#although that would only make DJ more pissed she might be making sense

[wheresmynaya]

Hate to Date Ch.8 | Brittana

A/N - These next two chapters are probably some of the more difficult ones I've written so far for this story so be gentle LOL. Also, I've noticed readers saying in their reviews lately that these weekly updates are like waiting for a new episode of a fav tv show and I love that. One of the things I miss about Glee or whatever show I’m obsessed with is having something to look forward to each week so I'm really happy this story offers you all that kind of comfort! Hopefully I can keep it up 💙

Before you read on, consider treating your local fav fic writer with a coffee through Ko-Fi!

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & under the cut!

When Saturday rolls around, Santana putters around the apartment attempting to busy herself with meaningless tasks – anything that’ll keep her from anxiously watching the clock. She lounges in her sweatpants and a tank top all day, switching from vegging out on the couch to catching up on some coursework, but it gets harder for her to resist the urge to check the time the later it gets.

No matter what she does, no matter the many distractions she tries piling on – she can’t help but cave.

She can’t help but think about Brittany.  

When Puck gets home a little later from hanging out with a couple guys from his team, he finds Santana close to falling asleep on the couch. He takes in the lazy clothes she wears, the messy hair, the sea of snacks that surrounds her and lifts a brow.

“What’s this?”

“What’s it look like?” Santana snarks.

“It looks like you’ve just gone through a rough break up.”

Santana shoots him a look, “I’m clearly having a lazy day.”

He glances from her to the tv screen and back to her again, “Is that what you call it?”

“Yeah,” Santana replies and averts her eyes as she tugs on her blanket. “You can either join or scram.”

Puck rolls his eyes and reaches for the remote. When the screen shuts off, Santana lets out a huff but Puck only crosses his arms.

“What the hell?” She snaps. “I was watching that!”

“So?” Puck challenges.

“So turn it back on.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll kick your ass.”

Puck barks out a laugh, “I’d like to see you try. Go ahead.”

Santana doesn’t move, “I don’t have the energy for this.”

“You’re so damn frustrating,” Puck shakes his head.

The comment makes Santana falter a little; it makes her think about Brittany again, it makes her think about how she let her down, it makes her think about how it made her feel to watch the blonde run away.

But Brittany isn’t here, it’s Puck and Santana knows he doesn’t scare off too easily.

“Just leave me alone,” Santana grumbles.

Of course, Puck doesn’t.

“Are you seriously not going tonight?”

Santana clenches her jaw as the anxious feeling returns. It didn’t take much but she’s wavering and she knows it. Puck probably knows it too or else he wouldn’t be here pressing her buttons still.

“I told you I can’t go,” She tells him defiantly. “I’d only ruin her night. She doesn’t need that, no one does. It’s better if I stay here.”

“Bullshit,” Puck disputes. “You don’t know that.”

Santana stays quiet, she can feel her foundation cracking.

“I do know that,” She says. “You saw how pissed she was when she left. I’d just make things worse if I go.”

Puck sighs tiredly, “Why do you always do that?”

“What?”

“That,” Puck tries to explain. “It’s just like high school – you’re taking yourself out of the game before you even play it.”

That strikes a nerve with Santana, “That’s not what happened and you know it. This is so much different.”

“You gave up then,” Puck tells her. “And you’re giving up now. Why? I don’t know. This should be way easier for you. There’s no scholarship on the line or this big scary secret you need to help hide. You’re not even in love with the girl this time but here you are sitting on the damn bench.”

Santana shrinks back. She doesn’t want to talk about the past, she doesn’t want it mixing in with her present so she deflects, “Can you stop with the ridiculous sports metaphors?”

“No. Now get your ass up,” Puck huffs as he pulls off the blanket Santana covers herself with.

“Goddamn it, Puckerman! Cut the shit!”

“You first, Lopez!”

This time, Santana rises to her feet. She faces Puck head on and glares. Her fists are tight and her chest aches with rage and something else, something she’s tried so many times to push away.

“You know what you have to do,” Puck says. “Stop with the excuses and just go do it already. Quit being a little punk about it.”

“I’m not being a punk,” Santana grumbles.

Puck laughs as he waves his hand at her mess, “All this because Britt finally called you out on your shit? Come on, you’re better than that.”

Santana tenses her jaw again but Puck only softens as he puts his heavy hands on her shoulders, going into total pep talk mode. Santana tries to squirm away, but Puck steadies her like always.

No one would ever expect that this guy, the one with a ratty mohawk, could be the voice of reason for Santana but he’s never failed her before. Just like her, he doesn’t back down. He sticks by her even when she’s being a stubborn dumbass and if anyone needs someone in their life like that it’s Santana.

“I know you,” He says solemnly. “Going to this thing tonight is a piece of cake, all you have to do is quit selling yourself short and go.”

Santana’s shoulders drop even further as Puck continues.

“Prove yourself wrong and kill it,” He says. “You owe it to yourself and you owe it to Brittany.”

There’s an uneasiness still but Santana can’t lie and say Puck’s words didn’t ignite something within her. It goes without saying that his words have had an impact. She bats off his hands and glances at the time, frowning when she sees how late it has gotten.

“I don’t think I can make it in time,” Santana says. “I can’t get ready in forty minutes. My hair alone takes at least an hour.”

“Well what’s that saying?” Puck questions. “Better late than never?”

Santana sighs through a small smile, “I mean, I do like to make an entrance.”

Puck smirks, “Then you better get going.”

\\

Santana’s used to walking into parties like she owns the place, but she finds herself struggling as she approaches the entrance of the Brainiacs’ Ball. She stares up at the prominent steps flanked by solid columns and has never felt so small in all her life. She’s way out of her comfort zone, but she takes the first step anyway.

Slowly, she puts one foot in front of the other. She can feel the low thrum of the bass from the music inside before she can actually hear it. At least that’s something she’s a little more familiar with and with that in mind, she continues her journey.

Maybe Puck was right? This is a piece of cake!

When she reaches the top and looks back, she finds Puck still waiting at the bottom of the stairs watching on like a proud soccer mom. He catcalls at her loudly and it causes the last of the guests making their way inside to stare.

Santana scrunches her face and waves him away, not wanting to be embarrassed by how he sticks out like a sore thumb in his ripped jeans and jersey. He gets the message though and gives her one last round of thumbs up before heading off.

Though she tries to play it off like she can’t stand his dorkiness, she’s thankful for that little bit of extra support and finds enough courage to walk into the building with her head held high.

She might not feel like she owns the place right now, but that’ll change by the end of the night!

\\

Santana knew it was a black tie affair, but she really didn’t expect such extravagance.

There’s a great crystal chandelier hanging from above casting iridescent shadows across the lobby, spotless marbled floors speckled with flecks of gold, the ruby red carpet leading the way into the grand hall where guests dressed to kill mingle with champagne flutes in their hands.

All that’s missing are the annoying paparazzi and the blinding flashes from their cameras and she’d feel like she was at some gaudy Hollywood party.

It’s like she just walked into one of the parties Maribel’s firm throws for holidays and she so wasn’t expecting that. Although she’s been to many of those, she still feels a little out of place as she makes her way through the double doors.

“Good evening,” The doorman greets politely before extending a gloved had to the party. “Welcome to the Brainiacs’ Ball.”

Santana smiles in return and heads in. She tries to keep an eye out for Brittany all while trying to wrap her head around the fact that all of this is in celebration of a handful of academic decathlon clubs.

Who the hell knew they got down like this? Even their DJ has great music playing! Santana’s so surprised, almost distractingly so but then she spots a familiar someone in the crowd.

Brittany

There’s a sudden sense of relief but it’s soon replaced with a frown as Santana finds that the girl isn’t alone. She’s with some tall guy; Santana can’t really see that far to tell who it is or if she knows him. All she knows is that Brittany is standing with him and she’s laughing.

He’s making her laugh.

Santana’s frown deepens before she squints her eyes, trying to get a better look at the guy. Like the others here, he’s dressed to the nines in a dashing suit with his black hair slicked back.

Okay, whatever – he can clean up well. Santana can too! But the important question is, what’s he doing with Brittany?

She ducks behind a vase of flowers, peering through the gaps in the leaves so Brittany doesn’t spot her. She only briefly thinks about how ridiculous she must look before other guests unknowingly happen to block her view.

Frustrated, she tries ducking and dodging them but even in her stilettos she’s just too short. She’ll need to get closer if she wants to see what this guy’s deal is, but as she makes her way over she can’t help but think: did Brittany really replace her?

Surely not, that would definitely raise suspicion. She wouldn’t do that.

Would she?

Suddenly, a waiter dressed formally in a suit and tie steps in Santana’s path. There’s a silver tray full of champagne flutes atop his hand and he looks to Santana expectantly.

“Champagne?”

Santana takes one last look at Brittany and that guy and goes for a glass.

“Yeah, sure.” She takes one and downs it in two gulps.

The waiter raises his brows in awe and quickly goes to turn away, but Santana stops him.

“Hold up,” She says and puts down her empty glass in favor of taking two more. She smiles sweetly at him in thanks before getting her game face on. She finds herself thinking about what Puck said before and starts to fill with confidence – no more sitting on the sidelines for her!

Santana saunters over to Brittany with determination in her eyes.

It’s go time.

\\

“There you are!” Santana greets cheerfully as she reaches Brittany with a champagne flute in each hand. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Brittany stops mid-sentence, her face pale as if she’s just seen a ghost.

“You’re here.”

“Of course I am. I wouldn’t miss it,” Santana replies as she hands her the spare flute before pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek. She looks up at pretty blue eyes and adds, “I know how important this night is for you.”

Brittany blinks, it’s like she can’t believe what she’s hearing. Santana thinks she’s off to a good start so far – naturally – and sizes up the guy Brittany was talking to before she came over.

“And who are you?�� She asks with a slight bite to her tone as she wraps her arm around Brittany’s waist.

He falters as he looks back and forth between her and Brittany, “I’m Mike.”

Santana lifts her brow challengingly, but Brittany steps in to add.

“He’s a friend of mine.”

Santana continues to stare at the guy, “Friend.”

“Yeah,” Brittany glances at her with slight confusion but it quickly disappears as she slips into character too. “I was just telling him you weren’t feeling too good and that you probably wouldn’t make it tonight.”

“Right,” Santana replies. Her smile turns devilish, “Well I appreciate the concern but I’m all better now, Mike.”

He looks a little nervous but nods, “That’s good to hear.”

“Mhmm,” Santana brings her glass to her lips. She maintains eye contact with him while she threads her fingers with Brittany’s and sips her champagne slowly.  

“Well Britt, I’m gonna go,” He says hesitantly to Brittany before jutting a thumb over his shoulder. “I want to make sure we grab a good seat. I’ll see you over at the table.”

“Okay cool,” Brittany smiles. “See you there.”

“It was nice finally meeting you, Santana,” Mike says kindly to the brunette before disappearing into the crowd.

Santana watches him go as she takes another sip. This Mike character really changed up his tune once Santana was around – all nice and polite. He wasn’t fooling her though! Trying to steal her fake girlfriend, not today!

“He’s gone,” Brittany says gruffly. “You can let go of my hand now.”

“Oh sorry,” Santana pulls away and glances in the direction Mike went. “So he’s attractive…what’s he doing at a place like this?”

Brittany doesn’t even smile, “You know not everyone with a brain looks like Steve Urkel.”

Santana doesn’t notice Brittany’s dismissive tone as she looks around. She’s still mind blown by the atmosphere and the people and everything.

“Clearly,” She replies. “I mean, did you see that man’s jawline? I’m a lesbian, but I can still admire a good looking – “

“What are you doing here, Santana?”

Brittany’s curt tone pulls Santana right back to the other day where they sat together at her tiny dining table and she watched as Brittany grew more and more disappointed in her. There’s a hardness to her, an annoyance, that doesn’t go unnoticed. It makes Santana shrink back, that confidence before taking a big hit, but she stands her ground – even if Brittany makes her feel shaken.

“I’m here to be your arm candy,” Santana says in return – attempting to make this exchange lighthearted.

Brittany’s not having it though as she says bitterly, “I don’t need it.”

“Sure you do.”

“No,” Brittany admonishes. “I don’t so you can leave now.”

Santana slips up out of frustration, “Are you really going to make this difficult for me?”

That sets Brittany off once again, the bitterness intensifying.

“Seriously? You did not just ask me that. After everything you said the other night, after the way you just put your foot down and refused to budge? You want to talk to me about being difficult?” Brittany lets out a dry laugh, “You’ve got some nerve.”

Santana cringes as she takes a subtle look around to make sure no one notices them arguing, but no one pays them any mind. It’s a relief, but it doesn’t offer Santana much comfort with the way Brittany’s still glaring at her.

She was a little prepared for the backlash, she just wasn’t sure how bad Brittany’s words would sting. She isn’t used to the harshness in Brittany’s tone and she kind of hates that she’s the reason for it.

Still, she pushes forward. She’s determined to fix this, no matter how hard Brittany fights her.

“Okay,” Santana’s voice is meek. “So that was a poor choice of words... ”

“You think?” Brittany replies, her tone thick with sarcasm.

Santana’s instincts have her wanting to retreat. She has clearly messed up big time and everything in her is telling her to just listen to Brittany and leave – yet her feet don’t move.

Maybe she’s hardheaded, maybe she’s too damn stubborn for her own good; whatever it is, she continues to stand her ground.

“I’m here now,” Santana says earnestly. “That has to count for something?”

Brittany shakes her head, “It doesn’t.”

Santana lets out a laugh out of aggravation. Who knew the girl could be just as stubborn as her? Talk about grudges, no wonder no one ever gets on Brittany’s bad side! It’s damn near impossible to get off of it! But Santana’s made proving she can be there for Brittany her new mission so she’s not going anywhere just yet.

“What do you want me to do?” Santana asks dejectedly. “Get on my hands and knees? Beg for your forgiveness?”

“Save your breath,” Brittany replies briskly as she sets down her glass. “I don’t want to be here with someone that would rather be elsewhere and I’m tired of trying to force you to care.”

That one surprisingly hurts a little more than Santana expected, but it doesn’t top the feeling that quickly follows as she watches Brittany begin to turn her back on her.

“Brittany,” Santana finds herself calling out. When the blonde doesn’t stop, Santana calls out to her again. “Britt – “

“No,” Brittany pauses as she looks over her shoulder at Santana. “You were right. You’d just ruin my night. Go home, Santana.”

It’s another blow to the chest as the blonde turns to walk away again. Only this time, Santana kicks into gear. She’s got something to prove and she’s not leaving until she does! She quickly sets down her glass too and reaches out, catching Brittany by the wrist before she gets too far.

“Can you just wait?” Santana pleads.

“What?” Brittany snaps back.

Santana softens as she tucks her tail between her legs, “I’m sorry.”

Brittany looks a little taken aback by the relaxing of her tensed jaw, but it only last for a moment as she looks down at Santana’s hand still around her wrist.

“Okay, great,” Brittany says sarcastically. “Now let me go.”

Brittany doesn’t wait for Santana to loosen her grip and instead shakes Santana off of her. The brunette doesn’t try reaching for her again, but she does take a step closer.

“Hold on,” Santana urges again. “I’m not finished.”

Brittany pauses, taking a wary look back her. Santana can see that she’s wearing her down, but who knows how long it’ll last. There’s no reason for Brittany to give her another chance after having so many, so she has to make this count.

“I thought about what you said,” Santana tells her. “Like I really, really thought about it and I think you might be right.”

Brittany remains looking indifferent and that makes Santana nervous, but she continues on.

“You’re right about this being one sided. You’re right about you putting in most of the work and doing things that benefit me,” Santana says. “You’re right about it all – minus one thing.”

Brittany quirks her brow, “What’s that?”

“I’m not selfish.”

“No?” Brittany scoffs. “Then you must not know the meaning of the word because your past actions would say otherwise.”

Santana sighs, “Yeah, I know but I guess that’s why I’m here…to prove that you’re wrong.”

Brittany softens in the slightest as she listens.

“I haven’t been fair to you,” Santana explains. “You always go above and beyond. I mean, you climbed through a window for me and you’re learning Spanish to get on Abuela’s good side! Like what the hell? Who does that?” Santana pauses when she realizes she’s veering from her point.

“I know I’m still not on your level when it comes to doing the most,” She continues. “But I figured it’s only fair that I do something that I normally wouldn’t just to show you that all you do isn’t for nothing. By coming here tonight, I’m trying to return the favor. This is my metaphorical window and I want to climb through it for you.”

Santana pauses when she realizes how lame she sounds, but maybe this huge fuck up calls for a little lameness. Maybe a lot; whatever works at this point!

Brittany watches Santana for a moment as if she’s trying to decide whether or not Santana’s words have any weight to them. It isn’t the first time she’s said she’d do better, so it’s no surprise Brittany isn’t as quick to accept her apology.

“I don’t really know if I believe you,” She finally says. Her tone has lost most of its bite but Santana knows she’s not in the clear just yet.

“That’s fine,” Santana replies. She stands a little taller, puffs out her chest and says, “I’ll just have to spend all night trying to convince you. You want a perfect fake girlfriend? Well Britt-Britt, you’ve got one.”

There’s the slightest hint of a smile that graces Brittany’s lips and it makes the dimming beacon of hope in Santana begin to shine a little brighter.

“That is,” Santana adds. “If you want me to. I know this night is important for you. I can go if that’s what you really want.”

She bats her eyelashes for the extra touch – because if after all of that Brittany still makes her leave…well that would just be embarrassing. Surprisingly though, it makes Brittany’s smile grow. Santana can tell she’s fighting to keep it small, fighting to keep from giving in, and she takes that as a personal victory.

“You can stay,” Brittany says after making Santana wait a little longer.

Santana beams, “Okay gre – ”

“For now.”

“Okay,” Santana’s grin softens. “I can handle that.”

“I don’t want to fight with you here,” Brittany tells her firmly. “I only want to have a good time and if you try to mess that up then you’re out of here.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” Santana replies.

Brittany holds out her pinky, “Promise?”

Santana eyes her skeptically, “Are you trying to make me pinky promise? What are we twelve?”

“It’s a yes or no question,” Brittany replies flatly – still holding out her pinky.

“Promise,” Santana sighs and curls her pinky around Brittany’s.

Satisfied, Brittany nods and pulls away. While Santana chuckles, she looks over to the direction Mike left.

“So I guess you can go ahead and tell Hot Stuff over there that he doesn’t need to be coming around here anymore too.”

That pulls a genuine laugh out of Brittany who can’t help but smirk at Santana’s comment.

“Shocking; you’re the jealous type.”

Santana lifts her brow, “I’m not. I’m just saying – his assistance as interim date is no longer required if I’m here.”

“I said you can stay for now. I can change my mind at any time.”

Santana’s shoulders droop as she’s once again put back in her place. Brittany notices and smirks.

“He has a date already,” Brittany continues. “His girlfriend. You know her. Tina?”

Santana’s jaw drops a little, “No shit, really?”

“Yeah, they’ve been together for awhile now.”

“Wow, I had no idea. Well good,” Santana lifts her chin. “He can carry his fine ass on over to her and stay there then.”

“You’re really hung up on how people can be both smart and hot,” Brittany points out with a laugh. “Like you and I aren’t also examples of that being a thing.”

“Hold up,” Santana starts to smirk. “Did you just say I’m hot?”

Brittany rolls her eyes, “I mean, you do look nice.”

Santana frowns, “Just nice?”

Brittany eyes her up and down slowly before shrugging, “Yeah, nice. I’m actually surprised you didn’t wear one of your stripper dresses. Guess you won’t be making it rain tonight.”

Santana lets out a laugh. She’s glad Brittany’s back to bantering with her instead of the heavy intensity from before. Maybe they’re not completely back on good terms, but at least it’s better than what it was.

“We’ll see. Those moves are for later,” Santana winks jokingly before giving her compliments. “You clean up pretty good too. I like what you’ve done with your hair. It’s cute.”

Brittany gets a little bashful as she fluffs her softly tussled hair, “Thanks.”

Santana only nods, “Now where’s this elusive open bar I’ve heard so much about? I needs me something other than champagne.”

“Ah, so that’s the real reason you’re here,” Brittany quips.

Santana feels like Brittany’s testing her although her tone remains playful.

“Yeah, but I’m mostly here for you,” Santana replies super sweetly. “I mean, how can I say no to an open bar? I am a broke college student after all.”

Brittany chuckles, “I see your priorities are straight.”

“It’s the only straight thing about me,” Santana jokes before hooking her arm with Brittany’s.

\\

After getting their drinks, the couple roam around the room arm in arm. It’s mostly to keep up appearances; a way to make up for Santana arriving late and to show that Brittany really isn’t here all alone.

She’s surprised by how many come up to greet them – well, greet Brittany. Santana guesses the blonde really is a big deal here after all and everyone happily chats away with her. Who can blame them though? Brittany’s probably the friendliest person Santana knows.

They bump into Mike and Tina again near the giant owl ice sculpture while they make their rounds – because yeah, of course this party has one of those – but the conversation is kept brief with Tina trying to get in as many interviews with everyone before dinner.

Mike tags along after her with a proud smile on his face as he offers to hold her drink and for a second Santana kind of feels a little guilty about having her claws out when they first met. He seems kind, happy to be alongside Tina and Santana finds herself wondering if people get that vibe when she’s with Brittany.

While Santana and Brittany linger by the ice sculpture, Santana notices a small group of people that look a lot like the guys from Brittany’s team. At least the one in the center of it all is for sure. They stick out to her because they’re probably some of the lasts who haven’t come to greet Brittany which seems odd considering she’s their teammate.

Wouldn’t they have been the first to see her? Maybe Santana missed that part since she arrived late, then again judging by how they seemed to shun her at the match they probably haven’t come to say hi on purpose.

Santana quietly watches them though as Brittany chats with another guest about robotics or whatever nerdy talk that goes completely over Santana’s head. She notices how they all gravitate to the one guy in the center and it’s like they hang on his every word. They laugh when he does, they nod when he nods – they’re puppets and he’s the puppet master.

Santana doesn’t realize she’s pulling a face until Brittany bumps her with her elbow.

“Quit it,” Brittany chastises. “People can see you.”

“My bad,” Santana fixes her face and gestures over to the group. “He’s on your team, right? The one in the dusty grandpa sweater.”

Brittany glances in the direction and nods.

Santana wrinkles her nose, “He seems like a tool.”

“He’s not,” Brittany’s quick to defend before softening. “Not really.”

Santana doesn’t looked convinced so Brittany adds.

“He’s a pretty big deal to this community. People say he has one of the most gifted minds in our generation.”

Santana picks up on Brittany’s tone, but she can’t tell whether it’s envy or something entirely different. She knows one thing is for sure though.

“People say that about you too,” Santana tells her honestly. “The whole gifted mind thing.”

Brittany shakes her head and looks to the ground, “No they don’t.”

Her dismissiveness confuses Santana. She’s never not seen Brittany confident in how intelligent she actually is. If there’s one thing Santana knows the blonde is sure about, it’s her smarts. They argue about it all the time! That’s the very foundation of their rivalry, but apparently here that’s not the case.

“Word about his work has travelled all the way to MIT,” Brittany adds. “It’s so impressive.”

“And yet, he never went there. You did,” Santana reminds her as she continues to stare down the guy. She glances to Brittany again skeptically, “Or is he a transfer too?”

“He’s not. But I’m sure he would’ve gotten in easy. His work is…it’s legendary.”

Santana watches Brittany, trying to figure her out. It sounds a lot like admiration rather than envy, but why? How great can this guy possibly be if he has Brittany doubting herself?

“I didn’t know you were such a fan,” Santana comments.

“I just admire him is all,” Brittany says, confirming Santana’s thoughts.

Santana still doesn’t get it though and frowns around the word, “Admire…”

The both of them watch the man chat with the others silently for two very different reasons. The longer Santana stares, the more she kind of wants to punch him. He just has a very punchable face she supposes, especially when he laughs louder than anyone else in the room.

The sound makes Santana grit her teeth while it has the opposite effect on Brittany.

“He’s kind of cute too,” The blonde admits.

“Cute?” Santana raises both brows and laughs. “We looking at the same guy?”

Brittany shrugs, “He’s cute in that boy next door kind of way.”

“Seriously?” Santana snickers. “That Mike guy was kind of cute. Him? He ain’t it.”

Brittany suddenly hardens, “Well it doesn’t matter what you think. Does it?”

Santana’s taken aback.

“It’s not always about looks,” Brittany further chastises. “There’s more to people than that.”

Santana keeps quiet and nods, not wanting to piss Brittany off again. Afterall, her presence is completely dependent on whether or not Brittany wants her around. She can revoke the privilege at any second and Santana would hate to be kicked to the curb because she once again can’t keep her opinions to herself.

“What’d you say his name was again?” She asks a moment later.

“Artie.”

Suddenly something clicks. She remembers the conversation she had with Brittany’s parents at Brittany’s last match and the comment about someone named Artie.

“So that’s who your parents were talking about,” Santana hums.

“Wait what?” Brittany whirls on her. “I’ve mentioned him like twice. What’d they say?”

Santana shrugs, “They said dating me is an upgrade.”

Brittany gives her a look and slumps, “They didn’t say that.”

“No, but it’s true.”

“They clearly don’t know you well enough.”

Santana cringes, “Hey, I’m trying. At least I’m not a tool like that guy.”

“Debatable.”

“Rude.”

They settle into silence again. Santana goes from scanning the crowd to glancing Brittany’s way. She notices how the blonde continues to gravitate towards Artie too, just like one of his puppets. Santana finds it so odd and the curiosity begins to get the better of her.

“So what’s your deal with him?” She asks. “He an ex I need to worry about?”

“No. It’s nothing like that,” Brittany replies.

Santana doesn’t believe that for a second though.

“I sense a story.”

“There isn’t one,” Brittany says with a shrug. “We were friends and now, I don’t know what we are. Things got weird after I was asked to join the robotics team and he wasn’t. We used to study all the time together, but after that happened he kind of kept me at a distance.”

Santana struggles to mask the disdain she has for this guy. He really is a tool if that’s how he acts. But she fights the urge to speak on it, sensing Brittany still has some kind of connection with him.

“Do you like him or something?” Santana wonders.

Brittany shrugs again, “It’s complicated. We’ve got history I guess.”

Santana nods; she can oddly relate to that.

“You know, he was the first friend I made here?” Brittany smiles at the memory. “I was so freaking nervous – you know, new campus and all. I spent extra time trying to get my bearings the day before but I still ended up getting lost on my first day. Artie was the one who took the time to show me around.”

Santana quirks a brow at that, but notices Brittany’s melancholy even more.

“Don’t tell Tina that,” Santana tries to joke. “We’ll have some conflicting stories.”

When Brittany barely gives her a smile, Santana tries again.

“I thought Puck was the one who showed you around?” Santana asks. “That’s how you guys became friends?”

“He was, but Artie was the first.”

“Huh,” Santana glances at the guy and laughs. “He must not have done a very good job then if you still ended up getting lost.”

This time there’s a small that graces Brittany’s lips, but it’s not nearly as big and bright as Santana’s used to. She’ll just have to try harder.

“He also introduced me to the Brainiacs,” Brittany tells her. “It was pretty cool of him. When I was at MIT, it was hard to get into any clubs. Everyone was kind of cliquey, so it was nice to see that things were different here. Everyone on the team was super accepting at first.”

“At first?” Santana questions.

“Yeah,” Brittany starts to frown. “When I first joined, the team was mostly girls and they were really great – super smart and so lovely – but they graduated last year. Now the dynamic’s changed a lot because of all the new people who seem to worship Artie. That’s probably part of the reason for his ego boost.”

Santana turns up her nose at that, but Brittany’s quick to return to the positives.

“But when it’s just us, he’s not so bad. He really looked out for me when I first came to Columbia. He introduced me to the Brainiacs and recommended me for the tutoring gig,” Brittany tells her. “We used to work together all the time until I got into this fake relationship with you.”

“Sorry not sorry,” Santana quips, but Brittany doesn’t really laugh at that. So Santana softens, a little intrigued by Brittany’s past, “So after all that time spent together, nothing ever happened between you two?”

“No,” Brittany replies. “I don’t think it ever would anyway.”

“Because you’re taken or…”

Brittany sighs at the joke, “Like I said, things got weird after I joined the robotics team. It was like the first time I did something for myself without his help or recommendation and I guess it rubbed him the wrong way?”

“You’re friends, aren’t you?” Santana questions. “Why would he feel some type of way about you branching out?”

“I don’t know,” Brittany shrugs. “Maybe I’m looking too much into things? Maybe he really doesn’t feel the same way about me.”

Santana shakes her head and stares at Artie again, “Well it looks like on top of being a tool, he’s an idiot too.”

Then almost as if he was summoned, Artie looks their way.

Santana finds herself straightening up, trying to stand taller, trying to seem more intimidating, but it doesn’t look like it deters the guy as he begins his journey over.

\\

“Brittany,” Artie greets with a nod. “Hi.”

Brittany smiles, “Hey Artie.”

He then looks to Santana and gives her a curious look full of judgement. It has Santana clenching her teeth, trying her hardest to maintain character when all she wants to do is roll the guy into the giant owl ice sculpture.

“Who’s this?” He asks Brittany as if Santana can’t hear.

Santana breaks slightly and scoffs, “You know how I am.”

Artie raises his brow and looks expectantly to Brittany.

“This is my girlfriend, Santana,” Brittany introduces. “I’ve mentioned her to you before.”

“Right,” Artie looks to Santana again. “I thought you weren’t going to come.”

Santana stares back challengingly, “I bet your hear that a lot.”

Artie sits back in his chair with this smug look on his face, “Funny. She’s funny.”

“It’s one of my many top notch qualities,” Santana fires back before looking to Brittany. Her arm goes around her waist, “Ain’t that right, babe?”

It takes a moment for Brittany to play along, but then she’s smiling and melting into Santana’s side, “Yeah. Totally.”

Artie only eyes the two though, out of suspicion or jealousy – Santana’s unsure. She’s hoping for the latter, because it seems like no one’s ever put him in his place before. Santana’s just the girl for the job!

“So do you think the team is going to get the top spot, Artie?” Brittany asks, trying to keep things light. “It was a lot of close matches this year, I hope our percentage is enough to pull us through.”

Artie shakes his head, almost like he’s disappointed. “I don’t know. Several of those matches shouldn’t have been that close. You really should’ve spent more time studying.”

Santana’s brows rise, but she remains quiet – looking to Brittany to see her reaction. To her surprise, the blonde looks just as remorseful.

“Yeah, you’re right. I think I was having an off day.”

“I think you had a lot of those,” Artie quips. “Too busy with the robotics team maybe?”

Santana scoffs, “Is he joking?”

But Brittany doesn’t say anything so Santana keeps quiet too.

“Some competitors take a little while to warm up,” Artie continues. “You just aren’t a seasoned contender like I am. You know I hold the record for fastest buzz in during my rookie season?”

“I know.”

“No one’s come close to beating it,” Artie flaunts. “We might’ve made state if you didn’t botch the science round during the last match. Maybe I should’ve taken the turn instead.”

Brittany nods and Santana can tell she’s trying to take his criticism constructively – only problem is that it’s not constructive at all. It’s completely condescending and uncalled for.

“Hold up, no,” Santana finds herself interrupting which seems to surprise the pair. “Brittany killed it during the finals or whatever you call it. She was buzzing in when no one else on your little team was. Not even you knew those answers, so what I think you need to be doing is thanking her.”

“For what?” Artie challenges.

“For carrying the team obviously. No way you would’ve gotten far if it wasn’t for her.”

Brittany looks a little shocked by the way Santana stands up for her, but Santana barely notices – too busy willing Artie to step out of line again.

And he does, with an arrogant laugh, he brushes Santana off.

“But the time it took her to buzz in is what we lose points for,” Artie explains. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand how academic decathlons work. They’re not like your cheerleading competitions, we actually have to use our brains.”

“Artie,” Brittany chastises but he’s unfazed.

Meanwhile Santana’s eyes are wide with surprise. The nerve, the audacity – it’s unbelievable!

“I’m sorry,” Santana starts to lean forward, getting down on his level. “Are you jealous that you can’t possibly possess both brains and brawn?”

Artie shifts in his chair and tries to evade Santana’s eye, but she’s so close now that he can’t avoid her.

“Or do you feel threatened by it?” Santana presses. “Threatened because this cheerleader’s GPA is something you’ve only dreamt of having and I didn’t have to waste away in a musty old library to get it? Tell me, Wheels, who was it again that was on track to be valedictorian until Brittany came along because I don’t remember seeing your name anywhere on the list.”

Artie’s face goes a little red that time; out of embarrassment or anger, Santana doesn’t care. All she cares about is making sure that he knows he isn’t shit and there’s no way he’ll talk to Brittany like that while she’s around.

There’s only one person in the world that can pick on Brittany and that’s her.

“The keyword is was,” He retorts.

“The keyword is you’re a prick,” Santana bites back just as fiercely.

“Okay,” Brittany cuts in. She gives Santana a little tug until she can curl an arm around her waist, “I think that’s enough of that.”

Artie continues to look shaken, but he does his best to mask it. Trying to be as macho as he can while in that turtleneck sweater he must’ve stolen from his grandfather’s closet. Safe to say it doesn’t fool Santana one bit.

“Well, I can see why you like her, Britt,” Artie comments with a glance in Santana’s direction. “She’s fiery.”

“She’s also this close to going all Lima He– “

“Santana,” Brittany scolds again.

There’s a pleading look in her eye that has Santana softening. She remembers what Brittany said earlier about tonight being fun and not wanting to fight, so Santana let’s Brittany pull her back. She settles, but it feels like it’s only the calm before the storm.

Artie notices too and puts on a smug grin, “Come to think of it, I have heard your name floating around on campus. Santana Lopez; the girl can’t be tied down to save her life.”

“Well Brittany’s changed that,” Santana quips. “Hasn’t she?”

“Hmm,” Artie nods but the stare he gives her is almost analytical. “It’s not really a pairing I would’ve pictured considering your history.” He then looks to Brittany and frowns, “I’m pretty sure you once told me that she couldn’t possibly have any redeeming qualities.”

Santana tries looking unfazed, but she can’t lie and say that comment didn’t sting. One look at Brittany and she can sense the guilt, but she keeps it hidden from Artie. Santana can’t hold it against Brittany though if she did say something like that about her, there’s been many times she’s complained about the blonde to Puck too.

But that was before they got to know each other, that was before they had to work together to emulate this perfect couple.

“Looks like I was wrong about that,” Brittany replies behind a smile that’s directed at Santana. She squeezes a little at the brunette’s waist, “Who would’ve known, opposites really do attract?”

Santana chuckles, remembering saying something similar during a conversation with Tina months ago.

“It sure took me by surprise,” Santana adds before glancing to Artie. “Guess I have some pretty redeeming qualities after all.”

Artie hums again with this contemplative look on his face, but he doesn’t rock the boat any further. He just nods and says, “Well this was fun. I guess I’ll leave you two to enjoy the Ball.”

Santana sneers at him while Brittany bids him goodbye.

“Oh. By the way Britt,” Artie pauses and glances back. “You look really great.”

Santana raises a brow at the compliment.

She wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but there’s the slightest little smirk on his dumb face as he says it and it has Santana feeling hot. Even if Brittany isn’t her actual girlfriend, what the hell? Who compliments another person’s date right in front of them? It seems as though Artie knows exactly what he’s doing, but given her promise to Brittany she’ll bite her tongue – for now.

While Brittany ducks her head in thanks, Santana stays quiet – waiting until Artie is out of sight before she can finally let down her guard and say what’s really on her mind.  

#hate to date #brittana #brittana fanfiction #enemies to lovers #fake dating au

[always-and-forever-a-killjoy]

Good afternoon fuckers! This fic isn’t quite as dark as the companion, but it’s another angsty one for you guys (and the longest one-shot I’ve ever written! Woo!) Also you may want to read the companion to this (all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me) because it makes this make a lot more sense, but it’s not 100% necessary (and be careful of the warnings!).

Title: all the things that you never ever told me

Wordcount: 3657

Summary: Cherri Cola goes missing. 

This is absolutely no fucking fun for anyone. Especially NewsAGoGo.

Warnings: Lots of mentions of death + a character is assumed to be dead, as well as some implied self-harm (although it could also be read as wavehead scars and thus past implied addiction)

Taglist: @wishiwasthemoon-tonight @sleevesareforlosers @stressed-depressed-emo-mess @tasteofamnesia @dagger-queen (message me, send an ask, or reblog/reply to one of my posts if you want to be added or removed)

AO3 Link

(Actual fic under the cut)

NewsAGoGo stared around the room, sunlight warm on her neck as she stood in the doorway. It was mid-afternoon at a radio station in the desert, and Newsie was trying very hard not to panic. Because Cherri fucking Cola, her best friend in the entire world (okay, there were some other people up there too, but Cherri was practically her brother) was gone.

“Cherri! Cherri, you fucker, are you hiding somewhere?”

The radio station was silent. Newsie shut the door and wandered over to where he had been when they left this morning, scanning the area. The spot was empty; even the scraps of paper he used for writing poetry were gone, and there was no sign Cherri had ever even been there.

“Fucking hell, I’m going to yell at you when I find you!” The threat was empty, and so were the bedrooms of the station when Newsie checked there. In fact, the entire station seemed deserted, which was most unlike Cola. He took his responsibilities of watching the station seriously, generally only leaving it empty if he really needed to.

Newsie took one last look around the radio shack, trying to see if Cherri had left a note or something. There was none, and they decided he actually was gone, trying to figure out what the fuck she was going to do. First on her list was radio Dr. Death Defying- hopefully he would have some idea where Cherri had gone. Cherri sure as hell hadn’t radioed her about going anywhere, but sometimes he told D things he wouldn’t tell the rest of them. Not that Newsie was jealous or anything, but it did piss them off how goddamn secretive he was. 

They fiddled with the radio. Please let him have told D something…

“Hello?”

“Hey, D. Has Cherri told you anything about going somewhere?”

“No, he said he’d be back at the radio station all day.” She could hear concern in his voice. “I haven’t heard from him since this morning, actually. Why do you ask?”

“Because I just got home and Cherri isn’t fucking here.”

“Fuck.”

“Exactly.”

She heard a faint sigh. “Okay, Pony and I can probably be back there by say, sunset tonight if we’re willing to book it. Have you radioed him?”

“Don’t think he took a fucking radio with him, D.”

D sighed again. “Right. Stupid question, sorry. I’ll be there in a few hours, let me know if anything changes?”

“Got it.” Newsie turned off the radio before he could say anything else, looking around again. “Cola, you bastard, I’m going to fuck you up when I finally find you,” she muttered.

Predictably, given his absence, Cherri did not respond. That didn’t stop Newsie from keeping up a constant stream of swear words and threats as she searched the radio shack from top to bottom again. It wasn’t as if they actually expected Cherri to have suddenly appeared, but it gave them something to do that wasn’t ‘pick a random direction and see if he went that way’ or worry.

When she finally was forced to admit he wasn’t there at all, she headed outside and looked around there. Cherri’s truck was still parked next to the station, and Newsie frowned. Surely he wouldn’t have left without some reliable transport, right? It wasn’t like him to leave on foot, which only alarmed them further. She scouted for footsteps, and found marks that might have been a set of footsteps…and another group of marks that might have been a set, going the opposite way. And a third set. And varying other marks in the sand because it was a fucking desert and of course the sand wasn’t going to be fucking smooth.

Newsie groaned and sat down on the radio station porch with a thump. Of all things to go wrong in her life, it had to be her fucking brother just vanishing into thin air? At least he could have left a fucking note if he was just going to run off like that.

D and Show Pony arrived back a few hours later, right at sunset like they promised. Newsie was still sitting on the porch, unable to muster the will to get up. Goddamn Cherri Cola and his reluctance to tell them fucking anything.

Pony skate over, offering them a hand. “Hey, Newsie!” 

Newsie took it and pulled herself up. “Hey, Pone.”

“So our trouble-causing Cola up and left, huh?”

“Guess so, given that he’s not fucking here.”

To eir credit, Pony didn’t even flinch at the harsh words. “Well, we’ll find him. And give him a good bit of shit for this!”

“We sure fucking will,” Newsie muttered. 

D came over with a sigh. “So what do we know for sure?”

“Cherri isn’t fucking here. His truck is though, and doesn’t look like there are tire tracks from other vehicles. I’m guessing he’s on foot.”

“That’s…concerning. Why would he leave on foot?”

“Fuck if I know.”

“Right. Let’s look until it gets too dark, and tomorrow we’ll ask if anyone’s seen him on the broadcast, assuming he’s not back by then.”

He wasn’t. 

Newsie was starting to get scared. It felt like some part of her had been expecting to wake up to Cherri snoring on the sofa, or conked out on the mattress next to her, or bustling around the kitchen while Show Pony shouted ‘you better not make that cursed tea!’. Like they would wake up and everything would be back to normal. But Cherri wasn’t asleep on the sofa or mattress, and he wasn’t in the kitchen either. He wasn’t home at all. 

It wasn’t uncommon for Cherri to leave for a few days at a time when everything started to be too much for him- he would drive out into the desert and spend a while wandering, doing who-knows-what before returning, a little bit sunburned but smiling again. But unlike this time, he always left a note. Even on the days when he would hardly say a word, he didn’t leave without some way to tell the others where he had gone.

Right now, Newsie was sitting on the desk next to where D was as he made the broadcast, only listening to every other word.

“Hello there, crash queens and tumbleweeds. We’ve got some unfortunate news from the Zones…it seems that our favorite radio poet, lovely Cherri Cola, has gone missing. So if anyone’s got news of a ‘joy in a battered green jacket, pretty tall, with scars all up and down his arms and blue eyes like the sea, bring it on over to me here at Dr. Death Defying’s radio station. You can also send it to DJs NewsAGoGo and Hot Chimp, or tell our favorite zonerunner Show Pony. And if you see the man himself, could you tell him to get himself down to the station? He’s got us worried over here. This is Dr. Death Defying, signing off.”

What followed that announcement was a lot of searching. And waiting. And more waiting. And more searching. Newsie didn’t want to admit it, but she was terrified. Cherri had never been exactly stable, although these days he was more so than before, and she was terrified both of what had driven him to leave and what could have happened to him.

That night, they went into their room and searched around, locating the bright pink mask from where Cherri kept it tucked away. Newsie was the only one who knew its location, and she knew it would be her task to take it to the mailbox. If he died now. If. They couldn’t forget that it was an ‘if’, not a certainty. Cherri would come back. Cherri had to come back.

The edges of the mask were digging into her fingers. They had been clutching it more tightly than they thought, holding onto the mask (Cherri’s soul, her mind whispered) as if that would bring him magically back home. 

It wasn’t the pain of the mask’s edges that made her cry. 

“Destroya, Cherri-“ they wiped fiercely at their eyes. “Could you have picked a worse-“ sniffle- “fucking time?” There was no response, of course, but Newsie went on. “If you could just-“ sniffle- “have picked a fucking time when-“ sniffle- “when I wasn’t already sad? And-“ sniffle- “couldn’t you just fucking come home?” Their voice broke on the last word, rendering coherent speech impossible, but they managed to choke out a small “You fucker.”

The rest of the room was still silent.

The next morning, Newsie slid Cherri’s bright pink ray gun into her spare holster, tucked the mask into her bag, and tromped down to breakfast. She avoided the other’s eyes, knowing the walls of the radio station were thin. Thankfully, everyone else seemed no more eager to meet their eyes, and it was a quiet breakfast before they all split off to search again. 

All their search turned up was empty desert, day after day, and it wasn’t exactly easy to cling to hope when there hadn’t been any supplies missing from the radio station either. So Cherri Cola was out in the desert without food and water, and had been for three days.

-

“He’s not dead.”

The others looked over at her. It was dinner that night, another silent meal of power pup as everyone tried not to look at Cherri’s empty place.

“I know it seems like he should be. But he’s not dead,” Newsie repeated. They didn’t know why it felt so important to say that, but they had to.

“Of course not!” That was Show Pony, looking outraged. “Cola’s lived through too much to just- just die.”

“We have to face the reality-“

“No! Shut up, D. Cherri’s not going to fucking die!”

D sighed. “We have to face the reality that Cherri may not come back.”

Newsie stood and slammed her hands on the table, the sound ringing through the room. “No! Fuck you! I can’t- I refuse to lose my bro- Cherri!”

“I know it’s-“

“No! Fuck you!” They repeated. “I don’t care what you think, he’s not dead!”

D opened his mouth again, but Newsie had had enough. Enough of searching, enough of waiting, enough of sitting there and pretending that everything was fine. Enough of D’s stupid fucking gentle voice, as if any amount of gentleness could soften the blow his words delivered. They turned and fled into the back, pressing a fist to their mouth to muffle the sobs. 

No one came to check on her, and Newsie half-wondered in some tired corner of her mind if Cherri was alone like this, wondering if someone would come to find him. And they would have, they would have come find him in a heartbeat if they knew where he was. But no one came to find Newsie, and she curled up alone until her eyes were dry again, falling into an exhausted sleep.

-

“Hello, child.”

Newsie blinked at the person (bird?) in front of her. “What.”

“I said ‘hello, child’.” The human- bird- whatever- examined her taloned hands.

“Okay, I know what you said, but…what?”

They could have sworn the bird rolled her eyes. “I would hope you’d recognize me, NewsAGoGo.”

“You better not be the fucking Phoenix Witch.”

“Ta-da, it’s me.” The Witch’s voice was deadpan.

Newsie figured if she was going to talk to a fucking deity, she might as well be comfortable. So she sat down on what felt like sand, realizing that she was definitely not where she had fallen asleep. In fact, the landscape here was barren, devoid of buildings or life, and the sky was…purple? Newsie decided it wasn’t even worth questioning.

“So, am I dreaming?”

“Yes, but this is all very real, I assure you.”

“If it’s a dream, how is it real?”

The Witch was definitely rolling her eyes. “I’m a deity. I can talk to people in their sleep. You and your brother- yes, I mean who you’re thinking of- are easier than most, actually. You always had a bit too strong of a connection to the spirit world, NewsAGoGo.”

Her head was fucking spinning. “You can read my mind? Wait, Cherri is connected to you the same way? Where is he? Is he alive?”

“Yes, yes, can’t tell you, for now.”

“Why can’t you fucking tell me?”

“Can’t meddle with fate too much, now, can I?”

“You’re a goddess. You’re the goddess of fate.”

“I won’t mess with the threads I wove, NewsAGoGo.”

Newsie glared at her. “Can you at least tell me if he’s going to be okay?”

“No can do.” The Phoenix Witch seemed annoyingly casual about the whole business.

“Fuck you! Fuck you, I want to see my fucking brother!”

“You want to see him?”

“Can you do that?”

“I am a deity.” The Witch waved her clawed hand, sending them both spinning through the dreamscape, dissolving into a blur of colors and shapes before they reformed in what seemed to be the actual desert, stars twinkling above them. They were standing over what first appeared to be a dead body, and Newsie soon realized was Cherri. He was slumped in the sand, eyes closed and skin sunburned, and the more she looked, the more he seemed like he was dead.

“Is he- is-“ Newsie’s throat wouldn’t form the words, even in a dream.

“He’s not dead. Yet.”

“Is he going to die?”

“Can’t tell you that.”

“Why bring me here? Why show me him?” 

“You asked.” The Witch shrugged. “I was feeling indulgent. But the reason I bothered to visit you at all wasn’t because of your brother.”

“Then, pray tell, what the fuck was it?” 

The Phoenix Witch was smiling, not unkindly. “You, NewsAGoGo, don’t know just how much you’re worth. You refuse to believe you’re loved, even if you are.”

Newsie jerked away from her gaze. “Shut up.”

The Witch laughed. “You’re a bold one, aren’t you? But not bold enough to face the truth. The truth is, NewsAGoGo, that if your Cherri survives, it will be because of his love for you. He loves you so much, you know. Thinks of you as his sibling, and refers to you like that too.”

Newsie glanced down at the figure in the sand. “Didn’t know he ever did that.”

“Oh, all the time. He’s so proud to know you and be your friend. He might be bad at saying it, but oh does he love you. And so do Show Pony and DJ Hot Chimp and my favorite Dr. Death Defying.”

It might have been petty of her, but “They didn’t come to find me.”

“Not today, no. And they’ve dropped the ball on that a lot. But it’s not for a lack of caring, only a lack of knowledge. Your friends do not know how to get through to you. They’re trying, but they haven’t figured it out yet. They don’t know what to say or do to comfort you and make you believe that you’re loved. You all speak different languages when it comes to love. They’re trying to learn how to speak yours. If you try to understand theirs, you’ll find that they’re practically yelling ‘I love you’.” The Witch’s words were blunt, but there was a strange sort of sympathy on her bird-like face.

Newsie stared at the sand. “Just take me home.”

“As you wish.” She waved her clawed hand and the desert twisted, returning to the dreamscape from before. A bracelet clinked against her wrist as she did, and Newsie could have sworn it looked familiar. 

“Hey, what’s-“ Before they could finish their question, the dreamscape vanished and they woke with a jolt and a cry of “Cherri!” on their lips. Although there was no evidence to indicate the Witch had been there at all, Newsie remembered the dream clear as anything, right down to Cherri’s still form.

“Cherri!”

They heard footsteps outside, and Pony came hurrying in. “Newsie? Newsie, sugar?”

“Cherri!” It seemed like all she could say. “I saw- he’s- he’s alive but he’s almost dead but-“

“Oh, hon…”

“No, I swear, Pone. He’s alive.” 

D was there too, somehow, squeezing Newsie’s hand. “Are you sure?”

“I know I sound like I’m imagining shit, but the Phoenix Witch showed me.” She could picture his body clear as day. “Showed up in my dreams, said nothing helpful except that he wasn’t dead yet.” Newsie left out the rest of what the Phoenix Witch had said. They didn’t need to know that. 

There was genuine worry in his eyes. “Did she show you anything about where he was?”

“Fucking nothing, because of course we can’t ‘meddle with fate’.”

It didn’t even occur to Newsie until later that the worry in D’s eyes wasn’t just for Cherri.

That worry didn’t go away, since they still couldn’t find Cherri. It somehow seemed more hopeless now that she had gotten a glimpse of him- he was so close, and yet so far away. And by the end of the next week, Newsie had almost given up. There hadn’t been any word of Cherri, and they hadn’t seen a single glimpse of him in their search. Newsie knew he wouldn’t have survived a week out in the desert in that state, but something kept her from taking his mask to the mailbox. Maybe it was hope, maybe it was sheer spite. Cherri might be fucking dead but that didn’t mean she had to accept it. 

The others didn’t seem to have accepted it either- neither of them had brought up Cherri’s mask at all, and Newsie didn’t see why she should. In fact, no one brought it up until the end of that week.

“If-“ D’s voice was as smooth as ever, trained by his years of being a DJ, but Newsie thought she caught a tiny shake as he paused and went on again. “If Cherri doesn’t come back, we need to know where his mask is.”

“I have it. But we won’t need it.”

“You-“

“He told me where it was. His ray gun, too.”

D sighed, and they couldn’t tell if it was relief or worry. “Good. We might- we probably won’t, but we might need it.”

They didn’t. Because that very afternoon, a knock sounded on the door.

“I’ll get that,” Show Pony said as D rubbed his face tiredly. Ey got up and opened the door, and Newsie could hear a vague bit of conversation before ey shouted something that sounded like ‘Destroya!’.

“Newsie! Dr. D! Get out here!”

Newsie followed eir shout and hurried to the door, ready to demand what the fuck all the fuss was about. But all her words evaporated when she reached the doorway and saw who was standing outside. Three teenagers, yes, but more importantly, a familiar ‘joy in a green jacket.

He seemed to spot her there, giving her a wane smile. “Hey.”

There were a thousand things she wanted to say and no words to say them with, so she settled on “Cherri FUCKING Cola, you complete and utter BASTARD!”

When in doubt, swear a lot. That was a good motto, right? When in doubt, swear and hug people. That was what she proceeded to do, throwing her arms around Cherri and holding him tightly, still swearing all the while. “You fucker, you little dipshit, you absolute dumbass, we thought you were fucking dead! We thought you were fucking dead, fuckwad!”

“I’m sorry, Newsie.” His voice was sincere, but Newsie had over a week’s worth of bottled anger and worry, and they weren’t forgiving him that easily. 

“You better fucking be! Rat bastard!”

She was vaguely aware, out of the corner of her eye, that D had rolled out of the station as well, giving Cherri a fierce hug of his own and a fair bit of lecturing. “You scared us all half to death, Cherri!”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“He almost died too, but of heatstroke, not of fright,” contributed one of the teenagers.

“That doesn’t make me feel any fucking better,” Newsie muttered. Who were these kids anyways?

“Also, infection and dehydration,” a second added.

Cherri sighed, a familiar tired sound. “Not helping, guys.”

“Who are these fine ‘joys?” Pony asked.

The third teen grinned. “The Terrific Trio! Well, the name is a work in progress. I’m Jet Star. He/him and they/them.”

“Party Poison. They/them. And I’m in charge,” said the one who had added ‘also infection and dehydration’.

The first one snorted. “Kobra Kid. He/him.”

“They saved my life,” Cherri chimed in. Newsie gave them a suspicious look, knowing Cherri’s track record of trusting ‘joys who weren’t all that nice, but if they really had saved his life they couldn’t be half bad.

She was still caught up in hugging Cherri, but she could hear the smile in D’s voice as he next spoke. Well, we’re very glad you did. I’m Dr. Death Defying, he/him.”

“NewsAGoGo, she/they.”

“An’ I’m Show Pony. Ey/em.”

Newsie was vaguely aware that the teens came in with them and that D offered them some power pup, but she was more concerned with swearing at Cherri. He tolerated it with a faint smile, clearly aware that he deserved a bit of fucking swearing after all that. He still seemed a little bit battered, and there was a new set of scars on his arms, but he was alive and home. And maybe that was all she could ask for, knowing he was safe as he fiddled with one of his bracelets- but not the usual one. In fact, the bracelet he always fiddled with, the one Newsie had given him, was gone. 

Newsie was about ninety percent certain they knew where it was, thinking back to the Witch as he glanced down at his wrist with a soft smile. 

“Hey, Newsie, what do you think about making another bracelet?”

#cherri cola #newsagogo #dr. death defying #show pony #ttlofk #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #danger days fic #i dont know how to tag #auri writes

[secretkidcolor]

A Good View from the Sidelines

A simple game of basketball with a bunch of sweaty guys in shorts shouldn't be that big of a deal. Naturally, it ends up being a bigger deal once Tyler meets someone from the other team for the first time.

Also posted to fanfiction.net and Archive of Our Own under the same title~

Happy Pride Month!

“Bro, you might want to sit this one out.”

Tyler adjusted the sweatband keeping some of his hair out of his face as he heard his friend’s advice. Well, friend was a loose term. He and Geoff weren’t exactly close, but they got along fine. Geoff, who oozed coolness with his fondness for open-chested shirts and cowboy hats, had no reason to invite Tyler to hang out as often as he did. But that was Geoff’s character-defining trait. He was cool in every sense of the word. That included being nice to everyone. So when he advised Tyler to sit out, Tyler knew it probably wasn’t in a way that was meant to be disrespectful.

“No way dude,” Tyler said, “I just got warmed up. Afraid I’m gonna beat you guys?” Tyler and Geoff were at the local park with two other guys, DJ and Duncan, and were supposed to be shooting hoops together. They hadn’t started yet though, which was why Tyler was confused. Usually he’d play a couple rounds, hurt himself, and sit out to watch, but he was in perfect shape still and wanted to take advantage of that for what little time he was able to maintain it.

“Pffft, as if,” Duncan cut in, rolling his eyes. “That new guy, Alejandro, is going to be coming by with some of his buddies to play us in a little game of three on three. And no offense, but we want to win.” Unlike Geoff, Duncan was most likely intending to be disrespectful. With his bright green mohawk, various piercings, and constantly pissed off expression, Duncan scared the crap out of Tyler. Whether it was death threats (followed by an unconvincing “Kidding!”) or just senseless violence against people Duncan deemed uncool, Tyler tried to stay off his radar as much as possible. There had been a brief conflict between them when Tyler had dated Lindsay, and the jock had truly feared for his life for a moment, but that had come to pass.

“Ale…” Tyler’s voice trailed off as he tried to replicate the name. It was clearly Spanish, but Tyler wasn’t the best speaker to begin with. “Alejandro,” he managed to say finally. The name sounded vaguely familiar. “He’s new?’

“Chyeah dude,” Geoff said, dribbling the ball in place. “He just transferred here over the weekend. Bridge said that all the girls were talking about him today. Even Heather.”

“I was getting an icepack from the nurse when I heard him introducing himself to Principal Mclean,” DJ spoke up from his spot on the ground. “That man doesn’t like anybody, but this guy pushed all the right buttons. Mclean even offered to let him skip his first class of the day. He’s smooth as Mama’s gravy.”

“Which is why it’s important that we beat his ass at basketball today,” Duncan said, his eyes narrowing. “Nobody makes our chicks talk but us.” Tyler winced a little at the possessive wording Duncan used. Duncan’s girlfriend Courtney would probably throw a fit if she heard him talk about her like that, and Tyler wouldn’t have ever dared claim ownership over Lindsay.

While Tyler’s relationship with Lindsay was solid, it was certainly an anomaly to everyone at school. At first the idea of a pretty- no, beautiful. Tyler believed she was the most beautiful girl he had ever met. The idea of a beautiful, blonde cheerleader dating a jock was a given. It was less of a given when it was apparent that Tyler wasn’t very good at any of the many sports he participated in. He was clumsy to a fault and spent more time on the bench than actually playing, and the few times he did play he usually ended up getting hurt. This normally didn’t put a damper on his spirits though. He had won the Team Spirit award every season since freshman year. His teammates had given him flack for it at first, but Lindsay’s immense popularity and their immediate connection had helped with that. By now, most of the other school athletes admired (at least secretly) his perseverance and now that he was a junior, he saw some of his younger teammates actually looking up to him. Rival schools still gave him a hard time, but he had come to rely on his teammates to have his back when that happened.

Tyler wasn’t an overly spiritual man, but he thanked the higher powers for putting Lindsay into his life. She was the perfect girlfriend. Sweet, caring, smar- okay she wasn’t that smart. But that hardly mattered anyway, especially after she had gotten past always getting his name wrong. Their relationship had started as a quick burst of teenage passion and had actually developed into something meaningful. As they got older they began to rely on one another for more than just a physical release. Tyler considered Lindsay to be his best friend and he trusted her with everything, and that bond only seemed to strengthen when they had stopped dating (there was a bad incident with her forgetting his name in front of his parents). He trusted her with everything. Well, almost everything…

“Chill dudes,” Geoff said. “Alejandro’s bringing three friends so it’ll be four guys to a team. Tyler can sub in at some point. Is that cool?” He looked at Tyler as he asked this, and Tyler nodded.

“Yeah, it’ll give me extra time to warm up!” With that, Tyler began to do some push-ups for effect. Soon enough, four guys could be seen walking toward the court as Tyler flopped on the ground after his push-ups. He groaned as Geoff, Duncan, and DJ greeted the approaching four guys. There were a couple of voices he could recognize as the guys talked.

“I’ll be the first one sitting out,” said Justin, a guy who ran a modeling Instagram account. “This is the perfect lighting for some sporty pics. You guys just let me know if you need me, okay?’

“Pfft, whatever,” Duncan said and Tyler could practically feel his eyeroll. “Are we gonna stand around all day or actually play?”

“Lightning’s ready to play!” That was another voice that Tyler definitely recognized. Lightning was the star quarterback and the only student who referred to himself in third person almost constantly. Tyler never really cared for him as he was one of the less kind football players when it came to Tyler’s habit of injuring himself. His dad was a big name in sports broadcasting and donated generously to the football team though, and Tyler did like the new uniforms each year.

“My friend, are you in need of some assistance?” A voice flowed through Tyler’s ears like silk and he looked up to see a tan hand being offered. He grabbed it and was immediately surprised by the firm, but careful grip that pulled him to his feet. Tyler steadied himself and found himself face to face with one of the most attractive men he had ever seen. That…sounded weird, but it was true. This man was jacked, and while Tyler himself was pretty muscular he felt a little self-conscious as he looked at the guy in a totally objective way. He was wearing a dark red shirt, not too much darker than Tyler’s own, which clung to his muscles. There was something tied to a cord around his neck. A skull of some kind. His hair was long, but well-maintained. The closed-mouth smile he gave Tyler seemed to just be polite, but his eyes were…calculating. Not recognizing him, Tyler assumed that this must be Alejandro.

As Alejandro’s eyebrow raised, Tyler realized he must have been staring at him for an unusual amount of time and looked down, only to see that he was still holding his hand. He quickly withdrew his own hand and sputtered out the first thing that came to mind, “I-I uh, I like girls!”

What.

Alejandro didn’t even seem fazed by the remark. “Noted,” he said politely. “Although probably not relevant to basketball.” He chuckled and Tyler really hoped that nobody else had heard his remark. “My name’s Alejandro,” he said, confirming his name. “And you are?”

“Tyler,” the jock responded quickly. “Uh, nice to meet you…er, yeah.”

“Um, are we gonna play or what?” Duncan asked impatiently from a few feet away. He held up the basketball.

Alejandro nodded at Duncan and turned back to Tyler. “Best of luck Tyler,” he said with another closed-mouth smile.

“Uh thanks but I’m actually gonna be sitting this one out,” Tyler said, backing up off the court.

“Pity,” Alejandro replied, “but I hope you enjoy watching the game then.” Another smile. Tyler felt his face begin to heat up, but fortunately the guys were quick to start their game.

Thirty seconds of watching the game and Tyler had come to the conclusion that basketball was the world’s most unnecessarily sexual sport. Growing up, Tyler had played more sports than most, and he was just now deciding on this fact. Contact sports, while intensely physical, usually involved the wearing of gear for protection. Basketball? While it wasn’t an intentional contact sport, there were still plenty of points of contact during a single game. And with no gear, there were no barriers between skin. Nothing between smooth, sweaty, tan skin.

Oh.

Tyler had started the game trying to focus in on his friends and provide moral support from the sidelines, but that quickly stopped when he saw Alejandro on the court. Tyler had never seen someone play basketball so gracefully before. Alejandro moved with confidence and power, but he clearly possessed total control over himself and the ball when he had it. None of the other guys could even touch him as he practically glided across the court. At one point, he even seemed to turn and look right at Tyler.

His calculating eyes.

Slowly widening in alarm.

A large orange orb slowly growing bigger over his face.

Wait.

A flash of pain and Tyler’s vision temporarily darkened as the basketball collided straight into his face. His head snapped back, his neck making a soft pop as he fell onto his back. Fortunately, he had been sitting in the grass and the back of his head came into contact with untrimmed grass and not the concrete of the basketball court. Tyler may have developed a high pain tolerance, but he wasn’t invincible and concussions were no joke.

Tyler could hear laughing, and some concerned shouts, but soon that seemed to fade away as he saw Alejandro’s face appear hovering over him. “I am so incredibly sorry,” he said, and Tyler could feel a hand on the side of his face. Alejandro had such smooth skin. He slowly helped Tyler up to a sitting position, asking him the usual questions that coaches and trainers asked Tyler after he got took a hard enough blow to the head. It was all very professional sounding coming from someone who likely was the same age as Tyler, but there was something else too. Alejandro had come off as so confident and in control of everything when he had introduced himself not even fifteen minutes ago, and yet now he was flustered and worried and just reacting. And yet he still oozed confidence. And if anything, he was even more beautiful for it.

Hmm.

“It’s all good dude,” Tyler finally said after the round of questions and Alejandro was convinced he didn’t need medical attention. “I’ve taken way harder hits before.” He reached up to rap his knuckles against his skull for effect, Alejandro’s soft hiss under his breath made him reconsider. “But,” he offered, “I’ll probably stay out for the whole game to be safe.”

“Yes, I…I think that would be best,” Alejandro agreed. “It was an accident, I swear.”

“Doing us a favor honestly,” Duncan muttered. Geoff jabbed him with his elbow. “Kidding,” he added.

“Is it cool if we keep playing?” Geoff asked Tyler. “As long as you’re good.

“I’m good,” Tyler said with a slight nod. Duncan went to get the ball and the guys tried to figure out where to position themselves for the game to resume.

“Hey Alejandro,” Tyler said with a grin as Alejandro stood up to resume playing, “I knew what you were doing. I know you just needed to take out the strongest player before he could turn the game around on you guys.”

Alejandro look’s initial look of alarm quickly changed to match Tyler’s grin. “You caught me,” he said in a teasing tone. “It seems you’re too smart for me Tyler, and I was intimidated by the athletic prowess you possess. I do hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me.” They shared a laugh and after a few seconds Alejandro gave him a nod before heading back to the game.

Tyler rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling where a bruise was going to form, and leaned back. If he wasn’t going to play, he was at least going to enjoy watching the world’s most unnecessarily sexual sport. Of course, there was one player he tended to focus on more, and he was pretty sure that player caught his glances multiple times without breaking his concentration on the game.

In the end, Alejandro’s team had won by a lot of points. Duncan was annoyed, DJ seemed a little embarrassed, and Geoff was chill like always. The guys still shook hands with one another, and Alejandro walked over to shake Tyler’s hand as well.

“Again, I do hope you can forgive me for your bruised face,” he said, which Tyler just waved off. “Maybe next time, when you’re able to play, your friends won’t lose quite as badly.”

Tyler looked over at his friends and then at Alejandro, meeting his amused gaze with a smirk. “Yeah,” he said, standing up, “because next time…we’re gonna win.”

“Well then I might have to hit you with the ball again,” Alejandro remarked, again with that teasing tone.

“Well then I guess we’ll have to keep playing until my face becomes so strong it bounces the ball right back at you!” Tyler declared.

“Sounds like we’ll be playing basketball together for quite a long time then,” Alejandro said, and Tyler realized that while their handshake had stopped, neither of them had let go of the other’s hand. Tyler felt his face begin to heat up.

“Guess so,” Tyler said, but his voice sounded much less confident than it had moments ago. Alejandro chuckled and released Tyler’s hand.

“I’m sure I’ll see you around Tyler,” he said before turning to leave. “Let me know if you ever want to just play one on one.” It was a normal enough offer but the way he said those last three words sent Tyler’s mind racing as he watched Alejandro walk away.

It hadn’t been a lie when he told Alejandro he liked girls. It was more of a half-truth. But maybe Alejandro had known that from the start. He would have to ask Lindsay what she thought of all this later tonight.

As Tyler said goodbye to his teammates and headed home, he used his phone to check the bruise on his face. It was big, but it would heal quickly. Just in time for another game of Tyler’s new favorite sport.

#writing #fanfiction #total drama #pride

[chwetuan]

Purple Velvet - Mark Tuan x Reader (m)

Summary: Mark’s having a hard time staying at your side with you in that purple dress (4.1k).

Rating: M

Warnings: swearing, use of alcohol, implied smut, mention of a parental death (not elaborated on).

Sidenote - this is loosely inspired by the “The House Party” (part of the “LOOK” Drabble Series) by @inyournightmares97 (she’s awesome, I love her) 

Sidenote 2.0 - thank you so much to @mintyjin for being an amazing person and sharing her thoughts with me on this fic (she’s awesome x2) | now let’s move onto this mess of a fic shall we

Mark was definitely not happy that you decided to wear that dress. Although, there was nothing that he could really do or say about it. It was beautiful; a purple velvet that shimmered whenever light hit it. So, he watched as you greeted everyone that approached you, your head bowing with that smile of yours on display.

It was a work gathering, in celebration of several head partners securing possibly the biggest contract of the year; an accomplishment that would finally put the firm at the top of the industry. The owners of the company rented out one of the newest clubs in town and filled the open space with employees and extended guests, ranging upwards of 500 people. The place was crowded. You had just recently become the new Manager of the IT department, which was undoubtedly a big accomplishment for someone as young and arguably inexperienced as you. Many said that there was something about you, something they “couldn’t put their finger on”. Little did they know that your only quirk was that you simply liked computers. They were complicated, but once you learned them, they made sense. In a way, it mirrored your relationship with Mark.

Mark, being one of your closest friends, emphasis on close, had accepted to be your +1 before you even asked him. He just assumed that he’d be the person you’d take. He knew some of your fellow co-workers through college, so attending the event wouldn’t have put him in an overbearingly uncomfortable situation. Anyways, he was social. People liked him. Yet, tonight, his face was positively set in a scowl with his jaw clenched and no one even tried to speak to him. But several people came and spoke to you. And boy, was he having a hard time. He watched helplessly as your delicate hand came up and flipped your dark hair over your shoulder. With his bottom lip now tugged between his teeth, he averted his eyes and scanned the room because god knows he needed something else to look at. Without much luck, he snatched a glass of champagne from the tray of a clumsy waitress that was passing by, choosing to turn to alcohol if he couldn’t find something else to keep his attention. He sipped it, scrunching his nose at the taste before placing the unfinished drink on a nearby table. Cheap, he thought. Or perhaps it was too expensive. He couldn’t tell; champagne wasn’t really his drink of choice anyway, and if he wanted to make it through this event, he would need something way stronger. As expected, his eyes wandered back to you. They always managed to do that. They traveled down your back, admiring the colorful tattoos that adorned the skin he knew was soft. That damned dress, he thought. All he wanted, quite frankly, was the dress off or for you to at least cover your chest; make a damn choice, he reasoned with himself. But neither of those things would be happening, not then and most definitely not later on. So, he settled for stepping closer to you and running his hand down the trail of writing that was exposed to him. And everyone else, he thought begrudgingly. The sudden contact made you jump, causing you to forget what you were going to say to the older woman in front of you. You smiled apologetically at her and excused yourself, promising to find her later on and continue your conversation. She smiled in response before taking a sip out of her glass and swimming into the sea of people. You turned to Mark and looked up at him with questioning eyes as you felt the palm of his hand close around your waist and pull you closer to him. You tensed when he brought his lips down to your ear and spoke, surprisingly, curtly. It wasn’t the tone you were expecting. “I’m going to find Jinyoung. If you need me, text me.” “Mark-“ And with that, the warmth of his hand along with his presence disappeared. The air around you was replaced with a sudden coolness that caused goosebumps to rise on your skin. That asshole didn’t even wait for a response. But that’s how things seemed to settle between you and him; hot and cold. One minute, he’d have you pressed against his chest, engulfing you in one of the most comforting embraces a person could give. The next minute, he wouldn’t even spare you with a glance. Whenever he touched you, you could feel the air around you shift. Each touch was purposeful- Mark didn’t just hold your hand or kiss your temple without reason. He held your hand because he didn’t want to lose sight of you in the crowd; he kissed your temple because he noticed how your smile faltered at the sidelined remark that came from a friend. He was good at noticing those things. Tonight, however, he was being an asshole. You didn’t know why, either. It was times like these that the reality of your relationship dawned on you. Mark could do whatever the hell he wanted. You could, also. You weren’t dating. You weren’t together. It started on a dark, mostly drunken night, when all that was audible was the sound of thunder and heavy rain. Why you and Mark had decided to get piss drunk during the middle of one of the worst storms the town would face, eluded you both. “The world is about to fucking end,” you concluded, feeling rather confident with your deduction. And in your state of intoxication, you fell clumsily into each other’s arms. “The world is not going to end without me doing this,” he said before his lips met yours. That messy kiss was the first domino to fall. The line that was crossed. Afterward, you would find yourselves in one of your apartments on several different occasions, exchanging those same kisses and sometimes more. And that’s where you guys were now. In a confusing limbo of friendship where you both had more than friendly feelings for each other. It left you to wonder why you didn’t just date, or stop screwing each other, physically and emotionally. He often thought of it too. You both knew stopping was out of the picture. There had been too many nights where you found yourself underneath him, begging him to do something- anything, to get rid of the knot he’d slowly tied in your stomach. There had been an equal number of other nights where you didn’t have to ask. But on these nights, he kissed your forehead like you were made of porcelain. There had been nights that you cried into his arms; nights that you found you could only sleep if he was next to you. There were days that went by where he found himself miserable without hearing your voice or seeing you. And although you never claimed each other with a title, you both knew the truth. There was no one else on this hell-forsaken earth that could understand you like Mark Tuan could. No one that could make you feel like he could. No one that could make you as frustrated or as happy. Right now, you were frustrated. The asshole. ~~~~~ Mark hadn’t found Jinyoung. Jinyoung had found Mark, after Mark had downed two glasses of tequila at the bar and was ordering his third. He sat, one elbow on the bar counter, his free hand resting lazily on his thigh. Jinyoung hated tequila. He thought it was a cheap man’s drink. But more importantly, he hated what it meant when Mark Tuan drank tequila: the man was ready to stir up some trouble. And Mark Tuan looked a mess. “Yah, hyung- what’s the matter?” Jinyoung asked as he seated himself on the stool next to him. “That fucking dress,” Mark mumbled, grimacing at the burn his throat felt when he sipped his fresh drink. Jinyoung couldn’t hear him. The music was too loud and the dj was playing the same stupid pop song he had played twice already. “What?” He asked leaning closer towards him, “Nothing.” Mark spoke louder this time, sitting up and turning slightly to face him. “Who are you here with? You didn’t drive, right?” Jinyoung asked, the concern dripping off of his words. His eyes scanned Mark’s face, taking in his flushed features. Mark would’ve preferred if he said “Hey, Mark, you drunken idiot. You took a cab, right? You have that look in your eye, you know, the one that screams “I’m drunk off my ass and need a babysitter.” I’m here to babysit you”. “I’m supposed to be here with Y/N-“He started, pausing to sip his drink,“But she’s probably out there ass kissing her way to another promotion.” The corners of Jinyoung’s mouth turned downward. So, this was the trouble Mark wanted to start, he thought to himself. “You know you don’t mean that, hyung.” It was true. He didn’t mean it. Jinyoung always knew what the truth was. “We took a cab. This is my last drink.” He shrugged before taking another sip. Jinyoung nodded and motioned towards the second floor balcony of the club. “I’ll be up there- I think Jaebum might still be there too. If you get tired, tell the host you’re looking for table 6. Bambam disappeared about an hour ago but I’m sure he’s either throwing up or hooking up.” Mark nodded, not really paying attention to what the man in front of him was saying. He thought the music was too loud and he felt dizzy. He also thought the tie Jinyoung had on was stupid, which is why- he concluded,- that he couldn’t focus on what he was actually saying. He reasoned that whatever Jinyoung was saying was stupid anyway, because who could wear such a god-awful tie. Willingly? ~~~~~ You caught a glimpse of Mark about an hour later, as it got closer to 11pm. When you came face to face, you noticed 2 things. The first being his slightly glassy eyes, and the second being the red color that danced across his cheeks. Then you noticed one more thing. The glass of tequila in his left hand. “Are you drunk?” You huffed out in annoyance and stared at him with expectant eyes. “Are you drunk?” He replied; shifting on his feet. You could tell he was unsteady. “I had one glass of champagne.” “I had one glass of champagne.” He repeated in a sarcastically saccharine voice. It was true, he did have one glass of champagne. Kind of. “Mark,” you started, reaching your hand out to take the liquid courage away from him. “Give me that. You’re going to fall and spill it all over yourself.” Mark grabbed your hand with his own free one before raising the hand that held the drink far above your reach. “No Y/N, this is my last drink. And if I have to stick around here and deal with stupid ties and stupid music and stupid people, and then you,” he paused to analyze your face, “Then I’m going to need it.” “Stupid ties? What the hell are you talking about?” You asked, with annoyance and a hint of confusion teasing across your tone. You figured it was just the alcohol talking. Drunk Mark was positively your least favorite Mark, right next to the Mark who thought it was okay to stand up immediately when a flight landed. He brought the drink down slowly, keeping his eyes on you as he downed what remained before slamming the glass down on the table in front of him. You were surprised it didn’t shatter. His hold on your hand had shifted, and now his fingers and palm encased your wrist. His grip wasn’t tight, but it was uncomfortable. He pulled you once, not hard enough to make you stumble- and then again. He was trying to get you closer to him, but you weren’t budging. “Y/N”, he whined, tugging incessantly at your wrist. It was then you decided that you needed to get out of there before he did something stupid. Or before you said something stupid to him. After one particularly hard tug, you found yourself bracing your free hand against his chest - a method of not crashing into him- as his hands found their way around your waist. You were so close to him; you could see his navy hair beginning to cling to his forehead. “I don’t like when you look at me like that.” He huffed out, throwing his head back. “Like I did something bad.” You just stared. He sounded like a child. “We’re leaving.” Mark felt reprimanded. ~~~~~ Getting Mark out the doors of the crowded club was a task you could manage. He was relatively small, although he towered over you, even with heels. You had been through much worse. However, getting him to keep his hands off of you in the cab was something you couldn’t manage. It wasn’t sexual; the way his arm was around your waist with his head resting on your shoulder. You and Mark had hooked up enough times that you knew what he was like when he needed you, or wanted you, rather. Mark was very conscious of the fact that you were mad at him, and he wasn’t even thinking about getting you in his bed, even if that damn dress wastempting. Anger was engraved on your face. He could see it in the slight pout of your lips - that he so badly wanted to kiss- and in the way you avoided looking at him. He hated that. “Y/N, you know I lo-“ he started; only to be cut off by a sigh escaping your mouth. “I don’t want I hear it.” He stayed quiet. Mark had a dirty habit of telling you he loved you when he was intoxicated. It was something he never said sober. Although, there had been one time when you heard him say it, to you specifically. It was a few weeks after your mother had passed away. You weren’t in a good place. You had threw your phone against the wall of your apartment, frustrated with the world. You were sick of the messages. The condolences from people who didn’t care. Tears ran down your face until you felt numb. Somehow, you managed to get into your car and drive to Mark’s apartment complex. It was late- you knew it then too- probably around 1 or 2am. You didn’t even know where you were until you found your feet on his “Welcome” mat. When he opened the door and saw you, he felt his heart break- he swore to it. He had never felt something like that before. You looked at him with tear stained cheeks and wet lashes. You started to cry again. He looked like comfort. He looked like peace. Your hands covered your face and you somehow choked out a strained “I’m sorry”. You didn’t know when he had brought you inside or locked the door, but you felt his hands around you, one on the back of your neck, the other on the back of your head. “No, Y/N. No, don’t you ever apologize.” His voice was stern but you knew the malice was superficial. His hands tilted your head so you were looking up at him. Once again, he had that feeling in his chest. A cross between a shatter and a stab. He hated it. “Baby, come here,” he whispered before pulling you into his arms. Next, you were on his bed, crying into his chest as he held you. You could feel his even breathing on the top of your head. His room was dimly lit, the glow of the green fairy lights along with the soft light reflecting off of the tv in front of you. You’d remembered those green lights. It was Christmas, the year before, and you’d harassed Mark into letting you put them up. He’d complained that they were stupid, as he thought most things were. But he let you do it anyway, and once he saw the way your eyes lit up, he was mad at himself for not saying yes sooner. Your sobs eventually died down, and your breathing evened as Mark’s hand rubbed your back soothingly. He spoke, so quietly that he probably couldn’t even hear himself over the buzz of the cartoons playing in the background, “God, I love you so much.” He thought you were sleeping. ~~~~~ With much effort, you had managed to slip out of your dress and into a pair of shorts and a large t-shirt, huffing when you realized that it was Mark’s. You stared at the exposed red brick of the wall, contemplating your next move.

His apartment was much larger than yours- a balcony and all. It suited him. It constantly smelled like a mixture of vanilla and his cologne; there was artwork and pictures everywhere. The couches were made of black leather and decorated with fluffy blankets and pillows, way too many for you to count. And then there was your stuff. You had - “annoyingly”, as he always said - left your hair ties on the coffee table and kitchen counter, along with earrings and other “unnecessary shit”, Mark called it. In his shower, your fruity shampoo was on the rack, right next to his body wash. You had a makeup bag next to the bathroom sink that he swore he was going to get rid of if you didn’t take it home. He never threw it away, and you never took it. One of your pink bras hung on the hook of his bedroom door, and there was a grey cardigan you’d been looking for since last October hanging in his closet. Mark was capable of changing into a hoodie and a pair of black sweatpants before flopping down on the couch. He was sobering up, you thought. More like hoped. At least you didn’t have to dress him. You already felt like you were babysitting. His arm was thrown over his face as you padded out of his bedroom with a freshly washed face. You walked over to him, nudging his knee with your own. “C’mon, let’s go to sleep. You need to-“ “You’re mad at me.” He cut you off, as you had done to him in the car. You huffed. He noticed that you kept doing that tonight, but he was wise enough to not mention it. “Mark, you need to-“ “Why are you mad at me?” Those words were the first indication that no, he was not sobering up. The second was him pulling you into his lap and clinging onto you as if you were going to run away. “We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?” You spoke softly. He just stared at you as if you were a code he needed to break. Contemplative. You tried to stand but his hands were holding you in place. This time, he wasn’t budging. “Mark,” you whined just as he had done when you were back at the club. “I’m tired, I want to sleep.” It was his turn to huff. He gently guided you off of him- surprising, considering his state- and in turn you guided him to his bedroom. Lights off, in bed. His hands still not leaving you. ~~~~~ When you awoke, you were surprised not to find your bodies tangled together. You braced yourself on your elbows before reaching for your phone and checking the time; 10:09am. Mark peeked out of the bathroom, toothbrush in mouth, when he heard you stirring. Your eyes met his, and for a brief moment, you were almost angry that he didn’t have a hangover. He waved at you before returning to the bathroom to finish brushing his teeth. When he was finished, you got up and did the same. You sat next to him on the bed, taking his face in your hands and scanning it. You checked his eyes and felt his forehead. “Well, you don’t look like you have a hangover.” You stated, dropping your hands and running them through your own tousled hair. He laughed and your heart fluttered. It always did that when you were around him. “I don’t,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing. “I woke up before you, after all.” You hummed and a few moments of silence passed between you. Mark eyed you, trying to think of the best way to say what he wanted. He knew he had to apologize. He was too slow, as you began talking. “Last night-“ “I’m sorry,” He cut you off again, intent on saying what he needed. He had been up for half an hour with words running through his mind. “I remember most of it and I know I was very rude and probably embarrassed you. I’m sorry for not staying with you and being a proper date. I’m sorry you had to leave early and babysit me- though I won’t say I’m not happy you did. I’m sorry.” He was rambling, but every word was sincere. “It’s okay, Mark.” You said softly as you scooted closer to him, placing your hand over his. He eyed your small hand over his own before examining your face. Squinting slightly. He always did that before he finally solved a problem or figured something out. “What?” You asked; expecting him to completely change topics and say something profound borderline ridiculous. “Last night,” he started, the first two words already throwing you off. “I said that if I had to continue to deal with you, I would need a drink. I made it sound bad because I included you with all the stupid shit that was there already. Y/N, never would I ever not want to deal with you. I’ll deal with you every single day until I run out of days if the universe allows it.” You were already highly confused. And your cheeks were turning pink without permission, although you had to think back to when he exactly said that; pinpointing exactly what he was talking about. You never paid attention to his words then, too focused on trying to get him out of there. “Mark, why are you-“ “Shh. My turn.” He shushed you, his lips curving upwards. Something only you would notice. “You see, I don’t have to deal with you. I have to deal with myself when I’m around you. I feel like I have to control myself when I’m around you. I have to stop myself from approaching guys who stare at you too long or flirt with you. I have to stop myself from staring at your legs or grabbing your thighs, or hell-“ he breathed out- “even kissing you. Which happens way more often than I’d like to admit, by the way.” You could feel the heat crawl up your neck to the tips of your ears as he continued talking, the tint of your face darkening. Your heart was fluttering non-stop. “I feel like I need to remind myself to breath when I’m with you. And I’m around you all the time, so I’m constantly out of breath, Y/N. And I know why I feel like this.” “Mark- you really need-“ You tried again, though you had no idea what you’d actually say if he stopped talking. He rolled his eyes before pulling you into his lap and biting your ear playfully. “God, you’re so cute. Anyways, I’m trying to confess my love to you and you keep distracting me.” He could feel your breath hitch. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears. “It’s not a confession. You must know by now. If you didn’t think so, I don’t know what to say. I am an asshole, but I am an asshole who is madly in love with you. And on the off chance that I’ve possibly misread everything, you are madly in love with me too. I’m sick of dancing around this with you. I need you, Y/N. I don’t care if you don’t need me, but I need you to let me love you- to let me be in love with you- properly, openly. Can you do that?” A wave of silence flooded the room as you tightened your grip on him. “I can do that.” He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He kissed behind your ear and nuzzled into the crook of your neck. “God, I love you so much.” You were grinning before you spoke; smile mirroring the day in December when he finally let you put the lights up. “I love you too.” Another moment of silence. It was the same comfortable silence that you were accustomed to. But this time, something felt different. Something felt free. “By the way, never wear that dress again.” He said, letting out a shaky laugh. “I thought it looked nice.” You frowned; “It did-“ he hugged you tighter and paused; “Too nice, baby. Too nice.” ~~~~~

The end <3 // This is my first fic everyone! -Z

#mark tuan #mark tuan fanfic #mark tuan fluff #got7 #got7 mark #mark tuan imagines #mark tuan imagine #got7 imagines #first fic #!!!!!!!

[lunaschild2016]

Worth Fighting For: Chapter 72 - I’ve Got Issues

Rating M ( Language, Violence, There will be smut, Angst, Tragedy, Romance, Fluff)

@kenzieam @pathybo @jaihardy @every-jai @ericdauntless @beautifulramblingbrains @bookgirlthings @jojuarez26 @oddsnendsfanfics @offroadinjandals @singingpeople @iammarylastar @irasancti @captstefanbrandt @clublulu333 @fuckthatfeeling @tigpooh67 @ex-bookjunky @jughead-wuz-here @badassbaker @beanzjellly @beltz2016 @meganbee15@affabletimelady @scorpio2009 @gylisaa @geekybeyondallreason @violetsonthelam @kyloswarstars @emmysrandomthoughts @kgurew @beltzboys2015-blog @slytherin-princess-25273 @whatwouldbuffydo666 @jaiboomer11 @holamor @wealwayskeepfighting

**I promise I have put the read more option in but it has been glitching.**

(It has been a long hot minute since I have been able to do much of writing or being on this lovely site with you beautiful people. I hope to be able to resume activities and hope you also enjoy the new chapter!)

Disclaimer: As always, this is V Roth’s Tilt-A-Whirl and I am in the hack in the DJ booth trying to spin a good remix!

Chapter 72 - I’ve Got Issues

Eric

The morning meeting with Max and the other leaders drags on and I can’t sit still for shit. I don’t know if it is because I am itching to be done with this and get back to tracking down the third person that attacked Tris, or what. Something feels off and has since I let Kat walk out of the apartment this morning. I am not the only one that felt that though. Zach had been frowning after her for the longest and then looked to me with that deepening.

“What?” I had snapped out finally as we walked towards the offices. That frown still hadn’t moved and just kept getting more troubled and deeper.

“I expected her to be more upset and harder to get any rational thoughts or promises out of, Eric. If you consider all her fears, how she reacts whenever Tris has been threatened in the past, she is scary calm for her.”

I hadn’t been able to deny it so I hadn’t said anything. I felt the pinpricks of something all over my skin and they were getting worse. I pull out my tablet and open the app I had installed by Chase that would allow me to access cameras on it. The menu shows me all the different areas I can pick from or I can do a screen that has tiny windows to show all the areas. I select the landscape room that they should either already be at or at least heading to. It looks like everyone is already there but me scanning the groups isn’t showing me Kat. I scowl as I bring the tablet closer to my face as if that will help me to see what is clearly not there.

“Something wrong, Coulter?” Raze voice breaks my frantic search on the screen.

Not even changing the camera angle showed Kat although I saw every one of her friends, even her sister. I don’t answer as movement catches my attention. Peter is pushing his way over to Chase and I don’t need to know what he is going to tell him to know that Kat is gone.

“Eric?” Max calls out to me and I look up as I am standing.

“Missing initiate.” I grind out roughly. His face goes blank and he gives me a single nod.

“Go.” He orders and motions to the door but I am already making my way.

I hear heavy steps behind me and look over my shoulder to see Raze following. I know saying anything to the older man is useless so I just sigh and lift my phone to my ear. Part of me wonders if Raze is still sticking so close when it comes to Kat and I because he still isn’t convinced I am not really going to hurt her in some way. I know he still thinks I am completely in Erudites pocket. I shelve my irritation at him and that situation. I can’t let it cloud my thinking or actions right now.

Finding Kat is the priority and I at least know he will be with me on that.

“Control, scan the corridors from the landscape room to the pit and tell me if you have any movement from initiates.” I bark out the order quickly and then dial Chase.

He answers immediately and I can tell he is moving too. “Peter thinks he knows who it is and that Kat figured it out too. Not sure how but considering he is the only initiate not accounted for…”

“Who?” I interrupt, my jaw clenching.

“Al.”

“Find him and we find her.” I snarl out before hanging up and picking up the pace.

“Who is it?” Raze rumbles from beside me.

People are moving out of our way quickly once they catch a load of our demeanor and expressions.

“They think the third was Al.”

“The farm boy?” Raze asks with an incredulous expression.

I can only nod as well. I am pissed that I discounted him as anyone that might be a threat during our previous review of anyone that might have been responsible the first attack. Molly, Drew; hell even Christina had all been on the forefront of the list at the time. Chase and I had both dismissed the former Candor. A mistake that had my blood raging.

Alerts popped up on both of our phones indicating the path Al had taken, leading straight to the dorm. Kat had disappeared off the cameras but I knew she was there. She knew the hidden paths well now, she would have taken them just like I would have. Avoid being seen. Which meant she had nothing innocent in mind for the coward.

I didn’t need to communicate that to Chase, he already knew. What we didn’t know was what we would be walking into when we finally made it in.

Third Person

The rumor mill in Dauntless was working. Working overtime at that. Once again it seemed like a certain transfer was at the heart of those rumors. For once the seemingly outrageous rumors weren’t that far off the mark.

All Tris knew was that she was not allowed to see or talk to her sister once again and it was driving her crazy. Especially since she couldn’t get it out of her mind...what if…

What if she had told someone, anyone, what Al had tried on visiting day and what she had felt. She had reasoned out that it was just an awkward attempt at a kiss. A misunderstanding from a friend that could be gotten over given a little space. How could she explain the flash of something in his eyes that had unsettled and frightened her? She wouldn't admit to being scared of something or someone. Not here in Dauntless and at the time especially not of someone like Al.

Then had come the attack and while she hadn’t seen Al she had somehow known it was him. His smell had overwhelmed her and she had recognized his voice in the dark before things got blurry for her. Even Tobias hadn’t believed she didn’t have her suspicions. Still, she had kept them to herself. She didn’t want him to win...she reasoned. She didn’t want any of the three to think they had gotten to her. Al was already headed out of the door, she was sure, based on things Tobias said. He would have punishment enough living among the factionless.

Even when he had confronted her she still hadn’t said anything to anyone. She had seen him taking off and she had a shiver of foreboding run down her spine. The same feeling she had the day she stepped into the aptitude test room and the same feeling the first day of sims.

So many things she had kept to herself until she was feeling like she was going to snap. Guilt weighed her down and had her curling her knees up to her chest, hugging them tightly hoping to hold herself together.

Kat wasn’t even in Dauntless. The attack had finally been bad enough that she was taken to the cities medical facility. She didn’t know how to feel that the rumor was going around that Al was just as bad.

Somehow he had come by a knife. There had been a struggle when he attacked her and they both got cut up badly.

Lynn sat beside Tris in her own quiet worry for her sister. She had gotten word from Shauna, some details about what happened though apparently most of it was being classified. All Lynn’s own sister could tell her was that when the leaders and trainers made it into the dorm, they had found Al straddling Kat and trying to slit her sister's throat while yelling that this time he would finish the job.

Lynn supposes that it was Al along, working with the other Candor’s. There had to be truth to that because leaders had taken Christina away to be questioned.

That didn’t make Tris feel any better. Another potential betrayal from another supposed friend.

As if she could sense the line of Tris’ thoughts, Lynn threaded her hand through the other girls after taking and squeezing it a little tighter than what would be considered reassuring. It was almost like a promise, as was the look in the Dauntless-born’s eyes.

One thing was for sure, from now on Tris knew she would be more mindful of who she trusted and if Christina had been involved in some way, she could guarantee at least one person would be with her in making her life hell should she show her face again.

Uri found the two girls in the Dauntless-born training room looking strained and panting.

“They’re moving the transfers to the Dauntless-born dorm.” He looked behind him to see Marlene coming up behind him carrying one of the bags they had collected for their friends then looked back to Tris and Lynn. “We didn’t think you would want to go into the dorm, so Marlene got your stuff for you, Tris.”

“What about Kat’s stuff?” Lynn asked in a ragged voice.

Uri shook his head. “They wouldn’t let us take it. Lauren said something about it being looked over as part of the investigation.”

“Why?” Tris asked in confusion and worry. “It was clearly Al during the other attacks too.”

Marlene’s expression turned sour and she spits out the answer with venom. “Lauren.”

Lynn gave a low growl as she popped up. “Stupid bitch.”

“What about her?”

“She’s jealous of Kat. Has been since the beginning. You too but not as much as she is of Kat. Lauren was a transfer from Erudite and has always lorded over everyone that she was one of the few high ranking girls much less transfers of her year. You two being ranked so high has her boiling with jealousy and it hasn’t gotten much better after Kat beat Tank.”

“She let it slip that she thinks one of the members had been giving Kat access to knives. So now she is under suspicion.” Uri said tiredly, wiping a hand over his face.

Zeke walked up behind them soon after while they were still discussing what had happened and if there was any word on Kat. He was as tight-lipped as the rest of the leaders while he escorted them all to the new dorm situation. All initiates were under lockdown for the rest of the day. Most considered it a rest and were even happy when dinner was brought to them in the dorm.

Tris and the rest of the group felt like climbing the walls with worry and frustration. It was a long and sleepless night ahead of them.

Erudite Medical - Secured Room

Third Person

He was cuffed to the bed even though he had no illusions that he would have been able to run even if he were not. Actually, the truth was that he didn’t want to find out what would happen if he tried to run. The looks he got from Eric, that he expected even if he still dreaded it and felt like he was barely holding onto his bowels. The ones from Four and Chase, on the other hand, he had not counted on.

He was glad for the brief break from the three older Dauntless’ presence. They had all left to go question her; Al thought of her with malice and frustration. He had failed to eliminate her again and ruined any chances of getting away.

That was what he should have done. Instead of making a last-ditch effort to get Tris alone and take her with him, he should have just run. Even when Kat had first come into the dorm, he had plenty of time to grab the crap he had been given and make a run for it.

Seeing the reason all the plans, everything he had been promised, to be snatched from him walk in that door had taken what little sense he had away. It was all a nightmare, one long fucked up nightmare. From Choosing day until now, it was all a nightmare. One hellish day after another that had kept spiraling until he could almost believe that the fires of hell would be a relief.

All those carefully made plans. All the preparation and excitement he had on that fateful day, had gone up like so much smoke. He had done as instructed though. When he saw Tris’ blood hitting the coals, not stones, he followed her even if he had felt like throwing up while doing it. Of the possibilities that he had been told to expect, Dauntless had never been mentioned.

Abnegation or Erudite. Those were the two that he was meant to follow Beatrice too. He had been promised, though, that it would be Abnegation. He had it all planned out. The life he would have had and was meant for. He had been promised that Beatrice and he would marry after initiation. He would finally have the girl he had pined over from the moment she had helped a shy and terrified ten-year-old when he had been being picked on by others of his faction. Beatrice had stepped in and helped to pick up and give him encouraging and kind words. She didn’t remember him and they never spoke again. He had watched her from afar and fantasized about her and him being the very best of friends. He hit puberty and the dreams changed. He always meant to go to Abnegation because he knew she would be there.

There was only one person that was to blame for that dream being shattered.

Mary Katherine Prior. Kat.

He almost had her that first time. Just a little harder and little longer would have been all it took to squeeze the life out of her. He hadn’t, only because his orders were to bring her to him. Orders that he should have ignored but now it was too late.

There had been a hope when Kat had fought him back in that dorm that she would end him. He had seen it in her eyes. Knew she was capable of it but it was like she had held back. In the end, he knew that there was no getting away, but if he was going to go down he had been hell-bent on at least finishing her off.

Marcus had promised to protect him if he succeeded. He never said what would happen if he failed.

There was the sound of a code being put into the security pad of the room he was in. The door opened and then a procession of bodies started to file in. Mostly black-clad men, a few blue-clad medical professionals and then what he dreaded most….the black and white of Candor.

They circled around him. Surrounding him. The air in the room was already cold, but with the looks he was on the receiving end of as well as the dread that filled him upon a syringe being filled with a familiar colored liquid, it dropped to an arctic level of cold.

“Albert West,” Jack Kang began as he stepped forward. Al swallowed heavily as the nurse with the syringe came over to him and started to push the serum through his IV. “You are being given truth serum and will be questioned in regards to a series of attacks as well as the possibility of aiding in illegal activities and treason.”

He couldn’t believe what was happening. He had been assured that Dauntless wouldn’t investigate any assaults. That it was commonplace enough that it would just be written off. Dauntless prided themselves on handling everything internally, not letting anyone see weakness within and Candor was rarely, to the point of never, becoming involved.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. He tried to protest but it was useless. The questioning began and no matter how hard he tried to stop from telling him the names of everyone involved or what his real motive in everything was, the more violently ill he became. He never could tolerate pain well and broke fast. All resolve to hold the truth in crumbled and he spilled everything.

Al was oblivious to the reactions of those in attendance. He missed the snarls aimed in his direction or the whispered words from one person to another. He missed the strained sharing of glances and the subtle restraining hand upon the arm of the man in black with the maze and symbol forearm tattoos.

Lastly, he missed the lanky frame of Four as he slipped out of the hospital room door with rage and pain in his eyes and the bearing of a man on a mission.

Factionless sector

Third Person

Shadowed figures made their way stealthily through the rough sector of the city. Staying to streets and alleys that had holes in the surveillance cameras Dauntless tried to keep in working order, they moved quickly. It was a small group. Easily able to slip through those holes, especially since it was led by someone who had complete knowledge of them. Regardless of the assurance that the cameras would not capture their activity, the group of five men further concealed themselves with masks of a black wool material drawn over their faces. The only visible feature being the eyes that had cutouts that allowed the wearer to have an unobstructed view. Even the nose and lips were covered with the material being easy to breathe through.

It took some time to pass the sector for the displaced residents of the city. Their real goal was located in the sector of the caretakers of the denizens, Abnegation.

The home they approached in the deep dark of the night was one of the first one came upon as they entered Abnegation. In appearance, it was a mirror of all the others. Grey concrete formed into the uniformly rectangular house. It was slightly larger than all the others. A privilege afforded by the owner's position in the faction.

The placement was also a symbol of position. It stood apart and ahead of the others to signify that above all, the members of that house stood to take care of and sacrifice for the city. It was a belief held as truth by all members of Abnegation. It was also regarded as a convenience that the revered leader was usually the first person sought out by the factionless who wandered into the factions area.

This was also something that the leader of the group used to his advantage and had intimate knowledge of. If they should be seen, it would look just like other similar occurrences did. It would like a group of the poor factionless seeking assistance from the man that had the power and giving nature to provide.

All of that was lies of course. There would be no assistance sought tonight but justice long due being meted out and the man within might have power but giving was not his nature.

Sadistic. Manipulative. Cold.

Those were the words that could describe the man that lay in his bed, unsuspecting that his bill was coming due faster than he could work to make disappear.

Three of the cloaked men remained outside. Posted as lookouts while the other two slipped in the back door. There was a slight hesitation from one of them before he passed over the threshold. His blue eyes widened and looking as if he was moving through a dream or seeing a ghost.

The other man whispers a question. “Are you sure? I can do this if not.”

It snaps the other out of whatever was holding him back and he shakes his head. “No. I need to do this.” He whispers back fervently with a hard edge to his words.

He gets a small firm nod back before he steps in front and leads the way up the stairs. The wind picks up outside, making a whistling, howling sound between the buildings. It is just loud enough to mask any muffled shouts or thudding of bodies that might escape from the thick concrete walls of a house used to masking the pain it had housed within.

#divergent #divergent fanfiction #divergent au #eric coulter fanfiction #eric x oc #romance #angst #tragedy #fluff #smut #eric coulter #oc #tris #four #jai courtney #chloe moretz #shailene woodley #theo james

[5hfanfiction]

FROM AFAR - CHAPTER 10

I obviously had seen Ally drunk before but I’d never seen her that drunk. Right after we came back to our original place Lauren repeated herself saying that she had kissed me. I knew she’d never kissed a girl before just like me, but the difference is that she never wanted to, in contrast to me that had been waiting for that my whole life.

After Lauren’s voice registered in Ally’s mind she decided It was a good idea to kiss me too. Yep, freaking Ally pulled my head and kissed me. It was a brief kiss at first and then she pulled Lauren in and kissed her too and then proceeded to make Lauren kiss me. Dinah was standing next to them and all of us were giggling about what had just happened. Ally decided then that if everybody was kissing, Dinah should be kissing too and we all took turns to kiss her. Kissing Dinah would be weird and I hesitated for a moment, not that kissing Ally and watch her kiss the others was the most normal thing in the world, but everything was already a mess and why would another kiss make a difference anyway? So it just happened fast.

Dinah’s relationship with her boyfriend was the most solid one from all the girls. Even Normani had broken up with hers after we arrived in the U.S., and I’m sure Dinah just got carried in the moment. Well, we all were.

Not satisfied with the recent events, Ally pulled us at the same time and we all kissed together. Us four, and then I guess Dinah’s consciousness hit her and she stayed out of it. Even a girl that was standing near us was really bothered with our little ‘orgy’, but that pissed me up a little bit. Just look the other way if you don’t wanna see a girl kiss another girl, gosh. But then I led the girls to another place. Ally and Lauren were still hitting it up, Lauren was giggling all the time when the situation started to drown on me. They were kissing for a long time but I didn’t want Lauren to kiss anybody. It was fun during our play but it was time to stop.

“Okay guys that’s enough,” I was literally watching their tongues fight in HD and that wasn’t a pleasant view, so I tried to physically separate them and that seemed to work out. I was bothered but I was still smiling. I get really smiley and happy when drunk even during unpleasant situations. They finally stopped for good thank god, and now we all would have to do with our consciousness later.

I didn’t have time to think about all that had happened, all I knew was that it happened so fast it was almost a blur. I had kissed Lauren, Ally and a bit of Dinah in less than a half an hour spam, and before that I hadn’t even kissed a girl. When I planned on doing something that night I surely didn’t imagine that all of that would happen.

After our excitement calmed down a bit, all I could think of was Lauren. Our kiss had finally happened, and even we kissing during Ally’s play, I still wasn’t satisfied. That’s why I pulled her in again, but this time our kisses were different. They weren’t sloppy and hurried, we weren’t giggling and it wasn’t a joke anymore. Those type of kisses were never meant for me and Lauren anyway. She wasn’t just another person I was kissing at a party, sometimes without even knowing their names. That was Lauren Jauregui, I knew her. I knew about her family and her dogs. About the music she liked and the type of clothes she wore, that she loved children and that her favorite movie was Fast and Furious. I also knew about the countless times I had wanted to kiss her and never had the balls to do it and the kisses we had shared to that point wouldn’t do my feelings justice. I needed to show my feelings through our kisses, to let her know that that’s what I’ve always wanted to do and that she had no idea what she was doing to me, because I was too coward to confront her about it, and only god knew what would happen when the alcohol in our blood didn’t pull an effect anymore. So that’s what I did.

I kissed her more and more because I couldn’t stop kissing her. I wanted Lauren’s lips slow and fast, gentle and rough, I wanted all those sensations imprinted in my mind to never forget because I didn’t know what the future would be like.

The girls, unaware of what those kisses meant to us, didn’t understand any of it. Well, Dinah didn’t, because Ally was nowhere near sober and had other kisses to share with strangers.

“Stop kissing guys, you’re gonna regret it later,” Dinah could easily be right about it, chances were we were going to regret it at some point, the future was uncertain. That’s why I wanted to extend it for as much as I could because it was too good to be true. I was in cloud nine. During the little breaks between our kisses I would look away, too shy to look Lauren in the eyes, although I made sure to glare deep into those green orbs right before every time our mouths devoured each other, it was impossible for me to hide the desire I felt. It was like every time we kissed the world around us didn’t exist, it was lustful and loving all at once. I might have been experiencing the famous butterflies in the stomach for all I know. I had initiated our very first kiss and the one after Ally’s orgy, as I like to call it, but the fact that Lauren pulled me in too made me happy.

The urge to kiss her was unbearable during the whole night, but I was afraid to try to kiss her all the time and come out as desperate. Lauren was standing in front of me when I reached for her ear and grabbed her earlobe between my lips as an attempt to initiate something. She turned her head pretty quick not expecting my move and her earring fell off in my mouth.

“What the hell, Camila,” Lauren screamed not amused with what had just happened.

“Fuck, it’s not my fault that you turned your head that fast, what the fuck,” I was giggling because that kind of situation would only happen to me, of course. Not to mention it totally ruined the mood and the courage I had been building up during the ten minutes previous to the event. I managed to put Lauren’s earring in my pocket, at least it didn’t fell on the floor, that was a good thing I guess. I knew Lauren wasn’t mad at me though, she was probably laughing at my stupidity and I was mostly embarrassed at myself for being so lame to be honest. But that didn’t ruin our next kisses.

Through the whole night Lauren was basically glued to me. Our kisses turned into little make out sessions. My hands would roam around Lauren’s back and neck, her nails scratching my lower back. I was trying my best to pour my feelings into those kisses. I could hear Dinah telling people off around us, probably straight men that get turned on by girls kissing. Typical man. At this point she had giving up telling us to stop, she could see we wouldn’t listen to her anyway, at least it seemed that Lauren and I were on the same page.

By the time Skrillex came in it was about three in the morning. We were all exhausted at that point but Dinah was in full force. I spent most of his set resting against a wall with Ally and Lauren shielding me from the world, apparently they thought I wasn’t feeling well but it was just tiredness. It felt good to have Lauren looking out for me, and even Ally after she hooked up with half of the people there was worned out.  

When the time to leave came I picked Lauren’s hand to guide her through the crowd with the girls following us close behind.

“Okay guys, the party was awesome but what happened here have to stay here, this night has to be forgotten,” once outside, Dinah put it out. I had to let go of Lauren’s hand to not look suspicious but me and her just walked in silence especially after what Dinah had said. I didn’t want to forget about happened, at least the ‘Lauren’ part. Dinah spoke as if what went on that night was ridiculous, but again she didn’t know about me and Lauren.

“I had to fight some guys that wanted to record you kissing, stupid assholes,” Dinah went on, but at least this time she said something that didn’t intend to break my heart.

“Thanks, DJ”

We had to take an uber to get to the bus station, we still had a few hours of waiting for the first bus in the morning. I hadn’t spoken properly to Lauren since we left the party but I guess there was nothing to talk about, not in that moment. Lauren caught me by surprise when I was walking a little ahead from the rest of them, trying to make sense of all the events. I had my hand in the pockets of my coat because it was cold, when Lauren caught up to me and linked our arms together.

And that particular moment was the first time I genuinely thought the stars were finally lining up in my own sky. We were not drunk anymore and despite what Dinah had said just minutes before about all the messed up stuff we had done that night, Lauren expressed the freedom she has as a human being in approaching me. Friends walk with arms linked all the time, I knew that, but Lauren’s act didn’t came up to me as just a friendly gesture.

Call me delusional.

We didn’t say anything, neither did Ally and Dinah. We just walked through the streets of Manhattan glued together, and as we waited on the floor of the terminal like we had done the first time we visited NYC, Lauren rested her head on my lap and drifted off to sleep as my hands drew patterns on her scalp.

Neither of them knew what that whole night had meant to me, because as much as I was freaking out on the inside, I was acting so nonchalantly about everything as we laughed the rest of the night away.

Once inside the bus we did our usual, me and Lauren sitting together. The only thing we had in mind was sleeping the whole trip home, and I know and can talk for the four of us on that matter. Lauren rested her hand on my knee and closed her eyes, while I fought the urge to hold it. It was barely touching and I could easily be misreading the situation, so I decided to sleep too. My insecurity taking one more opportunity away from my hands. Literally.

#UPDATE #series #AU #slash #camren #caminah #alren #camally #laurinah #dinally #humour #romance fluff #submission #FROM AFAR

[dekumidoriyall]

Hormones are a bitch. Like I understand the cramps (I hate them) I understand the cycle of mother nature. But why the fuck does she have to make me so sexually frustrated omfg. The last three days were almost unbearable but WHATEVER. Anyway. She was actually nice enough this time to wait until I woke up and not just surprise me like last time... >.> So that's a plus. Also these Aleve help tremendously so my cramps aren't killing me rn. The usual fatigueness isn't so bad but probably why I suspect i was able to stay asleep in bed until it was actually light outside. Also ykw let me cuddle him this morning so that was actually kinda nice. It felt like it's been a while. I've just kinda stopped even trying bc he had said he's not like that really. Which is hard to adapt to considering Everytime i spent the night in his bed last year he gave me the impression that he was. But it's okay. Although tbh I probably wouldn't have been as interested in him just cause I'm a touchy feely person with people I am comfortable with. Like Kel I will just randomly hug forever. I literally still give my mom not enough personal space bc I just lay on her on the sofa when watching TV. I get it from that woman actually she spoiled me and my brother with attention and affection tbh. Like she'd always chill with us in bed in the mornings when dad went to practice and when one of us were feeling down she'd literally lie in bed and just like cuddle and play with our hair and let us cry or talk about it or not say anything and just take a nap with us. So I probably just equate physical affection to caring about someone I guess. And it doesn't have to be romantic bc like I said me and Kel are also touchy feely.

So again, it was nice to be able to be close to him instead of all the space between us regularly during the night. I already made my peace with that's how it is and I don't take it personally as much anymore. And I only say as much bc every now and then a small thought does creep into my mind about it and itll linger longer than it should sometimes. But I am getting better at just being like jazz just go to sleep and don't think about it. But I'm not fucking perfect. It used to be one of those things that really mattered to me and the it still kinda does. It's just the association of that with validation that doesn't matter as much, if that makes sense?

Anyway I know I haven't really written much in a while. At least things I'm thinking about and going through and tbh I'm kinda worried about myself lately. I haven't talked to my dad in a bit. And I've texted Kel here and there but haven't hung out. And it's all me. It's not like neither have reached out. I've been finding it harder to want to actually go out. Idk I feel in a rut. And I have to put on this whole facade of acting good and okay and like normal Jazzelle and it's been exhausting tbh. And it's only bc there's nothing to pinpoint to this rut. And some days it's not even like the grey depression I feel it's just I feel apathetic and lethargic. I feel discontent with my body. And don't get me wrong i still feel peace with all of this and God is doing a great work in me. Bc usually this sort of feeling will get me way worse, and the only way I've been able to even get up and out is because He has given me the strength, bc trust me, if I didn't have Him right now I would not have any strength my physical body is tired. My mind is minefield of potentially destructive thoughts. Honestly, I am navigating through it constantly these days but maybe it's cause I saw that sermon about changing the way you think? It's like playing minesweeper. I'm touching tiles I think don't have a bomb and marking the ones I have with red, instead of just clicking around everywhere in my head setting of bombs that set off other bombs. So while I'm exhausted, I still don't consider any of this as bad as how it's been before. I'm actually okay and nothing is particularly bad. There are things my mind wants to convert into bad. As in my mind has a way of making things hurt me more than they were originally intended to or hurt me when it isn't meant that way at all. But luckily I'm slowly getting the hang of choosing to interpret how I take things. Even if the intent is to hurt me, I don't have to accept it. It's a new strategy for me, but I've seen a lot of improvement in January alone. So I hope to keep pushing through February even better AND I THInk it will be. I pray it will be. Just bc January started out so piss poor and it literally just gradually got a tiny bit better in the last two weeks (backseat DJs is a LIFE changer) so I know if I keep focusing on Him, and all things good and pure and lovely and true and authentic, that his peace will provide me with a way. I don't know that I'll 100 percent ever be better but I am better equipped already to not lose those battles i thought I could never win. Like God didn't give us a spirit of fear or depression or anxiety He doesn't want that for me. And he's provided me with strength and resilience and self control and love and mercy and Grace and joy and peace and truth. I heard something about how all the devil has got to do is get you focused on yourself and your problems to take your eyes off Him, but I can tell you when my eyes are off Him, and the joy set before me, I might as well build my house with feathers bc that's how quickly I'm blown away. But when I focus on him and who he says I am in these moments I am not defeated. Not by my own personal monsters. Not by the devil. Not by anyone or anything. When my eyes are on him, my feet are on the Rock. So whatever this shit is that I feel I'm not gonna go clicking grey tiles. I'm just gonna click the white flagged ones and keep on going.

#personal #faith #mind dump #pms