rogue…A Tiefling Rogue. That’s why they called me Fox. Rogues are sneaky and sly.” I grinned at him and continued.“I think you’d make a fine Bard. You have charisma, dexterity and strength.” I try to hype him up, but he only smirked at me with a confused look. “Uhm…You can go around and smack people in the head with a lute.” I grin at him, making him slowly start smiling at how weird it sounded, then chuckled. “I’ll buy a lute just for that.” he let out an amused breath before looking back at the road. “Why did they let you in the Party and not me?” the poor redhead pouted. “Would you want me to talk to them? You see, some of them may have some…Issues, but it’s nothing personal. El, our Mage…She disappeared just a few ago and we kinda miss her. I guess they may be reluctant to have anyone else join us because they miss her.” I told her in a soft voice. “Why couldn’t they tell me that in the first place?!” she leaned frontwards, between mine and Billy’s seats, looking at me. “Well…To put it simple, Max…It’s a problem among all ages. We lack one fundamental skill that could solve more than 80% of our problems and that is, drum roll…Communication.” I say dramatically, making her giggle confused. “What do you mean by that? We all talk so much, don’t we?” she asked again, very curious. “Yes, but that’s different. When you talk, you can either hear, just like you do with any noise, or listen, which you only do when you actually use your brain. Thing is, Max…Most of us don’t know how to Communicate. Your problem with the Idiot Party could have been solved very easily if only they were up for communication, but they’re a bunch of silly nerds. Really. Many people pretend to listen, but they don’t and you realise that only when they get busted.” turning to look at her, I smile and pat her head. “I’d say don’t take it personally, they’re just boys, they’re stupid…But I can talk to them. Believe me or not, I know how to make them listen.” “Whoa, really? You can do that?” she gleamed and practically radiated joy. “That’s why they call me Fox, remember~?” I wink at her with a chuckle, before realising we’ve already arrived. “I say, the way things are, my sister’s gonna charm you before I do.” he scoffed, seeing Max skateboard to her classes. “Awww, come on, Billy, don’t be like that. She’s a real sweetheart. I like her around me, just like I like you.” I nudge him slightly, despite not even budging him. “Besides, it’s nice to finally have proper conversations, y'know?” I shrug a bit, looking away. “Say, babe, wanna see me at practice today? You can cheer for me as I beat the shit out of that Pussy Harrington.” he boasted, putting an arm around my shoulder. “I…Hope not literally, but at the game.” I chuckled nervously, looking up at him slightly. “Fine, fine, whatever you want.” Billy raised his arms in defeat in a joking manner. “Billy! That was mean!” I grinned, trying to stifle my laugh. “Now, there, toots, is where you are wrong and you don’t even believe yourself. I heard your sweet giggle.” he poked my cheek, making me blush slightly and look down. “What time?” I asked, sighing, hoping that nothing will interfere. “First class after lunch.” he flashed a charming smile my way. “I guess that can work. Sure, I’ll be there. But, uhm…Apart from the fact that you gotta score…I know literally nothing about Basketball.” I confessed awkwardly. “Well, you got the gist of it. Leave the rest to me.” he winked, putting his shades on his head. “Project, after?” “If you want to, sure!” I smiled

With that, I went on with my daily at classes, and gotta say, time flew by pretty fast, and before I knew it, lunch began and I went outside to eat, just as I always do, listening to music on my cassette iPod. An hour went by fast and I had to go see Billy’s practice match, his team against Steve’s, and for once, I was a tiiiiny bit intrigued by sports. I enter the P.E. room shyly, seeing how everyone was busy doing the warming up, and I sit on the bleachers, opening my book and reading “The Lord Of The Rings”, my absolute favourite fantasy book, before the match began.

“Hey, Black, this place is for sweating, not reading! Give that here!” a voice yelled in my ear, making me yelp, before they took the book from my hands. “Give me my book back, please!” I stand up quietly, trying not to draw attention to myself. “Why are you here? This is hardly a proper place for you.” Steve scoffed, looking at the book. “Psh, what’s this rubbish? You’re really reading this? Nerd.” he rolled his eyes, holding the book above his head, barely out of my reach. “If you want it back that badly, reach up!” he continued, laughing. “Come on, please, give it back! I didn’t come here for trouble, I just wanted to cheer for a friend!” I tried to say, trying to reach my book. “Friend? You? Of all people? Don’t be kidding.” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Hey, lookie here, King Harrington! Too afraid to face me and you prefer harassing a girl? You’re such a pussy.” Billy’s voice echoed from behind Steve, as he easily got the book from his hand. “Why don’t cha come on the field and fight someone your size?” he smirked, getting in his face. “I won’t let you win, Hargrove.” Steve sneered, annoyed, before bumping his shoulder into Billy’s and going to field to his team. “So, you came to cheer on me. Guess now I can’t lose, huh?” he smirked, flexing a bit as he took off his shirt. “Be careful out there. If you flex and show off too much, you might forget you’re playing and not trying to find your next hook up.” I smirked slightly, gingerly taking my book from his hand. “Thank you. I appreciate you standing up for me…Again.” I smiled softly, rubbing his arm a bit, as a way to both say Good Luck and Thank you. “Who needs a hook up when I have to charm the pants off of ya?” he got closer to my face, in a teasing manner. “Go fuck them up…Babe.” I whisper lowly in his ear, as the smirk never left my face, and yet, I back down and looked away slightly. “Great, now I’m turned on and it’s entirely your fault.” he shook his head, biting his lip as he jogged to court, ready to start the game.

The game soon started, and while I have to admit I had no idea what was going on, I would cheer every time Billy would score. I think that’s what I’m supposed to do, right?

The whistle blew and Harrington had the ball, dribbling left and right, until Billy came in front of him, looking intimidating as ever, and they seemed to be…Talking? Do people talk during games? They would bump into each other a lot, before Billy somehow threw him to the ground and got the ball, showing off again as he marked yet another point for his team, then turning to wink my way as he saw I was clapping.

What a jerk.

The whistle blew again, one of the shirtless guys was dribbling the ball and Steve was blocking him, but, of course, since he’s the best player in our year, Billy managed to easily secure the ball and dribbled it away from Steve, but then stopped and started taunting Harrington.

“King Steve! King Steve, everyone! I like it, play it tough today.” he got closer to his face, annoying Steve. “Jesus! Do you ever stop talking?! Come on!” Steve tried to make Billy shut up, but to no avail. “What? Afraid the coach is gonna bench you now that I am here? Huh?” Billy laughed as easy going as usual, then dribbled and pushed past Steve and stop ANOTHER point.

This time, instead of looking at me, he went to Steve, offered to help him get up, but told him something in a very intimidating voice and let him fall to the ground again, before coming in front of me, putting his arms on his hips, smirking cockily and panting.

“Liked the show, babe?” he asked, his chin up. “I have no idea what I watched, but hey, I think you won, right? Congrats! It looked like you did all the job, so I guess I know why the teacher likes you.” I clapped my hands in front of my chest, praising him. “Look at her being so cute. Didn’t I tell ya you were melting my heart? Come 'ere, gimme a hug!” he approached me, but I yelped, giggled a bit before stepping back. “No, no, no. Go take a shower first, then I’ll hug you, okay?” I put my hands up to signal him to stop moving, but he only chuckled. “One of these days, I won’t be the only one sweating, babe.” he teased in a low voice, making me blink and tilt my head in confusion. “I…I don’t do sports, Billy, what do you mean?” I smile at him. “You…You didn’t get that, did you?” he sighed, rolling his eyes. “Uh…No, sorry.” I grin awkwardly. “Never mind. Wait for me by the car, will ya? Unless you wanna join me in the shower.” he winked, giving me a charming look. “Okay, I’ll wait you outside. See ya!” I said cheerfully, walking to his Camaro.

However, before I reached the car, I saw Max and Lucas arguing and I ran to them, putting my hands on her shoulders.

“Hey, guys! What brings you here?” I asked, trying to calm down the waters a bit. “Lucas, here, and the rest of his stupid party, don’t understand anything! They act like they want me to be their friend, but then they treat me like garbage!” she yells at him, annoyed. “That’s not true!” Lucas tried to defend himself, but Max refuted with a simple “Yes it is!” “Is this about the AV club meetings?” I went between them, looking left and right. “Yes! They can’t stop keeping secrets from me and it’s so annoying! We’re not in 2nd grade anymore!” she shouted, very angry, making me sigh. “Okay, kids, calm down. First of all, Lucas, I really need to talk to you guys about this. Max deserves to be in the party too, okay? She’d be a great addition. Secondly…Is this about…About Will?” I ask the second question a bit quieter. “Yes, yes it is! Don’t get me wrong, I want Max in our party, but we’re 6 in our party, not only me, and I can’t decide by myself! You, me and Dustin want her, but Will is barely around anymore and Mike declines every time, because of El!” he raised his voice at me, making me smile in annoyance and sign for him to calm down. “Okay, kids, okay, I understand your problems and while I do think Max should be in our party, I think we should talk, the 6 of us…Like, have a REAL talk, because things have gone out of control these days and I wasn’t able to stay in contact with you too much because of school stuff, as you know. Now…Uhm…You should have told me Will wasn’t okay. El is not the only one like that, if you remember. I will tell Max everything that happened to us so none of you will be able to complain again.” I said sternly, looking at Lucas, who widened his eyes. “Wait, why would you do that?! We’re supposed to keep it a secret from everyone! We’re already 6 people and Will’s mum who know these things! You know how words spread! It’s a small town!” he tried to protest, worried, but I only shook my head. “I trust Max with my life and I vouch for her. She won’t spread our secrets, I’m sure of that. She just wants to be your friend, morons. Oh, Max, your brother is here. Let’s go home, shall we?” I asked her softly, leading her to the car. “Sure. Oh, and, you still stink!” she shouted past he shoulder, letting him panic there all alone. “Boys can be real jerks, huh?” I shrugged, rolling my eyes. “Don’t worry, I will show you something you’ll never forget.” “Yes, please~!” she grinned up at me until we got in front of Billy, who looked pretty annoyed. “Hey, King Billy, how are you feeling after such a glorious win? I mean, I think it was glorious, considering how relaxed you were every time you showed off so shamelessly.” I teased him, motioning to Max to get in the car. “With you cheering for me oh so pretty, what was I supposed to do?” he asked, flexing a bit. “Mind if I come over? Or are your parents home? Max asked me to chat and do some girl stuff. Is that okay with you? If not, she can come over at mine?” I smiled at him sweetly. “Awe, come on, toots, stop smiling at me like that, y'know I can’t refuse you. They ain’t home yet, you can come over. But don’t think the little twerp can have you all for herself all day.” he winked in approval, which made me hug him tightly. “Thanks, Billy! You’re the best!” I say, kissing his knuckles before rushing to the passenger’s seat. “Whoa, babe, what was that? Shouldn’t I have been the one to do that?” he asked slowly as he got in his seat, looking at me a bit weirdly. “Does it matter? I think it’s sweet no matter who does it. It was my way of thanking you.” I give him a soft smile as I lean back on my seat, closing my eyes. “Hmm…Hey, toots, can ya hold somethin’ for me?” he asked as he started the car and left the parking lot. “Of course.” I replied absent-minded.

Without realising, something warm softly lifted my hand a bit, and as I opened my eyes, I see Billy’s hand pressed to mine, his fingers intertwined with mine. He wasn’t looking at me, instead, his eyes were fixed on the road, an almost invisible blush gracing his sun-kissed cheeks, making me smile at him. I was debating whether or not I should say something or not, but I settled for just squeezing his hand a bit and turning the music volume a tad higher, which made him grin.

We sang the lyrics to the songs, which made the ride home pretty fast, like usual. When we got out of the car, Max went to my side and dragged me inside, making me chuckle at her eagerness. We both sat on her bed and she looked at me with such curious eyes that she made me want to hug her constantly.

“So, uhm…This is all gonna sound very crazy. It’s gonna be SO crazy that you will think I’m lying, but honestly, out of all those idiots, I’m the person you’ll believe and I’ll show you why, at the end.” I began, smirking a bit at her reactions. “The secret the guys hide is…Like a real life DnD campaign. With the Demogorgon and all that. I know, I know, bullshit, huh? Well, I can’t show you one YET, but by the time I grind some sense into those idiots…Well, I mean, hopefully you WON’T get to see any monster, they are super scary, but like…Basically, there’s this monster that kidnapped Will and got him in other world and uh…We found his body, but this one is the real one, and uhm…Well, we managed to get rid of the monster…I and El, more like, and the way I saw Lucas today, I think something’s happened to Will. Bad enough that maybe the monster managed to find another way here.” I took a deep breath after ranting all that out, making the girl look at me like I just said the Earth was flat. “Okay, okay…So then…Let’s say I believe you. You have no reason to lie, unless you’re schizophrenic or something. First of all, who is this El? And secondly, how did you stop the monsters?” she asked skeptically, but wanting to be proven wrong. “Well…El…El is short for Eleven. She was an experiment who managed to escape and we found her.” I explained to her with a big smile. “You expect me to believe that?” her incredulous look only made me chuckle at her. “Do you know what my real name is…Well, was, actually?” my smile turned into a smirk as soon as she shook her head. “My name was Three. Do you wanna know why?” again, her vigorous nod made me continue my story, as I pulled up my Tshirt sleeve, revealing the “3” tattoo. “Because I, too, was an experiment who managed to escape…That was 5 years ago.” I explained with a chuckle, seeing her mouth agape as she gingerly touched the tattoo. “Whoaa…And what did they do to you?” she asked again, looking as she was going to jump up and down from excitement. “What they did to me…Well, a lot of things. But that’s not the right question, Max. Y'know what the right question is~?” I teased her, before continuing. “What resulted after what they did to me~!” I smirked at her. “What happened? Did you get super powers or something?!” she screamed before I shushed her. “Do you see that notebook on the desk? Well…” I chuckled lowly before I made the notebook come into my hand. “It’s not there anymore, now, is it?” I winked at her when she started cheering and jumping on me. “OH MY GOD, THAT WAS SO COOL! DO THAT AGAIN! DO THAT AGAIN!!” she yelled excitedly, making me open her wardrobe’s door, before slamming it back and then opening the window, making her literally jump and clap at me. “THAT’S SO COOL!! WHO NEEDS WONDER WOMAN, WHEN WE HAVE YOU?! Imagine that! America’s Hero, Katrina Black, otherwise known as The Fox! Oh, look at her, she’s saving the day again! Whoooo!” she made a superhero pose, but I told her to stop in her tracks for a second. “I haven’t really used my powers in a very long time because…Well…It’s not really something you’d want to go out in the open with some people. But…Uhmm…Let me try to make you fly, or, uhm, well, float. Want that?” I asked shifting in a better position so I won’t screw up or anything. “You. Can. Do. That?!” she jaw-dropped, making me blush a bit. “Well…Kinda? Like…Just like how I managed to get the notebook, I can move you in the air. But it’s more difficult so it takes a bit of a strain, so if my eye or nose start to bleed, don’t worry, it’s normal, okay?” I assured her.

Taking a deep breath, I extend my arm towards her and focus, making her slowly raise into the air, moving her left and right as she giggled and pretended to be a superhero or that she was swimming. I couldn’t help but laugh with her, but I had to put her down before a headache would hit me and I could lose focus and drop her.

“Sorry I got you down, I was afraid I might drop you. I can do that again a bit later, if you want.” I cleared my throat, before ruffling her hair. “Is there anything else you want to hear? I should go to your brother and ask him if he’s up for some tutoring. I mean…I was supposed to give him a test yesterday, but I couldn’t come over yesterday, so I told him tomorrow…But I said that not realising tomorrow is Friday and he has a Basketball match, so that’s out of the question.” I scratch awkwardly at my neck. “Say…Do you like my brother? He’s more tolerable to be around since you appeared and…When you’re with us, he’s weirdly nice. Like…I would have never expected him to hold a girl’s hand like that. He’s such a man whore and he’s so violent! …But I guess I kinda get him, in a way. His dad is really…Really…A huge asshole.” she murmurs the last part before flinging herself down on her bad. “Do you…Want to talk about it?” I lean on my arm, petting her hair softly. “If you want to listen…Yeah. Maybe this way you’ll understand Billy better. Who knows, maybe you can tame him or something, I dunno.” she sighed, burying her face in her pillow. “You know…Billy has saved me from bullying twice since you came. And he’s been very sweet with me so far. I…I know he whores around a lot and he’s very violent…And gosh darn it, he flirts with me more than he breathes, I think…But I really appreciated that he didn’t beat up a guy when I asked him to. He had him by the throat, and I begged him not to punch him…And he didn’t.” I confess, putting my head on the pillow next to her. “Woaw…Sure that was my brother?” she chuckled, turning on her side. “Haha, yeah, I promise, it was him.” I grinned softly. “So…So, I don’t really know everything, okay? But…But Billy is afraid of Neil. He’s always screaming very aggressively at Billy and it can’t be a recent thing. And I think he sometimes hits him too. He can’t accept my mum as his mum, which I can understand, but he hasn’t had someone in his life who has been as nice as you are since his mother left him.” she explained, smiling sadly. “Well…To be fair, I was expecting something like that. Childhood trauma usually manifests in two ways…Either like me, or like him. But…But I think…Maybe I can somehow handle this.” I brought her into a hug, which she reciprocated. “He’s been a part of my life all this time and I don’t know him as something more than a violent guy…But can you help him? I know it’s a lot to ask, but…” she trailed off, not knowing what to say. “Don’t worry, Maxi, I will see what I can do. I’m kinda stuck with him the whole year whether I like it or not, so I won’t let him get worse than he is.” I giggled at her, but before she could say anything, the door opened, revealing Billy, his shirt halfway unbuttoned. “There’s so much love in only one room, but what 'bout lil’ ol’ me~?” he slurred in a supposedly sexy way, leaning on the door. “Billy! Remember how yesterday I was supposed to give you that test, but I couldn’t come over? Like, I said I would give it to you tomorrow, but I didn’t realise tomorrow is your match and…And like, you have to celebrate your victory, so I won’t stress you with a test, clearly. But like, you want to take it today, or do you want on Sunday?” I ranted on as I got on the edge of the bed, but before soon, he just chuckled and picked me up bridal style. “Let’s take that test. I’ve been staring at your lips all day, Kitten, and today I’m even more motivated to find out their taste.” he laughed, getting me to his room and gently pulling me on the bed. “Are you sure, Billy? There’s no rushing…I mean, you can have a few days more to revise…And this chapter is not the easiest one, so I won’t blame you.” I smiled nervously, looking away. “Nahhh, s'okay. I was prepared for the one yesterday, so bring it on.” he told me with the most confident smirk in the world, as he sit down on his desk chair. “Okay, so uhm…Yesterday I stood after class with Mrs. Green to create the test for you in a way that it would be structured the same as the final exam is, which is why I couldn’t come over. But…Here you go. You can write in your notebook and I will correct it afterwards, I have the point-grading right here. I’m asking again, Billy - Are you absolutely sure you’re up for it?” I asked him for the millionth time, putting the test in front of him. “Yes, babe, I am. I’m a man of my word. Responsibility and Respect.” he muttered, scanning the test paper. “That sounded a bit robotic…But I won’t ask you about it now. Good luck and focus. You have 2 hours from…Now.” I told him, getting on the bed and doing some improvements to the project.

Two hours passed by faster than the blink of an eye, making me get up and go to Billy, patting him on the shoulder and telling him that time was up. He looked at me since we were about the same height with him sitting down, and in his eyes I could see a certain…Restlessness. Like a fight of emotions was going on, but he didn’t know what to do. I blinked at him twice before cupping his face and frowning.

“Are you okay, sweety? You look upset. Did something happen?” I said in the most gentle voice I could managed. “It’s nothin’, babe, don’t worry for nothin’. Go check my test and tell me if I’m worthy of you or not.” he grumbled, puling away from me. “Billy…If you want, I won’t look and you can retake is on Sunday. It’s okay if you fail from time to time, it’s not the end of the world, you can always try again later.” I try to reach out to him, raking my fingers through his soft hair. “Nah, babe, failing isn’t manly, it’s for pussies. I can’t afford that.” he sneered, gripping his hands into tight fists. “That’s not true, who told you that? To fail is human and it can happen to everyone. It’s not a masculinity meter!…Billy, look at me, please…Billy. Please.” I pleaded again, putting my arms around his neck, but he only got up and went away. “That’s what he always said, okay? So what the hell else am I supposed to fucking DO?! If I don’t listen, I’m fucked! That’s how it’s ALWAYS fucking been! But you wouldn’t get it, would you?! Your parents probably bought you that house so you could stay alone and study at your leisure, their pretty little treasure, and you could fuck everyone you wanted there and nobody would say anything! Why the hell are you even here?! Huh?! It’s only 'cause of that teacher, ain’t it?! And 'cause I’ve always been the idiot to save your weak and pathetic ass! Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if you DID boast that you fucked me!” he raged around the room like an angry tiger in his cage, trapped. “Wh-What do you even know about my life…?” I managed to usher softly, as tears welled up in my eyes and I backed towards to wall opposite of him. “Well, fuck, Katrina, I don’t know, it seems like after today, I know absolutely NOTHING! Care to fucking enlighten me? Care to tell me why are you the high school’s fucking whore?!” he yelled, stomping towards me, which only made me glue myself to the wall, sobbing. “I-I’m not…I’m…Not…I…I…” I choke out, but since I couldn’t say anything coherent, Billy slammed his hands on either side of my face, trapping me, screaming “WHORE” in my face, which made cower and shield my face with my arms. “Don’t hurt me! Please, please, please, don’t hurt me! I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me! I promise I’ll be good, please, don’t hurt me!” I barely managed to squeak out between my sobs, my legs shaking like mad and I could barely breathe.

My ears were ringing from the silence in the room, save for my pitiful sobs, flashbacks flooding my head so much that my throat and lungs were burning like a wild fire. After what felt like hours, he slowly guided me the bed, making me sit down, and by instinct, I let myself fall down and started unbuttoning my shirt, with trembling hands. I didn’t even dare look up to meet his face, but his hands gripped my wrists all of a sudden, which made me meekly raise my gaze a bit and see he was frowning, but somehow, confused.

“What are you doing?” he asked in a low, somehow dead-pan voice. “It’s what you want, isn’t it? Rather than doing it by force, just do it with no violence. I told you I won’t bother struggling, it’s meaningless anyways.” I whispered softly, biting my lip. “Did I say I wanted to fuck you right now?” he sat down on the bed as I cringed at his question, only shaking my head slightly. “Then why did you do this?” he asked, but since he saw I wasn’t answering, he continued. “I’m not mad, I’m not going to hurt you, ever, so just answer.” “I’m sorry I upset you…I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to.” I whispered as he lifted me into a sitting position. “You’re the only one who puts up with me, and if you got angry at me, I deserve it. I’m sorry, so please, don’t get angry at me and leave.” I continued, closing my eyes. “Kat, come here.” he patted his thighs, motioning me to sit on his lap, which I did, but I still wouldn’t look at him. “Kat, look at me.” he said softly, putting his hands on my face, as I previously did to him. “Who hurt you so much, Kat? Tell me. I’m not angry at you and I won’t leave you, either.” he uttered, trying to calm me down. “I…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you or said those things to you. I know they were lies, but I got frustrated. I should apologise, not you.” he confessed, making me look at him with glistening eyes, shaking my head briefly. “Kat, tell me. Please.” he whispered in my ear, making me start to cry again and throw my arms around his torso, crying in his chest, still trembling slightly. “I don’t know, Billy, I don’t know! It’s always been this way! I don’t get it, what did I do wrong? Why does everyone hate me? Do I look that weird? Is my personality that garbage? I-I don’t understand!” I began, feeling him rub soothing circles on my back. “I never had a family, Billy! I’m a runaway freak! I ran from an experimental base 5 years ago! I didn’t even have a name, I was just a number for them! And…And I ran here, and a policeman found me and put me in an orphanage under a name that I made up! Katrina Black, not Three anymore! And…And when I got with my new family, it was no difference than in the orphanage! Always the same thing! Nobody wanted me, I was just a waste of time and I did nothing good to contribute to my family!” I managed to say, clutching his shirt tightly. “Shhh, it’s okay now, Kitten, I’m here.” he whispered in my ear kissing my head. “Don’t be afraid.” “I worked a lot for 4 years, and with the policeman’s help, I managed to get my own little house and a motorbike. Not the perfect family anymore, huh?” I tried to laugh, but it came out more as a choke. “And…And…I…I just…I just wanted my Happily Ever After, Billy…I…I didn’t want to be alone anymore…They faked it…They faked everything just to fool around with me…They pretended to love and care about me…They pretended that they were good and protective boyfriends…But by the time I realised that what was happening wasn’t normal, it was too late and the damage had already been done. And I can’t erase it no matter how hard I try…” I put my hands in my hair, pulling at it in desperation. “I just want to forget all the disgusting things that happened, all the lies I heard, all those hands on my skin…I told you so many times before, no matter how much you struggle, it doesn’t do any good. Well, now you know the story behind it.” as I said that, he gently pulled away my hands and made me raise my head up again, and I could see anger and sadness in his eyes…He, too, seemed to want to cry, but tried very hard to stop it. “Tell me who did this to you and I’ll kill them. I’ll get revenge on them for you. If you couldn’t get out, neither will they.” he growled, looking me in the eyes, but I only shook my head and hugged his neck. “Don’t…Don’t go…Don’t leave…Don’t bother…What’s done is done. Yeah, of course, he only fucked me once, did other super gross things, whatever and now I’m somehow the biggest whore of the high school, whatever. Hey, really, I somehow magically fucked you in your sleep, or something, hell if I know. And if that wasn’t enough, after that first guy, two more came by. 'Know what happened?” I looked at him with a self-deprecating laugh, making him motion for me to continue talking. “The first one made me realise what happened wasn’t okay. Thing is, I told him I wasn’t interested in any fucks. What he did? The next day he started asking me about what positions I liked and stuff. And the next thing I know, he realised that I’m not a virgin, but he is, and says something along the lines of…How did he say it, now…Ah, yes. 'Why do the bad guys always get the good stuff?’. Yeah, like, thanks mate, very smart.” I rolled my eyes, every word completely dripping with sarcasm. “I kinda like it when you finally talk from your heart and you’re not scared of everything around you.” Billy said with a small smirk. “Well, then maybe you should love me by now. The third guy was very sympathetic with me and supposedly very protective of me. Turned out he was high-key flirting with my then-friend, making out/fucking her, all whilst continuing to insult me, but never letting me break up with him. He was a notorious liar. The biggest liar in the world, I kid you not.” I snorted bitterly. “Did they beat you?” he asked in a very low voice. “No…But…They would get overly possessive and jealous and would argue with me big time. It’s not like I have many friends, y'know? Just the kids. And Jonathan Byers, kinda. They would yell at me a lot and get super moody and mean. Hell, even on my birthday. Really…Fuck off.” I scoffed slightly, pouting as I leaned back a bit. “Did you calm down, Kitten? Feeling any better after letting your feelings out?” he caressed my cheek softly, which made me look down and snort a bit, trying to stifle my giggle. “What’s goin’ on, Kitten? Why you laughing?” he asked with a soft smile. “I…Well…It might sound super weird, okay, but…But I can’t stop laughing thinking about it. Just…He…He always boasts around how much of a mess I was because of him, but, like…I literally didn’t even realise when he got inside me and when he finished, like, what the hell!” I started laughing loudly, wiping my tears with my wrists, which made Billy start laughing as well, not having expected me to say something like that. “So my little Kitten can have a sense of humour when she wants to, huh? I never expected you to say any of the words you said the whole day, I swear, you’re surprising me with each day.” he put his arms around me, hugging me tight as I put my arms around his neck and calmed down. “I know I’m a mess, and as I said a million times, I’m sorry that you have to put up with me. But, Billy, if it were after me, I’d have already given you a chance by now, but really, I’m just scared that the whole chaos is going to happen again. And I’m just so tired of everything that I don’t think I could handle another betrayal.” I confessed softly, putting my forehead to his. “I said I was gonna prove you that you’re not wasting your time, and I’m not backing up from that promise. If it’s time you need, we have all the time in the world. I won’t be a shithead again like today. I lost control and it was my fault, I’m sorry.” he promised, looking me in the eyes as he put a strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s okay, Billy. I know you have it rough too. I don’t know the details, but I can sense what’s going on. You don’t have to tell me, but I know your father is a…A douchebag. I’m sorry for using that word. But, really, it’s one more year and you’ll be free of him! You’ll have a scholarship and you’ll be studying at a cool University whatever you wish to study and…And…I…Well…Maybe…Maybe we can…Y'know…We may be able to study in a place close to each other. Maybe even the same city. Hawkins Scholarships are usually more or less addressed to certain Unis in certain states.” I said with a shy smile, which in return, made his features soften up like never before. “Sounds good to me, babe.” he said, before burying his face in my neck, holding me tight as I played with his hair, calming him. “Billy.” I called out after a few minutes, when I felt his heartbeat calm down a bit. “Would it be okay with you if I corrected your test now? Don’t worry about the result, it just means that I will have to explain some stuff better, so it’s no problem. It’s as you said, we have enough time for everything. I don’t want to hold you off for too long since tomorrow’s your match and you should sleep well.” I say gently, making him sigh and nod.

I told him to stay in bed and lean on the bed post before I got up, took the test and a red pen from my bag before hopping next to him, cuddling to his side. We corrected the test together, explaining to him each mistake he made and why it was wrong, how to address the question tasked and so on, and it seemed like he understood and he was aware of his mistakes and how to solve them. It’s true, he didn’t make it to 75%, but it wasn’t too far away from that mark. He was frustrated, but I managed to calm him down and tell him that he will definitely do better next time and that first tests are always so bad. By the time we were done, outside was pitch black and we realised it was already past 10pm, which made me bite my lip.

“It’s okay, I can walk home, it’s no big deal. Just stay here and sleep well, okay?” I smiled at him reassuringly, but he only shook his head. “Just sleep over, I’ll sleep on the floor no big deal.” he proposed, shrugging, making me gasp. “Are you insane?! You, sleep on the floor? It’s YOUR house! Damn it, Billy! I should take the floor! Well…I could sleep in Max’s room, actually.” I realised, but he shook his head. “No, no, no, I’d rather sleep outside than seeing you do either of those two. I said it before, didn’t I? She won’t have you all for herself.” he said, making me chuckle. “You could just say you wanted to sleep cuddled with me, y'know? You liked that hug more than you’d admit in your life.” I teased him with a soft smirk. “Fine, babe, y'got me. So, what band do ya want?” he asked, going to his wardrobe to look for a Tshirt for me to sleep in. “Woaw, always ready to give a girl your band Tees, huh?” I chuckled, hiding my mouth slightly. “Nah, not 'a’ girl. You. Anyone touching my band tees will get burnt.” he smirked, leaning on the door. “Flattering, Billy. D'you have AC/DC?” I asked softly. “Do I breathe air?” he asked very dramatically, throwing the Tshirt at my head, making me laugh. “Thank you. I love the design…Oh, Jesus, how much cologne and cigarettes did you have while wearing this?” I laughed, hugging it too my chest. “Too much, maybe.” he shrugged. “I’ll turn around so you can change. Don’t worry, I won’t peep. Yes, you can kill me if I do.” he chuckled as he turned around, stretching a bit, giving me enough time to change and remain into his Tshirt and lady boxers only, thanking every deity existing that he was much larger than me and the Tshirt went mid-thigh. “Okay, I’m ready. Thank you…And, uhm…This is really weird and embarrassing.” I sighed as I put my clothes neatly folded on the chair. “Ah, fuck, you’re so hot, I knew it.” he smirked, raking his fingers through his hair. “Okay, fine, my turn. But I don’t mind if you watch.” he winked at me, making me hmpf a bit as I got in bed, putting the blanket over my head. “All clear, I can’t see a thing!” I chuckled, giving him a thumbs up with my arm out of the blanket, making him sigh.

It took less than two minutes for him to snatch the blanket from my head and snatch me into his arms tightly to his chest, playing with my hair loosely. I smiled softly and snuggled to his side, feeling warm and safe in his arms and I completely ignored the fact that he was only wearing a pair of boxers. Godamn it, Billy.

With a kiss on my forehead, he muttered in a low, guttural voice a simple “Good night, Princess” before closing his eyes and going to sleep. In return, I could only smile and kiss his neck, being closest to me, and wished him “Good night, Billy” before I let sleep take over my senses.

Chapter 1 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

@klassickb

#stranger things #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove x oc #katrina black #the blood moon #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #steve harrington #robin buckley #mike wheeler #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #erica sinclair #will byers #el #el stranger things #eleven #joyce byers #bob newby #jim hopper #jane hopper

[hayffiebird]

Taste of Strawberries, chap. 18

Hayffie Post-Mockingjay Multi-chapter, Rated M

Chapter 18

Trouble in paradise

And another year was coming to a close. The surrounding woods of District 12 stood covered in white. Merciless storms whined around the houses and shops and it snowed sometimes all day and all night.

The roads were a constant trouble but Sae’s granddaughter Nella’s family, the one who owned horses, put Blaze and Misty to good use so the people of Twelve could still go about their business. Katniss, Peeta and Posy built a colossal snow lantern in Haymitch’s back garden and Buttercup refused to set so much as a paw outside.

Twelve’s mentor always got surlier in winter. Just like the cat he spent most of his days cooped up in the house, a bottle of spirits in one hand and his knife in the other. Effie made him put it away in a kitchen drawer during her visits. Said she wasn’t keen on getting stabbed in the middle of the night. But since she hadn’t been around in almost two weeks now it had resumed its old purpose. He needed something to hold on to in the night.

With an array of bottles at arm’s reach Haymitch stared sullenly at the phone, his head against one of Effie’s fancy sofa cushions. Less fancy after he spilled on it. The house without Effie was like a garden without a gardener. Sooner or later it went back to its original state. He just couldn’t find a good enough reason to clean up his mess when she wasn’t around.

She tried to get some school trip to a district approved and the Board was giving her a hard time. That’s why she had to cancel but would it kill her to give him a call now and again?

He lifted the bottle to his lips and grunted when he swallowed the last drops. Why was it, that no matter how many seals he snapped he was always sucking the dregs out of it? He grabbed another and let the empty one roll onto the floor where it clinked against the rest of them.

He turned and shifted on the couch. It was exactly 13 days since he saw her and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this uncomfortable. Even in just his pyjama pants the fabric strained against his business. Hell, you could camp under there.

He knew alcohol withdrawal. Was there anything such as sex withdrawal? Because he was horny pretty much all day long. Phone sex just wasn’t the same and Effie hadn’t had much time or peace for that lately either.

 I won’t call her, he thought. What little pride he had left he liked to keep.

 That’s what annoyed him most about all this. If anyone, Effie was the one supposed to be pining, not him! They’d been together for less than three months and already he’d grown dependent on her!

And it wasn’t just the sex. He was better with her. The nights were never easy but he wondered if Effie knew how hard it was to go solo again after he got used to having her arms and legs wrapped around him. Her kisses distracted him and calmed him down faster than a bottle even.

“This is bullshit,” he told the ceiling. Real good thinking. Getting hooked on someone who lived 24 hours away. ”Bloody woman,” he muttered and slipped his hand inside his pyjama pants. ”All weird clothes and… s-silly accent.” He groaned and screwed his eyes shut.

Lost in his own dirty imagination he never heard the door when it opened and closed.

“Haymitch? You awake? Oh! God, I didn’t need to see that.”

Peeta. Great. Exactly what he needed. Disgruntled, Haymitch pulled his hand out of his pants and saw the boy stand there with a loaf of bread and his hand over his eyes.

Meddlesome kids.

He tossed a threadbare, old blanket over his groin and sat up.

“Since when did you get so squeamish?” he muttered. “Wotcha expect when you walk into a man’s house?”

Peeta peered through his fingers and when he saw his mentor was decent he handed over the loaf, wrapped in a towel. Haymitch muttered out thanks and poured himself a glass of wine. He carved off an uneven slice of the still warm bread that he offered the boy.

“No, thanks, I already ate,” Peeta said and watched his old mentor dunk it in his wine. “You know, Haymitch,” he said and walked over to the hearth to build up the fire. “If you miss her so much just take the train. Before you get completely chafed.”

”Good one,” Haymitch muttered. He looked at the boy with a pair of blood-shot eyes. “What day is today?”

“Saturday,” Peeta replied. “December 1th. And I spoke with Annie”, he added. “We’ll go there on the 11th instead. Theresa works all through the holidays.”

Haymitch nodded to show he heard. Ever since Tessa moved to the fishing district, her relationship with her daughter had shrunk to a call or two. Mostly just birthdays and Christmas. But she had reached out to the girl this year, or so he heard.

Too little, too late, he thought but kept to himself. He wasn’t going to butt in. He left that to the boy. Besides, even if he could come up with something helpful, Peeta would say it anyways and say it a hundred times better.

“Sarah and Cassia will mind the bakery,” Peeta went on. “And Annie said if you and Effie want to join, there’s plenty of room.”

A flame danced up from the coals and so Peeta left his mentor to his own devices. Now was his chance to lock the door and pick up where he left off. He considered it a moment but fuck it, he wasn’t in the mood and soon it was going to be dark. Those damn winter nights that went on forever.

 He drowned another piece of bread in his glass. He should just drink himself into a stupor and have this day be over and done with. Yeah, he liked the sound of that.

 xXx

*ring ring* Hello, this is Effie Trinket’s answer phone. I can’t pick up at the moment but do leave a message and I will call you back. Until then: have a very very nice day! *peep*

*ring ring* Hello, this is Effie Trinket’s answer phone. I can’t pick up at the moment but do leave a message and I…

Yes, hello? Effie Trinket.

Hey, Effs. Remember me?

Oh, hi Haymitch. How are you?

Bored. Bit hammered.

Well, of course. Did you eat at least?

When you comin’ over, Eff? You never said.

…

Hello?

Yes, I’m here. But Haymitch, I’m afraid I won’t make it to District 12 this week. Half the parents are already furious with me and the Board…

So to hell with it. We’ll go to Four. Annie says…

It’s not for me. It’s for the girls. And this trip will happen, I’ll make it happen!

You didn’t come last week either.

I know.

I …*sighs* I can come over.

Haymitch.

What?

It’s not a good idea. I really need to focus on this 100% and you are…

A big, fat distraction.

Exactly! No, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… I won’t be home a lot and it would be no fun for you in the Capitol if…

*snorts* Yeah, cause I normally have a blast in the big C. But fine, whatever. Just forget it.

Oh, Haymitch. Don’t be like that. I promise I will make it up to you.

*mutters and takes a mouthful of something*

I’ll call you tomorrow night, OK?

*mutters continues*

Haymitch…

Alright. Alright. I’m not angry. Not even a little. *drinks another mouthful* I can do without you kickboxing me in bed anyways.

Goodnight, Haymitch. We’ll talk tomorrow. And please don’t drink too much.

Night, Eff.

*toot toot*

xXx

If Haymitch believed he couldn’t be further from Effie’s thoughts he was wrong. She missed him dearly.

I should tell him so properly, she thought as she poured herself a glass of water and made a mental note to call him again during her lunch hour.

It snowed in District 12 but here the lamp posts reflected themselves in rain puddles on her street. But the Captiol would let the first snow fall any day now and it might very well be the last time too.

There were serious talk about de-funding the weather control altogether and use the money where it was more needed. It stirred a heated debate in the media. To here the negative voices say it, it would be the final nail in the Capitol’s coffin.

As for Effie she found the whole circus rather annoying, especially since she knew something else in much greater need of raised awareness.

With one last critically look in the mirror she reached for her purse on the bed. She knew what Haymitch would say about the bandana but showing up with her natural hair wouldn’t win her any points with the school board.

She turned for the door.

And jumped back.

“Haymitch!” she gasped, hand over her heart. “W-what on Earth…?” Because leaned against the doorframe, face puffy and red, stood the man she hadn’t laid eyes on in two weeks.

”Thought I’d surprise you,” he said. “Believe it or not but I missed you, sweetheart.”

He pushed himself off the frame and wrapped his arms around her.

Haymitch, you’re hard! Did you drink?”

“Not a drop.”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she said, voice muffled by his lips. ”I told you… I told you, now is not a good time. Haymitch!” she groaned in frustration when he nuzzled her neck. ”I don’t have time for this. My cab will be here at any moment.”

“Five minutes,” he mumbled and pecked and licked the tender skin just below her earlobe where he knew she liked to be kissed and Effie groaned again. A different kind of groan this time. “Come to bed, sweetheart.”

“Haymitch,” she sighed, torn between lust and aggravation. She wrapped her arms around his neck. ”You are totally ruining my schedule.”

They sunk down onto the bed. Effie’s carefully painted lipstick smeared out on both their face, their kisses stressed and eager. She fumbled with his belt and Haymitch trembled in every limb when she pulled down his pants, his underpants. Their lips clashed together again and she grinded her thigh against him.

“No! Ohh!” Haymitch got out and before he could even try to rein himself back in he climaxed. All over Effie’s skirt.

“Haymitch!” She pushed him off of her and stared at his mess. “I don’t believe you!” she hissed and hurled herself out of bed. “This is exactly why I never should give in to you and your goddamn hands, Abernathy!” A car honked outside. “And there’s my cab. Brilliant! Just brilliant!”

She locked herself in the bathroom and Haymitch sat on the bed, rather foolish and with lipstick all over his mouth. He heard the sound of water running and soon she returned, flushed and half dressed, hopping about on one leg to try and get out of her silk stockings. He grinned at how sexy and ridiculous she looked.

Big mistake.

“You think this is funny!?” Effie spat. “How would you feel if I shot my bodily fluids on you!?”

That only invited bad jokes but he knew he was one wrong word away from being thrown out so he just pulled up his pants and got out of bed.

“Sorry, Eff,” he said and tried to pull her into one of his bear hugs. But he could just as well save his breath.

“Careful,” she said and pushed him away. “Before you to blow all your fuses. I have to go.”

And she closed herself in the walk-in closet and didn’t come out again until dressed in an identical outfit as before, only turquoise this time. “I’ll see you tonight,” she said when she brushed by him.

He listened to the fading clatter of her high heels and the cab when it drove off a moment later.

This spur of a moment trip didn’t go at all the way he pictured it.

He wiped the lipstick with the back of his hand.  Last time he showed up unannounced they kissed on her doorstep and he got both her and coffee.

This was something else.

And to come on her leg like a teenager. Course, he wasn’t famous for his stamina but he should really be past that point at least.

He sighed and stripped the mattress. Normally he never bothered to make the bed. Effie complained about it all the time. But he’d have a hard time getting back into her good graces as it was so couldn’t hurt.

Not that he wasn’t used to pissed Effie. He’d spent half his life fighting with that woman. Only reason they hadn’t these past few months was because they were both breaking their balls to try and impress each other. Was only a matter of time, really, before they were back to their bickering, old selves. And in a way it was a relief. Familiar ground.

Half an hour later he poured himself a glass of orange juice that he brought with him into the living room.

It would be a long day. He should have brought a book or something. But they spent next to no time here so he never bothered to leave his own stuff around the place like she did in Twelve. Besides, with a butt naked Effs Trinket, who cared about reading?

The glass clattered against his teeth when he drank. He didn’t lie when he told Effie he was sober. One positive thing about her job was that he could drink himself blind when she wasn’t around and thereby stay sober enough once she was.

Chaff would laugh if he knew his old friend rationed his liquor for a woman but really it made life a hell of a lot easier.

Dawn broke into full morning. He wanted to get some shut-eye while he waited for her but between the shakes and the painful sunshine he wasn’t getting much rest.

He rubbed his temples. It was the same each time. The tremors, the headaches. Nausea was next.

And those goddamn mirrors! How many did one person need? He struggled with the blinds, pulled the curtains together but the light was still too bright.

I’m not gonna drink. Not yet. Later. After we’ve made up and she’s asleep.

But Haymitch Abernathy’s perseverance had never been strong. Not when it came to alcohol. He soildered on, for an hour, two. But before long he stumbled through her apartment in search for his bag.

He looked in all the usual places. The hallway, her bedroom, the living room, even the wardrobes in case Effie found it and put it away. Cushions flew through the air as he searched the couch, he tore at the curtains despite the evil sun, checked all the window sills, twice.

Nothing.

And then he realized it and headache or no headache he slammed his palm against the wall.

He forgot the damn thing on the train! He’d been so occupied with thoughts of what he was going to do to Effie when he saw her he went and left it on the seat!

Spewing profanities over himself, he stalked off to Effie’s drinking cabinet but his indignation just flared up all the hotter at the sight of the empty shelves. Since when had he given her a reason to hide her liquor? Not lately! And it wasn’t like Effie had gone and boozed through her entire supply all of a sudden.

He wondered how she would like to see him go cold turkey. Katniss and Peeta could tell her how fun that was.

And all at once, his anger turned to despair. He sunk down onto the couch, his aching head in his hand. An ache for which there was only one cure.

xXx

Maybe I was too hard on him.

Effie climbed out of the cab, umbrella folded in hand. It was dark when she left home and it was dark now. Her breath stood like a cloud in the cold air.

He came all this way.

The apartment was also dark and she turned the lights on with a double clap. A soft clap just in case he was asleep, but she doubed it. He seldom slept this late in the day.

“Haymitch?”

When she didn’t found him on the couch she went from room to room, even the gym and library.

Once back in the living room Effie’s eyebrows were furrowed together. Did he go back to District 12? No, surely not.

The sofa cushions were all in the wrong places and distractedly she put them back where they belonged.

He must have gone out, she thought. Maybe to walk her home from the Academy and they missed each other. Or perhaps even get her something to make up for this morning.

Yes, he’d show up eventually and she’d already decided not to mention what had happened. She didn’t want to spend their night fighting too.

She took a magazine from the rack just as the first few raindrops fell outside. Before long it poured in such relentless sheets you could hardly see across the road even and if Effie thought reading would take her mind off things she was sorely mistaken.

As the hours passed it was impossible not to think about Haymitch trapped out there in the wet and cold. All she could hope for was that he found refuge somewhere. Maybe a coffee house. Yes, Haymitch probably enjoyed a cup right at this moment. No reason to worry.

But Effie was a worrier and worry she did. She sat on the couch, magazine long forgotten and stared out the window.

What if he got lost? Or hurt? Yes, she could see it so clearly. How he crossed the street, soaked and freezing and just desperate to come home to her again. How stupid of me, he’d think, to leave Effie’s nice and warm and well-furnished apartment when I could be in her arms right now. I should listen to her more.

But then a car came and Haymitch got hit, of course he got hit! He never looked both ways properly. And now he lay there on the road while the rain washed his blood down the street and the world floated away and the last thing Effie ever did while he lived was to snap and yell, all because of a little ejaculation.

The vivid images had Effie on her feet. Pacing the floor she wrung her hands in distress.

5 minutes, she thought. I’ll give him 5 more minutes and…

That’s when a pair of head lights sailed across the wall. Effie whipped around and even before the knock she was at the door.

“Evening, ma’am. This man says he lives here.”

On her welcome mat stood two police officers. The rain splashed off their uniforms and propped up between them was Haymitch.

He barely noticed what was going on. His head hung low, hair in wet tangles over his face. You could smell the whiskey on him a mile away. Effie watched the man she shared beds with and knew she was an idiot. A complete idiot, even after all these years. Because she never learned, never truly accepted this was how Haymitch ended up. How he always ended up.

“Ma’am?” the officer repeated and snapped her back to reality.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, that’s just about right.”

They helped Haymitch inside and filled her in on what had happened. Apparently he’d gone to the pub on Heaven’s Square. When the bartender finally told him he’d had enough, things got loud, he wouldn’t leave and finally she had to call the police to come and get him.

“I’ll manage it from here,” Effie said when Haymitch leaned heavily on her, swaying from side to side. “Thanks for your help.”

The two men nodded. When they walked back to their car, one of them turned to the other and said,

“That was Haymitch Abernathy, right?”

“Yes, I think so. He hasn’t changed much, has he?”

And they both chuckled.

“Oh, Haymitch,” Effie said as she half-led, half-carried him through the apartment. “I was so worried about you.”

“Wanted to see you,” he slurred and Effie grimaced at the smell of his breath. It could light a flame. “Better with you, Effie. Better. Oh, ” he groaned. “I don’t feel so good.”

”OK, OK, come here,” said Effie. She struggled to open the bathroom door, her hands full with Haymitch until she managed to get them both inside. Haymitch reached blindly for the toilet and for the next half hour Effie held his hair as he puked.

His shirt and trousers were damp from the rain and once she got him on to the bed she stripped him down to his undergarments. She went to get a blanket but changed her mind mid-way and headed for the broom closet first.

Which was good thinking because she had no sooner re-appeared with the bucket before Haymitch groaned again and she stuck it under his face just in the nick of time.

xXx

“Wha… what’re…?”

The pounding that had woken him only grew worse as Haymitch slowly came to his senses.

“What’re you doing?” he murmured.

“What does it look like?” Dressed in a fresh teacher’s outfit, navy this time, Effie walked back and forth across the room, getting her last minute things. Each step of her high heels sent a jolt of pain through his skull.

Very slowly Haymitch pulled himself to sitting. He winced when she snapped her purse shut. A gunshot couldn’t have made a greater sound. He rubbed his bare chest and watched her lift a water carafe off the vanity table.

“Oh, thanks, sweetheart,” he croaked. His throat felt like someone had dragged it along the asphalt.

Effie eyed him coolly.

”This is for me,” she said. “Unless you want to get me pregnant on top of everything else.” She swallowed the pill. “Not that I am going to sex you up anytime soon.”

Haymitch rubbed his eyes, wished nothing more than to go back to sleep. No, most of all he wanted a drink but he fought the nausea and forced himself to stand.

”What do you want?” she asked when she had his hands on her shoulders. “If you’re thirsty, then…”

”Don’t shout, sweetheart,” Haymitch murmured. ”’m sorry ’bout yesterday.”

”Do you even remember yesterday?”

He tried to pull her into a hug but Effie resisted, squirmed like she sat on an anthill.

”I have to go.”

“It’s early.”

“To you maybe. No.” She pressed her palms against his chest and made him take the empty glass. “Drink water if you need it. Breakfast is on the table.”

And he was alone again.

He felt his way to the bathroom like a boat in full storm and spent some quality time with his best friend the toilet.

This was his reality every time he had a withdrawal. Afterwards he always drank more than he could take. He soaked it up like a dry rag.

And later when he sat in one of Effie’s armchairs, wrapped in a robe and his hands around a mug of coffee, he tried to piece together exactly what had happened yesterday.

 He went out to get his bag. That much he remembered. But he never got that far because… he took the route through Heaven’s Square. Yeah, to have a drink at the pub first. And one drink became two and two became three until he was an absolute wreck for Effie to take care of.

In other words, same old same old.

He slurped his coffee.

I should find some way to make it up to her.

xXx

*ring ring* Hello, this is Effie Trinket’s answer phone. I can’t pick up at the moment but do leave a message and I will call you back. Until then: have a very very nice day! *peep*

Haymitch, it’s me. I’m running a little late because I bumped into Octavia. She’s very upset because her boyfriend just broke up with her. She needs a friend right now so I promised I’d stay with her for a while. But I should be home by eight. You can make your own dinner, right?

“Great,” Haymitch muttered. “Just great.”

But then he had to caugh again and he whisked the smoke that billowed up from the roast pan.

He’d never win an award as “Chef of the year” (Neither would Effie for that matter) but he cooked when he was a kid! How out of practice could one person get?

 He eyed the dish to try and assess the damage. It was supposed to be roast beef with potatoes and vegetables but it didn’t look right. Not like the recipe. But maybe if he just cut away the burned parts and jumbled it up a little perhaps she wouldn’t notice?

Man, why didn’t he just order catering and pretend he made it? A romantic dinner. Fuck, what a bright idea.

The bottles of red wine had stood untouched in their paper bag all night but now he seized one of them. Just a glass. Just to shut his damn body up.

He found the corkscrew, his breaths more rapid at the mere prospect and he sighed with relief when the red liquid wet his tongue.

It was amazing how much easier everything got after that one drink. The tremors disappeared and so did most of his worries. It would still be great. It looked great, at least it would once on the table.

Ten to eight he spread the beige table cloth (champagne coloured, Effie would say) in the dining room that they hardly ever used. He set the table, dug out some candles and the fancy plates.

Last of all he dropped a handful of lemon slices into the water carafe and paused only to pour himself some more wine. He admired his work – the food, the folded napkins, the candle light in the pretty glasses rimmed with gold.

He saluted his reflection and drank.

xXx

By the time Effie pushed inside the apartment it was past midnight. Her head throbbed from having to console Octavia for the past hours and she couldn’t stop a moan when she finally got out of her high heels.

All she wanted was to sleep but her hands shook from low blood sugar so she limped off to make herself a sandwich.  She opened the kitchen door.

And stopped short. For a full minute she just stared at the scene before her, like she couldn’t take it in. Unwashed coppers and pans balanced precariously on top of each other. Used plates, silverware and kitchen tools filled the sink. The counters and the floor were covered with carrot and potato peels, smushed tomatoes, withered lettuce and pools of vinegar. The butter was left to melt, the fridge door not even closed. And the smell of burnt meat she hadn’t noticed through the door filled her nostrils.

It was the paper bag, the empty paper bag, that finally brought life back into her numb limbs.

“Haymitch!”

It wasn’t hard to find him. She needed only follow his snores. She pushed inside the dining room and there he was. Face down on the table, surrounded by empties.

I should just leave him like this. Go to bed and leave him like this!

“Wake up,” she said and shook him.

Haymitch mumbled something and his snores resumed.

”Wake up!” She shook him harder and just when she seriously considered Katniss’s cold water method he cracked opened an eye.

“Where you been?” he slurred and slowly lifted his head from the table.

“With Octavia. I told you so over the phone. Haymitch, how could you!”

“There’s dinner.” He gestured towards the cold food and would have knocked over a candle hadn’t she been there to straighten it up. “Made it so you wouldn’t be pissed no more.”

“Good thinking, Haymitch.”

“Just have to heat it up.” The chair slammed against the floor when he pulled himself up. “I’ll heat it up for you. I’ll do an’thing for you.”

“Come here now.” She tried to steer him away from the table. “Haymitch. Oh, don’t bother with the food!” she said when he grabbed the roast pan. To heavy for him in his state it tilted and potatoes, beef and root vegetables bombed the parquet floor. He staggered back a step when she tried to take it from him and the salad bowl smashed to pieces when he bumped in to the table.

"Careful!"

She tugged at his arm and tried to pull him away but his foot slid forward on a piece of tomato and Haymitch slumped down on his ass. He grunted, confused and crawled on all fours as he tried to find his footing.

“Watch out for the broken glass, Haymitch. Come, I’ll help you.” She put his arm around her shoulder, her own around his back and under his armpit. “Push with your feet,” she said and made a gigantic heave. He was like a sack of potatoes and the smell of wine was so overwhelming it would have brought her dinner up if she had any.

She’d gotten him half way up when Haymitch suddenly gasped and then he vomited all over the floor. A vile, red mixture that splattered Effie’s legs and skirt.

She didn’t know how she managed to get him back to her bed. But just like the night before he collapsed face down and she stripped him out of his clothes. Vomit dripped down his chin and nose and she wiped him off, rather roughly.

“Do you need to throw up again?” she asked and reached for the bucket. “Haymitch, do you feel sick?”

But he looked at her cross-eyed like he didn’t hear or understand.

She left him with the bucket nearby and went into the bathroom to get out of her soiled outfit.  But she hadn’t gotten even half-way before she had to steady herself against the wall. The lack of sleep combined with the fact she hadn’t eaten finally took its toll on her and tiny, black spots swam before her eyes. With no chair closeby she let herself slide down the wall until she sat on the floor, waiting for the dizziness to subside.

Through the ringing in her ears she heard Haymitch’s groan.

“Eff. Effs, I…”

And then there was only the splash of vomit when it hit the floor.

Effie closed her eyes.

xXx

 *ring ring*

Pallas’s Academy. This is Ruby.

 I need to talk to Effie. Can you get her to the phone, please? Effie Trinket.

May I ask who’s asking?

That’s… no one.

She’s got class.

Well, it’s important. Will only take a minute.

She’s got class.

Yeah, I heard you the first time. Tell her … tell her it’s Haymitch.

Haymitch … That Haymitch? As in Haymitch Abernathy?

So can you get her to the phone now?

I’m not supposed to interrupt unless there’s an emergency.

Well, it is.

It’s an emergency?

It’s an emergency. Now go get Effie.

Alright. Excuse me a moment Mr. Abernathy.

 …

Haymitch? Are you alright?

Yeah, I’m fine. Look Effs, about last night …

Why do you tell Ruby there’s an emergency if you’re fine?

Only way I could talk to you.

Haymitch, you interrupted me in the middle of class!

I just wanted to say…

I’m not interested in anything you have to say right now! I’ve barely slept in days, you’ve ruined two outfits for me and my girls are waiting!  Do you have any idea …

Oh, for God’s sake woman! Just let me tell you why I called and I’ll hang up!

No, I am hanging up! And don’t you ever call me at work again unless, of course, you’ve drunken yourself back into the hospital! Goodbye!

*toot toot*

xXx

The flat audio tone rung in his ear. Haymitch sighed and hung up. He slumped down on the couch and rubbed his forehead.

When he woke today, finding her long gone, he hoped against hope that he could at least clean up his own mess and felt a fresh pang of guilt and regret at the sight of the spotless kitchen and dining room with the strong fumes of cleaning fluids that badly masked the familiar odor underneath. Poor Effie.

How could he let everything reel so completely out of control? Must be some kind of a record.

Of course, it wasn’t the first time she’d taken care of him drunk but she was still just his colleague back then and when he was too much to handle she always had help from the Capitol attendants. To have to clean up his mess as his woman… It was a difference.

And then it was this last, brilliant move of his. To call and apologize. He bent over backwards to fix things and only made it worse.

Maybe I should just go home.

He didn’t want this trip to be just like when Annie, Finn and Johanna came over and he made a complete arse of himself. At least then he had some kind of a mitigating factor to his actions.

But he knew Effie. If he left she’d take that as an offence too.

He drew a deep sigh and with nothing better to do he grabbed her newspaper and opened it at a random page.

And as if fate had a hand in it, it happened to be a full spread add. Of a dance palace.

“Atlas Halls open for the Christmas season,” he read. The picture showed a bunch of weird looking couples twirling around a winter scene with fake trees in the background.

Atlas Halls? Sounded familiar but he was pretty sure he’d never set foot in the place. No, Effie mentioned it at some point. Yeah, she’d spent New Year’s there a couple of times.

Haymitch knew a few Capitol dances, believe it or not. He let Effie teach him years ago. Part of their whole charming sponsors away from their money act. Back when he still thought their district might have a shot in hell.

She’d be home in three hours. That gave him plenty of time.

Because if a night out dancing wouldn’t brighten Effie’s mood nothing could.

He shouldered out of his robe once inside the bathroom. He didn’t exactly smell like roses and he liked Effie’s shower. Felt like standing in a warm summer rain. Of course the products weren’t great. She had so many bottles and jars and tubes in here she could open her own beauty parlor. Half the stuff he didn’t know what it was for and even the supposedly ‘male’ scents she bought especially for him smelled weird as fuck.

Finally he poured something blue on his head and as he massaged it into his hair he made a mental note to bring his own stuff next time. That was to say if there would be a next time.

Back home he did nothing to his hair after he showered, just left it to sundry. But if desperate times called for desperate measures. He punched a few buttons on the panel and stepped onto the math so the currents could turn his wet, tangled hair into something he knew he’d hate. 

Baked and dried he went to have a look at himself and true enough. His hair had gone from familiar to Capitol. He hung a towel over the mirror so he didn’t have to see it.

 There was an electric razor on one of the shelves but he didn’t touch it. Effie would have to live with his stubble. He looked enough like a Peeta blonde little boy as it was. Instead he went to have a look in his closet. She always sneak bought him stuff. One of the habits she was unable to kick and well, it was her money.

 He dumped the garment bags on the bed. Damn, this would be an exhausting night. But he’d suffer through it, the looks and the whispers. He’d dance with Effie and afterward everything would be good again.

Which was why, an hour before Effie went off work, Haymitch sat on the couch dressed to the nines.

And as much as he hated to admit it he actually liked this outfit. The dark blue suit went well with the checkered waistcoat and the lilac dress shirt underneath. Even his pink and blue tie with the matching pocket square looked good. The collar was a little snug but he couldn’t afford to be whiny.

He should’ve thought about this days ago.

 But the hour went by and no Effie showed up. He tried to remember how far away her school was. Even if the Capitol was big (not like District 2 or Eleven but still) the public transportation was so advanced here, nothing lay far off. He could call a cab. Go and meet her. But with his luck Effie would be just around the corner the moment he left the house.

So he remained where he was.

The minutes passed at a snail’s pace. He tugged at his collar to get some air in. 

How many friends with boy trouble did she have? If she was running late again why didn’t she call?

One hour became two and still no Effie to go. Sweat trickled down his back and he squirmed and pulled at his pants and underpants that kept worming their way in between his butt cheeks.

And when she’d been gone three hours, Haymitch tore off his tie. Effie was never late like this! It was just her way of getting back at him for how he treated her.  He saw his reflection in the window, all those ridiculous curls and that decided things.

Screw this.

He grabbed the spray bottle, the one she used for her potted plants and he sprayed his hair until it lay flat and lifeless again. He had never changed for a woman before and he wasn’t going to start now! This was a joke. He was a joke! Dressing up like some damn Capitolian.

She’d been away all day already and she expected him to, what? Lay jigsaw puzzles until she had time for him? Because obviously she didn’t have time for him. She just spent it with everyone else.

His hair dripped on the newspaper when he scribbled down a note. He could just as well go restack his liquor supply for the journey home. He almost never got to drink those expensive brands. Effie refused to buy them for him. Said she wouldn’t “enable him”, like that made a difference what so ever.

By the time he reached the Heaven’s Square it had started to rain again.

The shops and stores lit up the icy drizzle and the stall owners who packed up for the day.

And cramped in between a music store and a shop which sold naughty underwear, was the pub. Like a jewel with its bright colors and promises.

But Haymitch never got that far. Because now he saw her.

By the window inside the coffee house sat Effie across from Katniss’s prep team.  Haymitch’s brow crinkled at the sight of their serious faces and Effie’s waving hands in the air to emphasize her words. None of them had noticed him yet, standing out here in the rain.

But now she looked up, startled at the sight of him and excused herself from the table.

”Haymitch?” The cold wind rustled her skirt when she appeared at the door. “You… dressed up?”

Haymitch looked from her to Octavia, Flavius and Venia who practically misted the window in their effort to see what happened.

“Having fun?” he said. “Do carry on. I was just leaving.”

“Haymitch, I … Haymitch?” But he had already stalked off. “Haymitch, wait!”

 He knew it was childish but he didn’t stop. He just couldn’t. He felt vomit at the back of his throat and it was the look on the prep’s faces. No doubt she had poured out all her heart’s bitterness over him to those three, telling them what a good-for-nothing drunk he was.

He kicked off his shoes in the hallway.

Haymitch!” Effie called when she entered a moment later, flustered and with rain in her hair. “Why did you run off like that?”

“Sorry if I messed up the image, princess”, he said and shouldered out of his jacket. “I know how much you care about your looks. Must be important when you have little else.”

“Why are you like this?” Effie cried. “We just had a coffee!”

 “Yeah, sure. What’s another three hours when I’ve already waited all fucking day, Effie!”

“Well, I told you not to come this week, remember? I told you I was busy!”

“At work,” he threw back at her. “Not out on the town. Bet you had a great trash-talk.”

“We didn’t talk about you! Not at all! But perhaps I didn’t want to come home, ever thought of that? You haven’t exactly been a lot of fun lately.”

“What do you want from me? I was gonna take you out dancing.”

“That doesn’t make up for the horrible way you’ve acted!” Effie yelled. “Ever since you got here, Haymitch, I’ve been nothing but worried, disappointed and exhausted. Taking care of you drunk is not my job anymore! It never was!”

It got very quiet after Effie finished.

“Eff,” Haymitch finally said, his face hard and closed off. “I know you shouldn’t have had to deal with all that. But it’s not like it was some big mystery to you that I drink. I’m tired of this argument, alright. This is who I am. If you can’t deal with it then…”

“Well, maybe I can’t!” Effie cried.

She never meant to say it but now the words were out.

The truth was out.

Haymitch stared at her in the silence that followed those words and all the things she implied. Effie’s eyes were filled with tears now and when he didn’t speak she only got out of her painful shoes and said,

“You can have the bedroom. I can’t sleep with that smell anyway.”

Author’s note: Extra long chapter to make up for the long wait and it was an absolute pain to edit lol! I hope you liked it. Leave a review if you wanna make my day and I’ll see you in the next chapter!

#hayffie #haymitch x effie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #taste of strawberries fanfic #myfanfiction #multi-chapter #the hunger games #fanfiction #district 12 #the capitol #octavia #flavius #venia #don't know what is up with the paragraphs today sorry about that

[lilywriteshere]

the new kazoo kid

The purple plastic gleams in the sun, inviting me in. There’s a collection of them in all different colors lying on the table in disarray and I don’t know what they are except I know I want one. I wander a little closer, hyperaware of the theatrical performance happening behind me and not wanting to disrupt it. It’s the beginning of the new school year; the arts and humanities clubs and departments are tabling their wares, complete with live shows and free tote bags. “What are these?” I ask, peering at them closely. They’re on the small side, only five or six inches long. Each had a distinctive hornlike and tapered shape like miniature submarines.

“Oh, they’re kazoos,” someone responds. This is the Musician’s Club and of course they would give away tiny musical instruments.

“Are they free?” I say, hand hovering over them warily. I don’t really know what a kazoo is, but my desire has intensified. I remember a video clip of a blond boy called Kazoo Kid vigorously playing a kazoo that went viral a few years ago. They are so bright and colorful and as a musically untalented person, I want to learn how to use it too.

“Well…no. You have to answer a trivia question first.” A girl fumbles with her paper, clears her throat, and asks, “What was the first video on YouTube to reach a billion views?”

I’m surprised at first, that they don’t want to peddle their club’s information to me before sending me on my way. Last year I spent a lot of time out on Library Walk, on the prowl for free stuff, and I know that clubs usually want an email address on their signup sheet or feigned interest in return for their wares. Much to my relief, I know the answer anyway (Gangam Style) and am gifted a purple kazoo. I put my lips to the smaller end of it and blow. Nothing comes out, certainly nothing akin to music. A little child walks by with their mother, tooting away on their own kazoo, and I’m immediately embarrassed. “You have to hum,” the girl offers. “Not blow.” I try again and there’s no music, just sputtering. Shrugging, I toss it into my bag, smile sheepishly, and leave.

 A few hours later, I’m finally at home after an arduous lecture. Collapsing on the couch in the common room, I take the kazoo out of my bag and show it to my curious friends. “It’s a kazoo,” I say. “I won it from the Musician’s Club.”

“How do you play it?” my friend Lauren asks. She picks it up and examines it closely. It looks so vibrant, a smudge of light purple in her outstretched hand.

“I don’t know! I haven’t figured it out yet.” She gives it back to me and I try to play it again, attempting to hum like the girl told me earlier. A honking noise comes out. “Oh my god, is that it?” I hum again and there’s a longer note that sounds low and reedy all at the same time, a swarm of bees coming in for an attack.

The curious thing about a kazoo is that even I, someone who doesn’t know anything about reading music or music theory, can play almost any song I want instantly. If I can think it, I can kazoo it. I might not know the song’s chords or notes, but I can passably hum along in sort-of the right key and so I can make music too. I don’t need to know anything more than its vague melody and that’s the magic of a kazoo. Any song I can think of is within reach.

My good friend Michelle has been playing the flute for a very long time. She’s my musical antithesis: classically trained musician in flute, piano and piccolo; first chair in high school orchestra; featured soloist. I give her my kazoo and ask, “Do you want to try too?” She accepts my offer and to my delight and surprise, her first attempt sounds a lot like mine—sputtering and spit. After a few tries, she gets the hang of it, buzzy notes flowing freely from the little purple kazoo. I had assumed because I’m untrained, my kazoo-playing is off-key. But listening to Michelle play too, I realize it’s just the nature of the kazoo. Everything played on it sounds honky and off-kilter, just coherent enough to sound like music but not nearly as melodic. It doesn’t sound like a piano or harp or flute, its notes aren’t lilting in the traditionally beautiful sense. People don’t crowd looming orchestra halls to attend kazoo concertos or write poignant think pieces about its cultural influence in American society. Even its name “kazoo” invokes an image of a children’s toy and not a real instrument.

After a successful cover of “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” I bow to my enraptured audience. “What if you played at a musical festival or something?” Lauren jokes, huge smile spreading across her face. “Could you imagine?”

I laugh. “Me all alone on that stage? Just me and my kazoo?” I feel so childlike playing my kazoo; it looks more like a party favor at a child’s birthday party and the noises coming out of it barely qualify as music. “No way, I’d look so stupid.” My friends and I have a dumb competition anyway, to see who can shred on the kazoo the longest. Michelle wins of course, as her lungs are heavily conditioned after years of playing a woodwind instrument. We take turns playing covers of popular songs like Lil Uzi Vert’s “XO TOUR Llife3” and Taylor Swift’s “You Belong with Me.” I catch my breath repeatedly, my own lungs not used to my breathing being hindered in any way. The songs sound funny being played on a kazoo, uncanny renditions from another dimension where only membranophones exist.

I haven’t played my kazoo in a while but in thinking about things that have personal meaning to me, it jumped to the forefront of my mind immediately. To remind myself of the kazoo’s unique sound quality, I find myself tooting along to songs on the radio, accompanying crooning voices with my background honking. It’s something fun and light-hearted but if someone researched the kazoo online, it would sound much more impressive than its reality, at least to me. My kazoo isn’t metal or carved from wood. I don’t think about the oscillating air pressure that makes the kazoo’s membrane vibrate. I don’t learn about its history or how to play it in music appreciation class. According to Wikipedia, kazoos are professionally played in jug bands and comedy music and by amateurs everywhere, including me. Nothing about it is or should be taken seriously. It makes me happy though, a point of interest for my friends and I to explore our love of music and sense of humor without a lot of musical ability. As someone who is tone-deaf and attended piano lessons for years, whose own musicality is always just out of reach, I can’t even play a kazoo correctly. But with such a silly plastic toy jutting out of my mouth like a Care Bear taking puffs out of a cotton candy cigar, it hardly matters.

#essay #writing #writer #care bear #kazoo cover #musical talent #musical instrument #kazoo #the new kazoo kid #music #talent #author #prose #nonfiction #story #flash fiction #short fiction #lil uzi vert #taylor swift #you belong with me #xo tour life #spilled ink #spilled words #my essay

[ritebeforeyoureyes]

Haunt

Thank you for the lovely comments regarding this new story. It’s greatly appreciated, my dears!

Masterlist – Plot: The reality of seeing Tom again truly settles in for Zendaya. 

Haunt (Chapter Three)

“Excuse me?” Zendaya chuckled dryly, her laughter filled with a sudden nervousness. Tom had to be spewing rubbish, right? She had only been in New York for a few years and she’d barely made any real contacts whilst here - Tom’s theory didn’t make any sense. She was just another nameless person in a city of millions. She worked hard for a living and she smiled at people on the streets, she had no reason to believe that she was in danger.  

“Listen, I just have to look out for you, okay? It’s not safe for you out there.” Tom gestured outside the window with his thumb. The giant pane of glass overlooked the city, everything blurring together. Zendaya just watched it, the scene surprisingly still. Lights weren’t flickering, and horns weren’t tooting; they were up so high the sight just looked like another one of her photographs. It looked peaceful, inviting. It was hard to consider that that world, out there, was one of danger.

“And what’s to say in here is any better?” Zendaya threw the blanket off her, the cool air hitting her bare legs. She was still dressed in her work clothes from the day before; a pencil skirt and a dress shirt. However, as she’d slept, the skirt had bunched up high against her thighs and the loose shirt had fallen to expose a cheeky patch of her shoulder. As she fixed herself up, she noticed Tom’s penetrating gaze and it sparked a sudden bout of anger from within her. His gaze made her feel self-conscious and she didn’t like that. She didn’t like the feeling of self-satisfaction that arose at the thought of Tom finding her attractive. It shouldn’t have mattered what he thought of her … his opinion was irrelevant. “How do I know you’re not the one trying to hurt me? You kidnapped me, for Christ’s sake! Broke into my studio, drugged me; that doesn’t sound like protecting-”  

“I didn’t break into your studio.” Tom laughed lightly, his fingers combing through his perfectly styled hair. “Jon told you someone would come pick up the candid. I just thought I’d do it myself-“

“Wait-“ Zendaya’s movements halted at the mention of Jon, the kind man who had purchased one of her most prized possessions; the same possession that hung on the wall behind her. “You’re the boss that Jon was talking about? The one who brought my-“

“Well, it is hung on my wall, Daya.” The nickname, Daya, slipped from his lips instinctively and Zendaya cringed. He was the only person who had ever called her that and it catalysed moments that she didn’t want to remember; happy moments that had taunted her nightmares. Ever since Tom had left, Zendaya had adopted nicknames like Z and Zendeesha, but never Daya. When her ex-boyfriend had called her it, she’d kicked him out the house under the pretence that she wasn’t feeling too good and once he’d gone, she’d cried herself to sleep with a gaping wound in her heart.

“You could have stolen it.” Zendaya just shrugged before making her way to the door, at this point, she wouldn’t put theft past him … he had drugged her after all.

“Where are you going, Zendaya?” Tom was just watching her move with a cynical glint of amusement in his eyes.

“Home.” She muttered back in a tone that screamed, duh. She had no reason to trust Tom after all this time and frankly, she would feel more comfortable fending for herself than have Tom protect her. She wouldn’t let her heart do this to her again, she wasn’t going to trust him just to have her heart ripped back out.

“Are you not listening to me? Your life is being threatened, there’s no way I’m letting you leave.” Having expected Zendaya’s rash behaviour, Sam had locked the door behind him on Tom’s orders. As Zendaya tried the door handle, she was met with failure; she was trapped inside with him.

“Even if I believed you, why the fuck do you care?” Zendaya threw her arms up in exasperation, the tiredness evident in her eyes. The reality of Tom’s unannounced presence, coinciding with the remnants of a hangover and the side effects of chloroform, was starting to take its full effect. She felt emotionally drained. “You left, Tom. You have no right to come back into my life and throw around these stupid proclamations and expect me to fall putty in your arms.”

Tom sighed heavily. It seemed Zendaya’s spitfire ways hadn’t changed since he’d last been in her company. When they were in a relationship, they would argue, and their opinions would clash, generally regarding silly things; what movie to watch or whether Spider-Man or Batman was the better superhero. And it was safe to say that Zendaya won their arguments most times. But even when she didn’t, every lover’s tiff usually ended in the same way - they would kiss and forget. And despite wanting to do so again, so badly, Tom knew he couldn’t, not right now.

Regardless of how irresistibly sexy she looked in his bedroom, he knew he couldn’t kiss her like he wanted to because it was evident that things had changed. Tom was stupid to even consider Zendaya melting back into his arms as if nothing had ever happened. She had every right to be mad and he was going to take responsibility for that. He had hurt her, in the worst possible way imaginable and he had to accept that … the one thing he wouldn’t accept, however, was compromising her safety.

“I don’t give a shit what you think about me right now. All I know is that you staying here means you’re staying alive and that’s all that matters-“ With the same authority he had used upon Sam, Tom said the words matter-of-factly as if he were God and Zendaya were his subject.

“Why?” Zendaya was shrieking now, the tears building in her eyes unintentionally. She didn’t want to cry for him, she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of causing her pain again but, she couldn’t help it. Every time she looked into his big brown eyes, it all came rushing back like water and a dam. “I didn’t matter then so why do I matter to you now?”

“Believe it or not, you’ve always mattered.” Tom mumbled sombrely, his head lowering into his chest.

“Bullshit.” She cursed, her tone spitting at Tom and the words she deemed to be lies. He wasn’t going to feed her white lies and she wasn’t going to fall for them. She was stronger now, more independent, and Tom no longer possessed this overbearing, earth-shattering power over her. “I want to go home and you’re going to let me or I’m calling the police.” Zendaya felt around her hip pocket before realising that her phone was missing. Her head snapped upwards at Tom, her mouth falling open in disbelief. He had taken her phone, her wallet – everything. “Are you seriously going to keep me here against my will? I have a life, things to go home to!”

Zendaya’s mind drifted to her baby, Noon. He stayed with her elderly neighbour, Kim Batiste, whilst she worked but that was only for a few hours. Having been a dancer in her youthful days, Kim was always sharing stories with Zendaya over dinner. The two had formed the most unexpected of bonds – a bond of friendship – and Zendaya was certain, that at this stage of her absence, Mrs Batiste was probably worrying sick.

“Like what?” Tom scoffed until the light bulb went off in his head. Suddenly he could picture another man curled up on her couch, just waiting for her to get back from work. He could see dinner laid out on the table and candles lit; the guy grinning at the thought of her walking through the door at any given moment. “Are you seeing someone?”

Having known Tom the majority of her life, Zendaya knew when to pick up on his jealousy. Now was one of those moments and she simply rolled her eyes at his childish behaviour. He had no right to be jealous after all this time and despite the fact that she wasn’t seeing anyone, her insides warmed at the sight of him suffering a little.

“So, what if I am?” She muttered back nonchalantly, her gaze drifting down to her perfectly manicured nails. “It’s none of your business.”

“If me knowing will keep you safe then yeah, it is my business.” Tom was so blasé it only made Zendaya angrier, but she wasn’t stupid, she knew he had the upper hand in this situation. Yes, the thought of her with another man angered him but that was the only leverage that she had. She had no money, no phone, no clue where exactly she was … all she could do was sit around idly until it was the right moment to run. Tom had to leave the room at sometime and she would pick her route of escape wisely, until then, her objective was to get to the bottom of the truth.

“Fine. But if I stay, you better start talking. I want answers.” Zendaya made her way back to the bed, flopping down onto it. “Why is my life supposedly in danger?”

After a deafening silence, Tom spoke up again in the faintest of whispers. “It’s my fault.”

If you enjoyed this piece and would like to help further me and my work, please support me whilst I get through university. The money you donate will go towards assisting me in my student fees. It is one hundred per cent a voluntary pursuit and greatly appreciated, however, your lovely comments and votes are always welcomed too. Thank you for being the greatest: https://ko-fi.com/D1D072V0

#tomdaya fanfiction #tomdaya #tomdaya fan fic #tomdaya fan fiction #tomdaya fanfic #haunt #haunt chapter three #ritebeforeyoureyes #au #alternate universe

[sevi007]

Since i wasn't feeling good today, I had a thought.. What IF one of the children gets sick ? Like imagine Aizawa trying to separete the sick one from the healty ones and then getting a panic attack when another gets ill. Jest imagine(And can i have a hug ? Please?)

Aaaah, I’m so sorry to hear that,anon! First of all, have the biggest hug I can offer!

Then, if you’re looking for“The-children-are-sick-and-Aizawa-cares-a-whole-lot”-fics, then there is thiswonderful piece of fiction that izuqu wrote some time ago right here: 

Click the link

Just in case you need more of thatcuteness.

And now, here we go!

(It’s slightly rushed, I only have abit more than half an hour break, so I’m sorry if the quality lacks a bit!*bows*)

_____________________________________________________________

It had started off with a sneeze,loud and surprising.

Aizawa blinked one eye open almostinstantly, shifting slightly where he was lying on the ground, wrapped in hissleeping bag, to gaze over at the living room couch. There, Uraraka was takinga tissue from Tsuyu with a sniffled “Thanks”, tooting into it.

“Uraraka-san, are you alright?” Iidaasked, immediately at the girl’s side before Aizawa could even move to standup.

“I’m fine, I’m fine! Just my nose isa bit itchy!” The girl hurried to reassure, even though her voice was nasally andhoarse. Her face was slightly red and she sneezed again before she could evenfinish her sentence…

Frowning, Aizawa was out of hissleeping bag and crouching down to the girl’s eye level the same momentToshinori had reached her and placed a hand on the girl’s forehead.

“Slightly too warm for my taste,”the retired hero informed the other as they exchanged a gaze.

“I’m okay, Sensei,” Urarakainsisted, trying to dodge the gentle hand, but was interrupted by anothersneeze. “Just… a bit itchy. And tired.”

Aizawa huffed, looking around. Apartfrom those sneezes and the now apparent worry, it had been such a nice, quietafternoon. And none of the other children had showed any signs of feelingunwell… right?

His gaze landed on Sero, curled upand sleeping on the armchair closest to him. The boy was flushed, too, andsweating.

Immediately, Aizawa got a badfeeling.

“He fell asleep a while ago,”someone said from behind him. “We didn’t want to bother him.”

Usually very understanding when itcame to sleeping without being interrupted, Aizawa couldn’t help but notice howSero sniffled in his sleep and then coughed, a tiny, little sound, but alarmingnonetheless.

Reaching over, Aizawa laid a carefulhand on the sleeping boy’s forehead – only to frown disgruntledly as he noticedthe heat coming from there.

Sero’s cough repeated, more hackingthen before, and that did it.

So much for the quiet, niceafternoon.

“All Might.”

“Yes?” His colleague was instantlyat his side, leaning over the sleeping boy worriedly to see what Aizawa hadseen.

“I think we should go get RecoveryGirl. Right now.”

“A cold.”

Aizawa watched as Recovery Girlpacked her utensils back into her little suitcase, snapping it shut resolutely.“It’s that simple?”

The elderly woman lifted an eyebrowat him. “Do you think I don’t recognize a cold when I see one? Hmmmm?”

“I don’t doubt you. I just thinkthis looks worse than a simple cold.” In the meantime, he had counted fivechildren – five out of twenty! – who either had a running nose, a hoarse voice,or downright fever. He had sent the still healthy children up to their roomsimmediately, to make sure that the sickness didn’t spread.

For a simple cold to bring theseusually so energetic children down like that, in such a short amount of time…

“Aizawa. It is just a simple cold,”,perhaps it was just his imagination, but somehow, the look Recovery Girl shothim seemed almost amused – whichimmediately made him frown, because nothing about this seemed fun to him.

“A flu, and nearly twenty childrenhere who can still catch it,” he reminded, maybe ever so slightly gritting histeeth. He didn’t need her making fun of him for… well… worrying.  

As if on cue, he could faintly makeout (he hadn’t been listening intently from any sound from the living room,totally not) a weak voice saying,“Toshinori-san? I don’t feel so good…”

A hacking cough interrupted the restof the words, and Aizawa stiffened involuntarily, even though he knew Toshinoriwas there and could take care of it, he still…

A hand, tiny in comparison to hisown, patted his forearm slightly. Startled, he blinked down at Recovery Girl,who looked fondly exasperated. “A cold, Aizawa.It will pass before you know it.”

Another round of heart wrenchinglydry coughing and Toshinori’s worried murmurs in his back, Aizawa could onlybarely keep himself from openly showing worry on his face. “If you say so.”

Of course, it was not as simple asthose reassuring words had almost made him believe. In the span of the next fewhours, the children who had gotten sick rapidly got worse, going from simple running noses to fever, shivers wrackingthem as they lay or sat on the different furniture pieces in the living room.

More than once, Aizawa had foundhimself close to go and get Recovery Girl again, only to think of himself assilly for it.

Uraraka had taken residence on thecouch, laying down on it while she was bundled herself up in blankets. She didn’tsleep, just coughed pathetically from time to time, fever down but still there.

Izuku had somehow managed to break aglass in his grip as he had sneezed and activated his quirk without noticing. Ithad taken reassuring words from both Aizawa and Toshinori to get the boy tostop flailing and apologizing.

Tsuyu was a bit less bad off thanher peers, feeling healthy enough to help Toshinori bring water and blankets toher friends when they needed it. From time to time, she would have to sit down,though, dozing a few minutes while she caught her breath, before she went tohelp again.

Sero was the second one who hadgotten away easy. He was already sitting again instead of lying around limply,watching the soundless film that flickered over the TV screen with no realinterst.

Bakugou, on the other hand, had itworse. The boy had been quite adamant that he was not sick, even when he had started to burn up with fever, and nowhe was curled up onto the armchair, refusing a blanket since he was alreadysweating too much and his quirk let little explosions go off in his palms fromtime to time over which he had little control.

A sneeze drew Aizawa from hismusings if he should go and get more drinks and soup or rather go helpToshinori checking if the other children were still alright. Reaching over, hearmed himself with enough tissues to last for a while and made his way over toUraraka.

The girl thanked him quietly as heheld the tissue to her nose, letting her blow into it. Throwing the used tissueaway, he made sure that there were still enough for her left, and that theblankets covered her neatly.

“It’s my fault.”

He almost missed the words, with hervoice being as cloaked and quiet as it was, but Aizawa hesitated, leaning downover Uraraka to hear her better. “What was that?”

“It’s my fault,” the girl repeated,still barely more than a whisper. “That I got sick. I… I turned down the heaterin my room the last few nights, and left the window open, too. I didn’t thinkit would get this cold…and now I got the others sick, too… I’m sorry, Sensei.”

He felt as if he was missingsomething very vital here, but he couldn’t quite place his finger on it. Hewould just have to start with the obvious questions first.

“Uraraka. Why did you turn theheater down?”

The girl blinked, then blushed –even through the flush that the fever had brought onto her face – and lookedaway from him, towards the backrest of the couch. The following mumble was swallowedby the couch.

“Uraraka,” he repeated, not raisinghis voice. He wasn’t angry, just… perplexed.

An emotion these children evokedrather often in him.

“I’m just…” she coughed dryly,pausing to catch her breath before continuing. “I’m just used to it? The heatingcosts can be really expensive, and I always turn down the heater at home, too,to… save… and…”

Pieces fell into place, and Aizawaalmost hissed in annoyance at himself. Of course. He should have thought aboutthat.

Perhaps Uraraka had heard thehalf-swallowed sound, because she blinked back at him, eyes wide and sad. “I’mreally sorry, Sensei.”

Perhaps he should have reprimandedher for being so careless with her own health, but he found that he didn’t wantto. Not when she was looking at him as if she was either hoping the groundwould swallow her up or just afraid that he would become angry at her.

Huffing, he reached over and readjustedthe wet cloth on her forehead (hand suddenly itching to pat her headreassuringly). “Don’t worry about it. Just promise me that you won’t turn thatheater off again.”

Uraraka opened her mouth, perhaps toagree, perhaps to argue, but he interrupted her, not unkindly, “There is noreason here to put money above your wellbeing.”

For a moment there was nothing,before Uraraka’s eyes went wide and glistening, bottom lip wobblingsuspiciously. It nearly made Aizawa recoil in surprise.

But before he could do so, the girlcoughed again, reaching up to rub her eyes as she murmured hoarsely. “Okay,Sensei.”

Hesitant, he nodded, adjusting thecloth once more – not knowing what to do otherwise – patting the girl’s handthat reached for his before he got up and ventured towards the kitchen.

He needed a coffee. Very badly.

Why was it that these children couldcrack his countenance so easily?

“Aizawa-kun.”

And there went any hope of gettinghis coffee, if the anticipating tone of Toshinori’s voice was any indication.

“Hm?” rubbing his temples, Aizawa turnedand looked up at his colleague - only to frown when he saw the little crowd followingToshinori, hesitating at the door to the living room. Hadn’t he told the otherchildren to stay in the upper floors as not to get infected?

Toshinori offered him a book, notminding the half-glare half-questioning gaze, and smiled slightly. “Thechildren asked if you would read them a story. Apparently they think it wouldhelp the others relax and recover.”

Blinking, Aizawa looked down at thebook – Heroic Fairy Tales it read –then back up at the other man, very nearly snorting as the words registered. “Me.Reading them a story.”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t they ask you?”

“Because they obviously would liketo hear it from you.”

“You’re better at things like this.”

“They didn’t ask me, though.”

“I’ve never read someone a storybefore, Toshinori.”

Normally, him using the formerhero’s real name was enough to make it clear that he was not going to budge.Not this time. Toshinori didn’t even frown or look displeased with him, justso, so infinitely patient as he keptholding the book out. “I don’t think they will mind that inexperience, Shouta.”

He wanted to protest, he reallywanted to – he had no idea how toread a child story to children, sick children nonetheless – but just then, aquiet, hopeful voice asked, “Is Sensei going to read us a story?”

Taking another look around Toshinori’stall frame, Aizawa caught sight of Tsuyu lifting her head to look over at him,while the others shifted or cracked on eye open to do the same. There weresmiles and hopeful looks and, damn, it would have taken someone far, farstronger than him to say No to those faces.

The last bit of resistance fell, andAizawa sighed deeply. “I still want that coffee.”

Toshinori’s smile was both gratefuland bright like a sun. “I will get that for you. You prepare the story time.”

Aizawa very nearly scoffed after theelder when he passed him, the book being passed between them in the samemoment.

He probably took longer thannecessary to get comfortable in one of the armchairs, book on his lap, firstpaged opened. He figured that he should just start with the first story, sincehe didn’t know any of them very well and didn’t have any preferences.

Only when he sat, ready to read, didhe notice how eerily silent the whole room had went.

Casting a look over the edge of thebook, he was very close to snorting aloud, or shake his head, or just hide hisface behind the book again as a proper reaction to the sight that presenteditself to him.

Those children that hadn’t beeninfected, for example Kaminari and Momo, had sneaked back into the living roomwhen he hadn’t been looking, sitting on the couch and the armchair farthestfrom their sickly classmates.

(He probably should have told themthat this little distance wouldn’t help, that they should go back to their roomand not get infected themselves, but somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to doso.)

Those who were sick had taken placeon the ground in front of his feet, lying or sitting, huddled against Toshinoriwho was sitting cross-legged and served as a chair for Tsuyu and Uraraka, thegirls having climbed into his lap immediately once the chance presented itself.

All of them, twenty-one pairs ofeyes, were watching Aizawa with a mixture of patience, anticipation and hope.

They are all going to give me a headache one day with this constant…

 He wasn’t even sure what word he waslooking for… worry? Feeling? Care? Hedidn’t get to think about it, though, since just then, Izuku sniffled ratherpathetically where he was cuddling against Toshinori’s right side, and Bakugou’seyes, already half-closed from his exhaustion, snapped open again at the soundbefore they drifted closed again.

The utter fact that the explosiveboy didn’t start snapping at theother for disturbing him made Aizawa realize just how badly the kids needed thesleep.

And if a story helped with that…

Sighing, he shot Toshinori another look – I’m blaming you for this – and it didn’t really help that severalchildren snickered over it and his colleague grinned back, not at all, but itput Aizawa enough at ease that he could focus on the book. Clearing his throat,he started to read, surprised himself how easily it flowed, and how utterlyentranced the children seemed to be from the first second on.

“Once upon a time…”

#dadzawa #ask #anon #fanfiction #dad might #1 a class #my writing #shouta aizawa #toshinori yagi #bnha #boku no hero academia #headcanon

[steviesings]

Sleepover: Coming back to Seattle, Stevie has a new man. But after a night with Lyla, all that changes.

Lyla: Marco was not a subtle man. "Hold the phone," he began as he watched Lyla packing a bag. "You and the blonde, sorry, your ex, no I mean Stevie, are going CAMPING together?" Lyla rolled her eyes but nodded. "By yourselves?! No offense but that's like, the least straight thing I've ever heard." Lyla stopped, growled at the man on her bed and spoke, "well, I'm a lesbian. So it should be as not-straight as it can get." She could see why Marco would tease but it still stung a bit, especially because she knew her own selfish wishes for the trip and how they shouldn't and wouldn't happen. "Have you even camped before? Do you know what a real forest smells like? Can you navigate a compass?" He asked jokingly causing Lyla to pick up a shirt she had been folding and whip it in his direction. "We're going to a site, you asshole. It's not like we'll be in the backwoods where we could die and never be found." Marco chuckled and leaned back to have a sip of his coffee he had brought them that morning. "I'm surprised you're even going. You don't seem like the camping type." It had also occurred to Lyla how out of character it had been to agree to a camping trip of all things, but she wanted to try new things and she told Stevie things were different. If that meant camping and it just being the two of them, she'd take it. "I'm open," she said as she finished zipping up the duffle bag she was borrowing from Marco. "Something is open... I don't think it's just your mind." This comment made Lyla jump on the bed and pound into Marco with her pillow. They laughed hysterically for another minute before Lyla released her Vulcan grip and rested against the headboard. "She's with someone. It's really not like that." Marco nodded in agreement but his eyes said otherwise. "She's the only other person who's ever been my friend here besides you, I'm not going to screw that up." He couldn't disagree there. While even Marco knew that Lyla was still in love with Stevie, he also knew that Lyla was a good person and she'd hold as tight to her new convictions as she could.

It wouldn't be long before Stevie arrived and took them out to the forrest so Marco and Lyla said their goodbyes as he helped bring her things down to the landing of her apartment building. "You sure I shouldn't stay to keep guard of your stuff?" He asked, crossing his arms in a knowing "dad" way. "She texted and said she'd be here in like three minutes. I can manage till then." Marco leaned in to hug the tiny girl and then took his time walking down the street. "Just in case," he had yelled back which caused Lyla to giggle. Stevie wasn't far behind, her mom's car making a somewhat noisy approach. The smile on her face made Lyla's light up as well. "I know I should have tried for one bag," she began as she swung the first into the backseat. "But I think two for me is a record!" She laughed with Stevie as she got into the front seat as fast as possible. "Confession time: I've never been camping." Lyla turned to the blonde, both nervous and excited, she didn't want to look like an idiot. "But it'll be fun. Where exactly are we going?" She asked as she took a look at Stevie's GPS on her phone. "Wow! I don't think I've been this far outside of Seattle." Finally she quieted down, taking in the sights of nature as the drove farther outside of the city. "It's nice your mom let you have the car. You'll have to thank her for me." Without Stevie's mom's car, they might have had to Uber to the woods and that seemed a bit silly, or they might not have been able to go at all. As more green became visible, Lyla become entranced with how scenic the landscape was. It was only when Stevie asked her to change the music selection that she realized she had zoned out. "How's the promo going, by the way? I know Seattle's a big help in distributing music on the west coast." She blushed at her own insight, "I read that somewhere. A while ago. It makes sense, though."

Stevie: Stevie didn't exactly know what possessed her to ask Lyla to go camping, but she had a feeling it wasn't her brightest move. Lucas, not that Stevie blamed him, seemed shocked and almost worried by the situation. It was one thing, Stevie understood, to talk about things and clear the air as she and Lyla had done all night earlier in the week, this, though, was different. It was a shift Stevie had caused between her and Lucas, and she hated herself for it. He acted nonchalant, but she could tell he wanted her to just drop it and not go, but he didn't want to be that guy who didn't trust his girlfriend, but he knew better than most that what Stevie had with the girl was special. He was, after all, the one producing her EP - there was hardly a detail he didn't know about his girlfriend and her ex lover. She didn't tell Symone. She could already hear the girl now, telling her she was a stupid cow and she was falling down the rabbit hole back into Lyla's world - and it was true, Stevie had felt that pull in Lyla's apartment and the love that had hardly died.

Piling a tent and two sleeping bags into the car - none folded into their little travel bags, but basically strewn about the trunk of her mom's beat up bug that looked like it seen better days, she tossed her duffle bag on top of the mess and kissed Lucas hard, reminding him that no matter what, she loved and would always choose him. "It'll be a few days, more than enough time to go to Portland and be back," she smiled at him. "You sure this will make it up the mountains?" He asked skeptically, and Stevie glanced at the car in agreement, but brushed off the concern, "It'll be fine! We're going to a local campsite, so all we have to worry is getting ourselves up the mountain," she said. He still frowned at the car, but she could tell that was hardly bothering him, "I love you, Stevie." A pang of guilt hit her and she looked away, "I love you, too. Good luck with Bryce! You're going to kill this promotion." He looked at her and sighed, forcing a grin. "And have fun camping." With your ex held unspoken in the air between them, but the bitterness settled like it had been said and Stevie nodded, getting in. The engine groaned to life, like a sleeping bear post hibernation and with a bang from the exhaust, it moved noisily. Turning up the radio, she nervously drove through Seattle. She always hated driving through the city, as did her mom, which is why they owned such a piece of junk. It was easier to take the bus than stress about crazy pedestrians with a death wish.

With more exhaust and hasty slams on the brakes later, the car crawled pathetically in front of Lyla's apartment and Stevie got out, smiling at the girl as she helped her lug two heavy bags and but one on top of a beat up sleeping bag and the other in the backseat beside the cooler that had minimal food (mostly s'mores and snacks, knowing neither of them would actually cook anything with fast food close by) and laughed, "Oh god, that shatters that illusion. All these years I thought you were basically Steve Irwin, why would you lead me to believe you love nature so much when you freak out over bugs?" Stevie teased. The radio blasted music, the stop and go of city life finally ended after an hour and then they were in the suburbs heading towards nature when the music was turned down. She nodded at Lyla, "We used to come when I was a kid. I haven't been up this way since my Girl Scout days, and besides, my mother used this car as much as I do. She hates driving when the metro is just as good - this is kind of like an emergency, like hospital or vacation use." As the car chugged it's way along, Stevie nearly laughed at Lucas's possible reaction to seeing the old rusted sack of bolts move and then felt guilty, only to be doubled at Lyla's question. "It's going good," she said. "He's promoting me and a few others, a weird indie band and a guy who sings about cats and a girl named Suzanne, sadly I'm the best of the bunch, not to sound like I'm rooting my own horn. He and his friend are new, decided to breakout on their own, so the pickings get slim at first - I think." Stevie had been lucky in meeting Lucas. It was like everything in the universe lined up just right so they could meet. He'd missed his bus and was trapped at a bar until his friend could come get him, and she'd been performing by chance after her normal spot overbooked and chose the other girl over her. She remembered him talking and then she came to their studio, or what he called it, anyway. It was a sound booth in his and Terrance's basement, which did seem shady to her, but she'd always been one for risks. And then they'd gone on their date and suddenly, life had fell into place and she'd had everything she ever wanted and she couldn't for the life of her figure out why she was risking it for this. "Yeah, Seattle is great for the whole music thing, ironically. LA is too big to get big, if you can believe it," she said.

Lyla: Lyla laughed at the other musical prospects that Stevie's boyfriend was promoting. Not because she was being petty or mean, it was just that Stevie's description was a funny picture in her head. "Poor guy," she mentioned before thinking about how difficult his job really was. "But also? I haven't listened to a lot of artists and you're already ten times better than them in my opinion. So toot that horn." Lyla wasn't lying either. She had always been nervous to listen to Stevie for the fear that she wouldn't be good and then there would have to be the awkward lying about it, but there was never a need. Stevie had it and it was the typical IT. She was herself, authentic, and it showed and shined like the sun. "Do you have a single out right now? Or is it all still private?" Lyla asked, turning in the car seat to make herself a little more comfortable. "I feel like I would have heard it if it's been on the radio."

Another thirty minutes passed, idle talks happening in between any good song that they actually thought was worth listening to in the quiet. Finally, they had made it to the campground and while Washington was beautiful, the place they were going to be spending their time, was a bit lack-luster. "I see they didn't spruce up the place for us," Lyla joked as Stevie picked a spot for them and parked the car. Instantly Lyla began to pull things from the trunk and backseat, wanting to show that a.) her past princess persona was basically gone and b.) how much excitement and appreciation she had for being invited in the first place. Exes didn't hang out all the time or go on trips with each other often and she knew that it was special.

It was mid-afternoon and while it was actually hot for Seattle and the surrounding areas, there was still enough of a breeze to feel chill if you needed a cool down. Lyla had pulled out their tent and began reading the instructions, before catching Stevie having a chuckle at her obvious expense. "Hey!" She started before picking up one of the pegs from the tent bag. "This is my first time here, I'm just trying to be thorough!" Laughter filled their general area as Lyla twirled the peg towards the blonde. "You'll be grateful for my great architectural insight when we're relaxing in a sturdy tent tonight." It didn't pass Lyla that she actually had no engineering background whatsoever, which she knew that Stevie knew too, but she kept the skit going anyway. "If you'd like to help, I would not be opposed, though." She placed her hands on her hips after putting together most of the actual tent structure, waiting for the other girl to either make a sarcastic comment or jump in, or, in the case of knowing Stevie, probably both.

Stevie: Stevie shook her head. "EPs never get radio, which is why he's pressing for this. If we get this he'd take off, and I'd be right beside him." She laughed, waving her hand, "I know it sounds like a pipe dream, but it's the first time I've been so close." Stevie always KNEW what she wanted. Even when she was a little girl and held her first guitar, she just knew. It was hard to explain to people that feeling. The knowing. People think you're being stupid and childish when you say that you want to do something that isn't "productive", as if having a passion meant less. Stevie knew though, and she bet her mom knew, too. The name wasn't a coincidence. "We have it on Spotify. It's gotten some traction, and we want to film a music video - I don't have a lot of notability. People want to sign to YouTubers and social media famous people because they know they have a following, people like me, we're a risk and some people don't want to take the chance."

She shifted uncomfortably as her and Lyla sat in silence, the indie band the only noise between them. She kept thinking of the situation and the look on Lucas's face, and it made her feel so guilty. Exes didn't camp, or befriend each other. What ex relationship ever had a successful friendship? This whole situation was delusional, but she didn't want to admit it. Arguing with herself, she reminded her nerves that she had Lyla were indeed friends. They'd talked, the whole thing was water under the bridge, and they'd moved on. Stevie had a boyfriend, Lyla worked at a bar and was accepting herself with a therapist, and life was good. In her naive little Stevie world, nothing could go wrong.

Stevie had noticed Lyla did change in ways. Before, Lyla had been way too city to camp, and while Stevie had also grown up in a bustling city, she'd always been one with nature. Lyla, though, was trying, and Stevie could tell it was from a place of genuine change. Snorting, Stevie yanked out the tent and tossed it on the ground along with the two tattered sleeping bags and shrugged, "It's the woods, not the Hilton - or whatever hotel," she teased. Watching as Lyla found instructions somewhere deep in the tent, glad that her and her mom had kept something even if surprising. "More like I'm surprised that thing has that. It's so old. I think my mother bought it in '95. And I have two tarps, just in case." She felt sort of bad for the quality of everything, but at the same time, didn't waste her brain on it. At the end of the day, Stevie and Cloud had always survived, but without tenants, they'd never make ends meet. Even now in LA, Stevie and Symone struggled. Neither made good money - even though Symone had a job that should, it was a fact: people paid you shit, but everything was expensive.

Laying down the tarp, she had the tent set over and got to work. "My mom and I used to camp every other week in the summer. We couldn't afford trips, or anything, so we'd come up here and camp." Stevie didn't even need the instructions. This tent was second nature to her and she all put booted Lyla aside to set it up, and once they were done, tarp thrown on and all incase of rain, she stood up and brushed herself off. "Do you wanna eat something then hike? There's a place to swim up along some hiking path, we can rent a float and go tubing or something," she suggested to Lyla.

Lyla: Lyla was entirely new to the outdoor world. In fact, she felt so much so like a fish out of water that her insecurities were popping up as Stevie mentioned food and swimming after finishing the tent with ease. She could tell that the blonde was sensing the mood switch too, like the tides of the ocean from the moon - and Lyla couldn't help it. "Mhm," she mumbled while going into their cooler and bags of food. It was hard to not know anything about anything for Lyla, she was always smart book-wise; and so, when real life happened and she felt inadequate, things got harder. She breathed and relaxed as they made some sandwiches and talked a bit more about Stevie's music and Lyla's new job. "So I guess the only way I can hear it is through you then," she joked, knowing that Stevie probably would say no to that. "Don't think I won't have you playing something tonight. These woods need your melodies. Or at least some Fleetwood, Stevie Knicks ones." A fact that Lyla had never brought up and wouldn't was how after their break-up, all she could listen to was Fleetwood Mac. She had cried and dreamed of Stevie while she listened to every album in existence that they had. It was a tie to her that both helped let her go and also place an even more special place in Lyla's heart.

"So this swimming and floating aspect?" Her words were a question, unsure of how enjoyable it would be. "We'll be in a lake, right? We're not near the ocean anymore?" They had driven near the beach at times which is what had caused her to question where they'd be going next. The pacific northwest ocean hadn't been her favorite. It was colder, darker and more rough than her east coast Massachusetts ocean was. 'How significant,' she thought to herself. As they began to make their way there, Lyla reiterated her ability to try new things. "I'll do whatever you want. I trust you." She looked up into the trees and wondered if they might be able to have some picture taking time, because the forrest around them was beautiful. Lyla needed more than just memories of this. Finally the reached a small cove which had exactly what Lyla had hoped for: a decent-sized lake with a decent amount of people having fun both in and around it. So again, her tensions eased and as she looked over to Stevie, the sun was hitting them in such a way that felt like a happy kind of fate. Was it a sign? Probably not, and Lyla didn't like thinking that way anymore, but it was nice to imagine for a moment. "Okay, boss. Lead the way." She said smiling as she followed behind Stevie up more of the path to where they would rent a float or two. Excitement was reemerging and it was definitely showing on her face. Lyla would be like a school girl getting to see Stevie in most of her glory again, though she definitely would keep that in check so no weirdness would slip between them again; But she was happy. The day was warm, the sun was actually out, and she was with a friend, the best friend she could have asked for, especially when being totally outside of her element.

Stevie: Stevie nodded, though felt uncomfortable at the idea of Lyla hearing her music. It wasn't that Stevie painted Lyla in a bad light, it was just... emotional. Her songs had been about love and magic, finding peace, struggling - she had at least a hundred rough drafts of songs about her time with Lyla and other various things, but the eleven songs she had out were about being a bisexual girl and Lyla. Each song was an emotional ride, and she didn't want Lyla in that world. She didn't want her to feel guilty when she'd come so far. "Who knows, maybe after the short tour we do I'll be famous," she said with a shrug. In truth, Stevie didn't know what the future held. She knew she was touring to a few places over the country and had a good following, but as for fame? Who even knew. Stevie laughed, "You know me, I'm always ready for The Queen. I can play some of my oldies, don't worry." Then she paused, "You know, I don't remember playing you a lot of Stevie... or Fleetwood." It struck her as odd, because she'd told Lyla some stories, but nothing really major. Lucas, however, knew everything from her namesake, to how her mother played Rhiannon so much that she was so close to naming her first and only daughter after the witch herself, but instead, in a twist of fate, had decided on Stevie Nichole, to honor her favorite musician and the only thing that kept her through those months of solitude when she'd been alone and pregnant with her daughter. "But we can change that tonight," she vowed.

"You've never gone tubing?" Stevie asked in shock, as if forgetting who Lyla was. Of course Lyla had never been tubing. She wasn't Symone, she'd been rich and her parents had probably been too good for camping. "So you start at the top and go down a stream and float. It's fun. Peaceful, actually. It's like a real life lazy river, and at the end, you're at this lake and it's breathtaking." Grabbing Lyla's hand she said, "Trust me. You'll love it!" When they got to the top, Stevie got two floats and had them separate. Her and Symone once tied theirs together, and got so rowdy that they'd almost drowned each other, and thought maybe that was too intense for Lyla's first go. "Okay, you go first and I'll be behind you, okay?"

Lyla: The water was cold as Lyla stepped into the stream. It was faster moving than she thought it would be and her nervousness correlated to a million goose bumps, though she breathed and inched out a little farther. Slowly she maneuvered the tube behind her and gently sat herself in the center as everyone else had. Stevie was right behind her and thankfully, the two took off down the more legit river together.

In a moment of panic as the flow quickened, she reached out for Stevie's hand. The blonde could probably tell that Lyla was scared and so she smiled. Finally, after a few minutes, the water got slower and they caught up to a few singles, a family and a couple that had seemingly hit the bottom on a shallow side. "Go right," the dad yelled as some other helped to keep steer them past it. Lyla giggled as they kept going, she let her head fall back into the water and relaxed a bit more. "I guess it's a good thing we're so tiny. Finally, it pays off."

Finally, the two women reached the crest that lead out into the huge lake, Lyla couldn't believe how peaceful the entire experience was. As she looked at Stevie, it was like she knew that Stevie was meant for things like this. She was Mother Earth herself and in nature it was beautifully apparent. "This is beautiful," Lyla said for probably the 17th time that day. "I can't believe I never would have come here without you." She bobbed around in the water, using her arms as ore's to push herself back over to Stevie. It hadn't gone over her head that the blonde was being evasive about her music and so Lyla dropped it. Though, she couldn't wait to hear Stevie sing later. It had been too long. The water around them began to fill as more people drifted into the lake, and it warmed Lyla more than she had been in months. "I could stay here till it gets dark." Her voice was borderline chipper as she half joked but was also half telling the truth. She was a water sign after all. "Although food sounds pretty great so that might have to happen too."

Stevie: The water prickled Stevie's skin as she got into the float. Bobbing for a moment, she let go and took off down the stream and tossed her head back in delight. It'd been so long since she'd done this, and she let the river take her away as she bumped and bucked in the seat, her hair partially submerged as she relaxed. In truth, Stevie wished she could live her life as she was in this moment: letting the river take her, no plan, just blind faith that she'd get to the end okay. But she couldn't do that anymore. With her music, it wasn't just her failure, it'd be everything Lucas was relying on to finally launch his career - it was their chance to make it or be fucked. But Stevie wasn't thinking of her music or Lucas, she wasn't concerned with anything until she saw Lyla's hand and she grabbed it, laughing. "Don't be so scared," she said with a smile.

She looked up, seeing the trees and birds and how cloudless the sky was. It was rare for Washington to have a day like this: blue skies, sunshine, and she inhaled. She could hear Symone and her other friends she'd long since left behind laughing, trying to knock one another off, and she could see her mom drifting carelessly, because Cloud always knew things worked out.

As they got dropped off, it was breathtaking. No matter how many times she'd seen it in her life, the view always made her want to weep. "Isn't it? It's one of the most beautiful things we'll ever see." As people poured in, she laughed. "I feel bad never taking you camping, but there was never time, I guess." They'd never had enough time, but that was life: there was never time to do or say everything you needed to, and Lyla and Stevie had been too short lived and too cram packed of hurt and pain. The two never had a chance to make it anywhere.

Stevie nodded in agreement. "I almost want to go again, but I'm kind of hungry. I barely ate anything before leaving," she admitted. Plugging her nose, she fell into the circle and let the cold water submerge her and she looked around before resurfacing and grabbing onto the float, "let's go back to the top and see if where we got these has anything to eat," she suggested.

Lyla: At the suggestion of food, Lyla couldn't agree more. She quickly got out of the water, carried her tube, and began the journey with Stevie close behind. "I know I wasn't the food-bringer, but I've got stuff for s'mores back up at the tent." Her grin was huge knowing that a.) she had actually done something right and b.) Stevie would enjoy it just as much.

Once they reached their destination and returned the floats, they got in line for dinner. As Lyla scanned the menu, she noticed that their options were limited. Suddenly they were at the cashier and it was time to order. "I'll take a hot dog and some fries please. Ketchup for both." She stepped to the side and waited as Stevie ordered, too. "It looks like it might rain." The sky was darkening a bit, but that was mostly from the sun going down though some dark clouds were forming a bit. The blonde would make things positive even if they got a little wet in the process, as she always did. Lyla was determined to keep her spirits up in that case as well.

Finally, the two picked a bench overlooking the river that had enough room for them to put their food down in between them. As they ate, the sky began to change colors even amongst the clouds. "It's so pretty here," Lyla breathed, taking in air through her nose and exhaling loudly as if to let any lingering tension she felt out. "Thanks for inviting me," she began. "I haven't been out of the city like, ever." Lyla's eyes scanned her surroundings as she thought about the last time she had even left the city was for Christmas. "Apparently I need to a bit more." She had finished her hot dog and only had a few more fries left when she mentioned returning to camp before it got too dark. "I trust you to lead us back, but just in case. Wouldn't want us becoming a not as poetic version of Into The Wild." She laughed and helped clean up the area, all the while staring at Stevie more times than she should have. It was just so intoxicating to be so happy and with her again that Lyla was constantly reminding herself to breathe; but eventually, the area was clean, light was leaving and it was time to go. "Plus, the sooner we get back, the sooner we get some music going and that's what'll make this day perfect." She smiled confidently and took off down the trail that the two had come up, walking right beside Stevie as the woods took them in with open arms.

Stevie: Stevie played with her much-too wilted salad as she listened to Lyla ramble on at their table. She paid to much for it, but she didn't feel the need to spare it much thought. Being a vegetarian was hard, and she'd grown sadly accustomed to the lack of choices and shitty salad options, and instead put her chin in her palm, listening to the cute girl across from her. Lyla had always mesmerized Stevie, that much was true. She'd been a regular at the cafe, and Stevie always seemed to have Lady Luck on her side before Lex noticed and let her wait on the petite brunette. It took forever for Stevie to have the nerve to flirt, never able to tell who was into girls and who wasn't, and then, suddenly they were Lyla and Stevie... something.

It was the "something" Stevie hated. She hated casual. She hated flings. She didn't want to be a booty call, or Friends with Benefits, she needed attachments. She needed to be needed. "It is," she agreed, being pulled from her memories and thoughts. Her stomach churned a bit. This was wrong... She should tell Lyla they should go back to the city and - "This was my favorite place to be as a kid," she confided, ignoring the voices. They were adults. She could handle it. And so could Lyla. "I love the city, y'know? But here - here life is just peaceful. Even my mom seemed to relax." It was true that Cloud, like Stevie, thrived in the chaos. The only difference was Stevie had thrived in her mother's chaos. When she was little, she didn't know things like boarders or haggling or living without luxuries (i.e. The month the dryer AND washer broke and everyone hung clothes around the house and washed in the tub) or didn't have electricity because everyone, like Cloud, could hardly hold down a job being artists, or whatever. Cloud, however, created chaos, and sometimes made mountains out of molehills when the mountains behind her crumbled and she ignored them, because the actual issues worked out in the end. "It's nice to just turn off your brain and take it easy." Then she looked at Lyla, "Did you ever leave the city in Boston? Or did you just always stay there?"

She swallowed. The music... Nodding, she tried to seem impasse, as if the music could be about anyone and shrugged. "If you want. Mostly, I just need proper nourishment," she said as she gestured to the wilted garden salad she'd hardly touched. Her stomach made growls, but mostly for the thought of a charred marshmallow between to graham crackers and oozing chocolate. Licking her lips at the thought, she looked up at the sky. "You don't want to reenact The Wild? Chicken," she teased, but stood up and stretched. Tossing the container in the trash, she walked up the path. "So what did you and your parents do? You know, for fun." She snorted, thinking of her own childhood, "Symone's family used to take me with them on things. I went to Disney one time when I was fourteen, and they got a family plan and on my ticket says Stevie de la Croix and the attendant is looking at me with my pale as hell skin and my blue eyes and my hair was bleached so much I looked like Draco's sister, and Symone and he doesn't know what to say or do because it's clearly not true, and let us through. One of the funniest moments, but god that trip was fun." The de la Croix's had always felt more like her family, it was true, and that always made her feel guilty. She loved her mom, but Symone's parents always felt like hers, too.

When Stevie had worn sneakers, Mrs de la Croix would buy her a new pair, ask free. She always let Stevie spend the night, eat dinner and everything. It was good to have the stability while dealing with the chaos. "We stayed at The Wilderness with her cousins and hung out outside for hours - could even go from the Magic Kingdom by boat so we could stay to close - ALONE. Mostly because Tess, her older cousin, was 19 at the time." She smiled at the memory, and looked at Lyla, realizing how little she knew about the girl in horror. "Did you - I mean did you ever... You know? Did you at least have someone like Symone?" She asked, feeling awkward at her lack of background knowledge of someone she claimed to have loved - did love.

Lyla: The wooded green was enough to totally entrance Lyla as she and Stevie made their way back to camp. Though every few moments, she made sure to listen, especially when it came to details about the blonde. They had known certain things about the other and yet not much at all. She could imagine a young Stevie with Symone thoroughly enjoying herself on any adventure she was lucky enough to be a part of. "That all sounds like the two of you," she replied, convinced that both of them had been the same since they say they met each other. However, as Stevie began to ask about Lyla's past, she wished that she hadn't. "I went plenty of places. My dad would take my mom and I on work trips, we'd go to Martha's Vineyard in the summer for two weeks." Lyla had loved those summer vacations. That was where she had the best time, where she was able to be away from her real life long enough to be happy.

"I've never had a Symone," Lyla admitted honestly. "I made a friend at the vineyard, Olivia, who I still keep in touch with but no one else has ever stuck. I didn't like my school or the people in it much." Darkness was taking over the trees just as they arrived back at their tent and Stevie's car; Lyla was somewhat relieved because being in an unfamiliar wild place wasn't the most comforting feeling. As she and Stevie got out some things for s'mores and managed a fire after about twenty minutes, they sat down beside each other and continued with their conversation. "Marco is the closest person to ever be with me, besides you. Friendship wise," Lyla clarified. "And he's been amazing. He's offered to be my roommate and sperm donor if, and I quote, ever go that direction in wanting a kid or two." Lyla laughed as she remembered the conversation where he had casually mentioned that as if it was offering up his leftover fries. "You'd love him. He's a good time." Her s'more had officially toasted to perfection and Lyla ate it in three less than graceful bites. "God, that was INCREDIBLE!" She was already prepping her next marshmallow before Stevie could even react. "I don't want to eat anything else while we're here!"

As night had officially taken over, the laughter and talking continued just as easily as Lyla remembered it. It was like they were the only two people on the planet, and in the woods, all alone, it seemed that way. In the distance they heard parents arguing, kids laughing, some music and crickets and it made her calm. Washington had been inherently different, better, than Massachusetts since the second Lyla had stepped off the plane two years ago. It grew later much faster than the two girls had thought and by 12:30, Lyla had been stuffed with chocolate, graham crackers and marsh mellows. "I love owls," she noted as one made a noise from the trees above them. "So wise." Lyla smiled at Stevie and noticed that the girl had goosebumps. She quickly got up and grabbed the closest blanket that had been in the tent and tossed it over them as she sat closer. "It's getting too late to stay warm with just our sweaters, don't you think?" It was a tease at Stevie's ability to take care of herself, though Lyla knew that she did just fine. They had a habit of getting so wrapped up in each other that they forgot that life still required functioning. They sat quietly for a few minutes, taking in the night around them as the fire warmed their legs. "If you're not too tired, can I ask a deeper question?" Lyla waited for Stevie's reply, not wanting to overstep. "Could I maybe meet your mom someday? I regret having not." Her voice was quieter, both because she felt sensitive about her mess ups but also to keep the woodland creatures asleep. "Obviously if we don't keep in touch after you leave... But I'd like to and I'd like to see who produced you. Because you're something." The way Lyla placed emphasis on the word 'something', she worried Stevie might read something other than what she meant; But at the same time, there was a level of Lyla that didn't care if she did.

Stevie: Stevie nodded. Not much had changed between she and Symone, they just grew into their own. Symone had always been a logical Virgo, and Stevie had always been an overemotional Pisces, and they'd balanced one another out. "Martha's Vineyard sounds nice," she offered with a grin, but frowned. Had Lyla always been so alone? It made Stevie feel bad because she'd known that, but hoped otherwise. Lyla had been private and Stevie had been open. Lyla had known most of Stevie's friends when they'd be around the city - they'd come up and hug her or talk to her, and Stevie would introduce Lyla and they'd all go about their merry way. Lyla liked secrets.

"He sounds great," Stevie agreed. "I'd love to meet him before I go home!" She looked at her marshmallow roasting, "You should meet Lucas. Especially after this. He's a good guy, sweet. And he could probably give you a run for your money at trivial pursuit." The silence grew a bit between them as the sunset and Stevie got out her guitar, strumming a few cords before tuning it. "So you've never gotten into Fleetwood Mac, well dear, you've come to the right place." Stevie laughed at the goofiness as she tested out the notes and cleared her throat, "This is one of my favorite songs - or as my mother calls it, my almost name. It was really between this, Stevie Nichole, Sara and Bella Donna... But this is the best song ever!" Clearing her throat again, she began to play Rhiannon for Lyla, and as the song faded out she played Leather and Lace. Setting her guitar down, she ignored the tears that wanted to brew in her eyes as she realized she hadn't heard Leather and Lace since the breakup months ago. It had always reminded her of Lyla, despite the obvious heterosexual nature of the song. It was Lyla to her. She loved Lyla, and knew the moment they met it was never going to end. Some people had that vibe when you met them: that they were going to change your life forever and stay inside your mind. Making another smore, she nestled under the blanket Lyla had supplied, laughing at her owl comment. "Well they are the nerds of the forrest, like you," she said sticking out her tongue. Curling her hands around the blanket, Stevie let a few tears fall and she nodded. "Of course. Yes. Yes you can meet her." She felt touched Lyla still wanted to know her mom, that she, too, regretted all that they missed out on. She didn't mean to, and she was caught up in the moment as she looked at the girl, her face soft from the fire light and it was pent up for months and it was romantic and perfect, Stevie leaned in and kissed Lyla softly on the lips.

It was like an instinct as she cupped the girl's cheek, deepening the kiss. It tasted like smores, and it was sticky from the marshmallow and suddenly her eyes snapped open and she jumped up. "Oh god!" Looking around, she shoved her hands in the faded pink strands, tugging at them. "Oh fuck!" Crying a bit, she wiped her eyes. "Shit! I'm sorry! I shouldn't have - I just!" Not even waiting, she walked over to the car and grabbed the stash that was usually under the shit in the glove box and grabbed her key ring that had the small pipe her mom had once given her as a joke. Taking it off, she filled it and grabbed the lighter. "We're going to pretend it didn't happen. It couldn't have, and I'm sorry! I just got so fucking caught up - I'm sorry!" Taking a hit, she offered some to Lyla.

Lyla: Between their closeness, Stevie's tears, and the quiet around them, Lyla was doing her best to say underwhelmed though she was failing. Listening to Stevie sing had always been something that melted Lyla completely and this was no different. The tears that finally came made Lyla's want to pour but she kept them in check, only letting a few fall as Stevie finished, gave the okay that Lyla could meet her mother, and talking to her about Lucas who sounded the best for Stevie in every way; and even though she had already met him and knew that something did in fact seem off, she simply nodded and let the moment pass.

It wasn't until the she noticed how close in proximity that they were, that Lyla could see something changing in Stevie as they sat together. As their lips connected, she could barely breathe. She imagined something like this since the night they broke up. The most tender touch that would heal them, maybe. It was soft and delicate, just like their feelings and Lyla wanted it to last for ten years longer than it had.

As Stevie began to freak out, Lyla shrank into herself a bit until she came back from the car, lit bowel in hand. "You don't have to be sorry to me," Lyla said calmly as she watched the blonde frantically moving about. "I'M sorry that I put you in this position." She was so afraid of everything then that she wanted to die. She should have said her piece at the bar that night and let that be that. Instead, Lyla had roped Stevie back in - be it a genuine desire to be around her again, but she shouldn't have. The other woman had moved on and was better without her and now she complicated everything yet again. She let Stevie smoke, turning away the offer to join her, and kept racking her brain of the right thing to say. Whatever Stevie wanted was obviously what they would do. Lyla's inabilities had ruined them last time and she wouldn't do it again. This would be different, even if it broke her heart.

It had been quiet for a long time before Lyla said anything else. "It didn't happen," she reiterated without looking over at Stevie. "And after this trip, I'm going to leave you alone. I didn't mean for this to happen..." She felt more tears choking her. Lyla didn't want separation. Lyla didn't want a life without Stevie but it was her fault that it was like that in the first place. "I'm so so-sorry, Stevie. I ruined everything and now nothing is the way it should be and I'm a horrible person." Her tears were no longer manageable as she cried into the blanket, the feeling of nausea overwhelming her. "You're always so good and kind and fucking perfect and I missed you so much that the second you were around I had to have all of you." Her eyes stayed on Stevie's as the two cried. Lyla reached out and held onto her hands for dear life. "We can go home right now if you want. Whatever you want is what's going to happen, okay? Nothing else is going to be bad for you, I promise. Please just tell me what you want and I'll do it." 

Stevie: Lyla was right about that, Stevie could agree. She was sorry, because she knew feelings had to linger between them, but she also had to be sorry for Luke. God, Luke! She couldn't even imagine seeing him after that. What would she even say to him? "Hey, Luke, remember that trip you didn't want me to take with my ex girlfriend and I said we were mature adults who could handle it? Well, I lied, babe. We kissed. And by we, I mean I kissed her." God, she was stupid! So fucking stupid and so fucking screwed, she couldn't even see her ass from her face. Looking at Lyla, Stevie knew the look she tossed her was one of a deranged rabid person as Lyla rambled on and on how it was her fault. How could it be? Stevie agreed. She looked this man, the perfect man - the one she had wanted to be with - and said she could do this and fucked up! She knew she couldn't handle it, but she couldn't hurt Lyla's feelings again, not after everything. "Are you fucking kidding me!? I'm the reason we're here! I fucked up! God, I fucking hate myself! I fucking ruin everything and I don't know what's wrong with me!"

She doubted smoking would help her, but fuck she needed something. She needed a plan... she needed a time machine, a minute alone. She wanted to be like Lyla or Symone - they were neat, organized. Stevie had always been impulsive, it was something she'd gotten from Cloud. Cloud lived in the chaos, and Stevie lived with her. She did what she wanted, even though she always hated the consequences. No one could ever be as stupid as her. Wasn't she just saying to Symone a week ago Luke was the one? He was perfect, and she wanted to marry him, get this music out there and maybe have a family... She had seen it so perfectly, and what had she done? Tossed it away in a moment of weakness. "Perfect," Stevie mocked hollowly. Perfect, she fucking wished. "I'm not perfect. I ruined it with you before it even began, and we know it, Lyla." She was vulnerable, upset and her voice shook as she marched on, unable to stop. "I'm so unlovable, that even when I find love I muck it up. How the hell can I face him after this? Lie. Even telling him the truth," her lip quivered and she cried as Lyla took her hand.

Stevie knew she should yank it back. She couldn't be trusted with this, not with Lyla. In truth, Stevie knew Lyla had been the one. Anyone else was settling, but she'd wanted to settle for Luke. She wanted to feel loved, be in love, have the perfect life with him - but she'd wanted all those things with Lyla first, and she'd been rejected and it hurt. Still hurt. "I don't know," Stevie said shakily. She couldn't leave, not without a plan. "I - I don't know what I'm going to do. I can't go home, not yet. I can't tell him tonight... I - I'm being a coward, b-but I don't care! I just need a second to just figure it out. I have to tell him, but -" She whacked the log she was sitting on, feeling the sting of her hand, yelping but ignoring it all together as she looked into the fire. "I don't want to regret anything with you Lyla... even this. It feels like I'm spitting on us, but he's - I love him. I really fucking love him!"

Lyla:  It was hard for Lyla to see Stevie so upset, yet again, partially because of her. She could barely keep track of Stevie's mind as the blonde went on and on about her mistakes. "Stevie," she said firmly, trying her best to bring the other woman back to her side instead of in her head. The wilderness around them lived on. Crickets chirped, the waters kept flowing and owls and the other animals roamed. "Breathe with me." Lyla wasn't used to being put together anymore. After Stevie had left, everything had fallen apart. She hadn't been the same ever since and it had been a hard pill to swallow. "In through your nose," she nodded as the blonde did what she said. "Out through your mouth."

After a few minutes of quiet, Lyla couldn't tell what she should do. Ever since Stevie had kissed her, that's what she had wanted to do more of; but she knew better and so she should BE better. 

"Just tell him I came onto you. He doesn't need to know that you kissed me so much as we kissed, right?" Lyla knew Stevie's moral code was going to disagree but the facts would still be true and told. "You want him to know this happened but you don't want to lose him, so don't." Her mouth became dry as she spoke. It hurt. Stevie kissing her. Stevie's pain from kissing her. Stevie still wanting to be with Lucas. There wasn't a right answer or solution. "But Stevie, you didn't ruin anything. Not us and not you and Lucas." 

Lyla got up from their bench and began to move around the camp, trying to fix herself and the problem at hand. But it all came back to feeling Stevie. Her lips, her hands, the way they melted together even in the split second they touched. It was like nothing had changed, and what did that mean? Lyla knew she'd never be over Stevie but was Stevie really as in love as she said? Or was she doing the same thing Lyla was trying to do: act like things had changed in their hearts when they really hadn't. There was no way of knowing what Stevie really felt and Lyla wouldn't be the one to assume and make an ass of herself or upset Stevie enough that she never saw her again. Though, with the way Stevie was talking, that might happen anyway. 

While she was turned away, Lyla searched herself for something to say. She had given up her family for who she was, that would never be a factor again. She was closed off from everyone when she was with Stevie because of her fear and now that she didn't have that anymore, would it make a difference? Her gut said yes but Stevie's tears for someone else kept her quiet.

Finally, she spoke. "This isn't the right thing to say. I should stay on the path of making it better for you and Lucas. I know it." Lyla turned to face Stevie through their dimming fire. "But what I want to tell you is that I love you and so whatever you want, that's what I want. I can disappear after this weekend so that I'm not a problem anymore." Her eyes filled with tears, though she kept them on Stevie. "But I need you to know that since you kissed me, it's all I can think about. I miss you. I missed feeling you both that way and your fucking spirit." She stopped herself, shaking her head because she felt like such an idiot. "All I want is to spend the night with you. Talking. Kissing. Touching like we used to because I miss you and us and I'm sorry that I let fear get in the way of us last time but it wouldn't be there anymore." Lyla paused and moved closer between Stevie and the their tent. "I know this is horrible to put on you. To say. So just tell me to fuck off if you want, but I needed you to know it. At least one more time." 

Stevie: Stevie felt her stomach churn as Lyla gave her a way out. It'd be so easy to just take it. To accept it and go run to Luke tomorrow, crying about how Lyla kissed her and she didn't mean to let her, it just happened. Luke would understand; he always understood, and Stevie could see it now: the way his face would drop, how he'd blame Lyla for taking advantage of Stevie's kindness and how he'd let it go. They'd go back to LA and he'd be none the wiser, and they'd carry on as they did before, happy as clams. Sure, the guilt would kill Stevie inside, but she'd truck on and be an even better girlfriend than before, and maybe one day, somewhere down the road, Luke would propose and she'd say yes, and they'd get married have some kids and he'd never know that this night Stevie kissed Lyla. That Stevie still, to this very day, loved Lyla. Everything they would have after this night if she told Luke this lie would be forever marred by it. He'd be so unaware that every kiss, every fuck, every moment would circle back to one tiny kiss with Lyla in the woods. She shook her head, letting the images shatter of a possible future. She didn't want to think of Luke forgiving her, because she knew he would. He knew Stevie loved Lyla, and would probably always love Lyla - he was her fucking producer. He'd gambled on her in every way shape. She was what he was banking on as a start of his record business, he was hoping she was the one, and what did she do? Spat at him.

She felt awful for thinking it, but it was true: Lyla had hurt her. Lyla wanted to be permanent, but Stevie didn't know she could gamble with her heart again. It took a lot of patience and love from Luke to get to a point of loving him - anyone. It killed her, and she looked at Lyla, falling into the kiss, cursing herself. "Lyla," she said as she pressed her hand against the girl, pushing her away. She wanted to - she wanted to give in, never tell Luke what happened and live a lie, but she couldn't. She wouldn't do that to him, not after everything. "I - I love you. You know I love you. I didn't even get love till we met, and you know that, but... I do love him. It was hard being out there, getting over you and moving on. You hurt me, and I know you didn't mean to, but it killed me to know you could give someone everything and be let down, and then I happened into a person at the right time and I began that feeling again. It'll never be as strong as us, but I owe him more than this!" It killed her to deny Lyla, and it killed her to know that if she went back to Luke she'd be living a lie. Crying, she looked at Lyla, seeing everything and nothing. If they did this, they'd be ruined, too. Stevie cared, all she'd done was care, but looking at Lyla, all she felt was want. She wanted Lyla to love her, to make her feel loved, and Lyla wanted that from Stevie and cupping her face she pressed her forehead to Lyla's forehead. "I can't hurt him. I'm sorry. I just... I can't."

Lyla: Lyla let her tears fall, breathing in deeply as she listened to Stevie say what she knew was true: She loved him and she couldn't hurt him any more than she already had with their kiss. She understood it and deep down, there was a part of Lyla that was lighting because at least she got to hear that Stevie still loved her. As much as she wanted things to be different, Stevie was making it so that if anything ever did happen again, it could be more pure than if they completely betrayed Luke in the process. After what felt like an hour, Lyla pulled away from the blonde and held her hands. "I'm sorry that this happened," she admitted. "Not because we didn't need this." Her voice trailed off for a moment, thinking about how she knew Stevie deserved better than what they had left off at. "But I didn't mean to put us in this situation." They listened to the world around them, the early morning hours arriving quickly like they always did with them. "You're too good, Stevie. You really are. We made a mistake but, those can be fixed." Her eyes looked in Stevie's blue ones, the desperate need to hug her overcoming Lyla like a wave. "I think what we need now is sleep. This night has been... too much." She smiled and laughed lightly, realizing that the last few times they had been together were also too much in terms of emotions. As they climbed into the tent and got ready for bed, Lyla couldn't help but stare as Stevie changed and Stevie did the same. It was going to be torture until the day they died. Which honestly, Lyla wished would have been sooner if it meant not aching so much. Once the two were in their sleeping bags, snuggled closely to stay warm even though it wasn't horribly cold by any means, Lyla reached for Stevie's hand. "Thank you for taking me camping. It's been fun but I think I'll stick mostly to the indoors," she giggled. "I hope we don't get eaten by any bears but if we do, I'm glad to go out with you." Lyla closed her eyes and listened for Stevie's response before falling asleep to the peaceful sounds of an ending summer.

#p: 004;;

[ficdirectory]

Blink (An AU Fosters family fic) Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

By 5:00 PM, Jesus is watching for Pearl out the window.  

He’d normally have headed over to her place to spend the afternoon, but he got the feeling today that Pearl was gonna need time to herself, especially if Jesus hopes to see her at the party tonight.

Moms have told him that food will be ready by the same time as always, but it’s not like typical dinner at all.  There are just bowls and pots of things all around on counters with a stack of paper plates.  The TV is playing a countdown to 2015.  Jesus swallows.  He hates countdowns.  But Moms seem to want this party and everything that goes along with it.  They want to celebrate.  They want to be a normal family, whatever that is.

Jesus is kinda torn about it because they totally deserve to celebrate, and to do something that makes them feel good, but it makes him feel really bad.  Like he’s the biggest downer there is because no matter what, his trauma’s gonna come to the party too.  And nobody wants to party with trauma.  He wonders why Mom invited Pearl, then?  He wonders how much she knows about Pearl now?  That whatever she was like when she was a kid, she’s changed.  That she’s actually more like Jesus now, than like Stef.

Would Mom still have invited her if she knew that?

Well, it might not be a big deal, because Pearl might not even come.  But then he sees the light on her hat, approaching.  He doesn’t want to startle her by running out to meet her or anything, but he is excited she’s there.  Her being there means he’s not totally alone, as the only one with issues.

Frankie’s busting with energy, since Moms insisted she take a nap.  (She did, while claiming she never would, crashing under the table, where Jesus resurrected their fort.)  She’s telling everyone “Happy New Year!” and blowing a noise maker.

When Pearl knocks, Jesus makes sure he’s the one to answer the door.

“Hey,” he greets.  “You came.”

“Yup.  I’m here,” she nods.

There’s a ton of activity as Mom greets Pearl with a big hug.  Mama says a polite hello.  Then, Jesus points out his siblings.  When he gets to Brandon, Pearl offers a small smile, crossing her arms to avoid shaking hands, or to hide her tremor.

“The last time I saw you?  You were a lot smaller,” she says.

“Oh, I’m sorry.  I didn’t realize we’d met,” Brandon apologizes.

“You were the cutest,” Stef gushes.  “All dressed up in your overalls and Winnie the Pooh shirt.”

“Okay.  Wow.  Thank you for that trip down embarrassing memory lane!” Brandon exclaims.  “Pearl.  It’s nice to meet you.  Again.”

“You, too,” she says.

Jesus finds Mariana, Callie and Jude and makes more intros.  To finish, he points out Frankie, who’s still making the rounds, telling everybody Happy New Year with her noise maker.  Now, she even found a hat to wear, too.  “And you know Frankie, already.”

“Happy New Year!  Pearl, can I tell Gracie Happy New Year?” Frankie asks, walking up to the dog, who’s glued to Pearl’s side.

“Sure,” she says.  “Just don’t pet her.”

Jesus scopes Pearl out.  Her tone’s colder.  Much more than it was this morning, talking to Frankie on the way to the store.

“I promise,” Frankie insists, solemnly.  And then to Gracie, “Happy New Year, Gracie!” she says, tooting the party favor in the dog’s face.

“Okay.  That’s not polite.  Not in people’s faces.  Not in dog’s faces.  Take a break, please,” Mom says, sending Frankie to sit down.

Jesus watches her walk away to sit at the table and feels Pearl lean in to talk to him.  “Why do you guys let her walk like that?” she asks, like she’s seen something way offensive.

“Like what?” Jesus asks, genuinely confused.

“Like that.  With that limp and her arm in the air…”

Jesus sends her a dark look.  “She walks fine.”  Then he walks over to where Frankie’s sitting and stands by her.

There’s no way in hell Jesus is gonna out Frankie’s CP just to prove that her gait is legit.  Some friends of Moms think that they should be teaching her how to talk about it with people - as if it’s her job to educate the public about her disability.  When it’s not.  If she wants to, that’s cool.  But if she doesn’t she shouldn’t have to feel like a damn zoo exhibit just because people around her have never been exposed to a kid who walks like she does.

“Settle in!  Have some food!  There’s plenty for everybody!” Mom calls, too loud.  She stops by Jesus and tells him lowly, “That includes you, okay?  You’re welcome to go through and fill your own plate, or one of us is more than happy to help.”

“I actually think I got it,” he says, swallowing.  

Mom is a pro at acting like she won’t be super embarrassed if he needs help in front of people, but then she always is.  So, it’s not that Pearl will think it’s weird (even though she obviously thinks Frankie’s weird), it’s that Mom won’t like it.

“You need help with your plate, buddy?” Jesus asks Frankie.

“Yeah, do you need help with yours?  I’m good at scooping.  I can scoop all the food on yours.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he nods.

--

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that Pearl’s managed to totally offend Jesus over what Pearl really thought was Frankie’s attempt at mocking someone else by being silly.  She feels like she has definitely overstayed her welcome already, but Jesus’s sisters (the teenagers) are around her, insisting she grab a plate and help herself.

Pearl does, falling into line directly behind little Frankie, whose walk is - dear God - totally consistent when she’s not being silly.  She is a horrible person.  Frankie has one plate and is sliding it down the countertop, scooping giant helpings of nachos and chicken wings onto the plate when Jesus lifts her up, and then telling Jesus just how to fill a second plate.

Not totally sure what’s going on, Pearl watches, until Jesus takes both plates.  He sets the one he filled in front of Frankie, and takes the one she filled for himself.

She gets caught up in conversation with Stef about when Pearl fished with some yarn off the end of the dock and fell in.  

“My heart was in my throat.  I couldn’t jump in fast enough,” Stef remembers.

“Is this before or after the pliers?” Lena asks.

“Wait.  What pliers?” Pearl asks.

“It was after,” Stef tells Lena.  “It so happens that about twenty four hours earlier you had found Dad’s pliers and pinched me.”

“What summer was this?” Pearl asks.

“1985.”

“So, I was two.  You can’t hold me to that,” Pearl laughs.  Under the table, Gracie stays close, feeling Pearl’s nerves even as she laughs.  “So when I fell in the lake you reluctantly saved me, I take it?” Pearl wonders.

“I saved you wholeheartedly,” Stef assures her.

“It’s kinda what she does,” Brandon volunteers.  “She and my dad.  They’re both savers.  They can’t help it.”

“Well, thank you for saving my life,” Pearl says awkwardly.  “It figures that my mother was nowhere around…”

“Oh she was in the yard, reading.  Where she thought you were.  But you were quick.”

“Sounds like something I’d do,” Pearl comments ruefully.

She stays long enough for dessert and then politely excuses herself.  Jesus hasn’t said two words to her since she commented about Frankie, and now that she’s eaten, there’s really no reason to stay.  

“Listen, thank you guys so much.  I better get going, though.  I keep pretty early hours.  Which means I have to sleep early, too.”

“What time did you get up?” Mariana asks, horrified.

“A little before four,” Pearl confides.

“In the morning?” Jude asks, alarmed.

Jesus keeps right on eating, so Pearl gets ready, and has plans to just call goodbye to all of them on her way out the door.  To her surprise, though, Jesus meets her at the door.

“Listen,” Pearl starts quietly, before he can say anything.  “I’m sorry for what I said about Frankie.  I didn’t realize that...it’s just…” she trails off, uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” Jesus says softly, but it’s obvious, the comment touched a raw nerve.  “It is.  Anyway, I just wanted to say bye.  And if you’re over having me crash your place afternoons, I understand.”

“No, I’m not over it.  Why would I be over it?” she asks, genuinely confused.

“Because...today was kinda a lot of us…” he admits.

“Hey, I came by choice,” she doesn’t add that her primary reason for showing up tonight had been to be able to see, up close, how Stef and Lena were with Jesus.  Were they supportive?  Did he have what he needed?  But Pearl realized pretty quickly that she didn’t know what to look for in that sense, so her whole mission had kind of imploded.  “But…” she continues.  “If you’d rather not hang out with someone who insults cute little kids, I’ll understand that, too.”

“You didn’t do it on purpose, though, right?” he checks.

“No,” she says.  “I did not.”

“Okay.  Then I’ll still come over.  Look for me tomorrow.  Bye, Gracie,” he calls.

“Will you thank your moms for me again, for the invitation and the dinner?”

“Want me to walk you back?” he asks.

“No, I don’t.  Gracie and I will be fine,” Pearl insists.  “Thank you, though.”

“Take care,” he says, before shutting the door.

--

Once Pearl is gone, the energy in the cabin changes.  Jesus can’t put his finger on what it is, but he can feel it.  It’s like everybody was “on” and now they’re not.  They’re still all about having the party but more informal.  They pay attention less.

They miss how Frankie keeps offering to get Jesus new plates and scooping out giant portions of everything so he can try it all, like he really wants.

“Did you try these brown beans yet, Jesus?  What about these chips and this big Santa-face cookie?”

He takes it all.  He can’t say no.  He really does need it.  But the chicken wings and the nachos are super triggering.  Even just being around them.  It hadn’t stopped him from eating the massive portions Frankie gave him, but they sat in his gut, making him remember being There on Super Bowl Sunday for four years.  How, every year, He would have chicken wings and nachos and eat in front of Jesus, never letting him have anything.

It gets to the point where Jesus is going down the line himself, once Frankie tires herself out and crashes on the living room floor.  Jesus goes back for more and more and more nachos.  More and more and more chicken, to make sure none of it goes to waste.

He’s way past full, but he can’t stop.  Mom doesn’t notice and Mama takes it as a positive sign that Jesus is feeling so comfortable here that he can get his own food.

That’s the thing, though.

He is so not comfortable.

So far, he’s smuggled Doritos, that Santa cookie and some chicken wings in his backpack.  He’s been so torn about eating everything and saving everything, he can’t make up his mind about what to do.

Moms and everybody else are hanging out in the living room, and Jesus can’t tear himself away from the food.  Everytime he tries, the smell pulls him back.

He thinks about calling for backup but he doesn’t want to ruin the party.  His family deserves one night where his trauma’s not monopolizing everything.

Jesus tries to manage it.  Tries to stuff it back down and goes to sit on the couch with just one plate of wings and nachos.  He watches the crowd in Times Square cheering and celebrating.  The camera pans, showing all the faces, and Jesus watches, mindlessly eating.

Until the sight of one guy in particular makes him choke.

About 50.  Dark hair.  Dark eyes.  White.  Heavy.  Balding.  Salt and pepper beard and mustache.  Holding a plastic cup with beer in it and kissing on a lady.  

Him.

Jesus had been sure he would never have to see that face again, but then why is it right there in a crowd in New York?  Is He looking for more boys to take?

Inside his chest, Jesus’s heartbeat picks up.  He excuses himself calmly for some water, but ends up gorging himself on all the rest of the wings and nachos.  He can’t feel okay until there are none left.  He even has to eat the wings in his backpack.  After that, he shuts himself shut in the bathroom, trying to breathe.

“He’s dead.  He can’t hurt you.”  Jesus tries to say this out loud, but he just ends up on his knees in front of the toilet, throwing up.

#fic: blink #fosters fic

[evielutionary]

Congratulatory Coffee || Puck + Evie

WHO: Naomi Puckerman & Evie Miller

WHERE: Puck’s station.

WHEN: During November, whenever Evie implied she was jealous of Alex. (This took a bit, and took me even longer to post). 

WHAT: To assuage her guilt over how she handled her feelings regarding a potential Puck/Alex situation, Evie brings Puck a surprise coffee -- but what she finds is that Puck’s been keeping a secret.

EVIE

It’s a friendly offering, she thinks. Coffee, at work, during what Evie can only assume is a busy day. Friendly, yes. Most definitely not an attempt to ease her own guilt for allowing her inner green-eyed monster loose. And even if it was, she’s pretty sure the whole display went over all involved parties’ heads so... she’s basically free and clear. She doesn’t need to be here.

But she wants to be. And so she is. It’s as simple and complicated as that. 

Or maybe, it’s actually more on the complicated side she quickly discovers. You see, her plan is to leave the coffee at the front desk with a little note for Officer Puckerman -- but there is no Officer Puckerman at the NYPD, anymore. Because now she goes by detective. And well, that changes everything. Detectives deserve to have their coffees hand delivered, don’t they? 

So, she gets directions from the lady at the front desk, and before she can second guess herself she’s knocking on Puck’s open office door. 

“Detective Puckerman,” she says, reading the plaque aloud. “Has a nice ring to it.”

PUCK

She still can’t really believe she made it. Every day she puts on regular clothes (well, not regular for her) instead of her uniform and it still feels like she’s gonna be yelled at when she gets to work because it was all somehow a dream. But no, she really is a detective now. No more shitty shifts. No more patrolling. And even if she’s having to bust her ass to prove giving her the promotion wasn’t a mistake, she’s never loved her job more. Maybe it’s because this is the first time in her life she’s set a goal for herself and made it. She’s always been an entry level kinda girl. Barely graduated high school. Started college but didn’t even come close to the GPA requirements to make pilot, so she just dropped out. Made it to Staff Sergeant, which sounded more impressive to her Ma than it actually was. And it took her five years to make a promotion they told her takes the average veteran less than three. 

But she made it. 

So she still gets some kinda butterfly situation going on when she hears her new rank, like she does right now, but this time it comes with a genuine smile, too, cause she has a surprise visit. 

“Miller.” She hasn’t really told anyone about the promotion. She feels weird talking about work shit with her civilian friends. They’re in college, or doing the professional artist thing, or having their own business. Just like her Ma with her Air Force promotions, they’ll think shit is more impressive than it actually is, or they’ll think it’s nothing when she’s been busting her ass, or... whatever. She’s pretty sure more than half of the population of Manhattan has seen her naked, but she’s hermetic about some other shit. She figures it balances out. 

“Glad you like it.” She stands up, motioning for her to come in. “What’s up? I hope you’re here to see me and not... detective me, I guess.”

EVIE

Evie follows the directive, stepping out of the doorway and into the actual office -- which is bigger than she expected it to be. Not that she really had expectations. But it’s nice, at any rate. Of their little group, she’s pretty sure Puck’s the most deserving of a nice sized office. Totally not bias. She just figures, she’s probably the one who’s worked the hardest to get it. 

Smirking, she says, “So then I suppose you’re not interested in taking on the case of the orphaned coffee?” She sighs dramatically as she gives the takeaway cup a feigned sympathetic look. “Shame that. I was sure Detective Puckerman could find you a good home. 

Is being weird again? Most likely. It seems to be her default with Puck. She can’t stop herself, it’s a problem. But Puck’s yet to tell her to get lost, so she figures she must not mind much.

PUCK

There’s this thing about Evie, if you ask Puck. She’s not funny. Not haha funny. But she’s cute funny. Puck chuckles at the orphaned coffee even if the joke is all shades of lame, because... that’s the thing about Evie, you know? Puck feels like she can tell why Evie thinks orphaned coffee is funny, and that makes the joke funny too. Somehow. It’s weird. She’s a detective, not a fucking... shrink, or whoever studies why people’s heads work the way they do. 

“I mean.” She takes a few steps towards Evie, just enough to be able to reach for the coffee and look inside the cup. Black coffee. No sugar, she hopes. Nice. “Who could say no to the perfect cup of coffee, right?” She wants to make sure Evie knows she got her coffee order just right. Which is kind of impressive, because Puck doesn’t think she knows how anyone at ACup takes her coffee, except for, like, Fiona. “Especially when it’s hand-delivered by someone this hot.” 

Puck winks as she takes the first sip. Evie is hot, she’s not kidding. She’s also not being pushy, she hopes, because she tries not to cross lines with girls who’ve already said sex isn’t what they’re after. But Evie’s hot, and she deserves to know. “So I get a surprise visit and a free cup of coffee.” She takes another sip, looking thoughtful and detective-y. She thinks. “Am I dying or something?”

EVIE

Evie bows her head just so, cursing herself for being so uncool as she feels the warmth of a blush creeping up her neck. It’s the body’s natural response, she figures. When somebody you like compliments your outward appearance your body thanks them with splotches of pink on your face even if it is said in the most friendly of manners -- how attractive. 

“Well,” she draws out the word, in a way that she hopes looks coy and not like she’s trying to come up with an answer better than ‘I felt a bit shit about acting childish and thought coffee would make up for it’. “Hadn’t seen you at the gym in a while.” Yes, good, that’s good. “Thought I’d swing by and make sure you haven’t given up your membership -- but now,” she lifts her hands up excitedly and gestures around the office, “It’s celebratory.” 

She shakes her head, her expression a mixture of pride and confusion. “Why didn’t you tell anybody you’d been promoted.” It’s a bit of an assumption, she knows -- Evie’s hardly everyone, just because she’s the last to find out doesn’t mean Puck hasn’t been out tooting her own horn. But she’s a bit of a detective herself, you see. She knows things. Like how good news travels fast around Acupp. And she’s yet to see anyone swoon over Detective Puckerman. 

“You know April would have thrown you a party.” A thoughtful pause. “It would have been inappropriate and featured one too many pairs of fuzzy handcuffs, but you like that sort of thing,” she teases, giving Puck a gentle nudge.

PUCK

Oh, Evie blushes pretty. Puck has a thing for that. For cute girls who blush and look like what Puck says affects them. That probably sounds douchier than she intended, but whatever. Normally, she fucks girls who are more than used to being complimented. They know they’re hot, they know Puck wants them, and while she’s sure they’re flattered, they’re hardly moved by someone telling them they’re pretty. Which she gets, don’t get her wrong. She’s hot as balls, she’s not gonna blush because of a compliment. 

But some girls do. Evie does. And that’s just... nice. Yeah. 

She could just stand there and smirk at that pretty blush and just enjoy the effect her compliment had on Evie, but she can’t, cause this is a conversation. And Evie’s asking her something. Why hasn’t she told anyone about the promotion? 

Puck shrugs just so, taking a long sip of her coffee. “Didn’t come up.” Which is true. Nobody asked. She told this one girl the night she got her promotion. She picked her up at a bar and said ‘I’m a detective’ in a tone that made the girl think she was kidding, which was fine as far as Puck was concerned. She wasn’t gonna see her again, anyway. Which was probably why Puck chose her to share the news with anyway. 

She chuckles at the imagery of April coming up with a detective-themed party. Fuzzy handcuffs and all. “She’d probably come up with some kind of... porn-themed version of a whodunnit game. Like Clue, but with a dildo instead of a candlestick.” Maybe she should tell her, just to get that as a reward. “You’re right though, I do enjoy a lil pink fuzz on my handcuffs.” She points at the ones hanging from her belt, “You think April would make me a fuzzy cover for these?”

EVIE

Here’s the thing -- Evie finds Puck to be charming. Annoyingly so. Frankly, her life would probably be much easier if she didn’t -- not really much she can do about that. But that doesn’t mean she’s immune to finding certain behaviours annoying. Like this for example. And so she rolls her eyes pointedly because she thinks it’s important Puck know she thinks she’s being silly. “You mean to tell me, not once did it occur to anybody to ask if you’d received a job promotion they didn’t know you were up for? Shocking.” Her tone was very obviously not shocked. That was silliness, and they both knew it. 

But she’s not about to press the issue. Not when she’s genuinely so proud of her friend. It’s a big deal, she thinks. Sort of like getting tenure. And even if she’s trying to play cool, Puck looks pretty chuffed with herself which is sweet. She feels her cheeks warm for a whole other reason. 

Besides, Puck’s already expertly moved on -- planning her own porn-themed whodunnit, best not press the issue. 

“I’m sure she would if you asked nicely,” she says in reference to the fuzzy cuffs, reaching down to finger Puck’s own for good measure (and because honestly, she can’t help herself, she’s always been curious). “Were I handier I’d give it a go myself, but that really does seem more April’s area of expertise.” She’s pretty sure Puck doesn’t so much care what her expertise is, but whatever. “But, I do think you should have a party.” A pause and a wide smile. “I’m quite proud of you. I’m sure our friends will be too, once you tell them.”

PUCK

Puck ignores the pointed tone of Evie’s question. So she hasn’t told them on purpose, and Evie knows. Doesn’t mean they have to discuss it, right? Especially not now. 

Because being Naomi Puckerman, there are a great many good things she’s more than used to hearing. How hot she is. How good in bed. How charming, how smooth, how hard to resist. Lately, even, how good she is at her job. But someone being proud of her? That’s a first. She doesn’t know if she’s ever made anyone proud, but even if she has, she’s certainly never heard it said out loud. But Evie is. Proud of her, out loud. 

And that’s... something. 

“Yeah?” She’s not flirting. She’s just kinda surprised. Kinda amazed, to be honest. Not enough to miss the way Evie’s touching her handcuffs, cause she’s still a red-blooded lesbian and she reacts to pretty girls coming close and touching her handcuffs. “I don’t really wanna make a big deal out of it.” Even though it kind of is the biggest deal of her career in the last five years. But that’s neither here nor there. “You smell good.” She smiles. Not like she's much of a hugger, so she's not usually this close to girls she's not fucking. “I mean that in the least creepy way possible. I know you said you don’t wanna bang. Just saying, you smell good. It’s nice.”

EVIE

“Yeah.” She nods -- of course, she’s proud, don’t be daft! But Puck’s not playing. There’s something serious about her tone, a vulnerability -- she’s not playing, she’s sincerely taken aback. And that makes something in Evie’s heart hurt. She’s an optimist, you see. By her estimation, nobody should ever have to wonder if they’ve made someone proud. Especially not Puck. And she’s got half a mind to tell her just but Puck’s moved on.

 She’s all over the place. Evie’s not sure if she’s just trying to distract her or if Puck’s mind is just having a wander, but if that is her plan it’s working. Becuase apparently she doesn’t want to make a big deal and also Evie smells good. 

Does she? 

She resists the urge to sniff herself. She gets away with a lot being sciencey and sort of socially awkward, but there are some quirks a person can’t come back from. And she doesn’t want to stick Puck with that mental image, because -- 

“Now hang on a minute -- I never said I don’t want to bang,” she corrects (she totally didn’t, right?), the word bang coming out just barely above a whisper. She knows it’s impossible, but she still feels like her parents can hear her when she talks about sexy things, and that will not do. “I said I didn’t want to just bang you.” Or at least that’s what she’d meant to say. It’s like she said to Alex the other day. What she’d meant to say was she’d like to bang and also get to know her on a personal and emotional level, but what she’s quickly learning Puck heard was no thanks, not interested. She’d friendzoned her, on accident. 

“To be clear,” because she thinks now she ought to be, even if that’s terrifying for a multitude of reasons, “I like your brain and your brawn.” That’s probably more direct, right?

PUCK

Puck just looks at Evie as she talks, the expression on her face going from neutral to downright delighted as she finally understands what’s going on. It’s not that Evie doesn’t wanna fuck. It’s just that she doesn’t want it to be just a fuck. And that’s awesome for two reasons: one, that she does want to fuck. And two, that Puck happens to love a good friend with benefits situation more than most things in life. You get sex, but also a buddy. What’s better than that? 

“Mostly the brawn. I’ve seen you look at me at the gym, Elliptical Queen.” Puck winks, obviously kidding. Well, half kidding. Really only kidding about the nickname bit, cause she has actually seen Evie look at her so that part is true. And Evie is an intelligent woman so there’s no way she’s hot for Puck’s brain. But Puck gets what she’s saying. And she loves it. 

“Seriously, though. We should go out. Or stay in.” Both options work just fine. “Let’s just... have our own celebration, instead of getting everyone else involved.” So they can fuck and hang out and she doesn’t need to talk to everyone about her job and her promotion. Win/win. “Yeah?”

EVIE

And she’s blushing again. She knows she’s not a smooth as she’d like to be, but there’s something about being caught blatantly staring at the person you fancy when they’re all sweaty from a workout that just… well, warms a person’s cheeks. She doesn’t make the rules. She’s just profoundly affected by them. But she figures if Puck’s teasing her about it, she must not mind – in fact, Evie sort of thinks she likes it so that’s not all bad, is it? 

Not that it stops her cheeks from burning a shade just shy of tomato. 

Ah well, can’t win ‘em all right? And seeing as how pleased Puck looks now that she’s clarified the situation – well, it sort of feels like she’s winning enough already, doesn’t it?

Evie bites her lip to stop from grinning too much – this situation right here has been on her mind (in her fantasies?) for some time now, but she still doesn’t want to come off as being too keen. She may never manage to come off as totally cool, but she can tiptoe around it. 

“You sure?” Sure she doesn’t want a big to-do? Sure Evie’s really the one she wants to be celebrating with? It’s not self-deprecating, she’s just sure there are others in their friend group who could really appreciate the weight of this promotion. “Might be passing your only shot at a porn-themed whodunnit…”

PUCK

“Fuck, you blush pretty.” She’s thought it plenty of times before - during this conversation, even - but she never said it. Mostly because it’s the kind of thing you don’t tell girls who’ve already made it clear they don’t want you in that way. But now that she knows Evie does? Well. She can tell her now. She blushes fucking gorgeous. So gorgeous, in fact, that Puck glances at her office door to see if it’s closed, and she frowns just so when she sees it isn’t. Wasted opportunity for a first kiss. But making out with a girl in her office when it’s been less than a month since she was promoted may not be the smartest move, so the kiss will have to wait. 

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Now it’s her turn to look a bit incredulous, like Evie did earlier when Puck wondered out loud if she really was proud. Is she sure she wants to hang out with a friend who’s totally down to fuck? Yeah. Yeah, she’s pretty damn sure. “I wanna know if the blush stops at the neck or it’s a full body situation.” She smirks. Playful, but a little predatory, and a lot serious. Oh, she’s gonna make Evie blush. Hopefully. While naked. She wants to know what Evie’s blush tastes like, and what she tastes like when she blushes. She won’t say that out loud, cause - again - her office is prob not the place for dirty talk. But she hopes the look in her eye is letting Evie know exactly what she’s thinking of. 

“I mean, let’s be honest. We just need to suggest it and we both know April will make it happen even if there’s no celebration to be had.” It’s not like April to pass up on an opportunity to mix games with pornography. “So what do you say?” She remembers what Evie said at her party, so... “You gonna introduce me to Date Evie tonight?”

EVIE

To be honest, Evie’s never found her blush to be in any way remarkable. Truthfully, she’s never thought much about her face full stop -- she’s not the sort who’s going to get ahead in life with her looks, and she’s perfectly okay with that. But when Puck says her blush is pretty -- forget what she says, it’s the way she says it that has Evie’s toes curling -- she finds herself thinking maybe she’s been mistaken this whole time. Perhaps her blush really is the most remarkable thing about her. 

It’s unlikely - logically she knows that -- but it doesn’t stop it from feeling true. 

She takes a deep breath. Puck’s dangerous. She hadn’t noticed it before -- what with the friendly nature of their relationship. But now, in the midst of their revelation, she’s realizing she might be out of her depth. But hey, if she’s going to drown, let it be in this sexual tension -- because frankly in all her 29 years it never occurred to her that the idea of further flirtation could be so exciting. 

Turns out, when there’s chemistry the idea of a solo celebration is actually quite thrilling. Who knew? 

“Okay,” she nods. Puck’s right. April will take any excuse to throw a party period, nevermind an inappropriate one. And besides, she can always suggest it for Puck’s birthday. Evie leans towards her just so, her voice low and her smile cheeky. “But I should warn you, once you’ve met Date Evie, you’ll never be the same.”

PUCK

Puck can tell Evie’s nervous. She can’t pinpoint the why, exactly - not like Puck’s some random girl picking her up at a bar, they’re friends - but she knows she is. But she’s saying okay, and she’s teasing her a bit, and that must mean things are fine, right? 

“I mean, I’m a big fan of life-changing experiences. Especially if they involve a girl who blushes as pretty as you do.” She winks, and she would kiss her for effect, but again - open door. So she settles for just smiling at her instead, and reaching for her hand. She doesn’t really take it for the same reason she didn’t kiss Evie, but she does sort of grace it with her own. Just letting her know she’s thinking about it. 

“I can come over later. Fiona’s having a rough time with girls so I try not to bring any home these days.” She shrugs. Not like Fiona’s told her to keep girls away or anything, but Puck can tell she’s not really in the mood for Puck’s lady visitors. Not even if they’re a friend, like Evie. “Nothing fancy, yeah?” She hopes that’ll ease some of Evie’s worries. “We’ll just hang out.” A beat, and then teasing. “Naked.” And her tone goes back to serious then. Flirty, yes. But serious. “You know you can change your mind, right? You look kinda nervous.”

EVIE

Puck barely touches her, but Evie swears she can feel it warm her whole arm. Talk about life-changing experiences. If this is the result of Puck grazing her, she wonders what she’ll feel when they’re really alone. Boy is It lucky Puck thinks her blush is so pretty because Evie’s quite certain she’s going to see a lot of it. 

Fiona’s having girl troubles, and Evie frowns. She knows Fiona enough from her time spent at the elementary school to consider her a friend, she doesn’t much like the thought of her having a rough go, but she supposes that’s just life. 

And oh goodness, is she looking nervous? She doesn’t want to be, she swears -- there’s just no manual on feelings. This isn’t her area of expertise. She wants to let her know she’s into this she’s just... wrapping her head around it. She came with a guilty conscience to deliver a coffee and now she’s leaving with a date. With the woman, she’s fancied for some time now. It’s a lot to digest. 

“I’m good.” She shakes her head -- impulsively moving brush the tips of her fingers down the back of Puck’s hand. A reciprocal gesture, she figures. I want this. “No taksies backsies,” she warns in a manner she hopes doesn’t resemble a kindergarten teacher. “We’ll hang out. However, I can’t promise there won’t be a little fancy -- let me remind you that you did ask to meet Date Evie.”

PUCK

Evie’s cute. The way she touches her hand, like Puck needs reassurance. It’s cute as fuck, and now she knows Evie’s into her, so she doesn’t have to tack on a little ‘as a friend’ at the end. She’s cute as fuck, and they’re gonna fuck later, and this is a good day to be Naomi Puckerman indeed. There’s nothing she likes more than fucking a cute girl. Something about taking all that wholesomeness and cuteness and just... making a mess of it. 

Yeah. 

That’s good. 

Puck clears her throat, mostly because one of the agents is trying to get her attention, and she probably shouldn’t have thoughts of just how wet this cute girl in particular could get with Puck’s face between her thighs while she’s trying to do her job. Right? Right. 

“I need to go back to playing detectives.” She winks, smiling. She’s in a fucking fantastic mood. She’s been kinda bummed about Evie not wanting her for a while, so this is like early Hannukah to her. “See you tonight, then. I’ll make sure I dress up some for Date Evie.”

EVIE

Puck’s got to get back to work, and honestly, it’s fine by Evie -- she hadn’t meant to keep her as long as she did. No regrets though, because as she walks out of the prescient she sort of feels like she’s on a cloud. She has a date. A proper one. Which on its own is a bit of a shocker, she’s sure. But a date with Puck -- well, she might have to take a picture just so she can prove to herself later that it actually happened. 

But it’s great. She’s got the afternoon off to get ready. Flat, cleaned. Roommates, out. Everything’s coming together until she realizes she can’t for the life of her come up with any clever detective themed meal ideas. Which is shameful, she thinks -- seeing as she’s dubbed herself the Pun Master and all. 

Still, she thinks she manages to pull it all together quite nicely in the end -- poison apple martinis, some fresh from the crime scene ‘finger’ sandwiches, and a private eye pie for dessert (she realizes most of these will require an explanation, but its the thought that counts right?) -- so that by the time Puck should be arriving she’s wearing a little black dress, some red lip, and a Sherlock Holmes style detective hat, she’s actually rather pleased with her last-minute party planning skills. 

She waits, perched at the edge of her seat on the couch (because she’s excited for Puck, obviously -- not because she’s weird or has some kind of schoolgirl crush... okay, maybe a little bit of that last thing, but shhh) -- but instead of a knock on the door she receives a text. Something about being sorry and work and not being able to make it after all (she’ll do more than skim when she replies later). And she gets it, she really does -- she’s had to cancel more than her fair share of plans, but it doesn’t stop the disappointment from setting in. That sinking feeling that it all really was too good to be true. 

There’s no pouting (well, not much) as she cleans up the ‘crime scene’. It is, as they say, what it is. But no sunshiney optimism is enough to stop her from devouring her feels in the form of pie before crawling into bed for some netflix and pup cuddles. 

#para: np #para: congratulatory coffee