@gecko-in-a-can THIS ABSOLUTELY

Resentment is such a big part of Benny’s motives towards House, feeling he’s underserving to rule and shouldn’t have the right to keep the title of Vegas just because he claimed it first long ago. Say what you will, Benny puts the effort in, through honest and dishonest work albeit, but he puts in the effort. Not saying House didn’t but House had the luxury of having a lot of that effort done before the war and subordinates to do so after. House is untouchable, something everyone wants in the Mojave, if not for the power, but because of the security. House takes that for granted seeing how easy he thinks it is to buy people. Benny, a Mojave native, has to be irate about that seeing how he has seen the heights and slums of both lives.

Also with the AIs it’s so telling because in a lot of ways, Yes Man has more autonomy than House’s major personality securitrons. Yeah, Yes Man has to be helpful but he’s aware and able to be snarky and coy. Benny has an issue with not being listened to but that’s the only perimeter Yes Man needs to act on. He can’t condescend but lord you can tell when he wants to. House’s AIs serves specific and highly detailed functions but are confined to act in accordance. They are subservient to a T and are extensions of House while Yes Man really is a creation that adapts further, hence his desire for the assertive upgrade. Benny made something, or at least was okay with a helper, that can progress for itself. House made things that replicate or facilitate an era of the past and don’t hold the power to contest it.

Star For The Night

Chapter Eleven of the Through the Scope series | Chapter Twelve

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 5.3K

Chapter Overview: Estrella finally gets her chance in the ring

TW: typical boxing violence, men being creepy/weird, knife play (don't look at me like that), p in v penetration

Notes: hey everyone !! guess who's back from the dead LMAOOOO ,, okay so yes i took a break because 1) life was beating the ever living fuck out of me and 2) i'm still working out the kinks of where i want this story to go/ how i want it to end. i always forget that i'm going to need to wrap these things up with a pretty little bow at the end because i just get so excited that i jump in. no worries though because i still fully intend to finish this story. thank you to the people who were patient with me in my break, to the people the sent encouraging messages, and to the people that kept reading the story !! it truly means the word to me ((: still brain storming for chapter 12 so in the mean time please send me fun asks for the TF boys and Estrella !! lmk if you want to be added to the tag list/ if i left you off !! happy reading <3

*no use of y/n & female presenting reader*

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“I know you’re doing it to be respectful and all, but you don’t have to hide in a stall. You’ve seen me naked, Frankie.”

“Yes ma’am.” He comes fumbling out of the cramped space. 

You laugh quietly to yourself as you finish tying your shirt. “What do you think?” You turn in a circle so he has a chance to see the full outfit.

His eyes darken as he walks the short distance to you.

“I think we should ditch this place and go to my house before Benny notices we’re gone.” He places two firm hands on your waist and pulls you into him.

“I don’t think we would be able to sneak past the guards.” You motion with your head to the door. “I have it on good authority that they have a military background.”

“Will and Pope definitely owe me a favor for something in the past. I could use that as leverage.” He kisses his way down your neck. “And I bet if you ask really nicely it could work.” Your head drifts to the side and he hungrily licks and bites at your skin.

“Hey! Break it up you two! There will be plenty of time for that later.” Benny walks into the locker room. “I know she’s your girl Fish, but tonight she’s my ring girl.”

“She is my girl.” Frankie wraps his arm around your shoulder and you lean into him. “Officially.” 

Benny turns his head towards you seeking extra conformation and the giddy look splayed across your face is exactly what he needs.

“Oh shit!” He claps his hands together in front of him. “Congratulations guys!”

Benny bounds up to the both of you and pulls y’all in for a hug. You embrace him with the same energy. There were countless moments before in Benny and your friendship where you knew that he cared for you, but this one takes the cake. He clutches onto you and you can truly feel the happiness he’s exuding. 

“It took you long enough.” He says to Frankie as he releases y’all. “I would just like to say for the record that I definitely helped move this relationship along.”

You grin while the man next to you lets out an exaggerated groan. 

“What? I was totally playin’ a double agent. Operation catch-a-fish is complete!” 

“Operation catch-a-fish?” You and Frankie question in unison.

He hurriedly brushes the query off. “We can discuss that on a later date. Right now I need to give her a quick rundown of her role.” Benny shifts his attention solely on you now. “It’s super simple, I promise. I’ll go out there and do the intro for the whole night and then I’ll introduce you and wave you into the ring. After that you just need to call out the names of each fighter and then start the match. Just remember to say ‘fight’ once you have made your way outside the ring because it gets ugly in there fast.”

“Simple my ass.” You say, crossing your arms over your chest. “How will I know the fighters names? I’ve never seen a teleprompter for the ring girl to read off of and I don’t think I can manage to remember all of those damn names.”

“I’ll tell you the names beforehand. We will have brief chances to talk during the boxin’ rounds since we will be standing next to each other on the side lines. It’s gonna be perfect.”

“You’ll be next to me the whole time?”

“Absolutely.”

You look up when you feel Frankie squeeze your shoulder. “The guys and I will be there too. We won’t let anything happen to you, Estrella. You’re going to do amazing.”

“Thanks. I really hope so.” 

It makes you feel good to know that they believe in you so fully.

“You’re going to look amazin’ too! People won’t be able to take their eyes off of you long enough to watch the matches!”

“God, don’t remind me.” You feel his hand tug tighter on you at Benny’s words. You aren’t the biggest fan of overly macho or hyper-masculine men, but this is just the right touch. It felt nice to not have to be the sole person protecting yourself. It felt nice that someone else is more than willing to take up the mantle.

“It’s almost 10 o’clock, Benny!” Will shouts into the locker room. “Let’s get a move on!”

“That’s my cue!” Benny hums. “The names of the guys you will be announcin’ first are Rodriguez and Montoya! See ya’ out there!”

You and Frankie follow Benny out the doors and watch with Will and Pope as he kicks off the night's events.

“Hello, everybody! Who’s excited to see what we have planned?!” The crowd erupts all around him. It’s deafening and quite the stark contrast to how the gym is during a regular week day. People encircle the boxing ring and hoist their beer bottles in the air. They look like a turbulent ocean. “That’s what I like to hear!” He shouts. “Now, I have an extra special treat for y’all tonight! Our usual ring girl is out so a good friend of mine stepped up to the plate and will be fillin’ in for her! You all know and love her! It’s … !”

When Benny says your name the crowd cheers again. You didn’t think that they could manage to get even louder than they were the first time. In front of you, Will and Pope part the sea of people in order to make an obstruction free path for you to walk. You take a deep breath and hold on tightly to Frankie’s hand.

“I’m right here.” He whispers in your ear. “I’m always going to be right here, Estrella.”

You look up at him with tears threatening to show themselves as he guides you through the pathway. His quiet words of support manage to silence the roaring people surrounding you. It feels like it’s just you and him in the room together. He squeezes your hand one last time before letting it go so you can climb through the ropes that encase the ring. Benny holds up the top rope so you can shimmy your way through and join him at the center.

“Ain’t she a peach?!” He asks the throng of people.

Of all the thoughts careening around in your head at this moment, something Benny said to you the first time you met sticks out. 

“Bein’ in there is electric, man. Gotta be one of the best feelins’ in the world hands down.”

God, is he right. You feel like you’re on the top of the world when in reality you are maybe a few feet higher than everyone else. The energy in the room fills you with a sense of confidence and excitement you didn’t know you could possess. Faces, some familiar and some new, stare back at you with glee.

“Happy to be here with y’all tonight!” You exclaim.

Empowered by the reaction that you receive, you take a lap around your new stage and wave to everyone. When you circle back around to Benny, you don’t think you have ever seen him look so proud. 

“I’m going to get my ugly mug outta here so our main girl can kick this thing off! Take it away!”

He jumps down to where Frankie, Will, and Pope are all standing and cheering for you.

“She’s a damn natural up there.” Pope marvels.

“I knew she could do it!” Benny wraps his arm around his brother.

“She’s going to be the star of the ring tonight, that’s for sure.” Will states. 

“That’s my girl!” Frankie shouts up to you. In reality, he would have been proud of you regardless. You tripped getting into the ring? You still got in there when no one else did. Your voice cracked when you started to talk? You were still brave enough to take on this entire room single handedly. You may be their star tonight, but you were his estrella every single day.

“The first fighters of the night are…” You pause for effect. “Rodriguez and Montoya!”

The boxers come racing out of the men’s locker room and make a beeline for the ring. The guests stepped to the side and allowed them through, cheering and hollering the whole time. After they breach the ring, they mirror you by doing a lap. They seem to be feeding off the audience the same way you are. You call them over to you so Friday Fight Night can officially get started. Following your instructions they meet you in the middle of the ring, but each one of them plants a quick kiss on your cheek and asks you to wish them luck. They each get into their fighting stance and wait for your signal.

“Round one!” You yell, slipping under the ropes to the safety of your friends. Benny thrusts a wireless mic into your hands when you get positioned next to him. “Fight!”

Benny uses that same mic to narrate what’s happening during the rounds and then to announce the winner of each match. After Rodriguez goes down hard in the third round, you slip back inside to hold up Montoya’s hand in victory. If you’re being honest, the majority of the night after that is an adrenaline filled blur. 

“Dawson and Overton!” 

“Dawson wins!”

“Clark and Edwards”

“Edwards wins!”

“Wood and Harrison!”

“Wood wins!”

In between screaming your lungs out announcing boxers for the crowd, Frankie has you wrapped in his arms. It feels so good to be able to lay your tired body against his chest as he places kisses on the top of your head. You can feel his steady heartbeat on your back and it helps you calm your own down. It’s so strong and grounding and yours. It occurs to you that having to get ready to help host the fights tonight stole the time that should have been dedicated to freaking out about Frankie finally asking you to be his girlfriend. You were finally his and he was finally yours. The earlier events of the night clearly showed his past was tumultuous to say the least. He willingly opened up to you about Rochelle, not that she gave him much of a choice, and about his drug addiction. Things that you know couldn’t have been easy to do. You saw it in his eyes that he was struggling to explain it all. Yet, the determination on his end to come completely clean for you was humbling and empowering. It made you want to show him your scars. After all, he wasn’t the only one with skeletons in his closet. 

“Okay, are you ready for the last round of fighters?” Benny has to talk loudly next to your ear in order to make sure you can hear him over the noise.

You give him a thumbs up and are secretly happy the night has almost concluded. As fun as this has been, you’re exhausted. 

“It’s going to be Jacobs and,” He pauses. “Brunson.” You must have made a face unconsciously because he quickly speaks again. “I know. I know. It’s going to be over soon. We’ll all be right here waiting for you.”

You nod at Benny and tap lightly on the arms that are currently encircling your waist. You look up at him and can tell that he doesn’t want to let you go, but smiles nonetheless as he untangles himself from you. 

“Just one more fight.” You whisper encouragingly to Frankie before climbing back into the ring.

“Last fight of the evening, folks! Let’s hope it's a good one!” You announce to the thoroughly drunk crowd. “Your final fighters are going to be Jacobs and Brunson!”

You try to hide your repugnance when Brunson is the first one to slip through the ropes and jog around hyping up the viewers. His dark black hair is meticulously combed back as usual. You muster up the last bit of your strength and call out to the two men. They trot over to you and stand by your side, Jacobs to the left and Brunson to the right. Jacobs leans down and places a small kiss on your cheek. It had become somewhat of a lucky thing to do this evening and caught on quickly with the rest of the boxers. They were always respectful and never tried anything else other than a small peck. You genuinely wish Jacobs well in his match. When Brunson goes in for his kiss, you instinctively swivel out of the way. 

“What’s wrong? Don’t you have one more kiss left for me?” He speaks so only you can hear. 

“Unfortunately, I’m all out.” You shrug innocently. 

Backing away from the freshly scorned man, you tell them to get into their fighting stances before hopping out of the ring to use the mic. 

“Round one! Fight!”

You pass off the mic to Benny so he can do his thing and retreat to the safety of Frankie. He obviously saw what happened up there and noticed how you were huddling as deep into his body as you could get.

“What was that?” He asks curiously. 

“Some prick who doesn’t understand when a woman clearly isn’t interested in him.” You scowl, trying to manifest Jacobs landing a punch to Brunson's jaw.

“Has he been bothering you?” His tone has shifted from one of curiosity to one of worry.

“He tries to hit on me when he comes into work out sometimes.” You feel his arms squeeze slightly tighter on you as you talk. “I shut him down hard every time and Benny is always close by. It’s not a big deal, but I should have told you about him. I don’t want to keep you in the dark.”

“I would have liked to have known if someone was giving you a hard time at work, but I’m not upset at you. I don’t really have any room to be.” You can feel his belly rise and fall as he laughs lightly behind you. “It took me a while to explain what was going on with me. I’m just glad that Benny was there to watch out for you. I am upset at him though.” He rests the underside of his chin on the top of your head.

You hum in agreement. “I also already have a pretty great boyfriend. Why would I even think of entertaining some random guy? He could never satisfy me the way you do.” 

Frankie breathes out heavily from his nose and you can feel your hair move. He leans down and places a kiss on your shoulder. “I’ll make sure you’re more than satisfied when we get back to my house.”

A shiver of excitement creeps its way down your back as his words settle in your ears. You know it's cruel and you know you’re in public, but you can’t help but rub your ass against him. The room is full of a bunch of drunk people watching a boxing match so who cares. His hands tighten around you to hold you into place. You’re unable to move your hips. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game right now, Estrella.”

“I guess I’m getting tired of watching other people do dangerous things and I wanted to try it out for myself.”

“I’m hanging on by a thread as it is watching you prance around up there in that tiny little outfit. Seeing you dance around for everyone? Get kissed on the cheek by random men? I’m losing my mind down here.” 

Both you and Frankie are snapped back to a lustless reality when the crowd lets out a wild cry. Brunson has his arms up in a defensive position while Jacobs wails on him with his glove-covered fists. Overcome by the glorious scene in front you, you start yelling like every other observer.

“Fucking hit him! Take him down, Jacobs!”

Frankie is still holding you while you flail your arms every which way. He looks over at Pope and Will who are transfixed by your sudden outburst. They raise their eyebrows at him and he mouths ‘tell you later’. There is no way they would have been able to hear him over your manic yelling anyway. 

“Break his fucking jaw!” You holler.

“Ella es luchadora esta noche!” Pope calls to Frankie over the commotion. 

“Esa es mi chica!” He answers.

Jacobs continues to hammer down on Brunson. In a last ditch attempt to get out of the predicament he is in, Brunson takes swings at Jacobs. Unfortunately for him, that left an open space for Jacobs’ fist to make direct contact with the side of Brunson’s head. He lands hard on the matt and, with his last bit of strength, taps his hand on the floor. Pompous fucker didn’t even make it past the first round.

You leap out of Frankie’s grip and charge the ring along with Benny. Both of you scramble to get inside to make the final calls of the night. 

“Jacobs wins!” You cry holding up the very hand that took down Brunson.

Benny wraps his arm around your shoulder and speaks into the mic.

“That’s a wrap on this week's Friday Fight Night, everyone! Thank you for coming out and showing support for Brass Knuckles! Remember to come visit us again next week and to drive home carefully!”

Jacobs thanks you for being a great co-host before he heads off to the locker room to shower, change, and head out. Everyone else begins to slowly file out of the building as well. Your strength being rejuvenated after seeing Brunson get what was coming to him, has you giggling and leaning against the ropes facing your friends. 

“You really held your own out there, hon. I wouldn’t want to mess with you.” Will teases. 

You stick your tongue out and laugh along with him as the gym gets quieter. 

“I told you she’d be a good ring girl, Benny.” Pope speaks over your shoulder. “I’d never steer you wrong.”

“I knew you wouldn’t, man.” Benny confirms with a grin. “Come on, Brunson, get up. It’s time to clear out. Better luck next time, hmm?” He looks down at the man sitting in the corner of the ring massaging the left side of his face.

“Yeah, I’m going, Miller.” He grumbles. “Can’t a guy leave the ring with some dignity?”

“I don’t think you had any dignity walking into the ring to begin with.” He chortles. 

You haven’t been paying either man any mind because Frankie has walked up to the side of the ring you are leaning against. He pinches the collar of your shirt between his thumb and forefinger and gently pulls your giggling self towards him. He captures your lips in a kiss and you can taste faint hints of the beer he was nursing during the show.

“That's the reason?” A grating voice calls out from behind you. “That’s the reason you won’t go out with me?” 

You break away from Frankie and turn to see Brunson looking at you still holding the side of his face; Benny is already staring at him with an open mouth.

“Excuse me?” You question, daring him to repeat what he just said. 

“Brunson, the fuck are you talking about, man?” Benny looks exhausted. You aren’t sure if that's from tonight or Brunson specifically.

“You keep shooting me down because you’re fucking one of Miller’s military friends?” He says it like this is the only possible reason for your rejection of him.

“Oh shit.” Pope whispers somewhere behind you. 

“Brunson.” Benny warns.

“Did it ever occur to you in your myopic little mind that I just don’t fucking like you?” You hiss. 

“You’re such a bitch.” He laughs as if he just said something incredibly profound. 

“That’s it!” Frankie growls behind you. “Come here, you fucking asshole!”

You whip around to see Will and Pope rushing forward to grab each of his arms so he can’t climb into the ring. 

“Alto, hermano!” 

“Don’t, Catfish! You know you can’t have assaultin’ someone on your record! It’s going to hurt your chances of getting it back!”

You don’t know what Will is referring to when he said ‘it’, but whatever it was is enough to cause Frankie to falter for half a second.

“Who’s gonna tell?!” He’s still trying to pull out of their grip. “I know y’all won’t and this fucker won’t be alive to report me!”

“Get the fuck outta the ring now.” Benny’s voice is ice cold when he speaks to Brunson. “You aren’t welcome back here after this either.” 

“What? All because I said she was banging your friend?” The battered man climbs to his feet and starts walking to exit the ring. “My bad, maybe she’s banging all four of yall.”

It happens so quickly that you don’t even have time to be scared. Benny’s fist flies through the air and connects with Brunson’s jaw with a deliciously satisfying crack. His body crumbles to the ground and unlike in his first fight, he doesn’t get back up. You don’t hear Frankie trying to get inside the ring now, Will and Pope are both silent behind you as well, and Benny looks as calm as ever. 

“I have been wantin’ to do that for a while now.” He beams. “God, that felt so fuckin’ good.”

“You just punched him.” You say airily. 

Benny just flashes you his boyish grin and shrugs. “He had it comin’.” He looks over your shoulder at his friends. “I know you would have done it, Fish. I was just a little closer. I hope you don’t mind.” 

“It was probably better that you did it for a number of reasons.” Frankie admits. “The biggest one being I don’t think I could have stopped at just one punch.” 

“Well…what do we do now?” You laugh. “We can’t just leave him here. Although, I’m sure I could be convinced to.”

“You and Fish are goin’ to leave him here.” Benny answers nonchalantly. “Y’all have dealt with too much bullshit for one night. The boys and I can stay here to clean up and wait until this loser wakes up.” 

“Seriously?” Frankie sounds stunned. 

“Seriously?” You echo.

“Seriously?” Pope whines.

“Yeah! Y’all go get the rest you need. Bosses orders.” 

“This ain’t nothin’ we can’t handle.” Will assures you. 

“I still don’t want to do it.” Pope says, yet he seems to change his tune after Will smacks him upside the head. “But I would be more than happy too!”

You individually hug all three of them for allowing you and Frankie to leave. Benny was right, both of y’all did need rest. Too bad there were other plans in place already.

***

You have barely closed the front door before Frankie picks you up and throws you over his shoulder. He had to watch you frolic around all night in that tiny little outfit and he was struggling to keep it together the entire time. Your breasts were calling his name, that short skirt was teasing him, those fishnets begged to be ripped off, and that smile. Oh, your fucking smile. That was probably the sexiest thing that you wore tonight. He definitely wasn’t complaining about your outfit, but your smile made him weak. The fact that it seemed the biggest when you were looking at him brought him to his knees.

You hear him kick the door the rest of the way open and then he’s tossing you down on the bed. His normally soft brown eyes appear almost black as he stares down at you. You can’t help but clench your legs together and his eyes sweep over your body.

“God, you’re perfect.” His voice is raspy from yelling all evening. “I wish you could see yourself from my point of view.” 

A wetness in between your legs starts to make itself known to you. You watch as he tosses his cap off, pulls his shirt off in one swift motion, and starts to remove his jeans. The thigh high boots are all you manage to get off before he places a heavy hand on your leg.

“I want to try something a little different.” He states. “Will you let me?”

There is a command in his question, but also an air of hesitation. He seems like he wants you to be just as on board as he is. 

“I’ll let you do anything you want.” You say truthfully. 

A grin appears on his face after he hears your stamp of approval. Frankie turns around to the desk behind him and slides something metal off of it. He’s obstructing your view with his hands. 

“I told you before that Benny isn’t going to have an outfit to get back from you because I’m going to tear it off.” 

You nod, swallowing the growing lump in your throat.

“I decided that I didn’t want to do that anymore. I’m going to cut it off.”

He brings out the object that he took off his dresser and unfolds it in front of you. It’s a pocket knife. However, it’s bigger than any pocket knife you have ever seen. The blade is thin, long, and a blinding silver. Your wetness soaks its way through your panties the longer you take in the image of Frankie holding the knife in front of you. Where he was usually a soft and sweet looking man, now he looked dark and lustful. It’s making you and your body go crazy. You bite down hard on your lower lip hoping that the pain will distract from the throbbing of your clit. It’s unbearable. He balances himself over you by resting one knee on the bed. The next time he talks, his face is inches from yours and his voice is barely above a whisper.

“Don’t you dare move.” He speaks. “I don’t want to cut this beautiful skin of yours. Are you going to be a good girl and stay still for me?” He lets the knife hover over the knot you tied in your shirt earlier that evening.

“Yes.” You breathe out excitedly. 

Frankie carefully slips the blade beneath the knot and pulls upward. The cheap material is sliced through and falls delicately to each side of your body. He looks at your black bra like it’s offending him and repeats the same action with the knife. When your breasts are fully exposed in front of him, he lets out a deep sigh. You can see how hard he has gotten from watching your clothes get cut from your body. With his free hand he rolls one of your nipples in between his thumb and index finger. The feeling causes your back to arch slightly as you whine out to him. 

“What did I say, Estrella?” Frankie lays the knife flat in the valley of your breasts. The cool metal feels like it's pulling the warmth from your body. “I thought I told you not to move?” He picks it back up again, and with the tip ghosting over your skin, he drags it down to your navel.

“I can’t help it.” You smile. “My body just reacts to you.” 

There is a flash of sweetness in his eyes at your words before they cloud back over with lust. “I know the feeling.” He groans, palming your breasts.

Frankie sits back on his leg and lets his blade slip under the waistband of your skirt. You giggle quietly as it melts off your body just as easy as the other two articles of clothing. There is nothing left on your body, but fishnets and underwear. Your breath hitches as the icy metal slides its tongue down your leg. Watching Frankie’s eyes light up with your every reaction is pushing you further and further towards your climax. How could it be possible for him to make you come without his hands ever gracing your skin? You keep your own eyes trained on him as he starts slicing through the material of the fishnets. When he finally finishes, you’re the one who tears off your panties. As beautifully torturous as that was, there is no way you can wait for him anymore. 

“I’ve been aching for you all day.” You whimper, butterflying your legs open for his viewing pleasure. “Are you going to come satisfy me like you promised?” 

Frankie’s so enamored by your display in front of him that he loses his grip on his knife and it falls softly on the bedroom floor. He walks up the foot of the bed and grasps your hips firmly. Without you having to say another word, he sinks deep inside you and fills you to the hilt. Both of you gasp out in pleasure and gratefulness that this moment is finally here after this strenuous day. 

“Fuck. Every time I slip inside you it feels so right.” He utters out as he starts thrusting at a languid pace.

You’re too lost in the sensation of feeling every inch of him stretch you out to respond, but he keeps speaking.

“Every time you twirled around and every time I saw your lips pressed right up against the microphone, I wanted you.” His pace is speeding up now. “Every time I saw you perform for the crowd and every time I saw those men get the blessed opportunity to kiss you, I wanted everyone to know I wanted you. You’re my girl. You’re my Estrella.” 

“Yes, Frankie.” Your eyes are locked on him while he pounds into you. 

“I want you to say it. I want you to say that you’re mine.”

“I’m yours. I’m all yours.” You gasp.

“Louder.” His voice is a mix of demanding and begging. “I don’t care if the neighbors hear.”

“I’m yours Frankie! No one else's!”

“That’s fucking right.”

He leans down to suck on your breasts while he continues pumping inside your cunt. Your hands find their home in his hair to pull on his curls. Hearing his deep grunts is causing you to feel drunk. His coarse hair is methodically rubbing your clit as he nips at your sensitive skin. You know your high is coming, you can feel it rising quickly to the surface. Wanting to be as connected to him as possible, you slide your hands down to his face and bring him up to your lips. There is a hunger between the two of you that is palpable in the kiss. Each of you is desperate to have more of the other. There is an unspoken knowing that no matter how much is taken, neither one will be full. He silences your screams as you come with his full lips as you release onto him. You feel yourself coating him completely. Frankie never breaks the kiss during or after your climax. You smile as you feel his lips quiver against yours as he finishes deep inside you. His hips quiver with each release.

“That’s it.” You whisper. “Let me have it. I want all of you.”

“You already have all of me, Estrella.” 

He didn’t pull out of you immediately, but when he did, you stopped him from going to clean you up. The two of you laid there on the bed, facing each other, as you traced the features of his face. There was something so lovely about the after. The quietness and contentment that encapsulated the both of you was like something out of a dream. If it were up to you, you would have stayed there until the sun rose. Frankie, unfortunately, was to be the voice of reason. He reminded you that you both had work early in the morning and that sleep was something you definitely needed after the day's events. He’s gentle when he washes himself off of your skin. As he puts the cloth away, you pull back the covers and wait patiently for him to hold your tired body. Before sleep can take you from this moment, you muster up the strength to ask one last thing. 

“Are you mine, Frankie?” 

“I’m yours until all the stars in the sky go dark.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

{tag list: @cutesyscreenname @rsquared31 @smol-beb @bitchwitch1981 @avastrasposts @hoeslingz @saltybutteredtoast @javicstories @c-justhere @pimosworld @modernperplexity @beboldbebravethings @mxtokko @moonliqhtszn @tanzthompson @megcads @myloveistoolittle @casa-boiardi @jitterbugs927 @partyofone3413 @pedrit0-pascalit0 @golden-library @pati-et-vivere @mashomasho @lilmizmoz @angstylittlepascal @sofiparallel @selflcontrol @adriennemichelle98 @painitemoondust @pedritosgirl2000 @tpwkmera @romanarose @missbabyjay }

that makes four.

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

PART 2

The first days of Harry staying at your house were overshadowed by Maeve’s 5th grade spelling bee victory. The fake gold medal was a mainstay around her neck for a new nights at the dinner table until she eventually forgot about it.

Luckily enough, neither of your daughters seemed to be thrown too off kilter by his presence. Maeve was just young enough to not know much about who Harry was or the band he’d been in--though she was ready and willing to brag about having a celebrity around.

CeCe--in true sibling rivalry fashion--decided to draw her own medal with crayons and ask you to cut it out so she could wear it around the house. If Maeve gets one, so do I.

With potholders on and the oven door open, you apologized. “I can’t right now, honey--give mommy a few minutes and I’ll help you.”

Harry materialized at the bottom of the stairs, eyebrows raised when he said: “What do you need, CeCe?”

“I have to cut this out!” She said excitedly, running over to the drawer where the scissors were kept. She whipped them out and turned around quickly, Harry’s eyes bulging out of his head when he hurried over to grab them from her.

“I’ll cut, you watch,” he laughed, exchanging a look with you when CeCe climbed up to sit at the island. She hummed in agreement, handed over the paper and watched as he lined it up to start snipping.

“CeCe,” he said her name inquisitively. “Is CeCe short for anything?”

“Cecilia Rose L/N,” she smiled. “Pretty, right?”

“Very pretty,” he smiled. “Same last name as your mum.”

The last part of his sentence was a statement, a quick glance in your direction when you turned off the oven and shouted towards the stairs. “Maeve! Dinner’s ready!”

Your call went unanswered into the big house--you had no clue where she was or if she’d heard you. When Harry finished cutting out the paper medal, he handed it to CeCe who beamed with pride and put it around her neck.

Hands on your hips, “CeCe, will you please find your sister and tell her dinner is ready?”

She took one big breath and then screamed, “MAEVE!”

Both you and Harry flinched at the noise but laughed. She held onto Harry’s arm when she hopped down from the stool, shaking her head in disappointment. “Good god that girl,” she huffed, heading to climb the stairs when she yelled again: Maeve!!!! Dinner!!!!

“She’s a handful tonight,” you said, almost feeling guilty as her footsteps stomped on the floor overhead. “Thank you for that, though,” you said, motioning to the scissors in his hand. “Want a glass of wine?”

“S’not against the rules?” He teased.

When you shot him a look, he smirked and let out a laugh. “I’ll gladly take one. It’s fine, though. She was ready to stab someone flinging the scissors around like that.”

“They just had scissor safety in art class not too long ago.” You told him, pulling the cork from an already open bottle of red. “Sometimes I think she barely listens to anyone--she just does her own thing.”

“Not the worst way to be,” he smiled, picked up the glass when you slid it over on the granite. An awkward beat when he took a sip, smiled in your direction when you did the same. You could hear Maeve and CeCe fighting upstairs, offered him another guilty smile, but then he asked: “do you plan on changing your name?”

“My last name?”

“Yeah--L/N is your married name, right?”

It felt a bit nosy, a bit intrusive for the fourth night he was sleeping under your roof. You shrugged your shoulders casually, unsure how to answer. “Just haven’t gotten to it.”

He’d been quiet so far, out most of the day once the girls were gone for school and he’d return before dinner. Kept to himself--or at least out of the way--and was always helpful when he could be. Bringing groceries in? He carried a few. Needed a hand with clearing plates after dinner? He would gladly help.

Maeve and CeCe came rushing downstairs and were more willing to do the gratitude thing than they usually were, forks in hand when Maeve turned to you. “Oh, by the way, Auntie Shelli is taking us out for dinner tomorrow night.”

“She is?” You smiled at Maeve. “I haven’t heard about that.”

“She promised last week, she said Friday.”

“Okay, well I can check with her.”

“Are you doing anything tomorrow night?” Maeve asked.

“Not a thing,” you said, shaking your head. You’d been looking forward to it all week--maybe a bath and a glass of wine, maybe even a movie if you were feeling adventurous. Zoey was typically after you to do something: dinner, come hold Benny for an hour while she took a shower. You were totally up for helping a friend, but it’d been a minute since you had some me-time and if Jeff’s mom had already offered to babysit, you weren’t going to say no.

CeCe turned to Harry excitedly. “What are you doing tomorrow night? Are you coming to dinner?”

He smiled in her direction but shook his head. “I’m actually going over to a friend’s house.”

“What friend?”

“CeCe,” you laughed, embarrassed by her prying. “He doesn’t have to run everything by you, you know.”

“I know,” she said simply as she shrugged her shoulders innocently. “Just thought maybe it was one of my friends. I don’t know if we have the same friends.”

Harry laughed at this and smiled when you rolled your eyes. “I don’t think you know her.”

You watched Harry for a second, wondered if it was a girlfriend or something of the sort--Jeff hadn’t mentioned anything like that. Why couldn’t he stay there, with that friend?

“Well you should come with us and Auntie Shelli one day,” Maeve said. “We usually get ice cream and she lets us get a bunch of toppings and she doesn’t even care if we’ve had dinner yet.”

You let out a short laugh, the details of their time with family members always slipped out when you least expected it. “He’s busy, girls, remember?”

Harry shrugged, “we could get ice cream soon.”

You looked up at him, forked into a bite of dinner and said quietly: you don’t have to.

He didn’t--Harry didn’t owe you or your daughters anything except common decency and kindness. Helping you clean up after dinner or bring in the groceries was enough of a repayment for a guest room and his own bathroom.

“Maybe next week?” He ignored your comment and smiled at the girls.

“Next week!” CeCe chirped back, brushing her hair out of her face with a grin.

You figured they’d forget--swept up by the excitement of something else by the time next week rolled around and Harry would be off the hook. You smiled in his direction, apologetically and pleading, but it wasn’t until the next night that you realized he was serious.

Jeff’s mom had picked Maeve and CeCe up, you had just poured a glass of wine and went to sit in your office to go over any unread emails when he knocked on the door.

“Hey,” he offered a smile, leaned against the wall and put his hands in his pockets.

“Hi,” you turned to see him, unsure what he wanted or why he was popping in. “What’s up?”

“Uh, just wanted to let you know that my plans fell through--so, I’m just gonna be home--here I mean.”

His correction was quick, a subtle misstep through words.

You pressed your lips into a thin line, nodded slowly as you took in the information. He’d be here--in your house and just hanging out. While you had planned for a quiet night, having one other person somewhere in the house wouldn’t kill you, right? Maybe he’d lock himself away in his room and leave you to your emails, then you’d slip upstairs and end the night with a bath before your children returned with a sugar high and stories for days.

“Okay,” you said. A pause when he nodded, looked at you and then down to the floor.

“Do you want to have a drink?”

“I’ve got one,” you lifted your glass and then faltered. “Oh, together--sure, yeah.”

He held back a laugh, motioned for you to lead the way once you stood up from your desk. He trailed you back through the living room and into the kitchen, got himself a wine glass when you found the bottle you’d already started on the counter.

Was this weird? You couldn’t tell. The house was quiet and for a moment it felt like neither of you knew what to say when the only sound was the cork coming out of the bottle.

“I can venmo you for groceries, too, since m’drinking your wine.” He lifted it and poured, you watched the liquid rise in the glass until he looked up at you, waiting for a reply.

“No, it’s fine.”

“M’eating your food, drinking your wine, sleeping in your house,” he let out a laugh but put the stopper back in. “I feel like I could at least pay you back for some--” he looked down at the bottle and studied the label, “cabernet.”

You pulled out a barstool and sat, a sigh when you waved him off. “S’fine--I’m still making my way through the sorry your dad died and sorry your husband left you bottles.”

His lips pulled up at the side when yours did too. “Where do they make those grapes?”

“Somewhere far away from here,” you nodded, a long sip from your own glass when he moved to sit beside you.

“So how much did Jeff have to beg you to let me stay here?”

You looked over at him, hesitant to admit your own reluctance. You knew he and Jeff were close--you’d long been hearing stories about their nights out or big wins as a team. You’d even been invited to the release party for Harry’s first solo album, but you couldn’t find a babysitter and back then your ex couldn’t be bothered.

“I got a few pleading text messages after he first brought it up,” you smiled.

He laughed and nodded. “Well, it’s a big help. My house is over in Malibu but s’not ready yet--the only guestroom in Jeff’s house shares a wall with the master and something about that felt...weird.”

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully. “You didn’t want to hear Jeff and random women hooking up?”

“Not in the slightest,” he shook his head and bit back a smile. “Figured I’d stay with his parents for a bit but then Irv and Shelli told me they loved me but their rules are strict: their children, grandchildren, and your children. Those are their only guests.”

You nodded, it wasn’t news to you. “One time my dad stayed over after a party and Irv almost hit him with a golf club in the morning because he’d forgotten who was on the couch.”

“Yeah, so, sounds like a good idea that I’m here.” Quiet again when he moved the glass around, then he said: “you know, I would be happy to take them to ice cream or something one night--give you a minute to yourself.”

You smiled, the offer was sweet and apparently he had no idea that he’d just ruined your one chance this week to have that. “You really don’t have to--I’m sorry that they’re so...fascinated by you.”

“No, they’re great, very sweet. Maybe I can tag along when Jeff watches them next and learn the ropes.”

You nodded, reassured by his understanding that watching them would take skill. “There’s a lot to learn, they can be quite the handful sometimes.”

“Yeah?” he tilted his head. “Tell me more about them.”

The way he looked at you stirred a feeling in your chest that you couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was just the fact that he seemed interested enough to ask about them, he already seemed more invested than their father had been over the last year. You also would never turn down an opportunity to humble-brag about the tiny humans you'd created.

“Well, Maeve is pretty straight-edge. She’s always cared a lot about school and she likes it--which is weird, cause she didn’t get that from me and she definitely didn’t get it from my ex-husband. Like, she actually gets excited to come home and do her homework.”

He laughed, sipped from his glass and said: “Right, I’m sure she didn’t get her drive and determination from her mother who started her own successful business.”

You brushed off the compliment with a roll of your eyes and a laugh. “The weird preteen-angst thing is new, though. I have no idea if that’s because of losing my dad or losing hers,” you picked at a thread on your sleeve.

He was quiet for a moment, like he didn’t know what to say to that.

“And CeCe,” you saved him the trouble, “she’s a fireball. She is so strong-willed it actually makes me nervous about when she’s a teenager. She might actually drive to Vegas and get married or something. It’s just her world and we’re living in it.”

His dimples appeared on his cheeks when you shrugged. “Well, you’ve clearly done something right with them. Jeff's always loved being an uncle."

“I appreciate that,” you said honestly, a pause before you admitted: “My ex was never that hands on.”

“Right,” he nodded. “Is that why things ended?”

You let out a short laugh, again unsure if you were sharing too much. Would you wake up and regret the fact that you'd poured a glass of wine, and apparently your deepest secrets, all out on display?

“That, along with the fact that he was cheating on me for a good 18 months, I think.”

“Wow,” he nodded slowly, his lips pushed out in thought when he dropped your gaze. “What a dick.”

“Yeah, better I found out now than later on, I guess.”

“So that and losing your dad this year--”

“Yeah it’s been shitty,” you cut him off, another sip of your wine to avoid having to say more. He looked at your glass, now nearing empty, and reached for the bottle.

“Then you definitely deserve another one of these,” he laughed, fingers pulling the cork out again. “No wonder you got so many sympathy wine bottles.”

He poured himself another too, eventually he followed you into your dad’s old office when he asked what hid behind the mystery door on the first floor.

It was the only room you hadn’t redone yet, something about keeping his records on the book shelves and his papers on the desk felt like it kept him here. He’d chosen the green for the walls and you apologized when Harry’s eyebrows shot up at the sight.

“Great man,” you nodded, turning on a light switch, “terrible decorating taste.”

Harry nodded slowly, wine glass still in hand and a smirk fighting it’s way onto his face. “S’a bright color, yeah.”

He let out a laugh when he made eye contact with you, a disapproving look on your face when you walked over to the desk. “All these strewn about--probably some important information about you over here somewhere.”

He came over and lifted a paper. “Harry Styles is one of the most thoughtful, caring, and funny people I know.”

“Really?” You tugged at his arm to get a better view of the paper. Your dad’s handwriting was almost illegible, a date scribbled on top and another few words halfway down the small notebook page, nothing about Harry and nothing that seemed all that important.

“I hope that’s what he thought of me,” Harry smiled, his eyes flickered to where you still had a grip around his wrist. “Your nails are digging into me.”

“Sorry,” you pulled back immediately. “Sometimes I have to grab CeCe like that in the store or she runs off.”

He kept your gaze for a second, but it felt uncomfortable and made you nervous, so you cleared your throat. “Feel free to come in here and use this stuff,” you motioned over to the piano and the guitars he had in stands. “No one uses it, so--it’d be good for it to get played.”

“You don’t play anything?”

You shook your head. “No--he’d started to teach me guitar when I was young but then my mom died, just never picked it up again.”

You were thirteen when it happened, a car accident on the 405 and you didn’t go to school for weeks. Your dad had always been your main support--they divorced when you were ten--but after that you grew even closer, which is why losing him was so hard. He’d been a friend and a parent and the best grandfather who helped pick up the pieces when things with Luke started to crumble.

Harry was quiet, a simple nod when he went over to the piano and sat. You felt the need to shift the topic of conversation to something less depressing than the unfortunate events of your life.

“Are you writing a lot for the album still?”

“Yeah--we’ve got a few things written that might end up on it, but, mostly just experimenting with some new sounds.”

He pressed a chord down on the piano and looked up at you. “How do Maeve and CeCe seem to be handling it all?”

“Which part?”

“Both.”

You shrugged. “They’ve asked a lot about where their father is and why he hasn’t visited. And they understand that their grandpa is gone, but they’re sad, I think. CeCe’s had more nightmares than usual.”

He smiled a little. “And how are you doing with all of it?”

You let out a tiny laugh, mostly out of discomfort with the sudden seriousness in his voice and the way he already pulled more out of you than you’d planned. “I’m fine.”

He lifted his brows but played another progression of chords. “Wouldn’t blame you if you’re not.”

You took a sip of the cabernet and watched as he hummed along to whatever he played. When he looked up at you and waited for a reply, you smiled. “Some days I want to pull my hair out and others I need a good glass of wine. I kind of oscillate between those two lately.”

“Well, I’m always happy to split a bottle with you.”

You nodded, tried to fight the smile on your face when he laughed but then gave in. “Good.”

**

You woke up the next morning with a bit of a headache from the third and unexpected glass of wine. The girls were home by 9pm and unfortunately for you, the weekend was busy with play dates and birthday parties and grocery shopping.

Monday had you back in the office and recounting the first week to Tristan over an iced latte and a breakfast sandwich you’d grabbed after school drop off. Now it was cold and you were approaching the mid-day slump you were all too familiar with.

“I just can’t believe you’re alive still, to be honest. You know--seeing as you thought he’d be a serial killer or something.”

You looked over at him with narrowed eyes. “I didn’t think he was a serial killer.”

“Just a pedophile?”

“Alright,” you waved him off. “I can admit that it’s been fine--good, even. It’s only been a week, though.”

“Right,” he shrugged. “Halfway there. Maybe week two is when he goes crazy.”

You ignored the teasing from your friend and looked back to your computer. “Do you know if Kailee ordered the new bottles for the matcha face mask?”

“Yesterday afternoon,” he nodded. “And we also got the labels in for them as well. They ship off to the packaging plant on Tuesday.”

“Good, and numbers are up from last quarter which is really good. The meeting with the investors should go well.”

“Yeah, I mean, our entire profit has doubled since this time last year,” he smiled in your direction, a subtle reminder that the late night emails on top of the worst year ever had already proven to be worth it. “You should be very proud.”

“I am,” you admitted. “Of us. All of us.”

“Yes, what kind of boss would you be if you took all of the credit?” He teased.

“A bad one, but I’m also the type of boss that leaves at lunch time to go home and change since I have a meeting this afternoon that I forgot all about.”

He looked you up and down when you stood.

“It’s with people from Anthropologie about carrying some of our products in store--so I don’t think I can wear athleisure.”

He laughed and kept typing. “Fair enough. See you at 2pm, though, for the website meeting?”

“Yes,” you promised as you grabbed your keys. “Please don’t let the place burn down while I’m gone.”

“Might throw the match myself,” he waved you off, a laugh at his own joke when you headed for the elevator.

You were proud of the company you’d built and the office you’d been able to purchase two years back, but you were more proud of the energy that buzzed through the halls and the people who made work feel less like work and more like the adventure of a lifetime. You tried to be the cool boss who brought enough coffee for everyone, gave good time off but still expected hard work and drive to be the core of the business.

It took a while to settle into the role, though. At first you were sure you’d be seen as a spoiled rich kid who got a loan from her father to start a company--but it only took one year to repay him when you started getting placements in health food markets across LA. When Kourtney Kardashian posted something about your raspberry toner, the rest was history.

You’d always been passionate about making people feel good about themselves and focused your entire brand on building people up, not tearing them down. The world had enough of that as a mother of two daughters, you hoped it’d be something that would change that narrative, at least for them.

The drive home was quick and the sun was shining, which put a pep in your step as you hopped out of the car in the driveway and headed for the side door.

Harry’s car was still here--you’d left earlier than usual but didn’t expect him to be home. If anything, you figured he’d left shortly after you and planned on staying late in the studio. Jeff had mentioned something about laying down new tracks.

“Hello?” You called into the kitchen and looked around, he wasn’t in the living room or out by the pool. You found a laundry basket at the top of the second floor and figured that maybe someone had picked him up, but the sound of muffled singing pulled you down the hall and closer to his guest room.

The door was cracked only a bit, the sun streamed in from the windows and you could hear the running water of the shower. It was wrong, maybe, but you pushed the door open and stepped inside, smiled to yourself at the fact that he was singing a Carole King song that your dad used to play on repeat when you were a kid.

The room was clean--you hadn’t been in it since you’d pointed out the linen closet in the bathroom and showed him how to use the TV remote. His bed was made--maybe not the way you would have made it but the throw pillows were arranged in a way that showed he tried.

A buzzing on the dresser pulled your attention away from the bed. His phone, a message from someone named Bria Whitmore. Another message, then a third. You took a step closer--who on earth was texting him this much without a reply? A girlfriend? Someone he probably slept with or something of the sort.

“Hi,” his voice pulled your head around quickly and sent your heartbeat through the roof.

“Jesus, hi--sorry--I was just--”

He was in a towel, the fabric wrapped loosely around his waist and hair was slicked back from the water. You looked away from the tattoos that littered his skin and looked down at the laundry basket.

“I was just seeing if you had any laundry you needed me to do?”

It was clean, but he didn’t need to know that.

“M’good,” he smiled like he didn’t believe you. “Why are you home?”

“Had to change--forgot about a meeting,” you let out a laugh and tried to slow your pulse. “Figured the pilates mom look wasn’t the right vibe.”

He nodded, moved around you in the center of the room to pull out a t-shirt from a drawer. You saw him look down at the cell phone you’d been eyeing.

“Your phone went off,” you admitted, the laundry basket still pressed up against your hip.

“Yeah?” He smirked over his shoulder.

“I was just making sure it wasn’t an emergency--I wasn’t, like, snooping.”

A dimple appeared on his left cheek again, he tugged the fabric over his head and then shook out his hair.

“S’not an emergency,” he said. “Just a friend.”

You didn’t know if that was code. Were twenty-somethings calling their booty-calls friends now? You figured you’d ask Tristan later.

“Why are you home?” You tossed the question back at him.

“Schedule changed--went for a run after breakfast and now just, showering, y’know,” he looked down at the towel that separated you from an even more awkward moment.

“Right, sorry, I...am leaving,” you pointed to the door. “Changing, back to the office, home tonight.”

“Sounds good,” he smiled. “Figured I could make dinner, if you wanted. I make a mean chicken taco.”

You took a few steps backwards to the door. “You cook?”

“I do,” he smiled. “Hard to believe?”

“No,” you shook your head. “That would be great--if you want, but you don’t have to.”

“I’d love to,” he nodded. “I’ll see you tonight, Y/N.”

“With more clothes,” you smiled, immediately regretting the bad joke and the attention it drew to the stuffy air and the butterflies in your stomach.

“Definitely more clothes.”

You made a face at yourself once the door was shut, idiot. At least you hadn’t accidentally seen a picture of someone’s boobs. You were sure he got plenty of those.

You pushed the thought out of your head and thankfully Harry didn’t smirk at you too much when Jeff came to pick up the girls for ice cream the next afternoon. They hadn’t forgotten, but luckily Jeff had offered to take them out one night and it seemed like the perfect opportunity for Harry to tag along. That way he could stay true to his word and the girls would stop pestering him every time he popped down to the kitchen.

Zoey had been begging to bring the baby over to get out of the house, and now she was sitting in the other room with Benny on a play mat on the floor. Maeve, CeCe, Jeff and Harry stood in a line, eagerly awaiting the green light to pile into Jeff’s car.

“Okay, so Uncle Jeff can text me if you need anything, see you around 7pm?”

“Yes ma’am,” Jeff said, a salute in your direction that pulled a giggle from both of your daughters.

They’d been fighting more lately, CeCe tried to take the medal from Maeve’s room one night over the weekend and suddenly it was like world war three. You were shocked that they’d gotten it together enough to spend some time in each other's presence, even with Uncle Jeff chaperoning, but you were eager for the quiet and hopeful the screaming matches wouldn’t return once the ice cream and dinner date was finished.

“Love you, be nice to each other, okay?” You leaned down and used both hands to hold CeCe’s head in place when you planted a kiss on her forehead, then Maeve. A hug for Jeff, “only one ice cream cone this time.”

He laughed but obliged, you moved down the line to Harry, an awkward nod in his direction when you realized that whatever type of acquaintanceship had slowly started to bloom between the two of you was hardly grounds for a kiss on the forehead or even a hug.

He apparently sensed this too, a playful smile on his face when he lifted his brows. “No farewell for me?”

Jeff let out a quick laugh but Maeve and CeCe took off for the car, racing to see who could get out the front door fastest. “Alright, don’t kill each other,” you reminded again, waved them all off with an embarrassed smirk and then watched as Harry helped CeCe buckle into her booster seat.

“So,” Zoey appeared beside you, Benny in her arms as she looked out the window. “Seems like things are going well.”

“Yeah,” you shrugged casually. “He’s been nice.”

“He seems friendly,” she wiggled her brows when she met your gaze. “Flirty friendly.”

“Just friendly,” you laughed and headed for the kitchen to pour yourself a drink. It might have only been Tuesday, but the week promised to be a busy one. You wiped up a runaway drip of wine on the rim, fully aware the words about to leave your mouth would push Zoey into gear. “But I did see him shirtless yesterday.”

“That sounds amazing,” she shifted Benny in her arms, eagerness in her voice. “How was it?”

“I mean--he also caught me snooping in his room, sort of.”

“Sort of?”

You tried to downplay it. “I came home from work in the middle of the day to change and I heard him in the shower--which is weird cause I didn’t think he’d be home.”

“So you went in there?”

“Not the bathroom--I just peeked into his room and noticed it was really clean. Which is weird, right? He’s a kid!”

“He’s not a kid,” she rolled her eyes at you. “Your kids are kids. He’s twenty-four. I looked it up.”

Your eyes were wide when you turned to head for the couch. “You looked it up?”

“I was curious! He’s a celebrity living in your house and he’s very attractive and you have been harping on his age.”

“Because it felt weird at first.”

“And it doesn’t now?” Her tone was hopeful when she laid Benny back on his play mat and kneeled beside him.

You took a gulp from your wine glass. “Less weird, but only because he’s mature. He’s helpful around the house--he cooked dinner the other night--and he’s good with the girls.”

The corner of her mouth pulled towards the ceiling, arched eyebrows when she clarified. “He’s good with the girls?”

“He’s just nice to them--I was worried that they’d annoy him. I mean, I doubt that he was excited to hear that two of his roommates were six and ten.”

“Okay--but why did you see him shirtless?”

Right--she’d gotten you off track. “Because...I went in his room and then saw his phone buzzing and then he came out and caught me looking at his phone.”

“You were looking through his phone?!”

“No! Not the actual texts, just to see who was blowing it up. I only looked at the lock screen.”

“Was he annoyed?”

“No,” you shrugged, shame laced through your voice. “He was casual. But then he put his shirt on and I left him alone and went back to work.”

“So there’s sexual tension,” she shimmied her shoulders and pulled a laugh from you, she nuzzled down into Benny’s face but then gave him a pacifier.

“No.”

This brought her gaze back to you, more serious now. “Y/N, you are not a creep if you admit that you find him attractive.”

“I can admit that he’s handsome,” you chose a new word that felt more detached. “But who cares? He’s literally just a house guest. A friend of a friend.”

“Right, but he was just flirting with you like there’s no tomorrow.”

“No he wasn’t,” you denied her accusation. When she stared at you expectantly, you took a loud sip and let the obnoxious noise ring through the now empty house as if it would preclude you from saying any more.

“You truly, seriously, one-hundred percent haven’t noticed any type of flirting?”

You averted your eyes for a second, ready to dismiss her question and tell her she was crazy. There was nothing going on between the two of you.

But then you thought on it, thought about the way he asked about Maeve and CeCe and remembered the way your stomach seemed to twist itself in knots when he smirked at you and when the dimples appeared on his cheeks.

“The look on your face is enough of an answer,” Zoey teased, bouncing side to side when Benny made a noise. “Isn’t that right, Benny Boo? Someone has a crush.”

“There’s no crush here--he’s just,” a shrug of your shoulders when you didn’t know what words to use. You didn’t want to add fuel to her fire and you certainly didn’t want to give her any more of a reason to keep bringing this topic up.

“Dreamy? Beautiful? The perfect rebound post-divorce?”

A flutter of your eyelids in annoyance when you stood to head for the kitchen. “No,” you said, making a face in her direction. “He’s just cute.”

“So cute!” She followed behind and egged you on. “A crush is perfectly harmless, a little bedtime rendezvous is totally not a big deal.”

“I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves, here, okay?”

“Oh come on,” she laughed. “You mean to tell me you haven’t already thought about if he’s good in bed?”

She came to sit next to you at the island, folding her legs beneath her. When you sipped at your wine and tried to hide a smirk, her face lit up. “I knew it, I knew it! I don’t blame you, at all, by the way. He’s gorgeous.”

“I’m just horny, number one,” you admitted, leaning forward to rest your elbow on the granite counter. “And seeing a man actually be good with kids is a breath of fresh air.”

“Yeah, Luke didn’t set the bar high with that one.”

“Absolutely not.”

A pause of silence when evening air blew through the open doors to the patio. There was music audible through the trees, wafting in from the backyard of your neighbors.

“I think you should fuck him.”

“What?!” You turned towards her quickly, your voice quieter when she smirked and looked over at you. “Are you out of your mind?”

“You have a ridiculously attractive man living in your house and he hangs out with your kids and now he’s starting to cook? It’s like a lifetime movie waiting to happen.”

“That doesn’t mean I should have sex with him!”

“Do you want to have sex with him?”

You were quiet for a second, kept her gaze but then rolled your eyes and shook your head. “I’ve had a bad year,” you made an excuse for the pulsing in your veins whenever you were alone with him. Nothing more, nothing less.

“When does he leave again?”

“I don’t know--at the end of the week, I guess. It’s not happening, so don’t get any ideas.”

“Alright,” she seemed to relent, “You do you. I just think you deserve a little feel good time.”

“That sounds gross,” you wrinkled your nose, pulling a laugh out of her.

She was able to change the topic, told you all about the way Benny was getting better at lifting his own head and he was screaming a lot less when she put him down for some tummy time. Your phone dinged, though, signalling a new text just when you were about to pull out leftovers and heat them up.

She watched when you opened it, got excited when you smirked at the screen.

“Who is it?”

You almost didn’t want to show her, but you knew she’d pry it out of your hands with force if you didn’t share. You flipped it around, watched as a smile spread across her face.

A picture of Harry and CeCe, both with sunglasses on as they ate their ice cream. Maeve and Jeff were in the background, the line at the ice cream shop down the street wasn’t too long. You were kind of surprised he was willing to go with them, wouldn't it create a buzz in the headlines?

Zoey gave you a knowing look.

“It’s just sweet.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t know,” you smiled a little at first, but the happiness faded from your face when you pulled yourself back to reality. “I feel stupid thinking that he’s flirting with me. He could be with a supermodel if he wanted to. One with perky boobs and who’s, like, twenty. Not someone who’s old enough to be his mom.”

“You are seven years older than him,” she made a disgusted face. “You could have been, like, his babysitter, not his mom.”

“Oh, that makes me feel so much better.”

“You’re being stupid about this!”

You paused with tupperware in your hands, turned around slowly. “I am not being dumb about not having casual sex with the popstar boyband kid living under my roof. I think not having sex with him is objectively the responsible thing to do here.”

“Why do you always have to be so responsible, though? You have been doing that forever, okay? You’re the business owner mom who’s always been incredibly family-oriented.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, not in the slightest! But you’re more than just a mom.”

You bit at your cheek and dropped her gaze, put the tupperware down from exhaustion. “I just want my children to have a normal life. I only had one parent and I thought they were going to have two and now that ship has sailed.”

She nodded sympathetically. “But that doesn’t mean you did anything wrong! You never relaxing and having a good time will only teach them bad work-life balance.”

You rolled your eyes at her comment, tried to fight the smile when she waited for you to fold. “I love you,” she said. “I want you to get laid or have a drink or let your hair down once in a while.”

You held up the wine in her face. “Already halfway there.”

She reached for the bottle of wine and shoved it towards you with skeptical eyes. “Try harder.”

You let out a laugh and took another sip once it was refilled, pushed plates into the microwave and sat there with her until Jeff’s car pulled back into the driveway and the girls came tumbling back into the house.

“Mom, Harry said he could teach me how to play guitar,” Maeve grinned up at you, an affectionate hug caught you by surprise, but so did her words.

“He did, did he?” You eyed Harry as he walked in with Jeff by his side, sunglasses still on his face despite the sun lingering just above the horizon.

“We’ll start a band,” Harry nodded in her direction, kept his eyes shielded as CeCe ran into the backyard with a noise of excitement.

“And Uncle Jeff said he’ll sing.”

“You’ll definitely get far, then,” you teased, pulling an offended look from your childhood friend. “He’s obviously the best singer in the house.”

Harry nodded in playful agreement. “Could put me out of a job any day.”

“Maeve!” CeCe called suddenly, pulling everyone’s attention to the backyard. “Come play squishball!”

Harry looked down at Maeve and she looked up at him, you were unaware of whatever unspoken communication was transpiring between them. “Should we?” He asked.

“Definitely,” she giggled, hands on her hips.

Zoey was also confused, but she watched as Maeve and Harry headed for the patio. Harry finally took his sunglasses off, handed them to your older daughter before he spoke. “CeCe, we need to have a meeting.”

“A meeting?” She asked, she groaned in disappointment but walked back towards the house, bat dragging on the grass behind her. Jeff laughed and folded his arms over his chest, unaware of whatever deal had already been struck between them.

“You two are both really great at squishball,” Harry admitted, his voice suddenly more serious than before. “But I think we need to up the stakes.”

“Up the stakes?” You could tell by the look on CeCe’s face that she had no clue what that meant.

“Winner of this game gets the medal I won from the spelling bee,” Maeve explained.

You were about to protest, head outside and discourage any type of betting or gambling or whatever the backyard made up game was leading towards, but Harry went on to explain the rules. “CeCe gets a head start running bases, just because of her tiny legs.”

Maeve nodded, “and she gets a free home run to start off.”

CeCe smiled wide and put her hands on her hips, pulling a laugh from Harry as she copied her older sister. “I like the sound of that,” she said. A sure-fire way to make her win, you realized. But what was in that for Maeve? How had your previously grumpy pre-teen become a team player in a matter of hours?

It wasn’t long before Zoey gathered up her things and put Benny in the backseat, giggling and excited yells floated in from the backyard when you hugged her goodbye. Jeff stayed past sunset and offered an excited high five when CeCe won, completely unaware at how easy they’d made it for her.

But he soon left, too, you climbed the stairs behind your two little athletes, got them washed up and in bed before it was 9pm--not bad for a weeknight. You were sure Harry would have retreated to his room, too, but he was sat by the fire pit on the patio, a near empty glass of wine in his hand when you came back out.

“Care to explain?” you leaned against the doorframe and smiled. He adjusted in his seat but shrugged his shoulders when you admitted: “I never thought I would hear the end of it with that stupid medal.”

There was a confident look on his face when he met your eyes in the glow of the fire pit. “Figured I can teach her a few chords on guitar and that would take her mind off of taunting CeCe.”

It was smart, you nodded slowly and watched him. Give Maeve something that would get her really excited, but only if she’d give up something else. Bargaining--a classic parenting trick. You eyed Harry with a level of skepticism.

“How are you so good with them?”

He smiled at that, apparently flattered by the compliment. “They’re good kids,” he said simply.

“I’m aware,” you laughed, “but you don’t have to spend so much time with them.”

“I like it,” he shrugged. “It’s kind of nice to be around a family, you know?”

The words pulled emotion to your chest. Did you really look like a family to him? No husband, no grandfather, two irreplaceable roles and now you were trying to fill all of them just to keep your kids afloat.

“And besides,” he stood from his chair and grabbed the now empty glass before he came closer to you. “Something about being here just feels right.”

You looked up at him, felt the same rush of heat to your cheeks but hoped you were safe in the cover of night. He smirked, like he knew what he was doing to you but was too much of a gentleman to call you out. Hesitation when you felt some type of magnetic force between you, the distance simultaneously felt like inches and miles.

You smiled softly, embarrassed by the way your pulse picked up and the thoughts that flew through your head. What would happen if I, does he ever think about, am I crazy if I want to?

He brushed past you and walked to the sink, placing the wine glass down quietly before he turned to face you once more. “Is it as bad as you thought?”

Confusion, you wiped your sweaty palms on your pants. “Sorry?”

“Having me here,” he motioned around, the dimple on his left cheek was visible even in the dim light. You rolled your eyes, dropped his gaze for a second when he let out a quiet laugh. “I hope that it’s only as miserable as you thought--m’just aiming for not worse than expected at this point.”

You turned to face him and put your hands on the granite, thankful for the fact that the island was now between you, the ticking of a clock on the wall kept time when you tried to piece your words together carefully.

Was he flirting with you? A similar to question to that he'd asked only a few nights earlier, this time with more of a smirk on his face and a lilt in his voice that made sent a shiver down your spine.

“It’s better,” you admitted with a nod and a teasing smile. “But don’t tell Jeff that.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, held your gaze and then nodded. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

There was silence for a second, you almost offered to pour him another glass of wine but then he said: “Only a few more days, though.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, the fantasy shattered on the floor between you. “How’s the house coming?”

He winced, a quiet laugh when he shook his head. “Everything’s been pushed out a few weeks, actually. But--it’s fine, I’m probably just going to stay with a friend or something, you know, don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

You brought your lips into a thin line, unsure if what you were about to offer was appropriate or weird or just plain awkward.

“Oh...well, I mean, if you want to stay here longer, you can.”

His mouth pulled up on the side, he brought his gaze back to you and shifted his weight on his feet. “Yeah? You don’t mind?”

You shrugged, again hoping to play it cool or not come off too eager. “If that would be helpful,” you trailed off.

“Yeah, very helpful.”

“Cool.”

“Cool,” he nodded, pulling another smirk from you.

A few more weeks, tops.

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Losing Time

This story is not in my usual continuity, but was written for Wendip Week 2021, topic "Time Travel."

for Wendip Week 2021

---

Mabel faced a hard decision when she called in that favor.

She was nearly thirty, she was a successful clothing designer, she had a steady romantic partner, life was good. But then on a visit to Gravity Falls, she visited the grave of good old Waddles, whose heart had given out the previous winter, while she was off in New York.

And she hadn't been able to say goodbye.

And despite the fact that she was all grown up and everything, it ripped at her heart—that she hadn't said farewell to her most favorite pet of all time. It wasn't that he hadn't been well cared for—Soos saw to that, giving the pig all the comforts and plenty of food. It wasn't that he was cut off in his youth—seventeen is a good long life for a pig. It's just that—

Well, now she knew how Dipper felt.

Speaking of whom.

Dipper and Wendy were coming up on their tenth wedding anniversary, they had adorable twins, age six, names Alexander and Amanda, and they lived in the Mystery Shack. Grunkles Stan and Ford still technically owned the place, and Soos ran it, but over the years he and Melody had expanded it until their own growing family caused Soos to have a separate house built just across the road, and he and his family of six—he, Melody, Benny, Betty, Alma, and little Stanley—had made the short move. Dipper had inherited Grunkle Ford's role as investigator of the weird, Wendy was a nationally-known consultant on forestry issues, and they took over the living space that Soos had left vacant.

Ford, now semi-retired, still came over to work with Dipper down in the secret labs when some project was afoot. Grunkle Stan came over to help when the Shack was swamped with tourists in vacation season, but he spent a lot of his time visiting casinos all over the world, where his odd luck always brought him a steady income.

The attic bedroom had become disused.

"Can I stay?" Mabel asked in a small voice just at sunup that day. "Just for a couple weeks?"

"Sure, Mabes!" Wendy said. "Any time, you know that."

Dipper, now sporting a goatee and wearing glasses to correct mild myopia, said, "Sis, what's wrong?"

With a sad smile, Mabel said, "You can tell, huh? Just getting all sentimental. Missing Waddles."

"Oh," Dipper said. "That. We're sorry you couldn't make it back in January."

"It was so unexpected," Wendy said. "He was OK, you know, kinda slow and sleepy all the time, and then one morning we found him in his stall. He'd passed in his sleep."

"He was comfortable to the end," Dipper said. "The heat was on. He didn't freeze or anything. He looked peaceful."

"We buried him down the hill," Wendy told her. "Come on, we'll walk you down."

The place was pretty, a small clearing off to the right of the Mystery Trail. Grass had greened the mound, dewy now with the dawn, and—Mabel couldn't help sobbing—Dipper and Wendy had put up a marker, one of those you could buy for a cherished dog or cat. It read,

---

WADDLES

2012-2029

Always Loved

---

"Could you just leave me here for a few minutes?" asked Mabel.

Dipper hugged her. "Sure, Sis," he said. "Take y our time."

Wendy hugged her, too. "You gave him a good life," she said.

When the two had left, Mabel took a deep breath and took something that looked like a thick button from her jeans pocket. She held it between finger and thumb, close to her lips, and said, "OK, Blendin Blandin, you owe me one."

And without fuss, explosions, or special-effects noise, he was there, beside her, in his old uniform. "M-Ma-Mabel," he said, smiling. "Hi. It's be-been a wh-while."

"Yeah," she said. "You're looking—exactly the same. How's Time Baby?"

"Te-te-teething," Blendin said with a grimace. "The ne-next thou-thousand years are go-gonna be hard. I gu-guess you want your fa-favor now?"

"I do," she said. "Waddles passed away last January. I don't want to bring him back to life or anything. I've learned better than that. But I didn't get to see him before he went, and I really want to visit him one last time. So—could I borrow a time tape?"

"I pro-promised," he said. "I always carry a sp-spare these da-days. Here."

"And I also need your advice," Mabel said, accepting the heavy time-travel device. "I want to visit Waddles on the happiest day of his whole life."

"You-you'll have to a-avoid meeting yourself," Blendin warned. "That would be cat-cata-catas—bad."

"Agreed," she said.

"Let me find out how to se-set the co-coordinates, then," he said. "Just a se-second."

He blinked out of existence for just three seconds, then reappeared, slapping at his hair, which was smoldering. "Th-that was two we-weeks of hard wo-work!" he said. "Lucky this-this is m-my va-vacation month. OK, I've reviewed Wa-Waddles' s li-life and this will ta-take you to the ex-exact day when he was happiest. You can ha-have the wh-whole day, or eight hours any-anyway, bu-but remember to a-avoid me-meeting yourself."

"Will do."

Blendin set the time tape, warned, "It will br-bring you ba-back to the present automatically. Ha-have a g-good time-tr-trip."

The strange noiseless explosion, a moment of spinning disorientation, and poof! there she was, at the edge of the woods behind the Shack. The sun was just rising.

"Out you go," she heard a girl's voice say from the back door.

She saw a rectangle of yellow light. Oh, my God, that's me, in my old sleep shirt! I'm twelve! I'm so young!

Her younger self held the door for Waddles—He's so cute and tiny!—and the pig stepped out, sniffed the air, and waddled over close to the woods to take care of his morning business.

Let's see. I always let him out, then had breakfast, then called him back in, so I have about half an hour before I have to duck out of sight.

"Waddles," she called softly.

He heard and galumphed over to her. He knew her. Her different size, her different voice, didn't matter. She scooped him up. "Oh, I love you!" she said as he curled into a ball and nuzzled her cheek. "Let's go for a walk."

She set him down, and they went down the Mystery Trail, past the Bottomless Pit—not yet fenced off—and as far as the bonfire clearing, where she sat on a log and played with him, laughing through tears. "I'm gonna have to say goodbye, later," she whispered. "But remember, no matter what, I'll always love you!"

Too soon she heard her own younger voice calling, probably for the second time and more loudly, "Waddles!"

"Go on," she told the pig, patting his bottom. He trotted back to the other Mabel, his Mabel.

What day is this? Mabel wondered. What day made him happiest?

She sat too long. Someone spoke, startling her. "Whoops, sorry, didn't know anybody was here!"

Wendy.

Mabel stood up. "I was just, uh—I used to come here when I was a girl—" she began.

"Mabel?" Wendy asked, blinking and staring. "Mabel? Is that you?"

"Haven't changed all that much, have I?" she asked. "Oh, my God, you're so young! Can—can I hug you?"

She was a little bit taller than the fifteen-year-old Wendy, who would add a few inches to her height in the next two years. Mabel couldn't help crying again. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to let anyone see me. Time travel. I came back to—to visit Waddles."

"Oh, man," Wendy said. "Dipper's told me about this kind of stuff! Come on back to the Shack and surprise him!"

"No, I can't," Mabel said. "Don't even tell him you met me. That would cause problems with time."

"Oh."

Something in Wendy's voice hit her then. "Uh—what's wrong, Wendy?"

"Just—just the end of summer," Wendy faltered. "I—I hate that you and Dip are goin' home today."

Oh, my God! Of course! Waddles thought I was gonna leave him, and I nearly had to, but Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford made the bus driver take him aboard—of course he was happiest on that day!

"Oh, yeah," Mabel said. "Our birthday was yesterday. We turned thirteen."

"Technical teens," Wendy said with a ghost of a grin. A tear ran down her cheek.

"But you don't have to cry," Mabel said.

"I—I guess I can tell you a secret," Wendy said. She sat on the log, and Mabel sat beside her. "See, Dipper admitted to me a while back that he has a crush on me. I already knew, but I had to let him down. You know, me fifteen, him twelve. But now he's going away, and I'll never see him again, and—I just can't tell him I'm kinda-sorta in love with him, too. It's hard, Mabel."

Mabel bit her lip. "Listen," she said. "I may get in big trouble because of this, but—OK, I'm gonna say it. You gotta give Dipper a note. Have all his friends here sign it. You sign it, too. Here's the most important part—write on it 'See you next summer.' And wait for him. He'll come back. And he'll grow up, Wendy. And if you wait for him—it's gonna happen. I promise. Just stay in touch, and—most important—when the time comes, the age difference won't mean a thing."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Trust me, I know. OK, I've got a few hours today. I'm gonna stay close to the Shack and get in as much time with Waddles as I can. Then I'm going back to the future, and thirteen-year-old Mabel and Dipper are going back to Piedmont. But he doesn't just have a crush, Wendy. He really and truly loves you. So write the note, give it to him before he gets on the bus, and things will all work out. Promise me?"

"Yeah. I promise."

"Oh—and tell Grunkle Stan that when the time comes for us to leave, to make sure Waddles gets on the bus, too! I—Oh, I love you like a sister, Wendy! You won't believe how happy you're gonna be with Dip."

"That—that means a lot to me, Mabes," Wendy whispered.

"OK, you'd better get back. Don't say anything to anyone about this. Be sure to do the note thing. Oh, and Wendy—do me one more favor?"

"Sure, what?"

"Tell Pacifica that Mabel's waiting—in the future. Don't explain."

"All right," Wendy said with a lopsided smile. "I'll do it." She mimed zipping her lip.

The day passed. Out of her eight hours, Mabel spent about three in Waddles's company as her brother and her younger self got ready to leave Gravity Falls. She spent more time standing out of sight, watching things unfold—finally the kids coming out, glum, with their suitcases, the bus pulling up, Dipper and Mabel and—finally—Waddles climbing aboard. And all their friends running as far as they could to see the twins and the pig off.

She stood alone near the Shack. The flash came. Benjamin stood there. "How d-did it go?"

"It went good," Mabel said, handing over the time tape. "I said goodbye." She sniffled and a tear ran down her cheek. "I'll still miss him but I—I can handle it now. Uh, how much time has gone by while I—?"

"A m-minute," Blendin said. "Well, I-I g-guess we're e-even."

"Thanks, Blendin. Goodbye."

"N-no, I d-don't think it's g-goodbye," he said, smiling. "I'll s-see you again. In time."

He flashed out of existence.

"Aunt Mabel!" It was red-headed Amanda, running down the hill to meet her. "Hi!"

Mabel swept her up in her arms. "Hi, Sweetie! Where's your bro-bro?"

Squirming, Amanda laughed. "He can't find his shoes!"

Carrying the six-year old up the hill to the Shack, Mabel laughed. "When your dad was six, he had the same problem! All the time! Every morning!" She paused and looked back at the green grave. "Hey, let me tell you a story about the most special pig in the whole world," she said, and they went back to join the family.

---

The End

The Barest Ounce of Kindness (Klaus Hargreeves)

SUMMARY ››››› Klaus has been asking you to do small favors for him for months now. But brushing his hair? That’s weirder than the rest.

REQUEST ››››› Ooooh if you write for Klaus will you do 36 with him please!!! (36. Helping brush their hair after a shower.) 

WORD COUNT ››››› 2,028

WARNINGS ››››› Comfort, mentions of death

A/N ››››› I struggled a bit with an idea for this one before ultimately landing on the idea of "philia" love (meaning brotherly love, deep friendship). And well, this was born! 

Privacy did not exist within the walls of the Umbrella Academy

Hidden cameras--which were widely known  to exist despite their undisclosed locations--were placed in every room for monitoring. Most of your activities took place under the watchful eye of your father or Pogo. Mom breezed in and out of each room gathering clothes, making beds, shepherding you to wherever you needed to be next. But the worse culprits were your siblings. Luther was bearable, he was too busy shadowing the old man or sneaking around with Allison. When she wasn't with Luther, Allison had taken to snooping through everyone's things. Vanya perpetually hovered outside of each door which was at least a little better than Diego who was constantly hiding around corners to practice for "stealth missions." But the worst culprit by far was Klaus.

He was currently standing in your doorway wearing nothing but a fluffy lavender towel and with a baby blue hand towel piled on top of his head. 

"Will you brush my hair please?" Klaus asked, lip already jutting out in a pout.

You shut your book with a small thmp, because no matter how this conversation played out, Klaus was not going to leave your room until you gave him your full attention. That meant shoulders squared towards him, full eye contact, no finger saving your page, book placed in front of you on the desk. 

"What?" This was an odd request even from Klaus. Klaus who once asked you to tie his wrists together behind his back to see what the tightest he could get out of was. Klaus who once asked you to give him a tramp stamp of Pac-Man with a tattoo gun he procured from who knows where. Klaus who once asked you to watch him as he tripped because he swore he could levitate.

The thing that made this request odd was that it seemed rather...intimate. 

Intimacy did not exist within the walls of the Umbrella Academy either.

Klaus sighed dramatically, brushing past you to flop down onto your bed. "I've just had the shittiest day, and it would mean the world if just one human being showed me the barest ounce of kindness." 

You turned in your desk chair, resting your arms along the back so you could stare at him. He, in turn, was gazing up at the ceiling and the constellations you'd painted up there over the years, expanding your universe beyond the walls of the academy.

"What happened?"

Despite the complete and total lack of privacy, you felt like you never knew what went on with your siblings. Sure, there were the missions and your group trainings and meals and having them barge in on your personal space--but the rest of the time they seemed to slip through the cracks in the floors and disappear into the shadows of the halls. Their presence was felt. Their lives were not.

"Oh just one thing after another, I won't bore you with the details," Klaus dismissed, rolling over to prop his chin up in his hands and look at you expectantly. 

"You just want me to...brush your hair." The request would make more sense if there was some underlying catch. But he just nodded. So you remained still.

Klaus dropped his arms, giving you a more impatient look. "Come on, Y/N, you owe me one." 

"What? Since when?" you protested. You liked to keep your ledgers balanced in the house, and you were fairly certain you owed nothing to no one. In fact, over the past three months, Klaus had put himself more and more in the red with his strange requests.

“Ok, fine, I’ll owe you one,” Klaus relented. 

You paused, working your jaw, and Klaus squealed. Because he knew what that meant. 

It meant he won. Like always. And like always, you wouldn't even bother mentally logging this down as a favor owed.

Klaus clambered up to sit cross legged on your bed, the towel just saving you from having to burn your sheets. And your eyes.

"Do you have a brush?" you asked, raising your eyebrows at Klaus who in turn mirrored the look and gestured at himself in his towel.  

You heaved a sigh, dragging yourself up out of the chair and heading over to your dresser where the Umbrella Academy Personal Care Set lay neatly on top. Your father had seen fit to issue each of you a boar bristle brush, wide tooth comb, and thin pocket comb regardless of your specific hair needs. It had been several arguments and eventually an appeal to Mom just to get different shampoos for the seven of you. Back when it was seven.

You brushed aside the aching, hollowing sadness that grew whenever you thought of the number six and turned to Klaus, hair brush in hand. He had taken the blue towel off his head, leaving his hair sticking out in a multitude of directions. You snorted out a laugh, climbing up into the bed behind him. 

"Start at the ends and work your way up," Klaus instructed, wiggling his shoulders in anticipation as you brought the brush to his hair. 

"I know how to brush hair, Klaus," you deadpanned back. Klaus looked over his shoulder, eyes running over your head, assessing. He raised his eyebrows in a look that read quite clearly If you say so. You smacked him against the head, and he laughed turning back forward. 

"You need to cut your hair," you said, smoothing the brush through the ends of his shoulder length hair. "It looks raggedy." 

"I like it," Klaus dismissed, his voice dreamy already.

"You look like a stray dog." In response Klaus started panting loudly.

You smacked his arm, and since he remained face forward, you allowed yourself a smile as well. "You're so weird." 

"Good, it means I'm not boring," Klaus shrugged. You rolled your eyes, but the smile remained as you worked your way further up his hair. It was rather soothing, and despite the slightly uncomfortable twist in your stomach, it felt...nice to share this moment with Klaus. And because it felt nice, it also felt wrong. A bit like a betrayal.

"This is weird, you know that right? It's weird to brush another person's hair." you said, cringing at yourself slightly for using the word weird again. Because this kind of weird and Klaus' kind of weird were very different. Although, Klaus had brought on this kind of weird, so maybe he was both? 

"You used to love it when Mom brushed your hair," Klaus rebutted.

You shook your head. "That's different, it was Mom." 

"You're greatly overthinking this," Klaus said, turning to give you a significant look. "I wanted to be pampered, and you weren't doing anything."

"I was reading actually."

"A Brief History of Time, yes, how invigorating."

"Actually--"

"Nope."

"It is!"

"No. It's not. You need to get out more if you think that's exciting."

"Don't you want to know how the universe works?”

“Nope. I know how it works."  That statement had been slightly unexpected. You knew Klaus was more astute than he led the rest of the house to believe. You'd picked that up during your past few months of doing favors for Klaus. But the way he said that he knew how the world works...it sounded so matter of fact. Like he really did know the ins and outs of the universe. Like he had decades of knowledge whispered to him from the great beyond.

"Everything...” Klaus paused as he turned to look at you over his shoulder.You withdrew the hairbrush from his hair, looking at him expectantly. “Is fucked.”

You huffed, pushing Klaus forward and he laughed at you. You should have known not to expect anything too profound to leave Klaus. Still, you had hoped that he held some of the answers you'd been looking for.

"Come on, Y/N. You know I'm right," he protested, drawing himself up again and reigning his laughter in. "What else would explain why our daddy dearest is a millionaire and sweet little Vanya has no powers? Good things happen to bad people. Bad things happen to good people. Bad things also happen to bad people, but they're never quite as bad as the bad things that happen to good people. See? It's all fucked."

He was right. 

Because if he was wrong, Ben wouldn't be dead.

You hung your head, shaking it a little, and Klaus took this for the concession that it was. He must have picked up a few things about you over the past few months as well. 

"Cheer up, if it's already fucked it means that we can't fuck it up worse."

"What's even the point though? If it's all fucked?" you asked. "What's the point of anything we do here if good people still die?" 

"The point is finding ways to make it bearable, I guess," Klaus shrugged. "I suggest pot as a starting point." 

You lifted the corner of your mouth in a vague smile, and Klaus turned around completely to face you. You held your hand out as a small shield to block any sights you did not want to see.

"Ben died making the world more bearable," Klaus said, his voice smaller than you'd ever heard it. As if he didn't want anyone else to overhear him being sincere.

You nodded, that hollow sadness echoing throughout your body. These waves came less than they had three months ago, and you no longer found yourself unable to hold in the tears, but it hadn't stopped hurting. You wished it would. You knew that there was an answer sitting two feet in front of you that could help. And yet, you'd never been able to bring yourself to ask it. It hadn't seemed fair to him, and you weren't sure you wanted to know. But here he was, and if there was any time, it was now.

"Klaus," you started. "Can you...is Ben...is he still around?"

Klaus looked out into the room, his eyes focused on the mid distance and you watched as his pensive look slowly pulled into a frown. 

"No," he said, offering a sad half smile. "Our Benny Bopper has gone towards the light. Eternal peace and all that." 

You bent your head, letting go of the breath of hope you'd been holding. "I don't know whether I'm happy for him or mad at him." 

Klaus reached out, placing a hand on your shoulder. "I'd go for mad," he said. "He always was an annoying little shit." 

You laughed. At least you tried to laugh. It broke about halfway through. 

"I know you two were close," Klaus' voice returned to the unusual sincere tone, rubbing a thumb lightly against your shoulder as a means of comfort. You nodded. Ben had been your closest friend in the entire house. He’d come to your room and the two of you would spend your spare time discussing the intricacies of life and dreaming of the day you could run off to Princeton or John Hopkins or any other far away college with a wonderful library. 

You had been kindred spirits.

And now he was just a spirit.

"Yeah," you breathed, looking out in the room, unable to meet Klaus' eyes. "And you guys were partners." 

"Eh, he always liked you more," Klaus dismissed with a wave of his hand. "Besides, you make a pretty good consolation prize." 

"Thanks," you answered flatly. A small silence grew between the two of you as you attempted to reel yourself back in to this moment, sitting on the bed with Klaus. Away from the memories and the wishes. 

You swallowed down the pressure that had built up in your chest and throat and turned back to Klaus. "Do you want me to finish brushing?" 

"I thought you'd never ask," Klaus said, turning back around, and you snorted vaguely aware of how your heart felt a little bit lighter than when he first walked into the room. It always seemed to feel this way after doing Klaus a favor. Maybe he was a pretty good consolation prize too.

Jumpstart Chapter 3

This is getting a lot of my attention. I really have no clue what started this Jack/Skye kick, but someone tell Kulkum we’re ready for another chapter of Savage Dark. I think that will cure my obsession :).

…………………………………..

The music was soft and lights dim, a romantic hue being cast over the reception hall. The Arctic todd clinked his scotch glass with his wife’s wine glass before turning back to the dance floor. The smile he had given his wife melted and became slightly sad and disappointed when he turned his blue eyes towards the dance floor. There, his little vixen was wrapped in the arms of the last mammal he would have chosen for her. And he had given it several shots throughout the years.

Daniel Frost remembered the day his nine year old daughter had brought her new friend over after school. At first he felt pride. His daughter had not only taken his words to heart but had gone out her way to unalienate the new kit in her class. He had called into work for the day to catch up on house repairs, and was finishing up repainting the kitchen when Skye came home from school with Jack. Standing at the sink, rinsing the paint roller, his ears perked at the sound of the door opening. A glance at the clock and he figured who it could be.

“Welcome home, sweetie! I’m in the kitchen!” 

He set the roller aside to scrub his paws, only to pause at the sound of two sets of footsteps. Mixed with an unfamiliar male scent, his daddy instincts kicked in. Turning around, he was greeted by his Skye and an unfamiliar rabbit kit. The most ridiculous, little rabbit kit he had ever seen. 

“Hi, Daddy!” greeted his little vixen happily. She put an arm around the small buck, who looked up at him with a shy smile, and gestured between the two males. “This is my friend Jack! He’s in my class. Jack, this is my dad.”

With eyes that took up most of his face and ears that were nearly as big as he was, the rabbit took a breath and stepped forward. Daniel blinked down at him and his tiny, outstretched paw. Combined with the dark stripes framing his face and running down his arms, it was a lot to take in. Fortunately, his astonishment lasted only a mere moment before he shook it off to accept the pawshake.

Such a formal, serious, weird little thing, he thought.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jack,” he said out loud, with a smile. Jack smiled back, his large teeth distracting him for a moment. 

“Pleasure to meet you, too, Mr. Frost.” 

Fantastic manners, though.

“Can Jack stay over for a while?” Skye asked, clasping her paws together in a pleading manner. “Please? I don’t have any activities today and Jack said he can help me with my math homework.”

“And I could really use Skye’s help with our vocabulary homework.”  

Both kits looked up at him, Skye’s big blue eyes combined with Jack’s hitting him in a very unfair manner. Daniel looked from one to the other and saw no harm in saying:

“Sure! Go get started on your homework and I’ll get a snack ready for you two.” 

Watching with bemusement as they grinned and darted to the living room, he thought about what an odd pair they made. Giving a final shake of his head, he chuckled, happy that his daughter had made a new friend. And knowing she was willing to risk her reputation to stick up for others made him proud as hell. The few times he had met that skunk had been less than pleasant, so he wouldn’t be sad if she was out of his daughter’s friend circle. But kids changed a lot as they grew up, so who knew how long a friendship with a bunny buck would last.

“I give it a month, tops,” he muttered with a smile. 

Cutting up some veggies and making a couple of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, he set everything onto plates just as the door opened again. 

“Hi, Honey! Hi, Jenny Benny!” 

His wife called back a greeting, followed by his youngest and echoed by Skye from the living room. Both plates were gathered up while his ears picked up sounds of his daughter introducing Jack to her mother and little sister. Daniel was secretly glad Marie was staying the night at her friend's house. She wouldn’t be able to stop herself from making snarky comments. He passed his wife on the way to the living room, the vixen giving him an odd look as she went by. It confused him for a moment until the reason became all too clear. 

Skye and Jack were set up at the coffee table, workbooks, papers, and pencils spread out. Jack stood over Skye, who had remained seated, and explained the math problem to her, totally and completely in his daughter’s space. The young vixen was happily unbothered by it. She elbowed him, her own father, away on a regular basis due to her love of space. Jenny sat on the other side of the table with her own little workbooks (courtesy of the first grade), watching her sister and this new… friend with stunned curiosity. Daniel was immediately put off by how close the pair were but kept his mouth shut.

“Here you go, you two.” He set the plates down in front of them and received a pair of smiles and thank yous in return. Unease filled him when his daughter passed Jack half of one sandwich before taking the other.

Skye NEVER shares food! 

“I’ll bring one out for you, too, Jenny Benny,” he assured his youngest, his eyes still on the odd pair, now working and munching. 

“She can have this one, Daddy,” Skye offered, looking over at Jack, who smiled at the younger vixen and passed her the other plate. To Daniel’s astonishment, Jenny blushed and giggled, accepting it with a shy smile at the rabbit buck.

“Ooookay,” Daniel backed away slowly as the kits settled into their homework and snacks. He finally turned away when he reached the kitchen just as his wife Abigail was tying an apron on.

“Perfect timing,” she began with a smile, scooping up another and throwing it at him. “I need someone to peel the veggies.”

He caught it without a word, amazed at how undisturbed his wife was. All he could was gape as she started about the kitchen to make dinner. She paused, though, once she realized he was still staring at her in disbelief. 

“What?” she asked with concern.

“Are you kidding me?” he asked. Glancing towards the living room, he got closer and lowered his voice. “What the hell is going on out there?”

Abby’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?” His paws gestured towards the room, approximately where Jack and Skye were working. She snorted in amusement. “Danny, come on. They’re kits. We raised a daughter who is so sweet and charming, she can put a bunny at ease. And let me tell you now, that kit looks like he needs some good friends.”

“And a hell of a personality,” Danny muttered under his breath. Abby snorted and gave him a light slap while chuckling. 

“Just give it time,” his wife assured. “Kits outgrow friends all the time. Jack only recently transferred to this school and he just needs to break out of his shell. Skye’s great at helping others fit in! Once he finds his place in school, he and Skye will go their separate ways. Trust me! I’ll be very surprised if they’re still talking this time next year.”

4 YEARS LATER

“I can’t believe you’re not in ANY of my classes!” Skye stared down in disbelief at Jack’s school schedule. They sat in Skye’s family kitchen, tucked away in the bay window seat, the pair looking properly discouraged. Jack shook his head at Skye’s schedule in his paws.

“This is so unfair. Our first year of high school and they expect us to not be together? We even have different lunch hours! That’s sick!” Skye nodded in agreement before looking up when Jack snapped his fingers decisively. “I think I can get Trent to change it for me.” Skye beamed at him hopefully and Jack grinned at her. “He owes me a favor after I covered him on Mom’s birthday present. Mom would have killed him if she found out how much he spent on it!”

“She looked so good in that dress, though.” Skye scooted closer to him and put the schedules together. “I might be able to convince my parents to fix mine, too!” Her chin moved to rest on his shoulder as the pair debated and argued and negotiated on how things could be rearranged. 

Daniel sat at the breakfast bar with a coffee in paw and a plate of fresh eggs and toast in front of him, his eyes glued on the duo. Jack was a frequent visitor in the mornings and afternoons, whereas Skye was usually found at his house on the weekends. Both felt Jack’s was too crowded to spend vast quantities of time at. Marie sat next to Danny, phone to her ear, jabbering away and oblivious to the resigned look her father had. Abby came to stand beside him, sipping from her own cup and gazing at the pair with her own brand of disbelief. 

“She can’t possibly think we’re going to change her schedule to fit her friend in,” he whispered to her. He met her eyes, hers just as troubled as his. “Can she?”

They exchanged shrugs before looking over at them again. 

“You both are in some serious denial,” came the voice of their youngest.

Jenny had entered the kitchen and bounced over to the stove to help herself to breakfast, Marie tuning in to briefly nod her head in agreement before jabbering away again. Everyone looked over to the pair when they started laughing with each other. Marie pulled the phone from her ear and pressed it to her chest to address her parents.

“Those two,” she pointed one perfectly manicured claw between Skye and Jack, who were grinning at each other, “are going to be together forever.”

“Get used to it,” confirmed Jenny as she sat on the remaining stool with her food.

Danny and Abby looked back at their daughter and her friend. 

Skye had blossomed- as Danny knew she would- getting taller and more willowy like her mother, and just as beautiful. She had those sparkling eyes that could melt even the coldest heart and a smile that welcomed anyone and everyone. Jack, however, had remained small and out of proportion. His ears and front teeth were still comically too big, and he had barely grown at all. 

Until that summer.

One moment, he was just the nerdy, little bunny that his daughter insisted on spending her time with. The next, he was only slightly shorter than Skye, his mouth growing around his teeth and ears growing into the rest of him. His face, once dominated by his eyes and stripes, now began to wear them as a compliment to the rest of his features. He still had the air of an awkward teen (his body had grown longer, leaving him lanky in the arms and legs, with no real muscle structure to compliment it, yet), but the todd knew it wouldn’t last forever. 

It was only a small comfort that Skye hadn’t noticed yet.

4 YEARS LATER

Jack balanced a stack of boxes as he followed Danny down the hall. Young students of all species rushed past them, most with parents trailing behind. Around them, joy and anxiety circling the first year of college radiated. It was an emotional day for everyone. Especially parents who were going to be apart from their babies for the first time ever.

“In here, guys!” Skye’s voice called out. 

Both males turned into the dorm room, greeted by Skye, who was setting up her side of the room with her mother. Abby smiled at them as she reached for the boxes her husband was carrying, though it became an eyeroll when her daughter ignored her father’s outstretched arms to approach Jack instead, relieving him of the boxes. The two teens smiled happily at each other while she set the stack on the floor next to them and embraced her friend. Jack closed his eyes and hugged her back fiercely. 

“Thank you so much for helping, Jackie,” she muttered.

“I hate that name,” he protested with a sad smile. “And don’t thank me too much. You’re helping me move next weekend, remember.”

Skye loosened her grip and Danny smiled expectantly, re-raising his arms to accept a hug from her. But his face fell when she just held Jack at arms length and smiled at him sadly.

“But this is the first time we’re not going to have any classes together.” She sniffled and blinked away tears. “Or live next to each other!”

 Jack’s eyes became misty as Danny and Abby rolled theirs. 

“I know,” he choked out. “But if you start crying, then I’m going to cry, and if I start crying, you’re going to tell Josie and then I owe her thirty bucks and I don’t have that kind of money, Skye!”

She gave a small, watery laugh and hiccup as she tried to compose herself. “I would say, ‘I would never’, but you know me too well.”

He laughed, too, pulling her back in for another hug. It was a long one, one that the parents were going to interrupt before they finally broke apart and wiped away their tears. 

“Okay,” began Jack, backing away with a sad smile. “Like a band-aid!” He gave her a wave and smile, before seeming to realize Danny and Abby were still there. His ears tinged pink but he still gave them a parting farewell. “Great seeing you two, Mr. and Mrs. Frost.” His eyes moved back to Skye. He held his paw up to his ear in a phone sign. “Call me later?”

“Definitely,” she assured with a nod. Jack grinned at her and gave her a thumbs up before turning to leave. He rushed out the door, past a pair of bunny does who gave him interested looks he didn’t notice. Skye did, however, and glowered at them unconsciously until they passed by; only then did she remember her parents were still there.

“Thank you, guys.” With tears still in her eyes, she moved to hug her mother and father. 

“Of course, sweetheart,” her mother mumbled, burying her nose into her daughter’s head fur. 

She still has that new baby smell, Abby thought sadly.

“Anything for you, princess,” Danny said gruffly. He squeezed a bit tighter and looked to where Jack had vanished. “And don’t forget-” Skye pulled away to look up at her father expectantly. “College is not just about grades and academics. It’s about meeting new mammals. Experiencing different cultures. Making new friends.” Skye blinked up at him. “Meeting new mammals.” He grinned down at her only to be gifted with a look of confusion from Skye and a small kick from Abby.

“Ooookay then…” his daughter said, backing away. 

“Okay then!” Abby pulled away and clapped her paws together. She gave her daughter a final smile and hooked her arm through Danny’s. “We love you. Please be safe and call us if you need us.”

After Skye agreed, the Frosts gave her a final goodbye and left. The door closed behind them and they began the walk back to the car.

“This is the year, right?” asked Danny with a hint of worry.

Abby simply smiled and shook her head. “Nope.”

He looked down in alarm at her. “What makes you say that? It’s college! She’s bound to meet a TON of new mammals.”

“And she will,” Abby agreed. Her eyes looked up at Danny. “But Marie was right.” She sighed heavily. “Those two will be together forever.”

Danny groaned. 

“That’s what I thought.”

5 YEARS LATER

“I think I claimed that apartment first,” Skye argued with a grin. Jack shook his head in disagreement. This was their latest ‘argument’.

“Considering I viewed the apartment first,” he countered, grinning at her eye roll and playful slap to his arm, “and have already signed the paperwork, I get first dibs.” 

Skye leaned in to whisper something in his ear. Danny tried to not growl at their closeness, opting instead to drink deeply from the glass in his paw. Abby smiled at her husband and refilled his wine when he was done. The todd smiled his thanks before turning away from his middle child, towards his oldest in her wedding dress, greeting tables with her new husband. The handsome todd was positively radiating happiness, but the newlywed’s love for each other seemed to be dimmed by the pair next to him.

When Marie had sent out her wedding invites, the Frosts were eagerly hoping their middle daughter would find a proper date. But neither were surprised when Marie paw delivered Skye’s invite on a day Jack was joining them for breakfast and announced she expected both to show up. Skye was a bridesmaid and Jack a groomsmale, Sam (Marie’s fiance) having been a contractor who had worked with him at Jack’s lab. The bunny was the reason the couple had met. Neither Marie nor Sam had thought twice about including them on the same invite. 

And Jack and Skye hadn’t thought twice about it either.

Danny had pretended to be resigned to the fact that his Skye and Jack were a permanent feature the day he dropped her off at college. But that was so it made it more natural to introduce her to any and every todd he met, any chance he got. A few times, she had even agreed to a meal with one or two, which made him optimistic. Only for the follow up to disappoint every time. Her relationship with the rabbit confused him, to say the least. They were always together, they carried each other’s scents, practically shared living spaces, yet had never announced their relationship to their families. 

As far as Danny knew, Jack’s parents had not spoken to him about his perpetual bachelorhood. Nor about his relationship with his daughter. Danny got the impression they didn’t care one way or the other and the times they had gotten together with the Eairs-Savage clan, the rabbit couple only seemed to encourage it. As his fellow bunnies were settling down, Jack stayed by Skye’s side. Danny had heard he had a doe from time to time (which made the todd confusingly upset), but nothing that had been enough to derail his relationship with his daughter.

With every passing year, they’re relationship grew stronger.

And then, the day Daniel Frost had been fearing since Skye first brought him home at nine years old, when Skye showed up with Jack for dinner at their house. That was not an unusual occurrence. But his arm around her shoulders and her paw on his leg combined with the occasional nuzzle, elevated things to a whole new level.

After an enjoyable meal filled with the usual laughter and chatter, it was more than obvious they had finally transcended ‘just friends’. Daniel thought the news about Officers Hopps and Wilde getting married may have been the reason behind it. Which was a pity, because Danny remembered Nick Wilde from when he was in high school and had hoped to set Skye up, somehow. Marie, her husband, and their two kits had been visiting, and Jenny had come up from graduate school with her new partner to join them. As always, Jack charmed the vixens, bonded with Sam, and doted on the kits. But this time, Skye looked on with a naked look of love.

He could handle Jenny coming home with a vixen and declaring her love for her. His tongue was held when Marie had told him they were homeschooling their children and moving to the country for a more simple life. It was not his life they were living, after all. He even grinned and bared it when his wife decided to rent out their free rooms to travelers for extra cash. 

But he was entirely unprepared for his daughter, his little genius and prodigy, to lean into the rabbit buck she had spent the last twenty five with and kiss him. She kissed his lips and he returned it with equal love and devotion. A small quiet fell over the dinner table. Considering this was the first time either had been intimately demonstrative of their relationship, it was understandable. 

“I love you,” Skye told him, thumbing away a smudge of lip gloss from his bottom lip. Jack’s blue eyes drank in every detail of her face.

“I love you, too.” She beamed at him before realizing they had captured the family’s attention. Together, they blushed and laughed, the night carrying on after a moment.

Later, after the plates had been cleared and leftovers stored away, the females had branched away to visit with each other, leaving Daniel with Sam and Jack. The trio moved into the living room, Danny trying to drag out the boring conversation he was trapped in with Michael to avoid Jack’s questioning gaze in his direction. The buck sat at the piano and played a bit while waiting for an opening to jump in. It was to the older todd’s dismay that his son-in-law excused himself for the restroom, leaving him alone with the bunny for the first time since he was a child.

Jack continued to play the melody he had chosen, looking over to Danny with a grin.

“This is our favorite song to play together,” he explained. His finger’s moved across the keys with skill and grace. “Skye loves this part, right here,” he smiled and closed his eyes as the complicated notes echoed around them. The buck smiled, his eyes still closed. “I’ve been practicing for years and she can still play circles around me.” His eyes opened as the piece started to wind down. But the smile remained. “She’s way too good for me. But…” He played the final notes, pausing his fingers on the keys to let the sound play out. Once it faded, he lifted his paws and smiled again at the todd in his chair.

“I guess I’m a pretty lucky guy.”

Jack gulped and stood from his seat. He strode over to where Danny sat, the todd’s jaw set and eyes narrowed with suspicion. His blue eyes looked up at the handsome, successful buck in front of him, remembering the odd, almost ugly little kit he had once been, and braced himself.

“Mr.Frost,” Jack started after clearing his throat. “I love your daughter. I think I’ve loved her ever since the day I met her. She’s the most beautiful, wonderful, amazing, smartest mammal I have ever known. And I don’t want to spend another moment without her knowing I’m hers.” Jack shrugged. “For the rest of my life. I was hoping you would give me your blessing to ask her to marry me.”

Daniel Frost took a sip of his drink to gather his thoughts. 

“No,” he said simply.

The way it was said, without hesitation or thought, had the buck blinking in response, obviously thrown by his answer. Jack opened his mouth to speak only to be cut off.

“My daughter can do better than you, Jack,” Daniel continued, his lips becoming more pursed with every sip of his drink. “And I’m happy to bide my time waiting for that day to come.” With a grin, he reached down to release the footstool on the recliner and gave a satisfied sigh when he reclined back and settled in. “I know tons of todds who would be a better match for her.” He gave the rabbit a smug look and shrugged. “It’s just a matter of time until she meets someone better.” A wink was tipped to Jack over the rim of his glass. “So, don’t get too comfortable, Stripes.”

The younger male gave him a look of disbelief before opening his mouth to argue.

“Asking you is just a formality.”

Both males jumped and looked over to the living room entryway. Skye stood, looking at her father with angry eyes. Behind her, Abby gave her husband a sympathetic look. Danny lowered the footrest and stood from his seat.

“Now, sweetheart,” he started, the paw not holding his drink out stretched, “I’m just looking out for you. You’re young, brilliant, and beautiful. Do you really want to waste your best years with a rabbit?” Her eyes widened at him but her father wasn’t done. “What about kits? Do you think you’d be able to start a family with him?” He saw Jack’s expression fall out of the corner of his eye and fought off the guilt. “I won’t let you throw your life away for someone who won’t be able to give you the life you deserve. And you deserve a husband who can provide for you and give you children and with whom you can grow old with.”

Skye’s eyes were filled with tears, but she nodded before turning her gaze to Jack. Jack’s own tears fell freely as his paws fiddled with the box in his paws. Daniel hadn’t noticed him pulling it from his pocket when he stood from the piano.

“If we gross you out so badly, Dad, you may want to look away.” Skye stepped closer to Jack and grinned, still teary eyed.

“Jack,” she got down on one knee and took his free paw, pulling her own ring box from her jean’s pocket, “I love you, so, so much. And the idea of not being yours for the rest of our lives sucks.” Both mammals laughed, Jack gripping her paw and bending to kiss it. “You’re my best friend, my confidant, my partner.” She gently tugged her paw free to open her ring box, Jack sob laughing at the sight of the silver ring hidden inside. It was removed and his left paw taken up for the ring to be slipped onto his finger. “ Jack Edmond Savage, love of my life. Will you marry me?”

Danny’s jaw dropped and his eyes went to his daughter on her knee, to his family watching with happy astonishment from the hall. Jack laughed through his tears of happiness and nodded, joining her on his own knees. His ring box was opened, Skye gifting him with a gasp of joy at the tasteful, vintage ring inside. He took her paw again and slipped it onto her finger with a smile.

“Yes, Skye Abigail Frost,” they exchanged looks of pure love, paws now clasped together, “I will marry you.”

There was no further discussion, Daniel realizing there was nothing he could do but sit with his mouth agape as his daughter embraced her new fiance. His wife, daughters, and their partners impatiently waited for the chance to congratulate the couple. 

Which brought him to this moment. 

The second moment he had been dreading since the day his little vixen brought that odd, awkward, unfortunate looking little rabbit kit home. 

His daughter was marrying a rabbit. 

He walked her down the aisle to the buck, whose eyes were alight with happiness at the sight of his bride. And Danny knew he was wrong. He wasn’t happy about it, but as he reluctantly released his daughter’s paw and stepped aside for Jack, he knew their lives were made for this moment. The disaster he had hoped for, never happened. They were together, for richer or poorer. In sickness and in health. It only made Skye and Jack’s bond stronger. Danny was used to it by Christmastime, when his wife opened the door to the happy couple. In his opinion, their relationship had desensitized himself from a lot of things life threw at him.

But not the positive pregnancy test the couple had gifted them for the holiday.

Hear me out ----> SPN/Gravity Falls AU

A while back I saw a post(that i cannot find again, much to my chagrin) that listed a bunch of things Grunkle Stan did that have extreme Dean energy (this includes a brief but sincere attempt to make Jurassic Park real) and now a Gravity Falls AU lives in my head featuring:

Dean as Stan, who left home when he was twenty-one after a massive fight with his parents and Sam over Sam’s college shit and was a drifter for seven years until Sam called him and said he needed help in this podunk town in Oregon

Sam as Ford, who did manage to get out and go to college, met Kevin(as McGucket), and proceeded to do some real shady work with eldritch beings that resulted in both of them proceeding to get visions of some messed up shit, which causes Kevin to quit the project, leaving Sam to call Dean to Gravity Falls....we all know what happens next, Sam falls through an inter-dimensional portal and Dean is like “Okay I live here now, gotta figure out how to get Sam back”. Problem is, he only has one journal and needs two more. Where could they possibly be?

Flash-forward about twelve years; cult survivors, podcast hosts, and sorta-siblings Anna and Cas are driving up to Oregon to look at the weird shit present in Gravity Falls/The Mystery Shack and their shitty car breaks down. Cas staying to supervise the car while Anna goes and scopes out some potential material has nothing to do with the hot tourist trap guy who happens to be a mechanic, it doesn’t Anna.

Cue the pilot incident where Anna almost becomes Queen of the Gnomes and Cas gets to drive a golf cart and gnomes are defeated with leaf blowers. Car’s still broken and there is obviously a lot of weird shit going on here so why not hang out for the summer?

More below the cut, including recurring characters and some plot lines

Featuring such recurring characters as:

-Cassie Robinson my beloved, small town writer who desperately wants to break into the big time. Writes a combination of political and social critiques and the standard local stuff. We get introduced to her in the second episode, where Anna and Cas discover that she built the Gobblewonker in attempt for publicity so that someone will read the Gravity Falls Tooter(yes i just made up the name of the town’s newspaper) She regularly appears when Anna and Cas are researching local history or when a robot comes to threaten the Shack because Dean owes her money again.

-Claire, Kaia, Alex, and Patience as the resident teenage nuisances who nominally work at the Shack but actually mostly cause a lot of problems for the local-definitely gay-sheriffs. Claire and Cas are almost definitely related but they don’t know this at first, a minor plot point near the end of season one is figuring out that they are in fact related and the shocking realization that Claire likes Anna better. Anna is pretty good friends with all of them and Cas is minorly terrified, as you should be with teenage girls who live in the woods and absolutely know how to throw knives. Alex being a pyschic is a major plot point of season two especially after they become friends with Kevin and realize that hey, the shit of twelve years ago is happening again except it’s spreading to people who aren’t even involved this time.

-For that matter, collection of pyschics Missouri, Pamela, Alex, and Kevin who regularly find out weird pieces of information that sometimes become plot relevant and sometimes do not at all.

-Jody and Donna who also only do their job nominally because ACAB and mostly just maintain trails and shit around town cause they used to be park rangers but being sheriffs pays more and also they can make sure no one gets arrested for stupid shit. They regularly show up in like the weirdest places which Donna always defends as ‘we’re on a date’. No one questions this.

-Victor Henrikson as the investigating FBI agent in season two who is just like “i don’t know what the fuck is going on here but I KNOW it’s sketchy what is wrong with this town” because yes there is a witch here her name is Rowena and yeah she brews potions and stuff during the full moon no one sees anything wrong with this at all except Henrikson who was prepared to arrest a nutty drifter building a doomsday device but not prepared to deal with a whole town of people who absolutely believe in ghosts. His partner is Billie, who, like in the show, doesn’t think that some people should get to break rules whenever the fuck they want and is thus absolutely ready to rain justice down on this crazy white boy who think’s he’s gonna end the world. I kinda love her perspective cause it’s like, okay just because someone is the protagonist of the story doesn’t mean they’re special.

-Charlie and Ash as the only people in town who get wifi on a regular basis and thus show up when there’s some kind of need for tech or phone calls. Running gag that nothing works tech wise unless one of them is in the vicinity, with the exception of TVs. There is also absolutely the episode where they play a game of D&D in real life and Charlie has never been happier but Dean and Ash absolutely rig it because they suck.

-Bela Talbot in the role of Pacifica Northwest cause she’s a bitch and I LOVE HER SO MUCH.

-Kelly Kline my beloved, who’s the liason for the local Yakama tribe(cause I read a headcanon that she’s Native and that lives in my head rent free baby) who regularly reminds people that certain things are not for you to touch, there’s got to be respect there. This theme stays pretty constant throughout the show cause while after awhile Cas kinda forgets about the podcast he’s supposed to be co-hosting, Anna is still on top of things and trying to collect stories so she and Kelly butt heads a lot while Cas and Jack(who’s like eight) discuss frogs and bees in great detail.

-The Banes twins who comprise the other half of the witch activity in this town and who are very very nice but you do not want to fuck with them whatsoever. They show up extremely often and always give very strange but specific excuses to why they are certain places such as “checking the frequencies of the energy in this location” and that’s a running gag for awhile until it turns out in season 2 that they’ve been aware of the machine Dean’s rebuilding for awhile now and they’re working on protective measures to keep everyone safe no matter what comes out of it this time.

(Also, to compensate for the fact that Sam and Dean are not twins and thus someone would probably realize that there is a different dude living in the weird house in the woods, the Banes go a little Society of the Blind Eye and modified people’s memories. Because they want Dean to get the portal right and then shut it down permanently once things are the way they’re supposed to be again)

-Benny who is absolutely still a vampire, he runs the diner. The vampirism is a well-established fact and no one questions it, in fact Anna finds it hot.

Plot Lines of Season One Include:

-Bela Talbot whom I love attempting to buy/steal/destroy the Shack because she knows there’s some funky machinery down there and a lot of weird artifacts that she could make another fortune selling, yes she summons demons so that she can figure out where the deed to the place is, yes Anna gets to punch her in the face at one point because “These are my friends, you bitch!”

-Cas trying to decipher some of the stuff in Sam’s journals and figure out who the hell wrote them. This involves him thoroughly annoying basically everyone in town except Kelly because they are weird best friends who absolutely have long conversations about the difference between local mythologies and urban legends.

-Anna sincerely making friends for like the first time in her life and deeply enjoying being a kind of weird aunt to the local girl gang and the person who brings Rowena gossip and does have a weird love/hate relationship with Bela going. Like, I mentioned in the beginning that Anna and Cas are cult survivors, their social weirdness and then re-joining the world is absolutely discussed. Are they choosing some of the weirdest people ever to base their social knowledge on? Yes. They don’t care.

-Subplot of Dean genuinely trying to get Cas to go out with him but Cas does not realize this whatsoever so they’re just both awkward as fuck. Running gag of Dean walking up to Cas all smooth and trying to ask him out but Cas just...does not get slang and thinks Netflix and chill really does mean Netflix and chill. They end up watching Wynonna Earp.

...and then we had both.

summary: following events of why can’t we have both. you and ben decide to try and make your relationship work.

warnings: smut (18+), dry humping, female receiving oral, unprotected sex, fluff, aaaannnnggggsssstttt

pairing: bodyguard!ben hardy x reader

( gif creds to the amazing @ bens-hardy )

When you wake up the next morning, Ben isn’t next to you. And this is weird because you swear you remember him falling asleep next to you, thrown overtop of him, a thick blanket he brought covering your bodies. But now he’s gone, and when you push yourself up onto your elbows and glance around the room - bright with the shine of the sun, showcasing every bit of dust on every surface - you can’t see him at all.

It’s only a bit panic inducing. After all, he’s your bodyguard and you know he wouldn’t leave, not at all or at the very least without some sort of note.

(And there is no note.)

The blanket falls down to expose your bare chest and the coldness attacks your skin, goosebumps popping up over every inch of exposed flesh, and you drop back onto the couch with a huff, pulling the blanket back up over you. God, the couch is unbearably soft and squishy and while it is undeniably better than the rock of a mattress you’d been on, it certainly isn’t the greatest. Your back aches and your neck burns and you’re still sleepy.

And panic is settling into your mind. There is still the death threat thing and you suppose that’s something to worry about, honestly, and you’d managed to get your mind off of it last night but without Ben here it’s entirely weighing down on you. It almost hurts, those thoughts pressing onto your brain, seeping its way into every one of your veins, and you stare at the ceiling - splattered with dark cracks - and you worry.

You would be rehearsing right now. Preparing for the concert you had to cancel and if that isn’t just a horrible thought in itself.

You hope everyone got their money back.

You hope they all got some free fucking merchandise in return for the emotional stress.

“Ben?” it’s stupid to call out in an empty house - you know this - but if there’s someone in the house and they’ve gotten Ben then they would have taken you out while you were asleep. Besides, there’s nobody in the house, of course, because Ben is strong and he could’ve taken anyone out.

But why doesn’t anyone respond?

“Ben?” you call again, and then you sit up again, hugging the blanket to your chest, and there still isn’t a reply.

Plenty of reasons for why that could be. Maybe he’s showering, even though there’s no water running. Maybe he’s outside on the deck - does this stupid house even have a deck? Maybe he’s asleep in the bedroom.

Maybe hard surfaces are better for his back. You don’t know.

Slowly you stand, clutching the soft blanket to your body. It drops low on you, nearly reaching your ankles, and you’re fairly confident every square inch of your body is safe and secure and covered. God forbid there’s someone in the house, and there isn’t, but you have to be sure.

Perfect. You set off down the hall towards the bedroom, diverting your eyes straight ahead of you, making sure you don’t trip on the entirely too large blanket. You peek into the hallway closet and then the bathroom, and then the bedroom, and they’re all empty.

You turn and make your way back down the hall. Now your heart is beating just the tiniest bit faster and you drag your palm along the wall, feeling the texture beneath your hand, clutching the blanket over your chest. The light fixture on the ceiling flickers pathetically, and it’s - on, and you’re certain all of the lights were on when you went to sleep last night because you almost definitely remember feeling completely content in the darkness. Resting on top of Ben, feeling his skin beneath yours even if you couldn’t see him. You remember that feeling of peace.

The light in the kitchen is on, too.

Fuck.

You press your back against the wall, contemplating what you should even do in this trying time. Because what if you die? What if Ben is lying, dead on the floor? You would never forgive yourself. You hired him, so you would be the reason he died. And that’s too much guilt for you to live with - too much entirely.

Time to be brave.

You push off the wall and turn so you’re staring into the kitchen, arms slackening as you see the sight. Not a murderer at all, thank Christ, but Ben in all his glory - sweatpants low on his hips, headphones firm over his ears, working over the stove. The stove that looks so old you’re surprised it even works, but as Ben scrapes his spatula against the pan you’re thankful it does.

“Are you fucking serious?” you question, watching as Ben turns around, eyebrows furrowed, and then he takes his headphones off. “I called you twice because I thought you were getting murdered, Benny. Come on.” Your eyes land on his headphones again and then the wire attaching them to his phone. “And you have a phone when I wasn’t allowed to.”

“I didn’t hear you, sweetheart,” Ben says, and you narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms over your chest the best you can. “And it’s a burner phone. Only good for music, really. I need it.”

“I need my phone, too.”

“No, you don’t.” Ben pauses and when you open your mouth to respond he cuts you off. “We’re going to be here for another five days. And I know it sucks but - I was expecting a couple of weeks.”

Five days. Two shows. It’s fucking horrible. You tug the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “Is this a house arrest situation? Or can we do stuff?”

Ben rolls his eyes. You roll them right back. “We can do stuff but it’s best for us to stay here. Trust me, I’m not thrilled about it either. You’re hardly my first companion of choice in a situation like this.”

Perhaps with anyone else you’d be offended by it, but you could pick up on the teasing glint in Ben’s eyes from miles away. “That’s not the tune you were singing last night, I don’t think.”

“Oh, is that how you want to play this?” Ben takes a step toward you, and you take another to him, staring directly into his eyes. “Because I certainly remember you -”

You don’t let him finish, throwing your arms around his neck and attaching your lips. Desperate and passionate and perfect, and Ben wraps his arms around your waist to steady your body against his. The blanket unceremoniously falls down your body though his chest pressed against yours keeps it briefly held up - when your bodies part for even just a second it falls to a puddle on the ground.

Ben raises his eyebrows, hands squeezing your hips, scanning your body with barely masked surprise. Your body is cold but with his gaze you feel nearly warmed up and you give him a small twirl, showcasing the entirety of your nakedness to him. Watching his expression morph is wonderfully enjoyable and you stop in front of him, bracing your palms on his chest and gazing up at him with eyes - soft. Soft and sweet. Resembling some sort of feeling that others may define as love but you’re not sure how much you believe in that shit.

“Where are your clothes?” he questions, voice low, and a chill runs up your spine at his tone.

“I was too scared to change.”

“Ah.”

Ben’s hands trail down your hips to the backs of your thighs, and you lean up again to kiss him. “Benny,” you begin, voice sultry sweet. “We have four days here.”

“Five.”

“Whatever. How much do you want to bet that we can taint every square inch of this shitty little house?”

His lips turn up into a grin, fingers running through the ends of your entirely too messy curls. “$200, but I already know I’m going to owe it to you.”

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Sure enough, when you leave in five days’ time, there’s hardly a surface the pair of you haven’t fucked on.

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 Getting back into the groove of touring is something you love. Five days away from it wasn’t that much but it felt like an eternity even if you spent it with Ben, and now you have a limp, and you spend the majority of your days rehearsing and performing and taking pictures with fans in the moments you get to go out.

And something has already changed with Ben. You’d be lying if you said your relationship has returned to the brutal state it once was but it certainly isn’t as - sweet - as when you two were in the safehouse together. Because then you could trick yourself, maybe, into believing you and Ben were some sort of couple. Cooking breakfast, laughing at dinner, watching movies and kissing and fucking and sleeping on top of each other. It’s so couple-y.

Perhaps you’d read it wrong. You’ve never done that with anyone before, the whole dating thing, so maybe that was … not it. Maybe that was just a friends with benefits sort of situation or maybe Ben just didn’t want to pursue any sort of relationship with you.

It sucks. But you suppose you can understand, in the beginning, though after just about a week you’ve had enough of it again.

He walks you to your room in Tokyo after a show and while he’s fiddling for the keys to your room you bring it up. “Benny, do you like me?”

Ben pauses, hand froze in midair from where he’d begun to reach for the lock on the door, and then he says, “Of course.”

“You don’t act like it. I mean, I thought there was something going on between us.”

The tension in the air is thick as peanut butter, and your voices are oddly soft to try and not wake anyone else on this floor, and Ben shoves the key into the lock. “I’m your bodyguard, sweetheart.”

You snort, entirely unprofessional and the sort of thing your mother would call not lady-like but you don’t really care. “You were my bodyguard when we were on house arrest together, too. I mean, if you don’t like me then just tell me. I’d rather know outright.”

Which isn’t true. If he tells you he doesn’t like you like that then you really do believe you’ll throw yourself from a window.

But then he says, voice thick, “I do but - that was different. I feel - bad, I guess. I’m supposed to protect you.”

“You can protect me while we’re together.”

“Sweetheart …”

“Benny.”

You won’t give this up until he gives you a valid answer, and Ben opens your door with a small sigh. Is this conversation irritating to him? Well, god forbid you want some sort of clarity. You’re horrific at reading situations like this.

“Okay,” he begins, and your eyes widen just a bit. Is he going to agree? “I like you. You know that. And if you were anyone else -” he pauses. You nod, encouraging him to go on, but Ben takes his fucking time collecting himself and you’re ready to just go into your room and slam the door in his face when he speaks up again. “I feel shitty about what we did.”

“You shouldn’t. Come on, I liked it and you liked it and I thought there was something.”

“And there was.” Pause. “Is. But it shouldn’t happen while my main job is to protect you. I can get distracted.”

This doesn’t add up in your fucking head. “Wouldn’t it make you better at your job if we’re together? Because you’d be more determined to protect me, you know?”

Ben shoves the key back into his pocket and braces his hands on his hips, and when he looks up at you - God. He has ruined you, hasn’t he? Because he’s standing here, rejecting you, and all you want to do is pull him into your room and make your limp a little worse. “Sweetie -”

“Don’t call me that.”

It’s stupid because he’s called you that since before the two of you ever did anything but it just makes your anger and sadness and betrayal a thousand times worse. Sweetheart. Sweetie. Boyfriends call their girlfriends that and it’s only making everything so much harder to hear it from him now, in this situation.

He bites at his bottom lip and you take a step into your room, clutching the doorknob, waiting for the perfect moment to slam it in his face. It has to be perfect, absolutely perfect, the ideal dramatic moment. Then he says, “I don’t want something to happen to you because I’m distracted,” and your grip loosens on the cold knob.

You take a deep inhale, willing your breath to steady before you reply. “Ben. I wouldn’t want to be with you if I thought it would jeopardize my life. I mean - no offense - but being with you isn’t exactly worth that.”

Ben gives a humorless smile to the ground. “No, it isn’t worth that at all.”

“But that won’t happen. I’m not going to die or something because we’re together. Come on. If you want to and I want to then what’s the problem?”

It’s your last resort. If he turns you down one more time you swear you’ll stop trying, you’ll close the door and go to your bed and cry into your stupid pillow so he doesn’t hear you from the room next door. And tomorrow you’ll resume whatever remnants of a friendship you can pick up from this experience and life will go on, and you’ll meet someone else, and Ben will be but a distance memory of fierce longing and achingly good cock.

You’re planning your future without him as an option when Ben sighs and says, “We can give it a go.”

“What?”

“You. Me. We can give it a go, if you’d really like. I can’t guarantee it’ll work but we can try -”

Whatever else Ben wants to say is utterly lost as you throw yourself forward, arms around his neck and his palms at your back, and you’re kissing him so intensely - brutally - passionately. One leg hooks around his waist and he places his palm on the back of your thigh, keeping it up, kissing you back with every ounce of energy he’s got. It’s tongues fighting and teeth clashing, and when you pull away you can see bruising on his swollen lips from the intensity of it. You’re sure you’re sporting a familiar look, and you’d wear it every single day if it means Ben is yours.

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 But dating is weird.

You call him your boyfriend and it feels wonderful, just having him being your boyfriend, and you kiss and hold hands when there’s nobody around but when there is Ben drops his hand to his side, reverts his face back to the one he’s always sported, and there’s not a single headline speculating about the nature of your relationship.

He’s your bodyguard in public and your boyfriend in private and you think you’re fine with that. You’ve never done this before, not since getting famous and going on tours and becoming who you are and you aren’t sure how relationships are meant to work. Surely this is normal. A lot of your more famous friends have relationships that have never seen the light of the media, and when you tell them about Ben they advise you to keep it on the down low.

Which means to never tell anyone if you aren’t completely positive they’ll keep it hush-hush.

And … well … that’s not many people. So maybe Ben is your secret. And it’s a good secret, the best, with so many sub-secrets it could be like a tree. Branches extending off of it. There’s the way he likes to draw on your thigh when you sit in his lap and how he likes trying to run his fingers through your hair even if he knows he’ll never make it to your ends without a hassle. And there’s the way he always kisses your skin after biting it, and how he forces you to maintain eye contact while he’s lapping at your cunt.

Does anyone know him like this? Have you known anyone like this?

Surely Ben has his own secrets about you. The ones he wouldn’t tell you, the things he’s noticed. And thinking of that makes you warm and fuzzy inside, and sometimes when you look at him you just want him to wrap his arms around you and hold you and kiss you with the gentleness of a wave hitting the shore. Lapping at the sand, light, smooth.

And other times you want him to slam you against the wall so hard you see stars, lips sucking brutally dark hickeys into the column of your throat, knee digging into your cunt with desperate intensity. A tsunami crashing into a city.

It’s a sharp contrast.

Surely he feels some sort of similarity.

You appreciate this, mostly, the off moments. You’re curled up on his lap as the bus beneath you rumbles back to your hotel, your cheek against his chest, his hands folded on your thighs. And Ben’s finger traces circles and letters and numbers and complete gibberish into your skin, his breath warm against the side of your face. You’re pumped up on those post concert adrenaline rushes and Ben knows it, lets you bounce your leg against his, doesn’t try and stop you as you hum loudly.

And your tour feels like it’s quickly coming to a close, with three weeks left, and if that doesn’t suck.

“You’re all jittery, sweetheart,” Ben tells you, and your eyes meet his with a slightly guilty grin. “Are you alright?”

“Of course I’m alright,” you reply, and it’s the whole truth. “Rarely been better. I love performing, Benny, you know that? Gets me all excited. And now I have too much energy and I don’t know what to do with it.”

Instinctively you shift in his lap, throwing one leg over each side of his thighs until you’re straddling his waist, leaning in to press a kiss against his cheek. You let it linger, lips against his skin, and then you trail it across his face until you’re kissing the corner of his mouth, dangerously close to your lips against his.

“I think you have a few ideas,” Ben says, and his eyes flit around the bus. Empty. In the back of the bus - where you and Ben generally took up residence - none of your crew ever joins you, opting for the front, and with just the right position the pair of you can shield yourself completely from view of any wandering eyes. “And I’d love to wear you out. But wouldn’t you want to wait until we get to the hotel?”

You contemplate for a moment. Generally you’d say yes but with every shift of your hips the growing bulge in his jeans rubs against your core and you don’t think you can wait. “No. No, Benny, I’ll be quiet, I promise. Need you now, though.”

He drops his head back against the seat when you place your palm over his boner, fingernails dragging against the denim, and a smirk spreads across your face. Hands work at the zipper on his jeans until you can pull his cock out - achingly hard and leaking at the tip already, God, how pretty - and Ben’s hands rest on your hips, pulling you down onto him. Your skirt - short, so short, and it’s cold and impractical but anything for the shows - hikes up onto your torso and your clothed clit rubs against his cock, slickness rubbing off onto your panties. It makes it all so much easier to ride him like this.

“Oh, God,” you mumble, grinding your hips against him, and Ben lets out a low strangled moan. You reach up and press a shaky palm against his mouth, his lips against your hand, and roll against him again. Hands tighten on your hips and you couldn’t recall this ever feeling so good and in fact you aren’t sure you’ve done this since you were a teenager - drunk and tight clothes, sweaty bodies and hair that was straightened every damn day just to make it easier for those boys to touch, jerky movements and hands that didn’t know their landing spot. And it’s different now, perhaps because Ben knows what he’s doing and so do you, and even as the bus drives on uneven road it feels so smooth. “Fuck, Ben. Feels so good.”

His hips buck up, forcing more pressure onto your pussy, and you lean forward to kiss him sloppily, letting him guide your movements. Your teeth grind against each other, your hands moving up and down his neck, and every noise that forces its way from your mouth is swallowed by Ben. And vice versa. And it’s good.

You’re gonna cum on his jeans. And not even from riding his thigh, which is a bit more respectable. From humping his cock.

“Gonna cum for me, sweetie?” Ben questions, voice low and quiet, and you drop your forehead against his. It’s embarrassingly fast. You hadn’t known how needy you were but you’ve barely been going at this for five minutes and you’re going to cum and it’ll be fast and intense. “Come on, baby. Cum on my cock. Wanna see you cum for me.”

You give yourself another twenty seconds to hold out. Ben drags his hand down your back to grasp at the globes of your ass, kneading the skin, and you press down onto his cock, clit rubbing against him, and then you reach your climax and oh no it’s too much you’re biting down on his shoulder and he hisses out in pain but he doesn’t stop you and you know you know you know you’ll be too loud if you dare to pull away so you don’t you just pull his body into yours and rock your hips again and again until you’re positive you’re done until you can move your face from his shoulder and take a breath instead of sobbing out.

A tear trickles from the corner of your eye, and Ben brings a finger to wipe it away.

“You’re so good.” his voice is soft and you lean in to kiss him, lips gentle against yours. You swear you could kiss him for weeks and not get tired. What’s the world record for kissing? You and Ben should break it. You know that you could. “Did so good.”

The bus is slowing down and you rest your forehead against his shoulder, focusing on steadying your breathing. Ben presses a hand against your back, rubbing you lightly, and then he tugs down your skirt to cover your hips. You shift and lean back against his thighs, pressing your palm against his cock, and he inhales sharply.

“Did you cum?” you question, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips, and Ben reaches down to wrap his fingers around your wrist. “I was going to help you with that in the hotel but …”

“Oh, shut up,” he tells you, and turns his head to glance out the window. “We’re almost at the hotel, you know.”

You tilt your head to the side and then lean in to kiss him. He returns it with ease. “I can still help you in the hotel, you know. With stress. A massage, maybe.” You pull apart from him, moving your hand up to his face. Your pinky drags against his lip, and you watch him slowly begin to smile. Small, yes, but you’re getting them out of him more often and it’s insanely satisfying. “A blowie,” you add, popping the ‘b.’

Ben drops his head back against the seat, and his hands go to the front of his trousers, fixing himself up for the inevitable moment you soon have to leave the bus. “A blowie? Nobody calls it that, sweetheart.” When he’s decent again he sits up more and you move with him, adjusting yourself so you maintain a comfortable position. “I’d love a blowjob, but you look like you need rest.”

You hold a hand out in front of you and stare down at it, and then back up at him with furrowed brows and the same stupid grin at your lips. It’s like an expression that never changes when you’re with him - he just does it to you. “I don’t think so. I feel all bouncy now. All hopped up. You shouldn’t have let me practically ride you if you wanted me to sleep back at the hotel.” You lean forward so your mouths are practically touching, and when you speak your breath hits the front of his face. “The only sleeping I wanna do is sleeping with -”

He leans forward, pressing his lips against yours with a dry laugh, and you return it with ease - hand going to the back of his head, leaning into him, feeling his hand go to your hip and then trailing down your back. Fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck, and you tug on the strands lightly, feeling his head jerk at the feeling.

“You need to sleep,” Ben murmurs into your mouth, fingers trailing up the back of your shirt to stroke over your skin. “Tomorrow we can do whatever you want. You don’t have rehearsal at all.”

You pull away from him with a grin, rolling your hips against him once more. A glance outside shows you that the bus has slowed to a stop, and you recognize the areas surrounding your hotel even if you can’t see the building itself. “That sounds perfect. I guess I’ll suffer through tonight with my fingers -” as if to demonstrate, you hold your hands up in front of him and wiggle your fingers, “- just to wait for tomorrow.”

Ben’s eyes widen as you hop off his lap, making your way to the front of the bus as he attempts to keep up. “Your -?”

“Yep!” The two of you walk off the bus into the crisp, cold nighttime air, and Ben wraps his arm around you as he begins to lead you to the front door of the hotel. “They work fine, don’t worry. Maybe if you listen close enough you’ll hear me.”

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 benny. wake up now.

You send the text and wait, the dark surrounding you nearly suffocating in its intensity. Your hotel room itself is brutally hot, and your curls are tied in a knot atop your head with the thickest scrunchie you could find in your bag and yet sweat still drips down your neck and onto your back, and the covers have long since been kicked aside.

If you sit up and crane your neck, you can rest the back of your head against the wall - and directly on the other side of that wall is Ben. Perhaps asleep, but he’s never taken more than five minutes to answer one of your texts. Maybe he never sleeps. It wouldn’t be very surprising.

The brightness of your phone screen nearly hurts, and when you look back down at it to make the light dimmer there’s a response on your screen.

Is everything okay?

of course. but it’s really really hot.

Three dots appear and you push yourself up, tank top riding up to expose a sliver of your midriff.

I know. Feels like we’re being tortured for something.

sin?

Haha. Maybe.

You pull your shirt up to expose more of your stomach. The air hitting your skin alleviates some of the heat beating down on you, even in the dead of night, and you’re half tempted to just strip down for the night when an entirely different - an entirely better - idea hits you.

i’m all decked out in my sweaty summer attire. do you wanna see?

Do I?

You open up the camera, pointing it down on your body. The screen is uncomfortably close to your face but if you cross your eyes you can make sure you’re angling the shot just right - your short, tight sleep shorts, the tank top failing to cover half of your stomach, the peaks of your nipples through the thin fabric. When the flash goes off you can see the sweat on your body, glistening in the light, and you take a moment to examine your work before sending it off to Ben in the room next to you.

The lightning fast wifi Ben had insisted on makes sure the picture sends in barely a second, and after a minute or so you see the three bubbles appear again.

A grin spreads across your face as you see his response. Looks good enough to eat.

Your fingers fly across the keyboard of your phone. then come over here. not a long walk. i'm pretty sure you can manage it. even as old as you are.

You do know I’m four years older than you, right? Not forty.

I might need a little more motivation to make that trek, though.

Well, you’re only too eager to comply. Setting your phone down on the sheets beside you, you sit up and tug at your tank top, working it over your bun before throwing it to the ground. Your chest is slick with sweat and it feels impossibly good to have them out to the air. You reach for your phone and open to take a new picture, aiming your screen down at you and placing your hand over your left breast - nipple in between your thumb and your forefinger, you snap the picture and then look at it to examine.

You add a text to go along with it - will this make you come and join me? - and then hit send, watching the message go through, and then you drop your phone onto your bare stomach and wait.

Not for long, though. There’s a knock at your door just a few seconds later, and you practically jump out of bed, bounding down the hall with just your shorts on. Moving around freely feels wonderful on your skin, the sheen layer of sweat feeling like it’s dissipating with every movement, and when you’re at the door you rest your forehead against the wood and call out softly, “Who is it?”

It’s mocking, of course. You know exactly who it is. Making him wait is, truly, a joy - and it makes wetness rush down to your core when you hear his gruff voice replying, “You fucking know who,” and you unlock the door and swing it open without a second of hesitation.

Within a moment his lips are on yours, brutal and hard and fast paced and you nearly forget how to breathe - with his hand on your back, using his leg to kick the door shut, other hand locking it again. Your arms go around his neck, fingers tangling in his soft blonde curls as you lead him further into your hotel room. The heat is still so dense it just about hurts but it’s better with him, better as your hands trail down his back and hook around the hem of his boxers, fingernails grazing the top of his ass, better as he pushes you onto the bed and kisses his way down your jaw and neck, paying extra attention to the hardening buds of your nipples. The way his tongue swipes across your breasts is - extraordinary, how gentle yet rough he is.

“Ben, I need you. Need you now.” For how demanding the request is, your tone ruins all possible dominance it could convey - whimpery, soft, vulnerable as he sucks a hickey just above your navel. Fingers dig into the hem of your shorts, pulling them down your legs and they’re damp with your sweat but neither of you care - he just tosses them away and parts your thighs, pressing kisses to the soft skin surrounding your cunt, but before he can go any further you bring your foot up, press it to his shoulder, push him away. “Turn the light on. I want to - want to see you.”

He obeys, rolling off the bed to turn on the lamp on the nightstand, and when the room is flooded with light you can see him. Face red, glistening with moisture, and his fucking cock hard in his boxers - you feel almost bad as he returns back between your legs.

He needs release like you do.

“Benny, please. Fuck me.” It’s a plead, plain and desperate, and Ben looks up at you before wrapping his lips around your clit - plainly ignoring your request but you don’t really mind anymore, dropping your head back against the bed with a low moan. “Oh, god.”

Ben flicks his tongue just right against your clit and your hand flies down to his hair, squeezing at the strands until he’s hissing against your pussy but he doesn’t tell you to stop - just sucks your folds into his mouth, lapping up your arousal with a willing tongue, murmuring, “You taste like a fucking dream, sweetheart.”

Your breath grows heavier, and you struggle to swallow, digging your fingernails into his scalp as he works at you - and it feels so good, oh god. But you need more, need him, so you move your hands to his cheeks and force him off of you. His lips detach from your clit with a pop and he lets you pull his head up to yours, attaching your lips again, teeth crashing against each other and your taste is still prominent on his tongue.

Ben’s hands go to his boxers, tugging them down his thighs, and you can feel his hardened length against your thigh - can feel the wetness of his precum, and you whimper into his mouth.

“Benny, please. Please, please …” When he lines himself up at your entrance you could almost cry out.

HIs tip prods at your entrance and you wiggle your hips forward, trying to make him go faster but then Ben stops, bringing his hands up to where yours are tangled in the sheets on either side of your head, and you spread your fingers so he can intertwine his own with them. “Look at me, sweetie. Come on, look at me -- look --” You open your eyes and meet his gaze, swallowing as he pushes himself inside of you, and you can’t help but moan out loudly at the feeling.

“Oh, god,” Ben grunts, and the sound is heavenly to your ears. HIs forehead drops forward against yours, and you squeeze his hands, rubbing your fingers against the back of them - you’re trying to catch your breath, trying desperately, but it’s clear the both of you are struggling.

And it’s odd.

You two fuck - a lot, admittedly, and it’s never really been like this. So heavy. So intense. And Ben absolutely won’t let you break eye contact, pulls his head back to stare at you as he pulls out until only the tip of his cock is submerged in your heat before pushing back in. And you’re still grasping his hands, arching your back as he leans in to kiss your jaw and his eyes are still on yours.

A strangled moan forces its way out of your throat, and your leg - hooked around Ben’s hip, keeping his body against yours - tightens. “Fuck, Ben, please go faster - please.”

He obeys without hesitation, hips snapping against yours as fast as they’ll go. Any other time and your hands would be gripping the comforter so tight you’d be afraid of breaking it but you don’t have the soft covers in between your fingers - you have Ben’s hands, tight in yours, and you grip tighter and tighter until your nails are digging into the backs and you know there’ll be small, half crescent shaped indents when you next check. With every pump of his hips his cock brushes against that perfect spot, deep inside of you, and makes your moans and sobs and shouts louder.

No mind to the other people on this floor, late at night. That’s a problem for you to deal with tomorrow, not now. Not when Ben is doing these things to you.

Trails of sloppy kisses lead up your chest, your neck and to your lips, and you stretch your arms up above your head - arching up into the touch of Ben’s lips.

“Look at me.” his voice is firm and you hadn’t realized that you’d let your eyes slip shut. You struggle to reopen them, eyes meeting his, and a tear slips down your cheek. You aren’t particularly sure why, but something about your eyes on his while he’s fucking you like this forces those emotions from you. “I want your eyes on me. Are you going to cum?”

You nod pathetically. “Y-yes. Yes, Benny, oh my god.”

Ben untangles one of his hands from yours, and the air hits your sweaty palm but you don’t get to revel at the small relief as he snakes his hand between your bodies, circling your clit with two of his fingers. He presses down with firm, tight circles, and your vision goes white as you begin to feel your orgasm take over - but the thing that pushes you over the edge is when Ben brings your intertwined hands to his mouth, pressing a sloppy kiss to the sweaty back of your hand.

And you cum.

Your leg falls off of his torso, back down onto the soft bed, and you throw your head back and your eyes squeeze shut and you can’t help it. His hand moves from your clit to your chin, forcing your head up, and your eyes open again. He leans in to kiss you, sloppy and messy, teeth clashing and tongues swiping against each other, and you hear his stuttered grunt before he pushes himself into you completely one final time, spurts of hot cum coating your inner walls with the onset of his orgasm.

It always feels so good.

Ben thrusts in and out of you a few more lazy times, until you use your free hand to smack his shoulder. A silent invitation for him to stop, though you’re fairly certain you’re too far gone to truly tell him that. He pushes himself further onto the bed and then pulls you into him, your back firmly against his chest, and your hands are still attached.

“How was that?” he questions, voice soft, and you can hear how hoarse it is. It’s always like that after fucking.

“Perfect. Perfect, Benny, as always.” You want to kiss Ben, to assure him that he’s always beyond satisfactory but you can’t bother yourself to stretch like that. You just rest your head further against him, focusing on breathing.

Inhale, exhale.

A pair of lips presses against the back of your head, and you smile slightly. You love this, the off moments, the times between the sex. Your heart swirls with some emotion you aren’t entirely sure you’ve felt before - and you can’t pinpoint what it is, not exactly. But it’s intense when it’s with Ben, like a cloud surrounding you - suffocating you - but it’s good. So good.

His palm presses over your stomach, thumb rubbing into the soft skin, and you shut your eyes, feeling totally and utterly wrapped around him - his body and his finger, really - and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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 The last two weeks of your tour are bittersweet.

It’s been long, sure. The longest tour you’ve had yet and you feel like you’ve visited enough cities to cover a map in small, red, been-there-done-that dots, but it’s entirely worth it - worth the small detour you took to the middle of nowhere, worth the sleepless nights, worth the complete and utter exhaustion at the other end of the spectrum.

Totally worth the bodyguard-slash-boyfriend you’ve gained from it, even if you didn’t think you’d need him. Because you’re fairly positive you do need him now, need him for more than just an orgasm, because the in between moments aren’t just in between now.

They make up at least half of your interactions. And it’s positively lovely, sneaking into Ben’s room at night to cuddle and watch movies instead of fuck until you’re limping for your show the next evening. The fucking is always great and you’ve still got more than enough of it, but, hell, a girl needs some soft bits too. Ben supplies these without hesitation, and if converting some sexy times to sweet times has bothered him at all he certainly doesn’t say nor show it.

The Las Vegas night is warmer than you’d expected, though it shouldn’t have been - a city like that and you shouldn’t have even bothered to bring a sweater out on your walk. But you did, of course, and it’s tied around your waist, fabric brushing against the back of your legs, bare in your shorts. The streets at 8pm are crowded, and every now and then you catch someone’s eye - someone who looks surprised to see you, someone who appears to be a fan - but you haven’t been formally recognized yet.

No one’s asked for a picture, to simplify things. It’s an absolute blessing. Sometimes you need nights to yourself, but the hand clasped in yours may tell a different story.

Ben doesn’t count when you need nights to yourself. And he would never let you take a walk in an American city by yourself as the sun starts to go down.

“Do you have any idea of where we’re going?” he questions, and when you look at him a smile begins to spread over your face.

Oh, damn emotions. Damn beautiful boyfriend.

“Nope.” You pop the p, shaking your head so the thick braid you’ve tied in your locks sways back and forth. “I figure we’ll just walk until one of us gets tired, and then we can sit somewhere or just head back.” You glance at him again, tilting your head down to stare him in the eye. “Sound good?”

And he nods. “Sounds perfect.”

“Perfect.”

You avert your gaze down to your feet - the way both of your sneakers hit the sidewalk, his black and yours white, and the sight of your swinging hands brings heat to your cheeks for no reason at all.

(Truth be told, being so hands on with Ben in public is odd to you. And that - in itself - is odd, because is there ever a time his arm isn’t around your waist in crowds? But no, this is different, oh so different, having your palm pressed to his and all of these people can see.)

(But you don’t have too much time in Las Vegas, and it seems like the kind of place you should get out and explore before you’re gone tomorrow. You haven’t done much today, anyway. Woken up sick, so you cancelled rehearsal, but the show for tomorrow is still on. You can’t cancel anymore dates, no matter what.)

“Sweetheart,” Ben says, and you ignore the way your heart pounds against your chest at the name. “Come in here.” He nods his chin to a small corner store, one that looks as though it’s falling apart at the seams, but in your 24 years of life you’ve found that those types are the best.

You don’t ask what he needs from the store - just nod and let him lead you inside, the bell jangling as the two of you enter, and the small, stout man at the counter doesn’t spare you two a glance. Doesn’t look away from his customer, the old, white lady holding out a cupped hand as he dumps her change into her palm.

She doesn’t say thank you, just walks out of the store. You make a mental note to thank the cashier when you check out.

You and Ben walk to the very back, past the aisles of brightly packaged snacks, and you’re half tempted to grab a candy bar but you know you can get better food at the hotel. Still, you look mournfully at them as you make your way to the cold drinks, and Ben pulls open one of the freezer doors to reach in and grab a Coke.

“You know,” you begin, pulling your hand from his and crossing your arms over your chest. “That shit gives you diabetes. It’s gross.”

He looks down at the red bottle in his hands and then shrugs. “It tastes so good, though. I’ll take my chances.”

Ben turns to make his way up to the counter but you grab his arm, tugging him back with a small grin over your face. “Coke can take rust away from cans. Imagine what it does to your body.”

“I’m sure it’s no worse for the body than that lemonade you had at dinner.”

You pull a face in mock offense, and from the front of the store the bell jingles again. “Carbonation will damage your teeth, Benny. I’m not going to kiss you when you only have three teeth left.”

He furrows his eyebrows together, and you break character to giggle, and then you lean up to press a kiss to his lips. Ben glances down at the bottle again and then says, muffled against your mouth, “Well, in that case.” When you pull away he reaches for the freezer again - pulls the door open and places his coke back inside, and then bends down to grab a red Gatorade. He shuts the door and holds the drink out for you to inspect. “How’s this, darling?”

“Darling, not sweetheart?” you grab the Gatorade from him and pretend to inspect it. “Quite the change. I like it.”

You thrust the bottle back into his hands.

Ben rolls his eyes and grabs your hand again, intertwining your fingers as he winds you both back through the aisles and up to the counter. “I’ve called you plenty of things other than sweetheart.”

“Like..?”

“Just because I can’t name examples doesn’t mean -”

He stops in his tracks.

You - walking behind him in the narrow aisles of food and candy - bump into his back, and you curse under your breath. “Fuck’s sake, Ben, what’s -”

Ben doesn’t need to tell you to be quiet for you to get the message. You press your lips together and push yourself onto your toes, trying to see around Ben, and it takes you a moment to comprehend what’s going on - why is there a man in all black, hood pulled over his head? You can’t understand -

A loud shot rings out through the store. You clasp your hand over your mouth, watching the man at the counter fall to the ground with one final cry, and then he crumples in a pile of blood and moves no more.

And the guy who did it -

You drop back down to your feet. You can’t look at him, at his face through his hood as he turns his gaze upon the open cash register, rifling through the stacks of bills. Your heart is racing and your palm is sweaty, and you push yourself closer to Ben’s back. You can’t - you can’t understand, can’t comprehend what’s happening.

None of this makes sense. The cashier isn’t dead. This has to be an act, of some sort, a practical joke. And the man with the gun and the hood - holding a thick wad of cash - he’s not actually doing this.

Ben still isn’t moving. You don’t think you could if you tried.

But the man - he hasn’t seen you yet. At least, you don’t think.

Ben squeezes your hand, and perhaps he’s as scared as you are. Perhaps he’s used to this, but you don’t know.

You don’t fucking know. And you don’t know what to do now, how to react, what you’re supposed to be seeing and feeling and doing. You’ve never seen someone die before, and the poor, poor cashier is dead on the ground with a bullet hole through his chest.

It seems like time stands still as the man stuffs the cash in his hoodie pocket, and then he turns to leave and you want to be relieved, to let out a breath you’ve been holding. To check on the cashier (you were going to thank him, to do what that lady hadn’t) and feel his heart pumping beneath your fingers, call the police and go back to the hotel.

But then - the man’s gaze turns upon the pair of you, standing in between aisles of candy.

You can practically hear him breathing from across the store, in the dense silence surrounding all three of you. And then he yells, “Put your fucking hands up,” and then Ben charges at him.

Ben knocks the gun out of his hand before the man can even have time to raise it, and you the thud when the pair of them fall to the ground is deafening. You take a step back, bringing a hand up to press over your mouth, because it’s all you can fucking do. It’s all you can even process - pure shock. Shock as the man reaches for the gun across the floor. Shock as Ben reaches his leg out to kick it away. Shock as your boyfriend looks at you, arms wrapped around the man’s neck, and yells at you to call the fucking police.

It’s all you can do to obey. You fumble in the pocket of your sweatshirt around your waist and find your phone, and with shaking fingers you go to your calls and dial in 911, and then you take a step back - turn around so you can’t see what’s happening because if you see your boyfriend fighting with a murderer you might vomit before you can even talk to the police.

Ring. There’s a groan from behind you, and you can’t recognize the tone of it.

Ring. There’s another sickening thud, like something heavy hitting the cool tile of the convenience store, and you can’t bring yourself to think about what it was.

Ring. Your heart beats uncontrollably and a tear falls down your cheek, and you wonder if the cashier had a family. Is his wife waiting for him? His kids, perhaps, with a new drawing to pin on the fridge? Is he alive, now, collapsed behind the counter and fighting for his life with no one to help him? Or is he gone, gone as soon as the bullet pierced his chest?

It’s hard to think that the latter is true, no matter how much you want to.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

The cool, female voice of the 911 operator nearly makes you sob out. You choke out with a strangled gasp, “There’s been a - a robbery in 7/11 - and the cashier -”

Another tear slips down your cheek and trails down your neck. You bring a hand up to wipe it away. You can vaguely process her question - where? Where is the store? - and in your mind you try to imagine the street signs, where you passed while you were walking and hardly anything comes to mind.

“I think -” you swallow. “I think Paradise -”

Another bullet rings out through the store, and your phone drops out of your grasp. The screen shatters as it hits the ground, and with a cry you fall to the ground because -

You’ve never been shot before. You suppose it’s a night of firsts, and the bullet hurts so fucking much you can’t fucking handle it - blood stains your t shirt and your head slams against the ground, hand pressed against the wound in your shoulder, and the bright fluorescent lights of the 7/11 are the last thing you see before your vision falls away and you’re plunged into darkness.

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 In your dreams you think about the cashier, but only briefly. You imagine his life, him as a child, growing up, getting married. Working at a 7/11, and selling to customers who don’t bother to even thank him as they leave, and it’s a tragic life, the one you picture for him.

When your eyes open you’re staring at the ceiling, bright fluorescent lights, and there are tears on your cheeks. You wonder if you’re still on the cool tiles of 7/11 - or, perhaps, in heaven, doomed to haunt the crappy convenience store for all eternity - but there’s something soft beneath your back. Ringing in your ears.

And your head aches. Oh, Christ, it aches so fucking bad.

You press your hands over your eyes, but it does slightly hurt to move. Not as bad as the raging throbbing of your brain inside your head, and considering what happened - you suppose that’s a surprise. Surely being shot should hurt more than a headache.

And it hurt so bad, the bullet in your shoulder.

It must have hurt so much worse for the cashier. In your heart you’re sure he’s gone, now. Even if he was alive in the moments just after.

“Hey.”

The voice - familiar and soft spoken - still sends what feels like spikes through your temples, and you press the heels of your hands into your eyes with a small whimper. Slowly you turn to look at the person sitting next to the bed and you shouldn’t be surprised that it’s Ben but it is and you are.

“Hi.” you push yourself up more, giving him a small smile, and then you drop your hand down to grope for his hand. Oh, fuck, you need his touch, need him to tell you you’re going to be alright. And surely you will. But it always feels better coming from someone you love. “Hi. Benny. Oh my - oh my god.”

You can’t find his hand.

When your eyes meet his, they’re bloodshot and red, and you frown.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Ben mumbles, and his voice cracks on the last syllable. “I couldn’t - I was trying so hard. I promise. I never wanted you to -”

The lights hurt your eyes so you shut them, leaning your head back, and then you shake your head. “Benny - it’s not your fault.”

“It fucking is,” Ben interjects, and the tone of it confuses you. He sounds - angry, nearly, defensive. But surely he isn’t. What should he have to be angry for? “I’m supposed to protect you. That’s my job, Y/N. And I couldn’t.”

“I’m fine,” you murmur, voice hoarse. “Ben, I’m fine.”

“But you might not have been.” You don’t open your eyes but you can practically sense his motions, and you don’t like it one bit. “The bullet didn’t - it grazed you. But if you had been in a slightly different position you could be dead or nearly so. And it would have been my fault.”

“It’s his fault!” Your voice rises, and then you open your eyes despite the violent throbbing in your head. “He - he killed that man and then he shot me and it wasn’t your fucking fault, Ben.”

Ben shakes his head and then runs a hand through his hair. You reach out again, try to grab his hand but you can’t reach it and he won’t help you. Angry tears sting at your eyes and you bring a hand up to brush them away, sniffling slightly. Ben says, “I don’t think we should do this anymore.”

Your world comes to a full tilt stop.

And then you swallow, voice dry, all of a sudden. Surely you haven’t heard him right. Or maybe - maybe you’re still dreaming. “What?”

He stands, scooting his chair back with the most painful noise you’ve ever heard and you whine out again. He looks back at you and his arms are crossed, thumb in his mouth to nibble at his nail, and then he looks away from you. “I told you, when we started - when we started dating -”

You finish his sentence for him. “I don’t want something to happen to you because I’m distracted.” You raise an eyebrow, and he nods slowly. “It’s awfully arrogant of you to assume this happened because you were distracted. I mean, you didn’t seem very distracted.”

“You don’t understand, Y/N.”

“Then explain it to me!”

Even slightly raising your voice sends waves of pain coursing through your mind, and you press your hands to your forehead as if that will stop the pain. Ben turns around and then sits at the edge of your bed, and you pull your feet up so you aren’t touching him.

You’re mad. You’re kind of very mad. He isn’t supposed to be breaking up with you because you got shot. This isn’t how things are supposed to be.

“If we weren’t dating I wouldn’t have hesitated before going at him.” He’s explaining it like an adult would to a child and you fucking hate it, but you don’t have the energy to call him out on it. You feel - drained, of just about everything, and as he speaks you slowly keep shaking your head because this isn’t fucking right. “You know I love you.”

In any other circumstance the confession would surprise you, but you just shake your head. “I didn’t know that.”

There’s a thick pause, hanging heavy in the air before Ben continues. “Well - I do. I love you so much.” The words go straight to your heart and you can feel the pricking of tears behind your eyes again. “I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t think it necessary. Please understand that.”

But you can’t understand it. You don’t think you ever will.

You don’t respond, and after a minute the door to your hospital room opens and a nurse shuffles in with a small smile. She has thick curly hair pulled into a bun on the back of her head and dark skin, bright eyes and an aura that makes you immediately happy to be in her presence. If she can sense the tension in the air she certainly doesn’t show it, just makes her way over to you and pulls a seat up next to your bed.

“Miss Y/L/N. Glad to see you awake. How are you feeling?” The voice - so calm and steady - reminds you off the 911 operator, and you cringe slightly.

“Um -” you try to comprehend the question but it is, admittedly, more difficult than you’d like. “Fine. It kind of hurts when I move and my head - my head hurts a lot.”

Ben looks away. You don’t want to feel his gaze on you, anyway.

The nurse nods, and then writes some stuff down on the clipboard in her grasp. You don’t tell her how you’re emotionally feeling because it doesn’t matter - problems for another time.

After a moment she speaks again, and you avert your eyes to her nametag - the name Laura, loopy letters drawn in purple pen. “I have some things to discuss with you about some tests we ran.” She looks at Ben, seated at the bottom of the bed, and he obligingly stands without being told.

He looks at you and you pointedly look away. Your ex boyfriend, you suppose, now, clears his throat and then says, “I’ll be downstairs. Text me if you need anything.” He pauses. “We fixed your phone.” He nods to the table beside your bed, and in your peripheral vision you can see your familiar phone case.

Surely looking at your text conversations with him will just make you want to cry. You already know you won’t be texting him, no matter what you need.

Ben leaves and you hear the door shut before Laura turns back to you, drumming chipped nails against her clipboard, and she examines the paper clipped to it for a moment before speaking.

“Well, you’re a very lucky girl.” You don’t feel very lucky, with a throbbing head and a bullet through your shoulder, but you give her a false smile anyway. “The bullet didn’t do too much damage. Just grazed you.”

“It still hurt a lot.”

Laura laughs softly, though it wasn’t a joke. You appreciate her energy.

“You have a concussion - which should explain the headaches - but it’s fairly mild. Should feel better in two weeks or so.” Laura gives you a smile and you find it easier to return than you’d expected. She is a joy, you decide. And if you had to have one nurse telling you about injuries you sustained from getting shot, you certainly enjoy that it’s her. “But there are some other - rather concerning things we found while doing tests.”

Concerning? Nothing about that sounds good at all. You push yourself up more, looking down at her clipboard, and she adjusts it so you can’t see what she has written.

Sneaky.

“What?” your words slur together and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re concussed or nervous. “What is it?”

Instinctively you reach down for her free hand on the bed. She lets you grasp it, and then she clears her throat and says,

“Did you know that you’re pregnant, Miss Y/L/N?”

And - and -

“No.”

You shake your head, pushing yourself up more, and you drop Laura’s hand like it’s a hot potato.

“No, I’m not,” you tell her, and she gives you an apologetic expression but you don’t want a fucking apologetic expression, you want her to tell you that she mixed up your fucking results with someone else. “I’m not. I mean, I can’t be. I’m sorry, but that isn’t right.”

“It is. The test was very conclusive.”

“It isn’t right.” It’s all you can think, pressing a hand over your stomach, and there’s no movement because there’s nothing there. There is no baby - you aren’t pregnant, you just fucking aren’t. It doesn’t make sense. “I’m sorry. It isn’t - it isn’t right.”

Laura stands, holding her clipboard to her chest, and now you’re fucking mad at her. Want to slam that clipboard over her head because she’s wrong. Those tests aren’t right.

She says, “I’ll give you some time to process this on your own,” and then she points out the button you can press if you need her, and she walks out.

You bring your knees to your chest the best that you can, hand kneading over your stomach, searching for any sign of life - a sign that isn’t there because there’s nothing there it isn’t true it can’t be true - and it’s still, unmoving, regular stomach.

It isn’t right.

It can’t. It can’t.

You were sick.

There’s a million reasons for that. You got food poisoning, perhaps. Or you just had a bug.

But there’s no fucking baby. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

“Oh god.” you’re only speaking to yourself, and to the baby in your stomach that isn’t there, and you shake your head, eyes squeezed desperately shut. “Oh god. Oh - god.”

It’s the only thought in your head - the only words you’re capable of saying. No other thought can come to your mind, besides the fact that Ben is here and he’s the only one this thing could belong to - but it isn’t, it isn’t fucking true, it can’t be - and you do believe you might be texting him sooner than you’d wanted to.

“Oh god.”

The Beach Episode

“That’s just about everything,” Gabriel said, putting his hands on his hips as he looked out at the beach that had never been discovered by anyone before. He’d set up a few umbrellas as well as a picnic table with Sam earlier in the day and now they were just waiting on the others to arrive.

“It looks great, Gabe,” Sam smiled weakly before taking a deep breath, “I want everything to be perfect for Jack today, y’know?”

“No pressure, right?” Gabriel winked at him.

“You know what I mean,” Sam sighed, “It’s just...things have been weird, with everything happening. I want to make things up to Jack.”

“That’s not your job, Samoose,” Gabriel gave him a sympathetic smile, “You’re not the one who has the most making up to do.”

“He’s trying,” Sam explained, “That’s part of today, he’s going to try, he’s not going to drink, and he’s going to have a good time. We’re all going to have a good time.”

“Whatever you say,” Gabriel said, grabbing his hand and kissing it, “Let’s just...not get our hopes too high, okay? I know this is what you want, but all of us in one place…” he trailed off, “Hasn’t worked out the best in the past.”

“Never hurts to try,” Sam shrugged.

Gabriel just continued to smile sympathetically at him until the familiar sound of wings came through the air.

“Sam! Uncle Gabriel! Hello!” Jack said cheerfully.

When Sam looked up, Jack was standing with Michael, Adam, and Raphael, wearing a pair of plastic sunglasses that had neon green rims.

“We brought pie,” Raphael offered after a beat of silence, awkwardly holding out the circular pan, “Adam made it from items he grew in his garden. Why are you all so irritating? I like him just fine.”

Sam gave them a tight smile, taking the pan, “Thanks, guys,” he turned his attention to Jack, ignoring the comment, “How’s it going, Jack?”

“Good,” Jack grinned, “I am starting school this Fall, we all decided. I am very excited.”

“That’s...that’s great,” Sam smiled at him, “As long as everything goes according to plan…”

“Jack wants to go to school, so he’s going,” Adam said simply, “Regardless of what happens.”

Sam took a deep breath and gave him a tight smile, “Of course, whatever Jack wants.”

“Where are the others?” Adam changed the subject.

“You guys are the first ones here,” Sam shrugged, “Gabe and I came here to set up early since the place was essentially never discovered by humanity. We cleaned it up a bit.”

“Thanks for that,” Adam said simply, putting down the food as well as a bag, “Jack, make sure you put on sunscreen again soon, please.”

Jack nodded and sat down in the sand, grabbing Michael’s arm and pulling him down with him, “I’m going to teach Uncle Michael how to build a sandcastle.”

“Sounds great, bud,” Adam said simply, sitting down at the picnic table beside Raphael.

“Go talk to him,” Gabriel told Sam quietly, “Trust me, Raph isn’t much of a conversation starter, they’re just gonna sit there in silence.”

“There’s not much to talk about,” Sam swallowed.

“Never hurts to try,” Gabriel gave him a weak smirk, repeating his earlier words.

Sam just sighed again, smiling slightly at him before walking over.

Jack glanced up as Sam walked over to Adam and bumped Michael slightly.

Michael glanced up as well and cleared his throat, “Raphael, would you like to join us?”

The archangel squinted in confusion, “Why?”

“Because we need to spend time with Jack,” Michael said simply, “And I am asking you to.”

Raphael simply sighed and they walked over, sitting down in the sand and wrinkling their nose as they did, “I do not enjoy this,” they said immediately.

Sam sat down across from Adam, “Hey,” he said awkwardly, “How have...things been? We haven’t seen you since we came over to check out the house.”

“Fine,” Adam said, “I have a job at an antique shop in town. Jack wants to sell some of the stuff we grow in our garden, so Michael is helping him build a little stand.”

Sam nodded slowly, “Uh...so, there’s a thing going around...that you and Michael are expecting a kid?”

“Yes,” Adam deadpanned, “Is that going to be a problem?”

“What? No,” Sam said quickly, “I mean, we’d like to know if we’re gonna be uncles, y’know? We’re happy for you.”

“I’m sure you are,” Adam sighed, looking down at his phone and playing with it absentmindedly, despite there definitely not being any signal on the beach they were on.

“We’ll keep you and your kid safe from all of this,” Sam told him firmly.

“I don’t need you to,” Adam told him, “I genuinely don’t. I can take care of myself and even if I couldn’t, Michael is the first ever archangel. He’s powerful. I don’t need you to protect my child when we’re both very capable. I definitely don’t need Dean around my kid either.”

“Dean isn’t a bad guy, Adam,” Sam sighed, “We both made mistakes with Jack, we’re dealing with that and trying to make up for it.”

“You went along with it because he’s your big brother and he’s all you’ve ever known as a caretaker,” Adam snapped, “It’s definitely not healthy, but I understand you. Dean has treated Jack like shit since the beginning.”

“Don’t...do that. Don’t psychoanalyze us like you’re…” Sam trailed off, “Act human, dude. You’re not a robot.”

“I’m not though,” Adam sighed, “Sam...I spent over a thousand years with Michael and Lucifer. Things happen. I’m not human anymore. I don’t...one hundred percent know what I am, but it’s not human. I’m not saying I’m above you, I’m just saying...things get put into perspective when you have that long to think. The idea of petty drama and dealing with human bullshit is just nothing to me anymore.”

Sam watched him curiously, not sure what to say.

“I spent over a thousand years in Hell, Sam,” Adam sighed, “I don’t know what you want from me. I can’t bring myself to care about things that don’t matter to me anymore. Jack is my nephew, he was in a bad situation because of Dean, and now he’s not. Jack doesn’t have to forgive you guys, just like I don’t have to forgive any of you for letting me rot in Hell for all that time,” he stood up, “I came here today to spend time with my nephew, not debate my emotions with you.”

What emotions? Sam wanted to say, but stopped himself.

Dean probably wouldn’t have been so kind.

“I guess you were right though...we wanted to take Jack away from you, we just didn’t know it at the time,” Adam said simply before walking over and sitting down with the archangels and Jack in the sand.

“I’m guessing that didn’t go well?” Gabriel asked, walking over and sitting down beside him.

“Does it ever with him?” Sam mumbled.

“No, but if your boyfriend was an extreme optimist, would you tell him that?” Gabriel asked.

Before Sam could say anything else, the others appeared.

“This is awesome,” Charlie grinned, “We’re, like, the first people ever to be here, right?”

“That’s true,” Gabriel said, “Completely undiscovered by humanity; cool, right?”

“Definitely,” Kevin smiled.

“Sixty five percent of earth is still undiscovered by humanity, it’s not surprising,” Samandriel deadpanned.

Kevin just rolled his eyes, “C’mon, man, let’s get in the water.”

“Why?” Samandriel looked confused as he was drug over to the shoreline.

“Socially inept angels plus one beach day,” Dean walked over to Sam and Gabriel, “Entertaining, at least,” he said, looking confused when he saw the two archangels attempting to build a sandcastle with Jack and Adam’s help. He gestured to them, making Sam laugh.

“So,” Gabriel grinned as Benny, Balthazar, and Castiel all sat down with them, “Are we going to start a betting pool on how long it’ll take Heaven’s Most Adorable Angel and Heaven’s Most Adorable Prophet to get together?”

“Well, unless they’re like Charlie and refuse to make a move, probably soon- OW!” Dean groaned when Charlie threw a frisbee at the back of his head, “Hey!”

“Zip it,” Charlie told him immediately, “And come play frisbee with us.”

“I want to play!” Jack got up quickly.

Michael and Raphael sighed in relief, getting up from the sand almost in-sync and dusting themselves off, making Adam laugh.

Dean hesitated when Jack ran over and Sam shoved him lightly.

“Go,” the younger Winchester mumbled, giving him a look.

Dean sighed and grabbed the frisbee from where it landed beside him, rubbing the back of his head, “Nice aim,” he said, going to throw it back just as hard, but Charlie caught it with a smirk.

“Nice try,” Charlie said, tossing the frisbee gently to Jack, who fumbled to catch it.

…

“I don’t see the point,” Samandriel mumbled, “I thought we were busy fighting Father.”

“We are,” Kevin explained, “But...it’s important for us to relax too, especially Jack, he’s just a kid.”

Samandriel nodded slowly, looking down at his vessel’s feet in the water, tilting his head, “I find this very enjoyable, I’m surprised.”

“Yeah, free will does that to you,” Kevin laughed, reaching down and picking up a seashell, “Here...a souvenir for your first beach day.”

Samandriel took the shell, looking down at it in the palm of his hand, a small smile on his face.

…

“Yeah, I give it a week,” Gabriel smirked, looking over at Kevin and Samandriel, “Charlie, you need to catch up- OW!” he groaned when she threw the frisbee again.

“That didn’t even hurt you, don’t be a baby,” Balthazar snorted as Gabriel threw the frisbee back to the group.

“So,” Gabriel said, looking at Cas and Balthazar, “How’s it going with you two lovebirds?”

Cas glared at him, “I have explained this many times, we are not romantically involved. Platonic love is extremely valid.”

“You’ve been hanging around Adam too much,” Gabriel rolled his eyes.

Cas narrowed his eyes at him.

“Dude, you need to put on sunscreen,” Sam called to Dean.

Dean rolled his eyes, “I’ll be fine.”

Sam scoffed, “Whatever, your funeral, man.”

…

“Would you like to go for a walk?” Jack asked Dean once he tossed the frisbee to Dorothy.

Dean stared at him, “You sure that’s a good idea, kid?”

“I don’t need permission to go for a walk with a member of my family,” Jack said bluntly, “Or anything for that matter. I just need to let them know that we’re going, if you want to go.”

Dean nodded slowly, not sure what to say.

Jack walked over to where Adam and Michael were with Raphael and talked to them briefly. He turned back around and quickly walked over to Dean, “C’mon, I want to explore this place.”

Dean followed him, shock written all over his face.

“This is very cool,” Jack said casually as they walked through the woods, “I wonder if we’ll find a snake…” he trailed off, leaning down to grab some of the flowers. 

Dean sighed, “Jack,” he cleared his throat, “Hey, buddy, we gotta talk eventually.”

“I am aware,” Jack sighed, standing back up and messing with the flowers he’d picked absentmindedly, refusing to make eye contact with him.

“There isn’t...a single excuse good enough for how I treated you,” Dean told him, “It was bad and it was wrong...no kid should be treated like that, ever, no matter what’s happened.”

“No matter what I’ve done?” Jack whispered, still looking down at the flowers.

“No matter what,” Dean shook his head, “I’m sorry I blamed you for stuff you couldn’t have controlled or the mistakes you made. I want to make it up to you...whatever way you’re okay with. We’re family, you’re a Winchester, and I’m sorry I didn’t treat you that way.”

Jack finally looked up at him and smiled weakly, “Thank you, Dean,” he told him, “I am happy living where I am, but...I miss you all very much, despite everything. I want us to be a family again.”

“I want that too,” Dean said before pulling him into a tight hug.

Jack hugged him back just as tight.

…

Samandriel came over to the table and sat down across from Castiel, surprising most of the people sitting there.

“Uh, Alfie, hey-” Sam started.

“I do not blame you for what happened to me,” Samandriel said firmly, “I think that most of the people here understand what it’s like to be under Heaven’s control. I would like you to please stop ignoring me now because I always wanted to get to know you and you acting like I do not exist out of guilt is very annoying.”

Silence.

Balthazar laughed in shock, “Well, free will certainly agrees with someone.”

“I...am sorry,” Cas cleared his throat, “You’re right. It was wrong of me to ignore you.”

Samandriel smiled, “Okay, thank you. I forgive you. Now, Kevin gave me this seashell and is very nice to me, it makes me feel odd. What does that mean?”

Balthazar burst out laughing.

…

Adam had his head ducked down, talking to Michael away from the rest of the group when Dean and Jack came back.

“You two are having a kid?” Dean asked bluntly as they walked over.

“Yes,” Adam crossed his arms then wrinkled his nose, “Your skin is red, you’re going to get a sunburn, just listen to Sam and put the sunscreen on.”

“You didn’t think to tell us?” Dean asked, ignoring the other comment, “We’re going to be uncles, it’s something to celebrate.”

“No,” Adam deadpanned, “It’s none of your business. What isn’t processing here?”

“We’re a family,” Jack spoke up, “I understand that you do not like Dean, but he is my family. I wanted to share my joy about having a new family member soon, so I told him.”

Adam took a deep breath and smiled at Jack, “You’re right, Jack...I’m sorry for snapping. Yes, Dean, we’re having a child.”

“Think this is a good time for that?” Dean asked.

“I doubt it’ll ever be the perfect time,” Adam said, taking Michael’s hand, “But it’s what we’re doing. Either support it or don’t, I don’t really care.”

Dean cleared his throat and nodded stiffly, “Of course we’ll support it...kid’s gotta know their uncles, right?”

“Not really,” Michael mumbled.

“Well,” Gabriel said, throwing his arms around Michael and Adam’s shoulders and squeezing between them, “Personally, I’m happy the little nephilim is out of the bag, now we can get down to the serious celebrating!” 

“Can he even drink while he’s carrying?” Dean smirked.

Adam rolled his eyes, “Neither of us are carrying, asshole.”

…

“That was such a good idea,” Dorothy commented as they put stuff away in the storage room, “I haven’t felt this relaxed since we got back here,” she laughed weakly.

“Yeah, that tends to happen around Sam and Dean,” Charlie explained, “Trust me, I love them, they’re basically my family...but their lives are exhausting.”

“What are your plans for after this?” Dorothy asked suddenly.

Charlie looked at her and raised an eyebrow, “After?”

“I mean...after the whole...defeating God thing, y’know?” Dorothy asked.

“Oh,” Charlie sighed, “I don’t know. I’ve never really thought that far ahead, we’ve been so busy. I guess I might go back to hunting? I was pretty good at that.”

“I can’t think of anything I want to do,” Dorothy mumbled, “I’ve been so focused on Oz the last few years, it’s been so busy. Now it’s basically self-sufficient and I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do with myself,” she admitted, “This isn’t my world, it hasn’t been for a really long time.”

Charlie put a hand on her arm, “Hey, you always have us. We’re always going to be here.”

Dorothy smiled weakly, “I appreciate that...having you...I mean...all of you,” she sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

Charlie smiled at her for a moment.

Dorothy rolled her eyes, “Okay, this is getting exhausting,” she said before leaning down and kissing her.

…

“Jack seemed like he’s doing good,” Dean said awkwardly as they sat in the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Cas sighed, his voice small and quiet, “He does. He deserves to have that kind of life, where he’s happy,” he swallowed, “Even if it isn’t with us.”

Dean sighed, “He’ll be back one day...said he wants us all to be a family again.”

“The house is a better place for him to live a life, not the bunker,” Cas cleared his throat, “And no, Dean, that’s not me taking Adam’s side, it’s me taking Jack’s.”

Dean scrubbed his face with his hands, “I wasn’t going to say that. I’m trying here, okay?”

“I know,” Cas nodded, looking down at his hands.

“Cas…” Dean trailed off.

“I am not with Balthazar,” Cas said quietly, “That is in the past. I love him, I always will, but it is a platonic love now.”

“Why are you telling me that?” Dean asked.

“I just...wanted you to know,” Cas told him, “Because everyone is thinking about their future, about what they want after all of this is over,” he stood up, “I am going to go make sure Jack made it home okay,” he said before disappearing right in front of Dean’s eyes.

Dean stared at the spot he’d disappeared from and sighed, “What the hell?” 

Matters of the heart S3 ep1

Matters of the heart Season 3 Episode 1 Outrun the shadow {OPENING CREDITS}

Narration: As winter draws near and the green of summer fades the world enters a time of sacrifice. The leaves release their grasp on branches and flutter to the ground to feed the soil of the earth. In return, the earth produces plants to feed the animals. Everything in our world sacrifices every day. And although Humans may be at the top of nature’s chain, We are not exempt from sacrifice. {Fade down to Isaiah looking conflicted as he watches men working in Old Corona’s graveyard with Gaia next to him} Lily: Isaiah? Isaiah: Oh! Hey guys… Akina: You okay? Isaiah:  what? yeah, I'm fine why? Nathaniel:  not going to lie... You look like you just watched a group full of Orphans get hit by a carriage. Isaiah:  that's a lovely image... but no really I'm fine it's just... a little weird to be watching people remove a tombstone from the graveyard with my name on it. Nathaniel:  at least we're prepared for the real deal now!  we have the stone and everything! {Akina kicks him} Nathaniel: Ow! Lily:  what we’re trying to say is we're glad to have you back. Isaiah:  I'm glad to have you guys back too… Akina: Awww! {lily blushes and Nathaniel gags; cut to Varian’s house where Zapada is attempting to feed her son with Verbena next to her} Zapada: Sterling, please do not fuss! Verbena: hehe! Fussy baby! Eugene: At least you know he’s truly Varian’s kid...Stubborn to the end! Varian: har har...can we get back to business? Rapunzel: Sorry Varian but he’s sooo cute! Lance: he really is! Adira can we have another baby? {Pan to Adira having her earring pulled by her 1-year-old son} Adira:....no. Varian: ….okay yes my son is incredibly cute but we have a serious issue here. Eugene: alright fine...you were saying? {Varian lays out a map on the dining room table} Varian: We know that the cult’s hideout was near the mountains in an abandoned mine.  the entrance to the mine collapsed when we were leaving but I doubt that'll hold them. they could be on their way here right now we need to make a battle plan. Rapunzel:  I'm not normally one to be negative but what are we going to do?  I don't have my hair anymore and you told me that they basically made a corrupt version of the Moonstone using only a Shard from its remains.  do we even know the full extent of their power now? Varian:  that's the tricky part... we don't. my family and I hightailed it out of there before they could do anything. Lancel: What does this mean for Cassandra? {Varian bites his lip and looks at Eugene who nods} Varian:  Cassandra... her mind has completely been taken over by the power she possesses...Her original conscience is gone. {Rapunzel gasps and tears up} Eugene: oh no...Sunshine c’mere… {he holds her close} Varian: i’m sorry Rapunzel… {Isaiah rushes in with the others and accidentally hits Ruddiger with the door} Isaiah: Dad! Do you Smell that!? {Varian sniffs the air and his eyes widen} Varian: sulfur... Eugene: cannons...something’s coming... {Zapada instinctively clutches Benny and Sterling; Varian and Eugene run out to the road; at the entrance, Larkspur stands with a cold staring purple-eyed Cassandra and an army of cult members behind her} Larkspur: Hi! Hope you don’t mind but I thought I’d just drop in...and take what’s mine. {Rapunzel stands in front of them} Rapunzel: You aren’t taking anything from us! Larkspur: AWWW! That’s so cute! Like you have a choice. Oh, sweet Vessel! Show them we mean business. {Cassandra steps forward} Rapunzel: Cass! Wait! It’s me! fi-AHH! {Rapunzel is pulled out of the way as Cass Forces a contorted discolored rock from the ground} Eugene: oh no… Isaiah: Dad w-what is that? {Varian’s eyes dilate in horror} Larkspur: Like I said...We’re not taking no for an answer… {She turns to her army} Larkspur: Ladies and Gentlemen, Welcome to Corona! Some of you have been here before but- {She gasps as an arrow zips past her and hits a cult member killing him; She turns around and sees Adira with her bow at the ready} Larkspur:...ya know what? Screw the speech! ATTACK! DESTROY ANYONE YOU SEE! {The army cheers and charges; People begin running screaming} Isaiah: Dad!? Nathaniel: MOM! {Everyone runs to gather their families; The cult starts throwing small orbs; once they hit the ground a gas flows out choking various people; Isaiah watches his father fight with the king and queen and out of the corner of his he sees an orb head for Nathaniel’s family} Isaiah: NATHANIEL! {He is hit directly and begins coughing and sputtering; Isaiah covers his nose and mouth and runs out to help him to his house; in the confusion they here people grunting and shouting in pain; The cult have begun targeting civilians with their swords} Rapunzel: We have to get everyone out of here! {Varian, Eugene, and Rapunzel help various villagers to run into Varian’s house and barricade the door} Varaian: Zapada Grab the kids!  Lets get everyone to the escape route! Zapada: come on children! {Varian leads them to a hole in his office} Eugene: seriously? Varian: It leads to the underground tunnels of old Corona!  we can escape to the forest through here! Isaiah: but we'll be leaving everything! Rapunzel: We have to… Varian: Women & Children First! {Isaiah helps Lily and the royal siblings into the hole and then helps Nathaniel} Varian:  you next buddy! {Isaiah climbs down into the dark dirt tunnels; he slowly helps people into them; Once everyone is inside Varian himself climbs into the hole taking one last look at his home before the main door starts cracking open; he grabs the lid to the hole and covers it as he descends into the tunnel.} Akina: it’s really dark down here Benny:  clearly you've never been to the dark Kingdom. Villagers:  what do we do now?  how do we get back to the surface? our home is gone!  what about everybody else in the Kingdom!? Rapunzel:  everyone calm down!  I'm sure our Royal engineer has a plan! Right? Varian:  of course I do I didn't just build this thing for kicks.  the tunnel itself is about 5 miles long and at least out into the forest.  the exit is in a campsite that I have spent time creating in case the should ever happen.  when we get there we can set up camp as for the rest of the people in Corona... we can only pray for their safety. Perhaps at a future date we can save them. {the small crowd murmurs to each other; Varian takes out small glowing orbs and passes them around} Eugene:  everyone Stay Together!  Varian will lead the way. {They begin walking in the direction they’re being lead} Benny: ‘Saiah?  are we going to be okay? Isaiah:.... yeah totally!  there's one thing I know about my dad is he has a plan for everything. even the worst-case scenario. Akina: Mama I’m frightened… Adira: we’re alright small one Lance: yeah... the important thing is we're all here together. {As they walk small rumbles shake the tunnels but Rapunzel encourages them to keep moving; Varian looks over a map with his glowing orb before pointing down a corridor; Everyone follows; Cut to Lily’s brother Cyrus running a hand along the dirt wall} Cyrus: I'm simply amazed Mr.Varian... how did you manage to carve these? Varian:  there were already tunnels here from when I was younger I just simply expanded them so that they would run into the forest. I figured it was a good idea to have an Escape Route.  especially one that they wouldn't be able to find. Cyrus:  still this must have taken years! Varian:  I began Construction once I returned to Corona shortly before Isaiah was born.   I figured if I was going to stay in Old Corona they would end up coming for me at some point.  I wanted a safe way for my villagers to escape. {A thud and is heard followed by a shattering of glass and a scream; Eugene whips around to see a woman on the ground; he runs over} Eugene:  what's going on!? Child: My mother! S-she fell! She isn’t saying anything! {Varian runs over and kneels next to her} Varian: ... flip her over! {They do so and reveal reddish-purple dots on her skin} Varian:...was your mother sick before!?  did anything happen during The Invasion I could have injured her in any way? Child: no! She was fine! She wasn’t even injured in The Invasion!  we only got hit by one of those weird ball thingies! Isaiah:... those gas bombs! If she was near one when it blew then, you don't think that maybe… Varian:  those bombs must have been filled with some sort of biological compound... it's making anybody who came into contact with the gas sick. Rapunzel:  a lot of people here were exposed to those. Eugene:  everyone check yourselves for reddish-purple spots! {The people look at themselves and several shout in fear as they look at their spotted skin; Nathaniel looks at his wrist in fear and dots cover his arm} Rapunzel: okay calm down!  if you were sick we will find a way to get you treated we just have to find out what exactly this is! Varian:  Rapunzel that's easier said than done without a lab.  in the time being we have to make it to the campsite we use whatever medicine we have to try and get you better until then we'll have to observe your symptoms. Villager 1:  how much longer to this campsite? my wife is very sick! Varian:  we just passed the north corridor  so I'm guessing we should be there within the next 10 minutes. in the meantime everybody please try and stay calm. {everyone moves on} Lily:  Nathaniel are you okay? {he holds up his wrist; Akina gasps} Isaiah:  don't be scared, Akina... I don't think it's contagious otherwise we'd all have it by now. Lily:  what about you you ran to the gas cloud that he was in! Isaiah: Nathaniel and everybody else experiencing symptoms had a direct hit or breathed in a lot of the gas. I had my mouth and nose covered when I went to go grab him. Nathaniel: Stop!  let's do what they told us and stay calm.  I don't know what this stuff is going to do to me but we shouldn't focus on that. we have bigger fish to fry. come on… {He walks ahead of them} Benny: Isaiah? Can I have a ride? Isaiah: you tired? Okay… {He bends down and lets her climb on his back; they keep walking to they see a light peering through the top of the tunnel} Varian: Angry? Cat? {a rope is dropped down} Varian:  again Women & Children First! { everyone begins climbing up the Rope one by one;  finally Varian pulls himself up} Keira: welcome to the upper world! Varian: you've been waiting for years to say that haven't you? Cat:  she really has you have no idea… Keira:  we did exactly as you said we saw the commotion from our treehouse and opened up the tunnel. Lance: thats my girls! Eugene:  is everything secure? Cat: yeah Varian: and how is...he doing? { Cat looks distressed for a moment and kiera puts an arm around her} Kiera:  he's not doing good to say the least… Cat:  we have him in the camp right now resting but his wound recently got infected.  The Physician helped some with the internal damage... but he said ultimately there's not much you can do. we just have to hope he makes it through this. Kiera:  nevermind! we have some visitors in the camp… Varian: Visitors!? WHO!? {Cut to the camp with Varian walking in; pan to hector sitting with his daughter Juniper and son Bjørn} Varian: Uncle? Adira: Hector!? Hector: hello sister… Adira: what are you doing here? Juniper:  it was so weird!  dad said he had to come here! Hector:  something happened... and judging from what I'm seeing something big.  I felt a familiar feeling... but this time..it was evil. Adira:  they took The Shard of the Moonstone and they corrupted it into a new stone. trust me I felt it too. Bjørn: What happened to all these people? Varian: we don't exactly know yet. Eugene:  okay attention everyone!  all those who are sick please rest until we can find a designated area for you everybody else start helping set up camp Villager 1:  but what about us!? are you sure they won't find us here!? Varian: as of right now all the cult knows is that we disappeared inside my house. They have no knowledge of the underground tunnels nor do they have any knowledge of this campsite.  soon strict rules are going to be enforced in order to assure everyone safety.  I know the situation isn't ideal and I prayed that it would never happen. Villager 2:  isn't this basically your fault!?  you should have been protecting us from these people! {The crowd shouts in anger; Isaiah puts Benny down and runs over} Isaiah:  knock it off! Varian: Isaiah? Isaiah:  there was no way my Dad could have stopped the cult from doing this!  with or without the Moonstone Shard they would have attacked eventually just as they have before.  instead of blaming other people for what happened, we should focus on Surviving! Rapunzel:  Isaiah is right. getting angry will solve nothing.   please everyone just started helping set up camp once we get a new sense of normal it won't seem so bad I promise. {The crowd disperses} Isaiah: phew… Varian: Thats my boy! Zapada: Copilul meu, that was so brave! Isaiah:  I couldn't just stand there and let them bad-mouths my family. the cult members are insane plain and simple once they have something in their head it can't be stopped. Zapada:  I'm going to go help the other women set up. Isaiah, would you mind taking your brother for a bit? {she hands Sterling to Isaiah} Isaiah:  what do you say little guy? you ready to spend some time with your awesome big bro? Sterling: ppthh! Lily: Ha! Isaiah:  I'm choosing to take that as a compliment… {Isaiah walks around camp watching the sick be tended to and tents being set up} Isaiah:  and I got so used to sleeping in a bed again as well… Benny:  speak for yourself! this is my element! {They look over and see Cat walk into a ten that was already set up} Isaiah: what is she doing? Benny: ooohh spy time! Lets go.. {They sneak up to the tent and look in; Noremoth lies on a makeshift bed with bandages wrapped around his torso; Cat dips a cloth in water and puts it on his head} Noremoth: ghh...h-hey.. Cat: hi..just rest okay? Noremoth:..you got it..boss. {She chuckles} Cat: just sleep okay? {Start the song “twisting trees} {Catalina} Deep in the forest, the flowers bloom Don’t fear the dark The moon will rise soon Let the breeze caress your face And fall into the branches embrace Twisting trees keep me safe Twisting trees I fear not this place As they cast their shadows below The moon it rises ever so slow It’s face of Ivory glowing above It bathes the land its pure white love fall into the branches embrace Twisting trees keep me safe And fear not this place. Oh, fear not this place. {end song; Isaiah walks away with Benny and Sterling} Isaiah: He's not looking good… Benny:  well that wasn't fun that was just straight-up depressing... {Isaiah sits up against a tree with Sterling} Akina: you okay? Isaiah: Oh...hi Akina... yeah I'm fine just... rough way to start a day. Akina: yeah... never thought I'd see Uncle Hector here. What do you think they meant by saying they sensed something? Isaiah: promote my grandpa told me your mom and…” uncle” Hector used to be part of a group called the Brotherhood. from what he told me they were loyal to the moonstone given that this new corruption is made from A Shard of the Moonstone I'm guessing they felt a disturbance or something when it was corrupted. it's the only thing I can think of. Akina: We're going to take back Corona right? I like it there! Isaiah:  don't you worry we're not just going to sit back and let this happen.  we're going to take back our Kingdom… Lily:  good luck with that we’ll need a small army. Akina:  I heard the grown-up saying that too!  something about we're going to have to go around asking other kingdoms to join the fight! Isaiah:  well yeah... you think they're just going to stop at our kingdom? we're going to need to ask for help from a lot of peo-... wait...I GOT IT! { everyone in the camp jumps out of surprise} Isaiah:... oops!  sorry!... anyway I need a piece of paper and a quill. Lily:  one second I saw some by the supplies! {She runs over and grabs the items before handing them to Isaiah;  Isaiah leans against the tree and begins writing his letter} Isaiah: S.O.S...Corona compromised.  please help.  your former Cabin Boy Isaiah... okay it's written!  but how do we send it? Lily: I... I have an idea… {Cut to Hamuel hanging  upside down from a tree branch} Isaiah: you can't be serious… Lily:  hey my grandfather and Dad have been exchanging letters for ages using this bird. Isaiah:  this bird has to be at least 15 years old! maybe more! on top of that look at him! {Hamuel falls to the ground with a pained caw} Isaiah: HMM!? *points at him* Lily:  I know it's not ideal but he's gotten the messages there every single time. Benny:  I'm surprised he hasn't taken the messages to the north pole rather than the dark Kingdom. {Lily attaches the letter to Hamuel’s leg} Isaiah:... I can't believe I'm doing this I'm talking to a bird...Hamuel  listen very closely to me I need you to find a ship called the SS. Salvador. Take this note to the captain.  and if you fail...uh...Draki will eat you. {Draki hisses and wiggles his tail} Lily: Isaiah no! Isaiah: Isaiah yes! { He lets Hamuel go; cut to Corona Castle; Larkspur walks into the throne room} Larkspur:  I can't believe I'm finally here… Vergus:  yes mistress you finally made it.  Corona is destroyed and at our feet.  and soon we will find The Alchemist and where he is hiding. Larkspur:  look at this place... such power wasted. {She goes up and sits on the throne} Larkspur: hehe!!  I've waited for years to sit on this chair!  I was kind of hoping that the king and queens heads would be under my feet as well but you take what you can get. Vergus: shall we start moving on to the other kingdoms as well mistress? now that we've taken down Corona we can move on to others and spread our message! Larkspur:  everything is finally coming together… Vergus: Mistress? {begin song “i don’t care”} {Larkspur} You know some time ago I was just a little girl I was hopeless, aimless, nameless But then a dream had struck my mind It was brighter than any kind And now that dream is mine Just look now where I walk A hall of Kings and Queens And all it took was some blood and a bit of screams! Well, I don’t care, If it isn’t fair! This land is mine Let’s not waste our time! Let’s make them bleed! Oh let’s make them bleed! Ohhh...he chose his path and ran away Even when welcome to stay… He chose...to Betray~! But I don’t care! I’ve let down my hair! This land is mine! Oh, finally mine! Now to make them bleed Oh let’s make them (x3) Let’s make them bleed! {End song} {END CREDITS}

15x04: Atomic Monsters

Then:

Becky was an obsessed, gross fangirl, and it was not awesome.

Now:

We open to the bunker under attack. Dean is in full beard and kicking ass. Boy, the director of this episode sure knows how to make Dean pretty. He makes it to the bunker’s kitchen to find Benny (!!!!) on the floor dying. 

I don’t rewatch Taxi Driver for a reason, Show. I loved Benny and Dean’s friendship, so while this was great just to have him back for old time’s sake, it still makes me sad that he’s still gone. (And spoiler, this is Sam’s dream. I just like to think about how Sam still thinks about this friendship he didn’t want Dean to have and it haunts him to this day.)

Dean’s looking for someone. He walks into the war room and finds him: Sam, all powerful on demon blood. Dean tries reasoning with his brother, but he’s past all that. Sam kills another hunter sneaking up on them, and then he kills Dean. 

Sam wakes up from his nightmare, gasping. SAM!

He heads to the kitchen to find Dean looking for cases, drinking coffee, and eating a plate of bacon. Dean says it’s veggie bacon when Sam tries to turn down eat some. Sam also tells Dean that his self-proclaimed nickname “Meat Man” isn’t what he thinks it means. Dean apparently knows exactly what it means and he’s standing by it. Ahem. Dean also calls Sam out on not handling their recent losses. The Just Brothers show is a real bummer.

Anyway, the case Dean found is in Iowa. There’s been a string of cattle mutilations and a young woman’s body found ripped to pieces. 

Also, it was real bacon and Dean’s a dick for trying to trick Sam into eating it. 

At Beaverdale High School, Sam learns Susie, the vic, was a popular girl and there’s going to be a prayer vigil for her at the school. Two parents show up asking about the game getting canceled --or rescheduled. They’re just can’t have that happen. There was going to be a scout coming to that game for their son, Billy. 

Sam is appalled (and I’m sad for him, so close to losing family he cared about.) The vice principal shuts down the pushy parents, and after they leave mutters, “I swear, the parents are worse than the kids.” 

Sam meets back up with Dean (eating again). Dean was just at the morgue and found a vamp fang. This one’s a weird one. Vamps don’t usually tear their victims apart. Also, she didn’t even try to fight off her attacker. 

Later that night, a fellow student leaves the school only to be attacked by the camera in the bushes!! 

Sam and Dean check out where Susie was found. No blood means she was killed elsewhere and her body was dumped in the woods. Sam soliloquies about how taking care of the monsters is their job and they carry the weight of everyone. Dean drinks from his flask. They are coping SO WELL, guys!

Sam gets a call that another girl is missing. 

WHOA. Becky, fangirl and Sam kidnapper extraordinaire, is married with kids and is looking forward to having the house to herself for the day. Just as her husband and kids pull away, she sees her old ex, Chuck, across the street. Run, Becky, Run! Chuck wants to talk. UGH. 

The VP fills the brothers in on the new missing teen. 

Chuck checks out Becky’s maquettes and learns that she’s a successful Etsy seller of Supernatural merchandise. She fesses up to how wrong what she did to Sam was, admitted to counseling. She kept writing. She wrote the good stuff, amirite? Chuck disagrees and thinks that people like the monsters. (Natasha: raises hand.) Becky’s a busy person so Chuck better cut to the chase here. Chuck won’t let the whole monster thing go. 

Chuck admits to having a falling out with the Winchesters. He also tells Becky that his sister won’t help, because “she sucks.” Becky can’t believe that Chuck thinks he can come crawling back to her. She’s got a good life now. She doesn’t need him. 

Becky’s nice though (can’t believe I just wrote those words), and asks Chuck, what makes him happy. Writing. She tells him he has to write. 

Back at the high school, Dean is interviewing a man in a beaver suit while eating a hot dog. 

JESUS CHRIST ON A CRACKER. (I’m conducting an experiment with my GA co-worker about Dean is bi-Dean/Cas. I can’t wait to hear what she says about this. She did call The Breakup a “bro-fight” so I’ll keep you all posted.) 

In the school gymnasium, Billy and Veronica bond over losing Susie. Billy’s mom interrupts and he runs away. 

The third-in-line-to-the-throne cheerleader practices her eulogy alone in a gym. I obsessed over this scene in this post about stories, because it was such a strange beat in the episode. The Winchesters confront her. They ask her to head off with them alone (GURL never do that with anyone you don’t know) when Sam notices that she wears braces. 

Sam and Dean leave the gym in a huff. Vampires don’t wear braces! Foiled by braces yet again! They go back to the drawing board. 

We finally get a peek in the happy lacrosse family’s home. Everyone’s argumentative and on edge, and when we get a closeup of the dad he’s washing blood off his hands in the sink.

The camera pans through the house to the garage where the kidnapped cheerleader, Tori, lies bound and gagged. UGH.

Chuck experiences the downside of Becky-in-momland: no booze! Chuck complains that he can no longer see Sam and Dean in his head and subtly touches his hidden bullet wound. Ooooo. Becky lays out some truths for Chuck. “You’re a writer. A writer who’s not writing. And when a writer’s not writing, they feel sad and they get lost. Why do I feel this way? Why am I so sad and lost? And what is all this naval gazing and hair pulling amount to in the end? Procrastination. Distraction. Just one million ways the writer avoids doing the one thing that is guaranteed to make the writer feel better. Which is…”

“Writing,” Chuck finishes the thought. Go Becky! Except…um…now Chuck is inspired to write again. And when Chuck writes? The world ends.

Chuck takes over Becky’s computer (RUDE) and starts his next opus on supernaturalstory-onebillionparallelworlds.com. 

Sam and Dean check out the security footage from the night Tori was abducted. They nab a suspicious vehicle and a license plate which lands them at...Billy’s house. 

At Billy’s house, strife continues to be the word of the day. The parents argue that they want what’s best for Billy - whatever that is. Sam and Dean head inside, looking as dangerous as panthers.

Sam heads for the garage while Dean cues the dad into a little fun fact: they’re not FBI. No, they’re considerably scarier than the FBI. Dean pulls out a machete which is probably NOT FIELD ISSUE OKAY. 

Sam discovers that the girl has been hooked up to an IV - she’s become a slow-release food source. The mom interrupts them with a GUN. 

Danger mom escorts Sam and the cheerleader back to the living room where they have a gun vs. machete stand-off. Obviously Dean would win this matchup, okay? He’d probably, idk, stop the bullets in his teeth or something.

Becky reads over Chuck’s work. She adores it! Chuck pushes for some notes. She asks for higher stakes and while we get distracted by her rambling about the lack of classic rock and Cas, Chuck’s expression grows GRIM and DARK and VERY SCARY. (Good job Rob, you talented cinnamon roll!) 

“You want jeopardy? You want danger? I’ll give you danger.” Thanks for the trip to CREEPY TOWN, Chuck. 

Billy heads downstairs and witnesses the confrontation between the Winchesters and his parents. Dean does his usual monologue, explaining how the dad got turned into a vamp, tried to eat cows, and started eating teen girls instead. But Sam observes Billy and points out something very different. “It’s not the dad, it’s the son.” Billy confesses: he was kissing his girlfriend when he lost control and ate her instead. Man, I HATE it when that happens. 

Billy told his parents, who covered it up. They kidnapped Tori as a longer term feed option. But now their son lays it all out. He’ll take the fall for everything, including Tori’s kidnapping and assault. And he’ll take a one-way ride with the Winchesters. 

UGH now everything is terrible. Dean executes the son in a dark wooded area as the rest of the world washes any trace of the supernatural away. 

Back with Chuck, Becky finishes reading his higher-stakes take. She’s disturbed. “You can’t,” she pleads. “This is just an ending.”

“Yeah,” Chuck says, pleased. “I don’t know how I’m getting there, but I know where I’m going.” That destination, to be specific, is just a tombstone with the word WINCHESTER on it. (Can I get a hell yeah for this meta-awareness and roundabout promise that we WON’T get this ending?) 

“You can’t do this to the fans!” Becky insists. But she’s prevented from saying more by her husband’s sudden return. She starts to explain the presence of Chuck, when Chuck just ZAPS her husband out of existence. Her kids call out and BOOM they’re gone too. I start to get worried that we’re gonna have some sort of icky reverse-Misery situation here when Chuck decides to zap Becky away as well. (Can’t wait until Becky kills God at the end of the series, guys!)

In the car, Sam directly parallels Billy to Jack. Dean admits that he wanted to “cash out” in the crypt, but that Sam’s insistence that they matter pulled him back. (Me: RLY?) Sam’s bitter. Dean’s tense. “We still do the job,” Dean says. “We do it for Jack. For mom. For Rowena. We owe it to anybody who has ever given a damn about us to keep putting one foot in front of the other. No matter what.” 

Dean goes on to say that with Chuck gone, they’re finally free to “move on” and EXCUSE ME while I go throw myself into a Destiel trash bin at that phrasing. Sam’s not in the Destiel trash bin with me, because he tells us he still mourns Jessica and now we’re HURTING for other reasons. SAM BBY! 

Back at Becky’s house Chuck continues to write...INSIDIOUSLY. I can’t wait for Chuck’s next book: Sad Boys in the Impala.

______________________________

Read These Quotes Backward for a Demonic Spell:

The end of the world is the end of the world

They have no idea what’s out there

But people LIKE monsters

I need wine

Why am I so sad and lost? And what is all this naval gazing and hair pulling amount to in the end? Procrastination. Distraction. Just one a million ways the writer avoids doing the one thing that is guaranteed to make the writer feel better. 

Nobody even mentions Cas

To see your child in pain rips your heart out

We can bury them out back. Under the peonies. Everything is going to be FINE

Fans are gonna love it

Oh, Becky. I can do anything. I’m a writer

We do the ugly things so that people can live happy

Monsters are cool. What? They’re all teeth!

______________________________

Happy early birthday to my twin @panthergoddessbast! Always remember that I love you immensely! 😘

—————————————

VI. THREE-HEADED MONSTER

The sexual tension on the ride back to O'Shea's house was so thick it could be cut with a knife. Erik could feel the way her eyes bore into the side of his face, her stare unrelenting. She wanted more, but he still didn't think she deserved it. She was gonna have to work for the dick, no matter how many times her hand brushed against his hardening third leg.

"What are you doing, Ms. Powell?" he asked, his eyes never leaving the road.

"I was a good girl at dinner. I think I deserve a treat."

"You got one in the bathroom, don't be greedy Princess." This made Shea pout, but she was determined to make him break.

"Please Daddy?" she tried again, sliding her perfectly manicured coffin nail up his thigh.

"O'Shea, I said no," he scolded firmly causing her to recoil slightly.

"No?" she inquired, her eyebrow raised in confusion. Being the spoiled Daddy's girl she was, no wasn't a word she was used to hearing. Erik noticed her change in demeanor and decided to exploit the situation.

"Yes, I said no, Bianca. Any other questions?" She huffed loudly, turning her body back to face the windshield.

"First of all, I'm an adult and you will address me as such. You're going to give in eventually. That tent in ya pants will need to be handled somehow."

"I have Skylar for that," he added just to antagonize her further.

"Nice try, but Skylar is a lesbian."

"Skylar is just like you, she doesn't give a fuck who eats her pussy, I'm just the only man she lets do it," he replied with a shit-eating grin. O'Shea remained silent the rest of the ride to her place, not even bothering to give him a look back as she walked up to her door and into the house. He couldn't exactly explain why, but he loved getting her riled up the way he had. He loved seeing the fire in her eyes when she was angry at him. It made his dick even harder and the dormant beast within him began to come to life.

Let me have a taste, the beast growled.

"Soon, big fella. Soon," he told himself. Little did O'Shea know he had his own Bennie, and Killmonger was an expert brat tamer.

--

"Why in the fuck would you tell her that? She should've punched your ass," Skylar fussed from her seat behind Erik's desk. She was on the computer, her long nails tittering away on the keyboard as she worked on an informative pamphlet for her own clients.

"The three major components of the cognitive-behavioral approach are: (a) replacement of sexual anxiety with sexual comfort; (b) adopting positive sexual attitudes and learning sexual skills; and (c) a program of individually designed sexual exercises to be done between therapy sessions. The goal of this therapy is to develop a comfortable, functional, and satisfying sexual style... How does that sound," she asked aloud.

"Like you copied and pasted it from a generic article but it serves its purpose and describes what we do. I might just change the name of the practice to mine and steal your pamphlets."

"I don't think so," Skylar mumbled printing multiple pamphlets before ejecting her drive.

"You couldn't do that in your office?" Erik teased watching her lips purse in indignation.

"I could've but I was already here," she replied, taking a sip from her caramel macchiato. "So how are things going with you and Shea?"

"Oh the usual, however, I think we're making progress with her attitude. She's starting to learn that acting out and misbehaving gets her nothing but blue balls."

"I don't think women can get blue balls, but go off I guess."

"Shut up you know what I meant, nigga," he replied, blowing the wrapper of his straw in her direction. The pair shared a laugh before Erik grabbed his leather notebook from the desk drawer.

"I need help coming up with the next method I want to try with her. She's the ideal candidate for experimental therapies. We can really take this thing as far as it goes with her. Hypnotherapy was successful, I've taken thorough notes on that session after watching the footage a few times. And the toy. The toy did exactly what it was designed to do. However, it's not just toys and hypnotism. I've found that engaging her in non-sexual ways are just as effective to bring out her little personalities.

"Oh, so you met them already." Sky leaned forward interested in where the conversation was headed.

"I've tapped into her Little behavior and experimented with some of her kinks. Buttercup is the Little and she appears whenever she feels that I'm upset with her. There are layers to that psychologically that I'd like to examine."

"Hmm," Skylar nodded intrigued.

"Bianca is the brat you and I are used to."

"Too used to it." Skylar's eyes roll.

"She's obviously triggered by the word 'No' and tends to act out when she doesn't get her way. She's also fairly easy to contain... Bennie-"

"You don't need to tell me about Bennie, I work in a sex shop. Bennie comes to work every day."

"I'm kinda stuck now... I have all of this leeway yet I can't decide which method to use next. When I look at her I see endless possibilities. Since you know her, what do you suggest?"

"How about you do some type of exercise in which you bring all of her little personalities to the surface? Get her high."

"Seriously? That's it?"

"Yeah. You'd be amazed at what you'll learn from her when she's under the influence." Erik rubbed his chin as he pondered the thought.

"But you know how I get when I'm high, Sky," he said, sending a sly grin her way.

"Boy get your slick ass away from me. Save the bedroom eyes for O'Shea, thanks."

"On some serious shit though, how do I go about asking her to the crib? That violates all types of rules and crosses all types of barriers."

"Well technically it doesn't because it's possible to file it under intensive in-home services," she chuckled.

"Sky..."

"Okay, seriously working with the client in their home is not out of the ordinary. Don't make this weird."

"Aight, so you think we should do this at her crib since I've already been there before?"

"Yes. Her home is easier to justify on paper since it's familiar territory and she'll be more relaxed in her own space versus yours."

"Yo smart ass! That's why I keep you around," he said kissing her forehead repeatedly.

"I thought it was because I rolled the best weed but both compliments will do."

"You know I love you girl. That reminds me, you still got that dispensary connect in LA?"

"Maybe, why? You tryna get some specialty shit?"

"Yes, ma'am. Something that will ease her mind and body and allow her to open up to me."

"I know just the thing. It's called Green Goddess."

"Ooh, sounds exotic. I need two ounces."

"$2500."

"You know my account info. Get it for me and bring it by. Oooh, bring some In & Out too. And Cold Stones."

"Nigga is O'Shea the female in this situation or you?"

"Hush woman and do what I say," he said with a sharp smack to her ass.

"Yes Daddy," she teased in a soft, Princess-like voice.

"Aye chill out, it's been a minute." Skylar's soft giggle rang throughout the hallway as she walked towards the entrance. He thought for a minute before typing a quick text to O'Shea.

Busy tonight?

Nah why?

Netflix and chill at your crib? I'll bring the bud and food.

You had me at bud. See you at 7.

"Spoiled ass," he chuckled as he put his phone away.

The rest of the work day went by smoothly and soon it was time to head to his patient's house. As usual, Skylar came through with the bud he requested and both his and Shea's favorite meals from In & Out and ice cream from Cold Stones.

"At this point, you owe me your life," Sky fussed from her desk. "Traffic was hell. There was an accident, a four-car pileup." She was working late due to Erik and his needy ways so she opted to facetime him as he made his way to O'Shea's house to make her frustrations known.

"I knew it would be something that's why I knew I wouldn't have the time or patience. But you know I always got you, ma. If all else fails, I'm marrying you."

"Choke on rocks," she pouted. "Always using me for the shit you don't wanna do. I'm getting a new best friend, one that respects how great I am and loves me for me."

"If it's a dude, I'ma kill him. Killmonger don't share."

"I ain't Killmonger's bitch," she countered. "And murder is very much so illegal. This ain't the Navy." He smiled, revealing his bottom row of gold. He cleared his throat before dropping his voice several octaves.

"You sure about that, ma?"

"Oh no, put the demon away."

"Nah, you said you were replacing us. You sure you wanna do that?"

"Unlike O'Shea, I can do what I want, but no sweetheart, I'd never replace you."

"Pinky promise and swear on Crip."

"On Crip, I'd never replace you and you know we don't lie on the hood."

"Aight we good. I'll call you later to let you know how things go." The pair shared their goodbyes and Erik exited his vehicle.

"You're early," O'Shea noted as she stepped back to let him in. The clock on the microwave read 5:30.

"Work was light and I figured I'd just go ahead and come over. Problem?"

"No. Is that Cold Stones?" She asked wide-eyed.

"Yes it is and no you can't have it."

"B-But why?" she pouted.

"Later, Bianca."

"How many times must I remind you that I am an adult?"

"Barely," he regarded with a smirk as he made his way to her kitchen. She followed him the whole way, pouting all the while as he pulled everything out of the bags.

"Fix ya face or you won't get any at all."

"That's not fair!" she pouted harder, folding her arms over her chest.

"Life isn't fair, Lil' Mama."

"This is some bullshit," she fussed as she walked to the couch.

"Bet. I'll keep this sweet cream and oreo shit to myself," he teased, noticing how her mouth dropped in shock. Erik's grin only widened as he walked over to the couch with their food and drinks.

"So what we watching, Bianca Boo?" he asked, reaching for the remote.

"First of all, my name is O'Shea."

"You're acting like a brat so your name is Bianca, now answer my question."

"Can we watch Hercules?"

"Fuckin' child," he mumbled as he pressed play on the movie. The couple ate, sang, and smoked as they breezed through their little Disney movie marathon. From Hercules to Mulan to The Emperor's New Groove they relived their childhoods while the Green Goddess indica worked its magic to mellow them both out and allow them to talk and bond on a more personal level. Several hours into the Disney and chill session, O'Shea figured she'd try her luck again. She noted how much more mellow Erik was when he was under the influence, using this opportunity to fully appreciate how good he looked dressed down. The charcoal gray turtleneck clung to his muscles effortlessly, barely covering the Patek Phillipe watch on his left wrist. His black slacks fit him well, as though they were tailor-made just for him. Her eyes remained glued to the bulge in his pants as he sat with his legs spread wide on the couch. O'Shea fought hard to keep herself from staring, but of course, Erik noticed. He had been watching her watch him for the last 20 minutes and the beast within him noticed too.

"You gone suck or just stare at it?" Killmonger growled, startling O'Shea from her shameless eyefucking. The deep timbre of his voice had her quaking and before he could change his mind, she dropped down to her knees in front of him, seizing her moment to strike him down to a base level of weakness. Surely he could not withstand her oral talent no matter what contenders he'd faced before. Skylar was a master of oral sex when it came to women, but O'Shea was the oracle when it came to men. She looked up at him innocently as she took him into her mouth, lightly teasing his tip with gentle licks before finally taking as much of him as she could down her throat. Though she was cursed with a gag reflex, she was still a master at her craft and the way he was moaning above her proved that she hadn't lost her touch. His stout, thick fingers found their way into her curly mane, lightly gripping her tresses to help guide her head up and down his shaft.

"Just like that, Shea. Grip that shit, stroke what you can't fit in that wet ass mouth," he encouraged. O'Shea moaned around his shaft, using his praises as encouragement to show out on the dick. She wasn't sure when she'd get him this loose again and wanted to make sure this experience was memorable. Just as she was finding her groove, he made the most awful sound above her.

"Ah, shit! What the fuck?!"

"Wait, stop moving!"

"That shit hurt, what the fuck did you just do to me?" In all of the 5 years that O'Shea had had her braces, never once had they gotten caught on anyone. Leave it to Erik Stevens to be the unlucky contender.

"I-I'm sorry, that's never happened before," she said fighting back her laughter. He was being more dramatic than the situation really called for.

"Oh, that shit's funny to you? I'm fucking bleeding."

"You're not, but ok," she said standing from her position on the floor.

"Man move," he fussed, rushing to the bathroom to assess the damages.

20 minutes. 20 whole minutes was how long he left her to her own psyche while he calmed down. He knew she didn't mean to do it, but the fact that she laughed is what really pissed him off. Once he composed himself, he walked out to see her back on the couch with her head down towards the floor. He didn't speak to her, only went to the kitchen to throw away the trash and grab his keys.

"So are you going to leave and not speak to me? I told you it was an accident."

"I know, Buttercup and I'm not upset. I just think it's a good idea to end this session where it is. I'll have Harper contact you about your next appointment. Have a good night." With that and a kiss to the back of her hand, he walked outside and back to his car, leaving O'Shea a confused, sad mess. She didn't do well with people being mad at her, especially at this point in her life when her little personalities were fully functioning entities. The buzz of her phone brought her out of her psyche.

"Daddy's sorry for the way he left you, Buttercup. I meant what I said about not being angry at what happened, but what really pissed me off is the fact that you thought it was funny."

"But you laugh at my pain all the time," she replied meekly, curling up into a ball on the couch.

"I don't laugh at your pain, I laugh at the fact that you think you run shit. How about this, let's meet somewhere and talk about it."

"Where?"

"Cold Stones."

"But I have ice cream in the freezer."

"Since when have you turned down more?"

"Touché. Give me 10 minutes." She quickly dressed, happy that he wasn't upset and that he still wanted to continue their therapy and build their potential relationship. Though he was indeed her therapist, she felt comfortable with him. More comfortable than she had felt with anyone in a long time and if she were being honest, it scared her. She hated how vulnerable she was around him having been so guarded for most of her life, yet she liked that she could be her true self without fear of judgment and ridicule for her behavior. The benefits of having him as her therapist outweighed her fears. He got her on a level that no one else had before, not even Sky.

Excitedly, she met him in the air-conditioned shop finding him with ice cream in hand. On her approach, he rested his palm atop her head as if to say welcome.

"So now I'm a dog?"

"Nah, you just small. Have a seat, baby girl." She sat down beside him and began eating the cold sugary concoction of sweet cream, chocolately brownie chunks, crumbled graham crackers and walnuts all drizzled with thick caramel. She bounced happily in her seat as the divine mixture set her tastebuds ablaze. This was one of her all-time favorite combinations and she was glad he'd remembered it to the smallest detail. He smiled as he watched her smiling and bouncing in her element, happy that she was happy. She was eating so fast that she dripped ice cream onto her chin and brand new royal purple Disney spirit jersey. She pouted, but he merely grabbed a napkin and cleaned her mess.

"Why the long face, Buttercup? I thought a messy little girl was a happy little girl."

"Sky just bought this for me, though. I didn't want to get it dirty. There's even a stain on Mickey." She turned her body slightly to show him the smudged caramel on the sparkly D emblem.

"Well that won't do, will it? You're welcome to take it off. You wouldn't want to spill again."

"But I'm not wearing another shirt," she pouted further.

"Less material to worry about. You should enjoy your ice cream freely. Do remove the shirt, Buttercup.. for your own good." She nodded, slowly lifting the sweatshirt over her head and laying it on the table. He grabbed and folded it neatly before placing it on the booth beside him. Now free from the constraints of the jersey, she tore into her ice cream like a woman starved.

"Doesn't that feel better? Your sweater is now safe from any harm and Daddy will worry about having it cleaned. That's not something a little girl should concern herself with."

"Yes Daddy, thank you," she said with a wide grin. It had been so long since she had been allowed to freely be in her little space, especially to this degree and it was nice to put the stresses and worries of adulting to the side, even if it were just for a little while.

"Um... I'm sorry sir, but um.. shirts are required in this establishment... Sorry..," the gangly scooper spoke nervously, obviously intimidated by his stature though he was not in his imposing state. The anxiety in the guy's eyes rubbed him the wrong way. Another negative profile. If that was the case while he wore a sweater and a name brand watch, he thought, the man deserved to feel fearful.

"Several pale skinned patrons are wearing sports bras and cropped bandeau tops, similar to my date's. Are you going to say the same to them?" Erik asked with a raised eyebrow watching the guy stammer in distress.

"I- It's just- Nevermind," the scooper stumbled, making his way back behind the counter. He started to pick up a phone, but when Erik made eye contact and mouthed a message, he put the phone back down.

"What did you say just now," O'Shea inquired, looking from the counter back to Erik's peaceful expression. The behavior of the scooper didn't match his face.

"Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about, Buttercup. Take your time. Finish your ice cream and we'll be on our way." O'Shea shrugged but continued to bounce happily as she ate her ice cream, even going as far as to ask Erik for another bowl for later. Because of the way he behaved earlier, he obliged.

"Whadya know, Buttercup! We got this one free."

"Yay!" she squealed, happily thanking the fearful scooper who nodded without eye contact.

"I-It was no trouble, really," he stuttered, eyes never leaving Erik's menacing scowl. As the couple turned to leave, Erik bucked at the young scooper, laughing loudly at the way he flinched, dropping a tower of ice cream all over himself.

"Damn, nigga. You need to lift weights or something," he smirked opening the glass door for O'Shea.

"Where do you wanna go now, Buttercup?" he asked as he brushed a rogue curl behind her ear.

"I wish it wasn't so late. I really wanna go to Disneyland." Erik checked his watch and noted that the park would indeed be closing soon.

"We can't get into the park, but Downtown Disney is still open."

"Ooh can we go to Salt & Straw?" she asked, bouncing on her toes.

"Buttercup you just had ice cream and got a free one to go. Not to mention you still have ice cream in the freezer from earlier."

"Yeah, but none of those were honey lavender with whipped cream and a waffle cone," she pouted.

'You're right, but considering the fact that I'm a doctor who also cares about your physical health, the answer is still no. You are sweet enough." She was upset but didn't protest further for fear that he'd just decide to take her back to her house. No matter how upset she was, Disney fixed everything. As the pair roamed the district, O'Shea's eyes grew wide watching Erik walk into to the Pandora shop. She'd been wanting new charms for her princess-themed bracelet forever, but never had the time or the extra funds to splurge on herself the way she wanted.

"How about I make my Buttercup something special?" he beamed down at her, rubbing circles into the small of her back.

"Oooh, what is it?" she asked happily.

"It's a surprise, but why don't you go get us two of those honey lavender cones and it'll be done by the time you get back."

"Ok!" she squealed happily, taking his card and running out of the store before he changed his mind again. It took her all of 10 minutes to go and come back with her half-eaten cone and his full one. Her grin was wide as she regarded Erik standing in front of the counter with both hands behind his back. His shit-eating grin was back like he knew he was that nigga. And at this moment, he was.

"Whatcha got back there, Daddy?"

"Just a little something for my second favorite princess," he replied stepping closer to her. "Close your eyes and hold out your left wrist." She quickly complied and her beaming grin grew even wider as she felt the cold metal against her skin.

"Alright, open." He watched smugly as her eyes opened and widened. Her heart was so full she thought it would burst. She hadn't even realized that he had slipped her princess bracelet off her wrist until she saw it in its complete form.

"You finished my bracelet?"

"Yes ma'am, chronologically just the way you had it and I started your villain one." Her fingers toyed delicately with the Tinkerbell and poisoned apple charms on the princess bracelet before moving to Maleficent and the Evil Queen charms on the villain bracelet. Then her eyes met his. She wanted to cry.

"Thank you so much, Daddy."

"Anything for my Buttercup. I even left off Anna and Elsa because I know those are the ones you like the least." Again, he'd remembered something seemingly frivolous solely because he knew it was important to her. She felt her little heart swell two sizes.

"You're the best, really." She rewarded him with a sweet kiss on the lips, which he deepened when he grabbed her chin and added a little tongue. Just enough to leave her wanting.

"Come on, pretty girl. Let's get you home, we both have work in the morning."

—————————————

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Armageddon Chapter 10 (Dean x Reader)

Title: Armageddon Chapter 10

Summary:  Space. The Final Frontier. But for Dean Winchester, space was the last place he thought he would ever go. His family life isn’t perfect, his job isn’t ideal, but he has (Y/n), the woman he loves. Sam Winchester never thought his life would turn out the way it did. He is divorced, alone, and his brother most likely hates him. Working for NASA was not going to be easy. But, when a threat to the earth has him calling on his family for help, what can he do? can Sam and Dean push past his family issues to keep the Earth spinning another day? Based on the movie of the same name.

Pairings: Dean x Reader; Sam x Jessica

Warnings For this Chapter: Angst, language

Check out my Patreon to see chapters before they come to Tumblr!!!

Song for this chapter is Mmmm Mmmm Mmmm Mmmm by the Crash Test Dummies

(Y/n) and Sam made it back to Houston just as the sunset. (Y/n) parked the car and looked to Sam.

“You going to tell me what happened?” She whispered.

“I...she thinks I’m lying to her about going to space,” Sam said. “She thought I was using her for an easy lay.” He closed his eyes. “I never stopped loving her (Y/n).” He sighed and got out of the car. Dean was out there, standing by Baby.

“(Y/n)!” He said, waving to her. “Where’d you go? I was worried.” He didn’t even attempt to stop Sam.

“I took Sam to see Jess,” She muttered looking down at the ground. “I think I made it worse. Dean… there is something wrong with Sam… I… I’m not sure how to help him.” she shook her head. Still scared that Dean was going to leave her. She wrung her fingers tightly.

“He’ll be okay.” He hugged her. “Are we okay though?”

“I’m just worried about Sam, Dean.” (Y/n) stepped back a bit, “I should check on him… I… Something happened to him and he isn't talking, that’s not healthy… you know that.”  

“(Y/n)....” Dean sighed. “Come here. I need to tell you something.” He patted the hood by where he was sitting.

(Y/n) walked hesitantly towards him, she was bracing herself for the pitfall, “What is it?” she muttered as she climbed on the hood, careful not to sit to close.

“I talked to dad.” Dean told her. “And I found out why neither of them were at my graduation.”

(Y/n) turned to face him her eyes filled with worry, “What did he say?”

“He said you told him to go pick Sam up,” Dean looked at her for conformation.

“Yeah, last I heard from him that day was that he was on his way to get Sam,” She nodded. “But, he never showed up with Sam. I figured he was being a dick and took Sam somewhere else.”

“He told me he got to the house and Sam was sitting there with a gun to his head.” Dean told her. “And that when he got Sam calmed down, Sam begged him not to tell me.”

(Y/n) covered her mouth and shook her head, “No… that… he wouldn’t.”

“I don’t know.” Dean shrugged. “I didn’t realize my graduation was about the same time as his divorce.”

Without a word (Y/n) ran inside. She began searching the house for Sam. reaching the Dog kennel she released Sadie and  allowed the dog to look for her owner. Sadie scratched at the door to Sam’s room. Taking a deep breath (Y/n) knocked on the door.

“Sam?” she called, she closed her eyes hoping he would answer. Sam opened the door then, just looking tired.

“Yeah?” He asked, looking down at the smaller woman.

Without a word she hugged him. She hadn’t realized she was crying until a sob escaped her lips.

“Please tell me it’s not ture,” she whispered, “please tell me your dad lied to Dean.”

“It’s...it’s in the past. I’ve learned and grown up.” Sam shrugged. “I’m okay.”

“Sam…” (Y/n)’s voice broke before she punched him hard in the shoulder. “You don’t… EVER… do that… you hear me. Something is bothering you, you talk! Lord knows I had to practically ignore your brother for a month before he finally realized that talking is a good thing!” She punched him again.

“Dean!” Sam called as he tried to shield himself from (Y/n). “OW! (Y/n) stop! I’m ok now, I promise.” Dean came in then and saw (Y/n) beating Sam up.

“Why are we beating Sam up?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Because he is an idiot! ALL you Winchesters are! Stubborn ass men, who think talking is a sign of fucking weakness!” She continued her assault. “It’s true by the way,” she called over her shoulder. She gave Sam a glare. “Something happened today with Jessica! I know it! I swear Sam you do anything stupid I will beat you to a pulp!”

“Okay, okay! Can I go to bed please?” Sam asked. “We have the press confrence in the morning…”

(Y/n) gave him a last punch before walking past Dean and towards the guest room.. Sam looked to Dean and shook his head.

“I’m fine I promise… I’ll see you in the morning.” Sam closed his door.  Dean went to go find (Y/n), who was in the guest room.

“Babe?” Dean asked. “Can I come in?”

“It’s your room too,” she breathed. She had lain down on the bed her back facing the door as she silently sniffled. She closed her eyes waiting for Dean to come in demanding she give back the ring. She wasn’t sure why, but it was the one thing that ran through her head all day after the fight with John. That he in some way convince Dean to leave her.

Instead, Dean laid by her and wrapped his arms around her. He placed gentle kisses on her.

“You know I love you, right?” He asked.

(Y/n) turned and buried her face in his chest. The sob that escaped her shook her to the core. “I’m sorry, I should have told you Sam was paying your tuition, but… he just wanted to pay you back after everything you did for him.”

“I’m sorry I got so mad at you.” Dean sighed. “And I’m not mad Sam did it. I was just surprised.”

(Y/n) looked up at him with teary eyes. She hesitantly caressed his cheek. She still felt scared about the launch. She wasn’t sure how Dean was going to handle being in the rocket. She stared into his eyes getting lost in them. She felt scared to kiss him, still not sure if he really was ok.

But Dean took care of it, leaning in and kissing her gently, holding her close to his chest.Breaking the kiss (Y/n) snuggled close to his chest falling asleep to the sound of his heart beat.

****

Sam was up before (Y/n) and Dean. He was drinking coffee and looking out over nature. Things moving along like their doom wasn’t on the way. He sighed. He wished this was all just a bad dream. He wished he’d wake up next to Jessica with Ashton asleep down the hall.Sadie padded up to him wagging her tail and giving him a soft whimper. She sat by him looking at him intently, before placing her muzzle by his hand and nudging it.  

“Hey girl, it’ll be okay.” He scratched her ears, smiling. “I love you sweetie.”

(Y/n) woke up with a wave of nausea hitting her once again. Rushing to the bathroom she emptied the contents of her stomach. Hoping that Dean was in one of his sound sleeper days. Once she was done she rinsed out her mouth and brushed her teeth. She placed her hand on her abdomen and closed her eyes. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to happen. There was too much tension between all of them for something not to. Finishing up in the bathroom, she changed her clothes and walked out towards the kitchen. She noticed Sam looking out into his backyard.

“Morning,” She said as she reached for a mug for coffee.

“Hey, no coffee.” He said, moving it away from her. “I went out and got some juice for you this morning. AOL said it’s good for...women....” He smiled some at her.

“I hate you,” She grumbled, “I want my coffee,” she pouted.

Neither of them heard the door to the guest room opening and Dean stumbling out. His hair messy and unkempt.

“You look like you slept good.” Sam chuckled, seeing Dean. “Want some coffee?”

“Yeah, thanks.” he mumbled. “You feeling ok?” he looked to (Y/n).

“Peachy.” She yawned. “We’ve got the press conference this morning.”

Dean looked to Sam, “do you know what’s wrong with her?” he whispered to his brother, “We usually always wake up together and these past couple of day’s…” Dean gave a soft frown, “I kind of miss it.”

“Probably time of the month stuff.” Sam whispered back. “Jess always got...really weird…” He sighed a little. “Maybe it’s something to talk to her about.”

“Huh,” Dean gave a shrug of his shoulders, “never really noticed it before… I’ll just kiss and cuddle and hopefully she’ll get better.” He sighed.

After Dean and Sam got ready (Y/n) waited by the Impala. She could only wonder what the day would be like. She hoped John would leave Dean alone at least for the day.

************

John paced around the conference room. He hadn’t slept a wink that night. Everything he and Dean talked about running through his head. The one person he had been wanting to talk to to try and help with the situation, refused to even look at him. This was not the kind of relationship he wanted with his sons. Ever since Mary died he had tried to focus on trying to keep them safe. He knew he leaned more towards Sam, but in all honesty Dean was always the toughest of the two. Sam had always slightly struggled with his gawkiness until he had grown out of it.

“You ok, boss?” Benny’s gravely voice cut through his thoughts.

“I’ll be okay once this is all done and over with, when we can breathe without having to worry about the sky falling.” He ran a hand down his face.

“Yeah, well,” Benny crosses his arms, “seems like the only person who can help you out is (Y/n), and she’s well… she really is not happy with you.”

“I just...when did Dean decide he wanted to propose to (Y/n)?” John asked. “How long have they even been engaged?”

“Well, that’s… He had found the ring while he was moving out to his apartment around what…. a year ago?” Benny tried to remember. “He was being a real chickenshit if you ask me,” Benny chuckled. “He kept planning and changing his mind… he kept telling me he was convinced that (Y/n) was going to dump him… I guess this mission kind of pushed him to finally do it.”

John gave a slight hum, before the crew walked in waiting to be called for their Interview. John noticed the look on Sam’s face. It worried him, it was the same look he had the night he had stopped him from killing himself. Knowing Dean would be glaring at him, John walked up to Sam and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“You ok, kid?” John rasped as he searched his son’s eyes.

“I’m fine.” Sam said, nodding. “Just perfectly fine.” He cleared his throat. “We need to get beautiful for the press conference.”

“What are you talking about? I’m gorgeous.” Ash said, sweeping a hand through his long hair.

“If only I wasn't with Dean, Ash,” Y/N drawled as she winked at Dean. Sam stood off to the side, something in his chest hurting. If this wasn’t such an important mission, and if he wasn’t apart of it, he would be off somewhere drinking before the asteroid hit. But he had to save the world.

“Sam,” John breathed, “You know you can talk to me.” He looked to his youngest son. “I’m your father, I know when something’s wrong I can feel it.”

“I’m find dad. Promise.” Sam smiled. “It’s just stress. I’ll be fine when all of this is over.”

“I worry about you kid,” John placed his hands on both Sam’s shoulders. “You’re my son, I worry about you, ever since….”

“Maybe worry about your other son too!” Sam finally snapped. “I said I’m fine! I’m not going to shoot my brains out dad! Just leave me alone!” He stormed off then, causing (Y/n) and Dean to look over.

Dean kissed (Y/n)’s cheek before running off after Sam. (Y/n) looked down at the ground, she gently played with the ring on her finger, before stepping out for air. She wasn’t sure what to do. It almost felt like everything was falling apart and she didn’t know how to fix it. She was always the buffer between John and Dean, her dad would help too. But ever since his death, their arguments had gotten more and more frequent. She never noticed John had come looking for her.

“Uh, (Y/n)?” John said softly. “I...I just wanted to tell you that...I’m sorry, and...you guys have my blessing. Not that you needed it anyway.” He turned to walk away from her.

“John,” her voice cracked. “I... “ She couldn’t get the words out before she began sobbing. Placing her head in her hands.

“Cher, come on.” Benny said. “Let’s get you some food and find your man.” He rubbed her back and led her to the breakfast that had been set up for them. “This will all be better once we save the planet.”

“I hope you’re right Benny,” She whispered as she let Benny guide her back inside.

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Armageddon Tags: @thefaithfulwriter

I'M SO GREEDY, I WANNA REQUEST SO MANY. Reddie #11, or #9. Whichever you prefer. :D

I will fill ANY request for you, my beautiful friend. You’re never greedy - just say the word.

I got another request for #9, so this one is straight #11 - “you owe me a kiss” ;)(the rest of the prompts are here in case anyone is wondering/has a request)

I call her: not just a river in egypt…and here she is

I’m not like that.

Those four words had become the mantra of Richie Tozier’s high school experience.

I’m not like that.

His parents wanted him to go to college. Wentworth was specifically interested - seemed to think that Richie was similar enough to him that dentistry was on the table as a potential career option for his son.

Dentistry was NOT on the table - or in the kitchen, or even in the basement of Richie’s mind. No career was, really. All he wanted to do was tell jokes and listen to the radio. There wasn’t a major for that, or even a school, in spite of the fact that his grades were pretty uniformly excellent.

I’m not like that.

Even shittier than Went’s dentistry bid was the fact that because he was decent at school, his teachers kept trying to nominate him for stuff, or pull him aside and lecture him on his potential. Mrs. Campanella, his English language and literature teacher, told him that his essays were good enough to submit for scholarships or other prizes, and Mr. Browne, his chemistry teacher, wanted him to join the track team to get him to, quote unquote, let some excess energy out instead of bringing it all to class. Richie had thanked Mr. Browne, given him two middle fingers, and then skipped his class for the next week and a half. He still had a 96 average for the quarter, and a 98 for the year.

I’m not like that.

Finally, and maybe most importantly, there was the tiny, miniscule, all-encompassing matter of his love-life.

Well, actually, it was more of a “lack thereof” situation. Richie hadn’t had a crush on a girl since the middle of ninth-grade, and it was freaking him the fuck out.

For the first four months of his high school existence, he’d been completely, utterly, and irrevocably in love with Brenda Arrowsmith. She was the sun, the moon, the stars, and most notably, the girl in their grade whose tits had developed first. It was only natural that Richie’s feelings would follow.

After the six-thousandth time that Brenda rejected his attempts to talk to her in the hallways before school (or at lunch, or in study hall), though, he figured that the tits weren’t worth it. He didn’t really know her anyway, he reasoned. She was probably a bitch, or she didn’t brush her teeth…or both, or some other gross thing, who was to say. It took him a couple of months, but by February, he was good and over Brenda - and if he still stopped to check her out every once in a while, it was out of artistic appreciation, nothing more.

After that, he’d elected to spend most of his time with his friends, because he knew them, he loved them, and they were more than enough to occupy his interest until (he figured) the next girl came along.

He hadn’t banked on the next girl taking so long. It was more than two years later now, and the fabled next girl still had yet to show. It was enough to make any man a little desperate, and Richie was no exception to that rule - his poor hormones were being neglected entirely.

It stood to reason, then, that the current confusion was probably hormonal payback for the last two years of dry spell. (That was what Richie was adamantly trying to tell himself, anyway.)

It was late June, and junior year had just wrapped up. The Losers had long since completed their second-to-last school supply dumping, complete with a run-in with Belch Huggins, and had moved on to their usual summer routines: either crashing at the Hanscoms’, cruising through downtown Derry and complaining about having nothing to do, or laying out in the sunshine at the quarry. Today had been a long day of quarry-ing, and Richie knew for a fact that he was sunburnt as shit. His body was already starting that hot-cold weirdness that happened whenever he forgot to reapply sunscreen at least eight times.

He’d been a little too distracted to care about his skin.

They’d all been swimming in their underwear for years - since they were kids, they’d foregone bathing suits in favor of whatever it was they had under their clothes at the time. It used to be a matter of not knowing when they were going to make the trek down to the quarry, but now it was a collective courtesy to Ben, whose mother couldn’t afford to get him a suit that fit. They never talked about it, they just dutifully peeled off their clothes whenever they were headed for the water.

Richie had looked idly down the row of his friends before they launched themselves over the cliff, expecting the same boring mix of solid colored boxers and briefs, but had instead been hit straight-on with a startling sight, which cued up a startling remembrance.

Eddie’s mom didn’t know what size he was anymore.

Eddie had never been allowed to shop for his own clothes, and wouldn’t, ever, so long as he lived in Sonia’s house. The poor boy had been pleading with Richie to consider going to college with him for almost the entirety of junior year, because he desperately needed to escape from under his mother’s thumb and he didn’t want to do it alone. “Please, Rich,” he’d begged, “she doesn’t even know that I’ve grown three inches up and one out this year, and now all my pants are too small…”

He was right about that, and Richie had spent the last few months teasing him about seeing his ankles…but now that it was evident that Eddie’s pants weren’t the only articles of clothing that were too small on him, Richie, for once in his life, had no joke for the situation. Eddie’s briefs were tight - the waistband was cinched almost uncomfortably around his stomach, and the rest left very little to the imagination. It was nothing Richie hadn’t seen before, but for some reason, he couldn’t tear his eyes from where the faded fabric was stretched taut against….against….

No. No way. He wasn’t LIKE that.

Before he had time to thoroughly beat himself up for the thoughts he was having, he’d been shoved into the water by the quick hands of Stanley Uris, who tacked on a “Think fast!” about thirty seconds too late. The cold water did nothing to shock Richie out of his dilemma, and when he surfaced, spluttering, he’d felt a little bit like he was still drowning…only, different.

The rest of the day had been full of similar little moments - Eddie in the sunshine, glowing in the light, Eddie laughing at something Mike said (why Mike and not ME, Richie’s traitorous brain screamed), the softness of Eddie’s voice when he gently reminded Richie to reapply sunscreen on his shoulders, the care that Eddie took with each of his friends.

I’m not like that, I’m not like that, I’m not LIKE that–

“Richie?” Ben was standing over him, frowning at his shoulders with obvious concern. “You okay? You’ve been quiet…and I don’t know if anyone told you, but you’re starting to–”

“Beyond starting to burn, Benny boy,” Richie confirmed miserably. “Gonna be a regular Maine steamed lobster for the next few days. I’ll be by in the morning to wrap myself in blankets and hide myself on your couch while the rest of you watch An Officer and a Gentleman a-fucking-gain…”

“Bev’s coming, you ass,” Ben reminded him, nudging him a little with his foot. “She hasn’t seen it yet - and it’s one of my favorites.”

Richie rolled his eyes. “Sap.”

“Don’t blame me for your lack of taste,” Ben tutted, shaking his head. “I asked if everything was okay.”

Ben punctuated his question by looking over at where Eddie was examining rocks with Bill, Mike, and Stan, and oh, fuck no. Sometimes Ben’s all-knowing attitude towards the relationship dynamics of their group was awesome…and sometimes it was actually the worst.

“I’m great,” Richie said loudly, glaring furiously up at Ben. “Hungry as fuck, though. I’ll kiss the next person that offers me a bite to eat, I swear to fucking–”

The corners of Ben’s mouth twisted up into a strange smile, and Richie was seized with cold fear. He had a feeling he knew what Ben was thinking about doing, and he almost couldn’t believe it. Such behavior was beneath Ben, surely - Stan or Bill would have done it without hesitation, but Ben wouldn’t betray him, right?

“Hey, Eddie,” Ben called, and Eddie looked up from his rocks, frowning over at Ben and Richie. “You packed snacks, right?”

“My mom shoved a bunch of Hostess food at me before I left the house, yeah,” Eddie confirmed. “Said she didn’t want it in the house any more. She’s all mad at herself because she binged a whole box of Ring Dings yesterday. Why, you hungry?”

Ben looked down at Richie, looking a little guilty, but mostly bemused, and Richie wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt so betrayed before in his life.

“I’ll kill you, Hanscom,” he whispered, eyes glued to Eddie as Eddie’s feet began to move in their direction.

“Not me,” Ben responded to Eddie, and then smiled and backed up a little bit. Eddie’s eyes flickered from Ben to Richie, and Richie could almost see the panic make its way across Eddie’s face like an ocean wave when he took in the condition of Richie’s chest and shoulders.

“Oh, Richie, you’re burnt! Here, I have lotion in my bag…and snacks, too, if you want. You like Twinkies, right?”

Eddie quickly grabbed his bag from off of his towel and began rifling through it, and Richie tried and failed to keep his eyes away from the flex of Eddie’s thighs as he bent over. Ben had disappeared, presumably while Richie’s eyes and mind were occupied by Eddie’s fussing, and Richie found himself kind of impressed with the whole situation in spite of himself. Ben was a lot more crafty than Richie had given him credit for, it seemed.

“Here.” Eddie finally located what he was looking for and tossed it at Richie’s feet. Richie picked up Eddie’s tub of aloe tenuously and opened it, swiping his fingers through the slimy substance and quietly smearing it along his collarbones. He ignored the Twinkies that Eddie had also tossed over entirely, even though his stomach was practically screaming for them.

“Thanks,” Richie said quietly, not looking at Eddie. He couldn’t look at Eddie any more today, because if he did, admissions would have to be made, and there was no fucking way that was going to happen. He wasn’t like that.

“Richie!” Stan and Bill were making their way back over, with Mike and Ben in tow. Richie had literally no idea what magic Ben had performed to teleport himself back there, but it didn’t matter now, because Richie had bigger things to contend with - namely, a very smug Stanley Uris, whose voice was dripping with glee as he asked, “Is it true that you told Ben you’d kiss the next person that fed you?”

Eddie’s sharp inhale was almost painfully audible, and Richie winced when he saw Eddie’s face turn an embarrassed red out of the corner of his eye.

“I couldn’t do that to Eds,” Richie said quickly, trying to sound more lighthearted than he was actually feeling. “He’d probably catch something from me, given that he tells me every day that I’m filthy and disease-riddled. Also, this mouth is the property of Sonia K., and I really couldn’t betray her like this - not with her own son…”

Eddie, surprisingly, didn’t try and stop Richie’s tirade or chastise Richie for being vulgar. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest slowly, taking a deep breath like he was trying to stabilize himself without his inhaler. Richie chanced a glance at Eddie’s face, and felt his heart stutter at the sight - the poor boy was clearly trying to bury a response, but his eyes betrayed him. They were glassy and squinted, almost as if….as if….

No. Eddie wasn’t like that either. Was he…?

“It’s time to go home, right?” Eddie asked suddenly, voice disarmingly shaky. “We should go? Stan, do you have–”

“Already on it,” Stan said quickly, looking surprisingly remorseful. He gave Mike a meaningful look, and Mike shook his head, raised his eyebrows at Richie, and then turned his attention back towards Stan.

“You get the bag, I’ll get the towels?”

“Sounds great,” said Stan, and the two of them went to collect belongings, with Eddie anxiously scuttling along after them.

Richie was left to be stared down by Bill and Ben, who were both looking at him like he’d embarrassed them. He’d been on the receiving end of this look a zillion times, but for whatever reason, this time felt different, and Richie found himself wanting to look away.

Bill seemed to speak for both of them when he said, “Grow up, Ruh-Richie.”

Richie didn’t respond, because he couldn’t. He couldn’t grow up. Growing up meant accepting responsibility for things, and there were certain things that he had absolutely no intention of coming to terms with.

“It’s okay,” Ben told him kindly.

It wasn’t okay. He wasn’t like that.

That said, the less they knew, the better things would be for him…so….

“Let’s go get dinner,” he said, effectively closing the conversation.

–

27 years later, Richie still had yet to take Bill’s advice.

Six out of seven of them were back in Derry for the Losers Club reunion that none of them actually wanted to attend. It was a different six than it had been that day in the quarry - they had Beverly, this time, and Stan had been lost along the wayside (Richie didn’t want to call it what it was yet; he wasn’t ready), but the energy was not at all dissimilar to that particular summer day in June.

Well, actually, the interdimensional demon part was putting something of a damper on things, but that being what it was, the vibe was close enough.

In fact, if Richie closed his eyes and let his imagination take over, it was all too easy to slip back into being sixteen again. The wind against the tall grass of the Barrens made a very specific sound, and that partnered with the bossy tirade that Bill was currently on gave the whole scenario an early 1990s vibe that was making Richie feel…nervous, for some reason.

No. Not just some reason. His heart wasn’t hammering outrageously against his chest for just some reason.

When he opened his eyes, Eddie Kaspbrak was looking back at him, and the familiar gaze was like an electric shock to Richie’s system.

Fuck. He’d spent his entire adult life trying to convince himself he was a certain way, and all it had taken Eddie to undo years and years’ worth of progress was a single glance.

I’m not like that.

No, no, no. He knew better than that now - knew better than to deny what was unmistakably there, at least to himself.

Out loud, however…well, the possibilities for what he could say out loud were endless.

“–split up,” Bill was saying, voice firmer and more confident than it had ever been in his youth. The stutter was mostly gone, now, and Bill claimed that it was completely gone outside of Derry. Richie looked forward to testing whether or not that was true after everything they had to do in Derry was said and done…if there was an after, anyway. (Again, Richie wasn’t much for dwelling on the nasty parts of things. He’d think about it later. Only actions in the now.) “Me and Mike, Ben and B-Bev, Richie and Eddie? Just to see. Report b-back in an hour.”

“Can do, boss,” Ben said, looking not-so-secretly thrilled to have a moment with Beverly, who was smiling over at him with undisguised fondness.

“Richie? Eddie?” Bill looked between the two of them, seemingly trying to assess the situation he’d created. “All right?”

Richie looked at Eddie in the sunlight - his hair was haloed in it to the point where it almost looked angelically blonde - and swallowed his fear as best he could.

“We’ll be good,” Richie promised, avoiding everyone’s eyes and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah,” Eddie said softly, “that’ll probably work out just fine. What time do you want us back?”

“Two,” Bill repeated. “Good luck.” He turned on his heel and walked off after Mike, and Richie and Eddie were left alone together.

This was going to be absolutely unbearable. Richie was struck by a sudden memory - a conversation he’d had with Bill and Ben about growing up - and wished in that moment that he never had. He had been right - adulthood had provided him with realizations he didn’t want and accompanying responsibilities, and he wished he’d had the option to opt out of the whole thing. It didn’t seem worth it.

Better, he thought as Eddie walked towards him, all nerves and sharp angles and sweetness, to remain in that childhood denial than to face the reality of what lay thick in the air between the two of them.

“You ready to go, Spaghetti?” Richie asked, feeling the old name slip though his lips before he’d even really remembered it.

Eddie stared back at him, lips drawn into a tight line. “No nicknames.”

“No promises on that,” Richie said, not trusting himself to keep ‘Eds’ and ‘Spaghetti’ out of his mouth. “Any place in particular that you think is worth exploring?”

Eddie thought for a moment. “The quarry.”

That hadn’t been what Richie was expecting. He cocked an eyebrow in surprise. “You saw the demon thing at the quarry?”

“No, never,” Eddie said, finally allowing his face to relax - and was that the ghost of a smile threatening to make its way across his face? “That’s why I want to go.”

Richie’s loud laughter was surprising even to himself, but he found himself grateful for it as it overtook him. All of the nerves and craziness that had built up over the past few days were pouring out of him, and Eddie could feel it, too - after a moment, he joined Richie in laughing, and then neither of them could stop. It was the end of everything, and they were locked in hysterical laughter, too paralyzed by it to move.

Finally, Richie took a deep breath and collected himself. “I don’t know if I can go to the quarry. I don’t have sunscreen.”

“Yeah, you’ll burn in no time,” Eddie agreed, voice still wobbly from laughter. “Granted, it helps that you’re not in your underwear.”

“That can change,” Richie said, mouth too far ahead of his mind for him to come to terms with the implications of his taunt. In fact, he didn’t really realize exactly what he’d said until Eddie flushed crimson, and then the mood was back to the pre-laugh tension and fuck, he usually had a better handle on himself, didn’t he? What was it about Derry, Maine that broke all his filters?

Before he could apologize, though, Eddie pressed on. “Remember the summer before senior year?” he asked, threading his fingers together in a way that Richie vaguely remembered meant that he was nervous.

Richie swallowed hard. “I mean, not very well, what with the supernatural amnesia and all.”

“You’ll remember this day,” Eddie said, and Richie immediately knew the day that he was referring to - he’d been thinking about it ever since Mike had led them down towards this part of town. “It was a weird day for you. You were all in your own head, and you ignored all the times I told you to put sunscreen on so you got stupid burnt and had to stay inside for a week afterwards.”

Adolescent guilt and shame came flooding through Richie like a monsoon - all of the stupid feelings, all of the frantic denial was right there at the surface of his consciousness. Eddie had to be able to sense it - but he was showing no signs of being cued-in to Richie’s tangle of feelings. He just stood, tired and nervous and beautiful, and waited for Richie to respond.

“You gave me a Twinkie,” Richie finally offered, because it was all he could think of to say.

“You owe me a kiss,” Eddie replied quickly, as if afraid the words would dry up in his mouth if he didn’t get them out fast enough.

They stared at each other in terror for a few seconds, and it was enough to make Richie wonder if maybe this version of Eddie in front of him was actually the fucking clown, taking Eddie’s form to make Richie remember all of the ways that he was secretly weak.

“I didn’t think you wanted one,” he said carefully, watching Eddie’s face to gauge his reaction and hoping he wasn’t playing Russian roulette with his own life.

“I…” Eddie tried, screwing his eyes shut to try and put his thoughts together. “It’s not about what I want.” He pointed to his head, tapping at his temple. “It’s about what I want.” He then moved his hand down to rest right over his heart, and Richie felt that sunburn feeling again - hot and cold, all at once.

Richie stepped forward, staring down at the new lines of Eddie’s face and wanting desperately to memorize them all - to not forget that he was like this, that he was capable of this kind of love.

If this was the clown’s way of trapping him, then so be it. Richie would happily die for this.

“Are you ready?” Richie asked, and Eddie blinked once, twice, three times back up at him. He’d obviously not been sure as to whether or not Richie would seriously consider his offer.

“No,” Eddie said honestly. “But please do it anyway.”

Before he could change his mind, Richie closed the distance between himself and Eddie, took Eddie’s face in his hands, and captured his lips in a gentle kiss.

He understood now, 27 fucking years later, why he hadn’t crushed on girls in high school.

How could he have spared so much as a glance at anyone else when he’d had this right in front of him? Eddie’s soft lips, careful hands, fierce looks, and unwavering devotion were all that his brain had ever been tuned-in to. Brenda Arrowsmith and all the big-breasted women that followed had been nice to look at, of course, but this…

Eddie kissed him back after a quick moment, and Richie couldn’t help the soft noise that he made as Eddie’s hands slid up and into his hair.

“Your hair’s shorter, now,” Eddie murmured against Richie’s mouth, combing his fingers through the curly, salt-and-pepper ringlets around Richie’s ears. “That summer…I used to fantasize about having my hands in it, especially when it was wet down at the quarry–”

“Your underwear was too tight that summer,” Richie responded, pure relief flooding his system as the confession spilled out. “How was a boy supposed to think about anything else when Sonia K. was unknowingly providing him with wet dream material for the rest of his–”

“Wanted to rub that after-sun lotion all over your shoulders,” Eddie continued, punctuating his thoughts with kisses. “Your face, your chest, your legs…and I hated myself for it, because you were such an idiot, but I also kind of liked it, too, because…because–”

“I didn’t want to be….I didn’t want people to find out–”

“Me either! If my mother had known–”

“Didn’t want to be like that, to have another reason for people to be on my ass all the time–”

“Another reason that I was sick–”

“I’m sorry.”

Eddie pulled back a little further upon hearing Richie’s apology. He studied Richie’s face, eyes sweeping over the freckles on Richie’s cheeks and ears, and then smiled - the first genuine smile Richie had seen him give since 1994.

“It doesn’t matter,” Eddie said thoughtfully, hands still occupied with Richie’s curls. “We’re here.”

“We’re here,” Richie agreed, liking that the phrase erased both the past and the present - the mistakes they’d made as teens and the horror they were sure to face in the next few days. “We’re here.”

Do you think Sam's reluctance to call the Bunker "home" has more to do with the Bunker's function as a library and a laboratory and a Men of Letter's charter house (essentially not his and Dean's, especially now that they know about the BMoL), or because he's probably afraid that any place he calls home will be taken from him (like when Azazel killed Mary, then when he killed Jess)?

DEFINITELY the second, but I think there’s room in the pie chart to say that Sam has always traditionally defined “home” in a white picket fence aspirational way that may not even make him happy, truly, without a lot of other terms and conditions (e.g. never once has he got to experience an attempt at normal life while actually friends with Dean/knowing he was alive/also emotionally at peace) but he does still aspire to this whole wife, kids, dog, big house, garden for them to all run around in thing… He might not even THINK he wants it at times, and he might settle or throw himself into hunting or see no happy ending or whatever, but he and Dean both have a strong image of this as the sort of suburban happy ending. Dean still emotionally seems less suited for it and still needs to be talked out of the idea that he will never have it because he’ll die in the process of securing it for everyone else, ESPECIALLY Sam, but he is also extremely adaptable to the sense of home.

Actually, Bugs has the best little metaphor for it - Dean keeps on talking about how suburbia gives him hives, while Sam is still basically convinced he’s on a road trip and after they’re done he can have another go at college and the normal life… Dean might disdain the houses but he breaks into one, happily uses the power shower, and generally sinks into acting the part in suburbia to get free food and access to the case. 

I mean Dean could make anywhere home, and we see him in general making more use of the places they use as home bases as homes - we don’t see him, like, getting domestic at Bobby’s, but he constantly uses the car yard for fixing Baby and hanging out, in a way Sam isn’t associated with, so he and Sam have a shared more business related relationship with the main rooms of the house where we normally see them for cases, but Dean has an extra, personal connection to the scrapyard. And at Rufus’s cabin, he colonised the sofa in 7x03 and later it seems to lowkey play a part as being a domestic space belonging to Dean, the symbolically worst example in 8x10 when Sam and Dean dump Amelia and Benny and Sam gives up the chance at a normal life again to spend it with Dean, who would have been there anyways so he is very much the one invited to sit on the sofa with Dean. 

And then obviously once they find the Bunker, Dean immediately settles in while Sam sees it as a valuable resource. Dean might have a bleak outlook on the future but in a way that means that he makes the most out of where he is at that exact moment. They find a weird bunker, Dean moves in and makes a house a home with throw pillows and lava lamps (I wish) while Sam is busy just reading everything there, determined to get the job done and that metaphorically is the character traits behind the argument in 8x14 where the nesting scene takes place, that escalates into Sam trying to do the trials, and Dean ends up just the manager of the home, and responsible for who should have been there (Kevin, 8x21) who is there (Kevin, after that, for the rest of his life Dean comments on his whereabouts when he isn’t in episodes) and who can’t stay (ow. Cas. 9x03.) 

And in 9x04 we see Sam has barely altered his room except for the TV for downtime, but other than that only brought more boxes of files to his room, opposed to Dean who made it a personal space immediately that you could recognise as his. I don’t really think at this point he’s holding out for the white picket fence but he has an emotional disconnect to the Bunker as home - Dean tries to kill him in it as a demon, and in 11x04, 2 seasons later, he still picks Baby as home over the Bunker, as we get the strong reminder of Swan Song in that episode, and how Sam has literally known no other stable home, we get the poking at the concept of “someone in the life” and Dean is much more open to thinking of the Bunker and where Cas is currently as “home” while Sam’s emotional connection is adrift, because despite their best efforts he just didn’t bond with the Bunker that way. 

And 8x22 is where Sam jokes to Cas that Dean was going to make the Dean Cave that took 5 years to actually show up, and these days Dean is getting even more comfortably happy in the Bunker and less worried about despite all the fighting and occasional murder or attempted murder that takes place there, it is still where they live and they deserve real comforts, while Sam still hasn’t expressed a strong opinion about the Bunker as home - I think Cas has referred to it that way in significant dialogue more often than Sam. And that difference in how they rate their work/life balance is a significant part of their low-key, mostly unstated character stuff that is nonetheless pretty much constantly on screen in how they relate to or have it relate to them when the question of home or the Bunker comes up. 

I think fundamentally Sam’s relationship to the job goes WAY beyond just what he calls home and it’s a symptom of his own issues - which tie in with the stuff he discussed with Rowena about Lucifer, and his lingering presence in the story where he just will not go away, but Sam (and Rowena) don’t get catharsis until he is dead. That’s the overall big issue, but there’s also the one from 8x03 about how Sam could leave the job 100% but at the cost of ignoring everything that might have been a case and assuming other people would handle it, which the discussion from the end of 12x18 and 13x15 seemed to be about - Sam is wandering back to that doing the trials mindset that maybe they could find a switch to turn off all monsters forever… (not happening - your legacy is Wayward Sisters and they’re gonna need things to fight for as many seasons as the CW can squeeze out of them if things go our way, no matter when you retire :P)

Ideally Sam needs to strike a MoL/Bobby level retirement, PROBABLY in a white picket fence house (You know, like in 3x10 where he walks out of Bobby’s terrifying haunted house into the garish garden… you know what, he should just buy Bobby’s and refurbish it, and then marry Jody and be a frequently mentioned but invisible background character and once per season cameo  in Wayward Sisters) and find a peace with his place in the world where he doesn’t have to be actively ensuring monsters are being killed, but can be chill about it all and get out of the job he never wanted to have. Hunting is in his blood and he’s happy doing it in some ways so I don’t think he can tear himself out of it like he wants to at his worst moments, and burying his head in the sand is a terrible idea, and he NEEDS a someone-in-the-life to understand him and for him not to end up with that dreadful problem where he doesn’t want to ruin their view of the world so he lies to them about his entire identity for their sake… but he’s also messed up and even being the younger sibling, I honestly think he needs retirement far, far, far more urgently than Dean does (and 13x14 has utterly broken me about that >.> GO HOME. GET A DOG, SAM). Dean, with no threats to his loved ones, could happily keep hunting into his early 60s with his angel, bizarrely younger mother, and smol nougat stepson at his side :P All people born into the life and more willing to continue the fight without being utterly consumed by it like poor Sam >.> 

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 06/02/2021 (Fredo’s Money Can’t Buy Happiness)

This is an odd, scattered week - a slow one thankfully for the day after my birthday - but we do have a bigger album bomb than I expected from Fredo, even if “drivers license” is still at #1 for a fourth week, blocking EDM remixes of sea shanties because of course, it’s the UK after all. Let’s just get back into REVIEWING THE CHARTS.

Rundown

Now, I predicted last week that Fredo would have two songs debut high up on the chart from his most recent album, Money Can’t Buy Happiness, and the pre-release single “Back to Basics” would rise to the top 10. That didn’t exactly happen, as “Back to Basics” actually dropped out of the chart off of the debut for being one of the lowest-performing Fredo tracks, or at least less successful than the three songs that debuted, as that’s all the UK Singles Chart allows. Speaking of drop-outs from the UK Top 75, they’re all mostly inconsequential, made up of recent debuts like “Wellerman” by the Longest Johns and “Bad Boy” by the late Juice WRLD and Young Thug. In terms of notable drop-offs, we do have some arguably premature falls for minor hits, like “champagne problems” by Taylor Swift, “Body” by Megan Thee Stallion, “Lonely” by Justin Bieber and benny blanco, and, finally, “Diamonds” by Sam Smith. This is a slow week outside of the top 40, so we just have some spare oddities to cover outside of the drop-outs. For our fallers, we have “34+35” by Ariana Grande fading its remix boost at #14, “Therefore I Am” by Billie Eilish at #30, “SO DONE” by The Kid Yaoi at #52, “All I Want” by Olivia Rodrigo at #54, “Lo Vas A Olvidar” by Billie Eilish and ROSALÍA at #64 off of the debut and a couple real crashes at the tail-end of the top 75, those being “Holy” by Justin Bieber featuring Chance the Rapper at #71, “WAP” by Cardi B featuring Megan Thee Stallion at #72, “Notorious” by Bugzy Malone featuring Chip at #73 and “Dynamite” by BTS at #75. This may explain the otherwise inexplicable returns for songs that are always clinging onto the back half of the chart, like “Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac at #74, “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran at #70 and, incredibly, “Mr Brightside” by the Killers at #68, the highest it’s been in a while (and that’s a feat considering how long it stays on the damn chart). For gains, we’re really not picking up much traction here. Sure, “Baby Shark” by Pinkfong is back at #73 for some reason, but otherwise we just have middling songs with middling gains, like “Martin & Gina” by Polo G at #61, “Take You Dancing” by Jason Derulo at #59, “Watermelon Sugar” by Harry Styles rebounding to #44, “Your Love (9PM)” by ATB, Topic and A7S making a surprising and scary gain to #42 (and I’ll admit, I’ve warmed up to it quickly), “i miss u” by Jax Jones and Au/Ra clawing back in the top 40 at #39, “Friday” by Riton, Nightcrawlers and Musafa & Hypeman dopamine re-editing itself up to #24 (Please don’t make this a hit) and finally, “Streets” by Doja Cat continuing its rise up to #12. Oh, yeah, and “Skin” by Sabrina Carpenter is down to #41 off of the debut but everyone’s forgotten about that song considering how big “drivers license” still is, so yeah, let’s just get to our new arrivals, because we do have some interesting things to touch on this week.

NEW ARRIVALS

#66 – “Higher” – Clean Bandit featuring iann dior

Produced by Mark Ralph, Grace Chatto and Jack Patterson

Well, they made a song with 24kGoldn, and that was awful, so... I guess it’s Puerto Rican emo-rapper iann dior’s turn. They might as well remix “Mood” while they’re at it. Instead of Mabel filling in for the singing where 24kGoldn couldn’t on “Tick Tock”, however, we have honestly a less charismatic singer in iann dior playing all the parts, without a rap verse to speak of. Okay, so this could work if he just fills in the spot of generic anonymous singer, and it fits exactly within that mold if he wants to, even though that’ll take away any of the character he had – not that any of that character was likeable or interesting, but hey, baby, he is not your dad, so maybe he’ll blend in well with Clean Bandit’s decreasingly unique production. This is a tropical EDM track where iann dior’s non-existent range and raspy, uncaring tone zaps the energy out of the touches of steel drums and orchestral stabs. This drop is nothing more than a vocaloid loop, and a pathetic one at that, with iann dior’s really gross falsetto proving that Auto-Tune can’t really fix bad singing, not that it needed to be proven. The lyrics here are nothing to write home about, wrapping a love song with ocean metaphors probably just so he can say “I’mma get her wet, oh, baby, then slide”... Gross. There’s like zero build-up to this drop at all as well, so there’s no stakes, no climax, and hence not a good EDM track. Come on, Dan Smith of Bastille wrote this, can’t he get the lead vocal? At least it would sound competent.

#63 – “Grown Flex” – Chip featuring Bugzy Malone

Produced by the Fanatix

Ah, my favourite duo. Apparently this is from a Chip album that I didn’t even know existed, thankfully because it’s 21 tracks, over an hour, with two consecutive Young Adz features. “Grown Flex” is another collaboration with Bugzy Malone, probably here because of the video and the sample of iconic UK bass tune “Heartbroken” by T2, one of the most popular songs in that wave of EDM and a pretty damn great song. It has been sampled before by people like DJ Khaled and Drake but no-one’s made a better song, so maybe these formerly feuding Londoners can make a good song with this sample as the base? That isn’t a question actually, but if it was, the answer would be no. They pitch up the (honestly ahead of its time) vocaloid loop, and put an obnoxious UK garage-adjacent drum loop over it that’s barely on beat with all of the chiptune sound effects distracting from Chip’s also off-beat flow. The chorus is really awkward, with him being off-beat and uncredited female vocal backing vocals with entirely different vocal processing coming in and sounding equally janky. This beat isn’t broken inherently, it could work but it’s too shrouded in these two rappers void of personality. Bugzy Malone is here but his rough tone does not work on this beat, regardless of how much he wants to pretend there’s any melody to his drawl with the Auto-Tune and multi-tracking. He’s still somehow the best part though because, yeah, this is just... incredibly awful. The production is onto something by the end with the horns coming in but they immediately fade out and eventually it just abruptly cuts to some pointless chiptune beeping sounds that have been there the whole time but play alone right at the end for no reason. This is aggravating, I know I’m pretty much nit-picking but there’s nothing of substance to pick apart here anyway. This is pure incompetence and a butchering of a good sample... that they should be allowed to use freely, though, by the way. Abolish copyright law.

#62 – “Ride for Me” – B Young

Produced by Mike Spencer and Pacific

Since everyone seems to have forgotten how to actually make music this week, at least we can always count on B Young... okay, no, but at least he’s given up on trying to be a rapper or R&B singer at this point, as a lane of generic guitar-pop probably would work best for the guy’s voice. I mean, we have an acoustic loop here that sounds like it’s jacked straight from a Shawn Mendes demo. At least the incompetence here is charming, with his rougher vocals being a pretty nice contrast from the otherwise kind of ugly mixing, especially on the flat percussion. I do like the lyrics here, as he’s simply love-struck and enjoys the company of this woman, for more than just sex and appearances. He just hopes that things don’t change and the relationship lasts forever. Sure, it’s shallow but it seems genuine. Sure, there’s some drug references and him being pushy to ask her for no make-up, though it does come off as just enjoying her presence instead of any stuck-up preference, especially since he offers his tracksuit and they end up watching some crap Netflix original film. Yeah, this is just a sweet track if nothing else. Since I did do a full song review for his song “Jumanji” years back, I feel a weird sense of almost parenthood for this guy, like I’ve seen him grow and finally he’s made a good song, even if it’s a bit out of his wheel-house. He’s never not been genuine, just only now that’s given him some more likeability, even if it’s just to make a cute love song. He sounds like a good boyfriend, and that’s really the appeal of the song, so, yeah, good job. I’m honestly kind of surprised.

#60 – “Gravity” – Brent Faiyaz and DJ Dahi featuring Tyler, the Creator

Produced by DJ Dahi

This is the most frustrating song I’ve heard this year so far, I’m almost fascinated by it. Before we get into that, I’d like to say that it’s good to see Brent Faiyaz finally debuting a song relatively high, and this is DJ Dahi’s first ever credited UK Singles Chart entry, although he’s produced top 40 hits before for Kendrick Lamar. Faiyaz has been a bubbling artist in R&B for the past few years, and honestly he might have had the most successful career off of the three artists that propelled themselves off of the back of “Crew” with GoldLink and Shy Glizzy. It was a minor hit that ended up producing no rising stars until around five years later, where we have a genuine hit potentially coming from the guy who sung the chorus, of course with some help from Tyler, the Creator. I do think this song is good but owes a lot to that to the production and charisma of our artists, as I can pick this apart way too easily for my taste. This beat is good, with some incredible guitar work from Steve Lacy as he would always deliver, but feels very aimless, especially with the pointless air horns in the background that if anything distract from Brent Faiyaz, who needs room to breathe. I mean, he’s an R&B singer, of course he does. The beat takes certain left turns during the verses that seem like meanders and if it’s not deflating any of its groove for the sake of guitar loops, it’s got this really tense percussion that does not work for the content or performances here, which are both pretty checked-out, especially Tyler, who’s as stiff as always but without any really interesting lyrical moments or a shift of flow. It’s one of his worst verses in my opinion, and he really goes in one ear and out the other with how short it is, which surprises me because of how Tyler usually either steals the show or meshes really well with his collaborators. So, our two performers are mostly checked-out with little to no chemistry, and the beat is awkward and unfitting for the content, which is about them being brought back down to Earth by their loved ones, hence the name, despite their travel habits due to touring – which isn’t a thing that’s happening right now at all, so maybe this’ll be a slow burn hit before it can really resonate. If we listen to these lyrics more closely, we also don’t get the sense that Brent Faiyaz is even likeable here, as we have no reason given for this woman to not feel uncomfortable that he’s paying little attention to her. Instead, Faiyaz just comes off a dismissive ass to this undeserving woman who is reasonably upset at the lack of time spent with him. It’s never made clear that she’s pestering him, so I honestly don’t get how Faiyaz wants to frame this. It doesn’t help that Tyler has the opposite reaction, longing for his partner when he’s on tour instead of feeling annoyed by her, but ultimately with no interplay so this means nothing. Oh, and if the songwriting weren’t janky enough, the chorus is barely catchy and covered in pitch-shifted multi-tracking that takes any of the focus off of Brent Faiyaz, who’s constantly crushed by backing vocals, being pitched down for no reason with unnecessary censor bleeps when they both swear freely at other points in the song. This type of maximalist production works but only when there’s any grandiosity to make it feel warranted, and if there isn’t that, the gunshot percussion is out of place and there ends up being a lot of empty space. There’s nothing smooth about this, and that’s frustrating as you’d expect these three to bring a really relaxed tune with some great 70s soul vibes and... I mean, that’s obviously what they’re going for here, but it is painfully over-produced and ultimately immensely disappointing. I can see people enjoying this a lot but no, this doesn’t work for me at all. Sorry.

#45 – “Dancing on Ice” – Yxng Bane featuring Nafe Smallz and M Huncho

Produced by Don Alfonso and Quincy Tellem

Oh, Jesus Christ, these guys again... and Yxng Bane, I guess. So, you know what the deal is with this UK ‘trap-wave’ type stuff, right? There’s a vaguely interesting synth loop drowned out by cheap percussion and crap bass mastering, as well as awfully processed vocals from everyone involved. They can trade verses, but more often than not don’t say anything that doesn’t embarrass themselves. You get a sense of really toxic masculinity, misogyny and materialism without any charm in their delivery, inflections or wordplay – which is usually non-existent. Here, it’s not any different. Yxng Bane has some good melodic flows – and I really like his line about his Rolex Presidential Watch being discontinued but since he’s “going Donald”, he wears it anyway – but he also threatens... presumably the listener with gay conversion therapy in the first line of the verse, so all good will’s lost. Nafe Smallz sounds better than usual but his nasal flow is still whiny and insufferable, and M Huncho is here to waste time and sound bad doing it, although he’s probably the least worst sounding vocally out of these three clowns. I misread his line about his rucksack being heavy as “nutsack”, and that’s all the positive engagement I could claw out of this. I ask this every time but honestly, who listens to this?

#21 – “Ready” – Fredo featuring Summer Walker

Produced by Mojam

Much like the end of a Morrisons sweet aisle, past this point, it’s all Fredo. Admittedly, I didn’t end up listening to the record but I have heard a select few songs, this being one of them, and I’m not really a fan. I do like the eerie loop but it seems a bit unfitting for a triumphant flex song emphasising a rags-from-riches narrative, especially since the mix really crushes both Fredo and Summer Walker in this blend of boring skittering trap percussion and the ambiance, making her hook impact a lot less. Fredo’s verses are pretty damn heartfelt, I’ll admit, and I really like his lines about pleading with God that he should be let into Heaven. In fact, Fredo’s bars are pretty consistently great, focusing on how his criminal past in the streets of London refuses to escape him despite his efforts to make it out using rap, and by the end, he sounds pretty defeated when he says, “Yeah, I’m lonely, but that’s just a player’s life”. Honestly, for a song that initially builds itself up to be a triumphant flex song, it ends up just being kind of sad, and that’s fine, more fitting for the instrumental but it really makes the hook feel even more out of place. Ah, well, the song’s fine, really, just a blend of ideas that never really stick the landing together.

#18 – “Burner on Deck” – Fredo featuring Pop Smoke and Young Adz

Produced by RicoRunDat and Yoz Beats

Now this is what I want from Fredo. Now, this is posthumous in Pop Smoke’s case but it’s far from an unexpected feature, as whilst this is one of his first UK drill collaborations, Pop Smoke was known for his pioneering of the New York style of London’s grittier, more menacing drill music, and even named Fredo and Young Adz as some of his favourite rappers. Okay, so he had questionable taste – I mean, Young Adz? - but Pop Smoke felt more of a connection between New York and London beyond just instrumentals, with a shared slang, street culture and arguably most importantly, inequality. This is all cited from a Complex interview, by the way, but you can tell even from his music what a great respect he had for British hip-hop, especially considering his main producer, 808 Melo, is from London. The song itself is pretty great too, relying on these spacey synth loops that build up with more eerie keys before finally crashing into an intense drill beat, with all artists sharing the Auto-Tuned hook, but Young Adz probably shining the most in how he plays off of Pop Smoke’s deeper, rich voice with his nasal whine. The lyrics may be generic gunplay and flexing, but the delivery saves it for me, with Fredo enthusiastically shouting out Gorillaz of all people, and the chorus being way smoother than it would usually be for a drill track, as well as being really catchy. Pop Smoke absolutely kills it here, going with his typical stiff, fast-paced flow for a verse that is really short but just as powerful as he usually delivers. You can tell this was made for this track as well from the interplay on the hook and him shouting out Young Adz in his verse. Fredo pretty much completes the second verse by chiming in and showing more of the charm I enjoy from him as he mentions coughing the bar before he coughs for basically an entire bar. It caught me off-guard at full listen and it still leads in perfectly to the oddly-mixed sombre piano that comes in for the final hook. With a better mix – and even then, it kind of works without it – and maybe some extended verses from both London and New York drill artists, this could bang even harder. Maybe for a remix, this beat could bring the best out of Swarmz, DigDat, AJ Tracey, Hardy Caprio, Tion Wayne, Fivio Foreign even... I could go on, this could be a great posse cut. As it is, it’s still pretty damn good, and again, rest in peace to the late Pop Smoke.

#3 – “Money Talks” – Fredo featuring Dave

Produced by Dave

At first, I was surprised this debuted at #3, which seems high for a British rap track, but then I remembered that the last time these guys collaborated on a single it debuted at #1 without an album attached, and it helped that “Funky Friday” is also a great song, admittedly something I didn’t think at the time. It does make perfect sense that this debuts so high, especially since this album was actually executively-produced by Dave, so given these guys’ track records together and alone, I did expect something great, and, well... okay, so instead of a drill beat as this pretty vocal sample would be fit for, as would the flows, we get a lightweight trap beat with odd vocal and bass mixing. Admittedly, the 808 slides here are pretty excellent, but that’s the only shred of intricacy I see here, which is usually commonplace in Dave’s production. There’s also simply not enough consistency or variety here to make it worth the four and a half minutes, with the chorus being awkward if anything. There’s less depth to the rags-to-riches stories here, with Fredo probably giving more commentary than Dave does, which seems odd but fitting for how checked-out Dave is here. There’s just a resounding lack of anything to this song other than a boring beat and performances that could be a lot sharper and interesting. Sure, Dave flexes his technical piano skill by the end but the beat had already run dry by about two extra minutes before that – this could have run through your second verse, Dave, or you could have added a bridge instead of repeating the chorus. I do like some of the lines here that are obviously more personal and introspective, like Fredo’s conflict with the justice system and Dave explaining how he got robbed when he was a child and to cope with the trauma of this, he started toting weapons. I guess the EastEnders reference is funny but it just reminds me of DigDat making a similar cocaine joke with arguably funnier source material on “Guten Tag”. Yeah, this could be a lot better but it’s not offensive and hey, it’s competent at least. I mean, it’s Dave, it won’t be anything less, just a tad disappointing. I mean, come on, “coochie freshly shaven, man’s got expectations”?

Conclusion

This week is so disproportionately male, huh? Ironically as I say that, none of the women represented here – in the form of soulless EDM production and boring guest feature – get Best of the Week, as that’s going to Fredo’s “Burner on Deck” featuring the late Pop Smoke and, yes, Young Adz, with an Honourable Mention to B Young of all people for “Ride for Me”. Worst of the Week will obviously go to Chip and Bugzy Malone for the pathetic “Grown Flex”, with a tied Dishonourable Mention this week going to both “Dancing on Ice” by Yxng Bane featuring Nafe Smallz (for being gross and offensive) and “Higher” by Clean Bandit featuring iann dior (for being remarkably inoffensive). Yeah, Brent Faiyaz and Tyler are safe there but that’s still a fascinatingly bad song, though I don’t think I’ll make any friends with that opinion. Anyway, here’s the top 10 for this week:

Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed and want more of my cacti-branded rambling, follow me on Twitter @cactusinthebank. I can’t make any predictions for next week that aren’t depressing, but we may have to discuss death and politics next episode if a certain song gets renewed traction. Happy times. See you next week!