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this-is-spn20 · 3 years

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FLUFF ALPHABET! Sam Winchester!

A/N: Here’s Sammy boy! My small adorable baby! Let me know what you guys think about this!

-Marissa

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A ctivities- What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Sam is a pretty laid-back man. When he sees a chance at relaxing with you, he snatches as quickly as possible. Whether it’s just walking or driving around towns, going to the local library (cause God knows the only book they have at the bunker are the Wizard of Oz books, and the men of letters’ books.), to looking up fun recipes to try with you. The man will always keep you occupied!

B eauty- What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Sam likes that despite you being very soft-spoken, you’re nowhere near dumb. You’re also very confident. Of course, you’ll still ask Sam what he thinks if you piece together a somewhat bold outfit. But you might as well call him Bruno Mars cause- well you know.

I feel like if you are an artist of some sort, he might decide to pick up your art of choice as a hobby for when he has no research or hunts. Maybe if you draw, he’ll buy both of you sketchbooks and pencils. Or if you use a tablet he might buy you a better one. He’ll try doing simple drawings to start off with a tree or two. An eye here and there. He struggling and he’s probably gonna get a bit upset with himself if his skills don’t pick up like yours. But he’s trying really hard! If you like making music, he might ask you to play guitar. He might even ask you to teach him how to sing! But be patient, he can barely carry a tune but he’s so happy to learn! Might take him almost a year to get the hang of it, but once he does, he is an absolute Beast with some strings!

C omfort- How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Sam has anxiety himself so he knows the signs when one is coming on. He’s been around stressful things/people/events all his life. His father was abusive throughout his and Dean’s childhood. When he ran away to go to college, he had to learn to interact with new environments and people. In conclusion, the man KNOWS what anxiety is. And how to handle it. He’ll have you sit down and close your eyes. He won’t touch you just in case it makes you more nervous. He’ll breathe slowly with you, serving as a guide to get your bearings. Once you’ve slowed your breathing he knows you can’t hold anything so he gets you a glass of water with a straw and holds the glass for you. He knows you probably won’t want to eat anything so he just picks you up when you say he can, and brings you to bed, and reads you to sleep while holding you close.

D reams- How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Sam knows for sure he wants to marry you. He also wants kids with you but the risk of being raised in the life he kept him up at night. Now don’t get him wrong, he knows that whatever happens, family will take care of it. They always do. But he’s not sure if that’s a risk worth taking. He just wants to have the apple pie life. He’d kill every monster with his bare hands just to have that with you.

E qual- Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Sam is quite dominant in the relationship. He always takes care of everything for you. He doesn't buy into the stereotype that women should be doing everything for their partners. He tries to help you out with everything and he doesn't take no for an answer. You've known for a while that Sam's love language is Acts of Service. All he's done all his life is help people, so it just seeps into the relationship. Sure he believes that a relationship should be a healthy balance of 50\50, but at the same time, he can't help take over and take care of you. This man is just precious.

F ight- Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Depending on what the fight was about Sam would be pretty open to forgiving you pretty quickly. However sweet Sam can be, if he believes that he has even a pinky toe to stand on in the fight, he’ll stick to it. It’s only when the shouting has gotten too much for you that you walk away that he may see where you’re coming from. Give him a or two. That way you both had time to cool down. You’ll spend the rest of the day talking it through, seeing each other’s perspectives. Even if you guys can’t agree with each other, you’ll know how to better handle the situation next time.

G ratitude- How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Even though he mostly does mundane things for you, you try to help out as much as he’ll let you. For example, if you noticed that he has a lot of research to do, while he’s sleeping or is on a supply run, you’ll continue his research so that he’ll have more time to relax and let loose a bit more. You think he doesn’t notice but he does, and he appreciates it. It makes him feel like he hasn’t been ‘slacking off’, or that he hasn’t wasted too much time doing other things. Sometimes you’ll even finish the research and he’ll have nothing much to do for a while. Except relaxing with you of course!

H onesty- Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Sam doesn’t have to hide much from you. You’re a damn good hunter. He would even go as far as to say you were better than him and Dean. He knows damn well you can take care of yourself and that you don’t like being babied often. He knows your secrets as well as you know his. It takes a big weight off his shoulders, knowing he doesn’t have to hide who he is with you.

I nspiration- Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

You were always an adventurous and carefree person. You always had a hard time balancing fun and work. Sometimes it got you into trouble. Sam noticed this when you two first met and as your relationship got more serious and tried to help you with the balence. By all means you aren’t magically better, but you’re learning. Sam on the other hand, had the same issue. The work and fun balance is a tricky one to master. You help Sam have more fun, like you he’s getting better at having more fun. But again it’s not going to happen overnight. Oh and you eat a salad of two once a month now!

J ealousy- Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

On the rare occasion the Sam gets extremely jealous, it's usually when someone tries to touch. Regardless of whether you let it happen (for fun) or not, he can’t help himself. He wants you all to himself. No Sharing!!

K iss- Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Sam is a very good kisser. He always kisses you like he hasn’t seen you in years. Most of the time his kisses are very rough but intimate. The first kiss was after four dates. Yes that’s a long time but you wanted to make sure you did this right with Sam. Plus he reassured you that he’d wait as long as you wanted to. You were sitting next to Sam in the Library doing some light research since most of it had gotten done earlier that week. The tension had been building up all week, you were finally ready to kiss Sam. Despite this not being your first kiss, you hadn’t kissed many people so understandably, you were nervous. You reached your arm over his and gently closed his laptop and angled your body toward his. You leaned over to him slowly, creeping your hand to his shoulder and finally your lips connected. Sam’s hand softly grabbed your hand on his shoulder and you both stayed like that until you both needed air. That was one of, if not, the most intimate moment you’ve had with Sam so far.

L ove Confession- How would they confess to their s/o?

Sam would be a bundle of nerves when he tries to confess. He’s tried to do it at least three times but each time he either got too nervous or something would interrupt him. Eventually settled for being simple, yet intimate. He had invited you to come to the library with him to sit and read for a while. It was about an hour and a half of you both being immersed in your own books that he told you he was going to the coffee shop in the bookstore to get a coffee. He got you your favorite drink. He had the barista give him a sharpie before they made your drink, then he wrote his message to you and bought you the drink when the order was done. You could see Sam was shaking and fidgeting but you couldn’t tell why.You figured you’d let him tell you when he’s ready. If only you know. You were only a few sips into your drink when you noticed some writing on the cup. Curious, you read the message which read;

(Y/n), I have loved you from the best of times to the worst. Would you do the honor of going on a date with me?

-Sam

You sat up, a bit stunned. You looked at Sam to see him smiling shyly at you. You couldn’t do much but giggle and nod at the giant softie.

M arriage- Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Marriage is something Sam and you have talked a lot about it. You two know you definitely want to get married but the question was when. You want to do it sooner rather than later. While Sam agrees, he also feels like that it should be a sign of both of you leaving life for good. Sam is a very nostalgic person, which means he’ll most likely recreate him asking you out and your first date. At the end of the night he’d get down on one knee and before he gets to say one word you burst into tears. When he finishes his speech, you of course say yes and the night continues...elsewhere.

N icknames- What do they call their s/o?

Sugar is used more often than not. Baby and babygirl are pretty prevalent. Honey Bunch is used less but when he does call you that usually puppy dog eyes are shortly behind.

O n Cloud Nine- What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

When Sam is in love it’s less obvious to everyone, but if they know Sam, they’ll notice the little things. Things like Sam now has permanent smile lines and his shoulders don’t hold so much tension anymore. If you didn’t come on a hunt with him and Dean he always has Dean stop off to get a bouquet of flowers. Of course he gets shit from Dean but he still does it everytime cause he is a good big brother.

P DA- Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

While Sam will let anyone know that you’re together (if need be), he’s pretty subtle about it. There is the subtle hand on your thigh or around your waist. Maybe a little quick forehead kiss but other than that unless they knew you, someone wouldn’t be able to guess you two are together.

Q uirk- Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Sam has this really deep, rich, raspy type of voice. That makes him the BEST narrator ever! He often reads you to sleep when you two spend a lazy night in or if you have a nightmare. He’s there with a book you’ve been reading and he reads you a chapter or two before you’re out like a light.

R omance- How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Sam is the KING of romance. When he plans something for you, he goes all out! When it comes to making you happy, he’ll do whatever it takes. There are almost no limits to his love. He lives by the term “Happy Wife, Happy Life.”. Sam is pretty nostalgic so he’ll be cliche, but he’ll be creative and add his own twist to it! So you could say he’s pretty creative.

S upport- Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Sam loves learning about your goals and helping you achieve them. If you have 5 different goals, he's all there for you, helping you learn ways to achieve them quicker. If you want to. If you feel like those goals are impossible to reach, he’s there to help you see nothing’s impossible.

T hrill- Do they need to try out new things to spice up your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

While Sam likes to have a solid routine, he tries to keep things *spicy* when it comes to your relationship. Whether it's something mundane or outrageous, you and Sam try your best to keep things fun for the both of you.

U nderstanding- How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

You and Sam know each other so well it's gotten to the point where if you or him need something, you know what’s needed and how much before the other even opened their mouth. When this happens, Dean just kinda stares at the both of you with a “what the actual fuck?’ look.

Sam: *sees you walking into the kitchen* Hey babe we-

Y/N: We need to get some milk today. You wanna leave at 11?

Sam: *goes back to drinking his coffee* Yep.

Dean: *freaking the fuck out*

V alue- How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Sam knew from the first date that his life would be in your hands. He trusts you with everything he has. What’s your relationship worth to him? More than any diamonds, jewels, or power. Nothing can ever be worth more than you.

W ild Card- A random Fluff Headcanon.

Sam took you to an event at a bar one night for a date. The theme that night was ‘50’s and 60’s dance night!’ He bought you a dress that would be worn in that era and he wore his brand new tux he bought, just for tonight. Just for you. Your feet were screaming in your heels but you and Sam were having too much fun to leave the dance floor. When you guys got home that night Sam gave you the BEST foot rub ever.

X OXO- Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

In private, Sam will smother you with kisses and cuddles. The man can almost never let you go. The poor touch starved baby.

Y earning- How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Sam likes to log in to your Spotify, he knows most likely wherever you are, you’re listening to your music. He likes to listen to your playlists with you. It makes him feel closer to you.

(He’ll never admit it but you have better taste in music than him.)

Z eal- Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

It’ll be a close call but if he had to choose to save Dean or you, he’d choose you. It’d break him for a while, but he knows his brother wants him to have the apple pie life with you. And in the end, he’d always do it. No matter how hard it’d be for him and you every time, he wouldn’t change a thing.

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A/N: Thank you guys for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. Requests are always open!

Spread Love!

-Marissa

#Sam Winchester #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x you #dean winchester #supernatural imagines #supernatural

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noyasboxdye · 3 years

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Waiting- Tanaka Ryunosuke

Notes: I can't really say to much with out telling the story so just have fun reading.

Pairing: Tanaka Ryunosuke x Male! Reader

WARNINGS: none it’s fluff

You and Tanaka have been best friends since you were in about second grade. He's always been there for you didn't matter what the situation was. He was your life line and you were his. So when you started distancing yourself from him he took it really hard. It's not like you were trying to hurt him you thought it was the best option for him. He was focusing on volleyball and his grades so he could get into his dream school and you were a 'distraction'.

But after two painfully slow and extremely boring weeks he had, had enough. He decided that he was going to find you and talk to you and get you to talk back since the last time he tried to talk to you, you didn't say anything you only stared at the floor while trying to move around him.

He was over it. Yes he had his friends like Noya, Hinata, and the others but it just wasn't the same. He needs you, you're his best friend the longest you guys have gone with out seeing each other was three and a half days because he went on a family bonding camping trip but even then he still called everyday.

Tanaka was fidgeting around in his seat staring at the clock as if it'll somehow magically move faster. The seconds felt like minutes and the minutes felt like hours. But finally after 50 minutes of listening to his Spanish teacher explain the rules for his assignment the bell finally rang for lunch, he could finally try and talk to you and see why you've been avoiding him. He thought you just needed space but usually that only last like a school day and then you both FaceTime or text all night after finishing homework.

Quickly standing up putting his books in his next class so he doesn't have to rush getting his things out of his locker he finally makes it down the flights of stairs and speed walks to the doors of the lunch room waiting for you to pass by him.

Finally seeing you be quickly grabs your arm takes you under the stair case and traps you into the corner not giving you a chance to escape. You know you can't but you try anyways.

'jeez dude really don't want to see me that bad'

"Could you move please" you mumble while looking at the floor. "No. " he says while crossing his arms. "What?" you say as you look up. "No, I'm not leaving until you tell me why you're avoiding me !" he says with an annoyingly determined look on his face. "I'm not avoiding you... " you mumble looking back down. "Yes you are dude we literally haven't talked in or out of school in two weeks" he says holding up his fingers showing you the number two. "Well -... I've.. been busy more or less. " you say looking down again. "No you haven't I know your schedule like the back of my hand and you know mines! You're avoiding me so tell me why and no lying!" he says like a parent scolding their kid. He waits for you to reply and you just stand there and don't say anything. You thought maybe if you just waited for the bell to ring everything would be fine like last time. But Tanaka wouldn't let you do that again, he was going to get you to talk one way or another even if that meant following you home and staying there.

"You can't just stand here and not say anything. I'm gonna get you to talk whether you like it or not. " You can tell that he's not going to let you go so you just decide to tell him. "...go- fine..." " Yes " he says doing a little victory dance. "Well...what...?" you say trying to stall because you really didn't want him to know that you liked him and what not, you thought it was embarrassing because not only did you not know how to control yourself around him but he was straight. You felt like an idiot but now's not really the time for sulking with your huge math test coming up. " Why are you avoiding me" he asked getting straight to the point. You knew it was coming but you were still kind of thrown off by it. Slightly rolling your eyes you say "I told you I've been -" he cuts you off, "Busy yeah yeah. Now what's actually going on, are you like mad at me or something what did I do? " he said getting a little sad at the thought of his best friend being mad at him for unknown reasons. "No, not at all I could never be mad at you bubs." you say feeling guilty. "So then what?" he says. He was getting impatient there was only so much time before you both had to go to class and he didn't know if he would get an opportunity to talk to you like this again any time soon. "Uhm- I'm giving you space because you said that you we're trying to get in to that volleyball program for your college application (idk if it's actually called that I just pulled that out of my ass lol) I didn't want to be a distraction." you said regretting telling him the truth. "You're not a distraction (M/N) I don't know why you thought that." he said getting closer. "Well didn't you bomb your test because of me..." you said like it was obvious. "What-... no. I bombed my test because I didn't study and I ended up falling asleep, but that was because I was binge watching assassination classroom with Noya. We gave up on studying so I wasn't prepared either way.

You were relieved. I mean you still were going to avoid him because you're like head over heals for this boy but still at least you know that him failing wasn't your fault. Well now we have to think of another excuse instead of you liking him, maybe you'll try out for a sport. Maybe swim that seemed like a good sport ran from 3:40- 6:00 then your schedule would be full and then Tanaka would leave you alone.

"So can we hang out today? You don't have anything to do." he says with a hopeful glint in his eye. You couldn't say no not while he was looking at you like that and you just cleared things up... kind of. "Yeah sure! Where do you want to go the movies maybe? I don't have any homework today." you say while thinking about how much you missed him. "Yeah sure and we can get food after!" Tanaka says jumping a little while you giggled at his movements. "Ok meet me outside after school we can drop off our bookbags at my house and then we'll go." he says while smiling with the faintest blush on his cheeks. "Ok see you after science.

••time skip>••

The school day was over and you were at your locker grabbing the things that you need to take home. You grabbed your things and walked out to the front of the school to meet up with Tanaka. You really didn't know how you were going to make it through this afternoon and probably evening with him. "(M/N)" you turned your head towards Tanaka and smiled. He really did make you happy. You hated that you couldn't be around him with out blushing, getting flustered, or over thinking. He was perfect. He really could do everything and flawlessly.

"Hey Tanaka!" you say while running up to him. "So where do you want to go? Still want to do the movies?" he asks looking at you. "Yeah sure I'm up up for the movies. You want to eat before or after?" you ask. "Uhm-... I don't really care we can do what you want to." he says rubbing the back of his neck. "Ok maybe we can eat before and then watch the movie. What do you want to watch?" you say kind of unsure about yourself. "Maybe we can go see (F/M)?" he asks while you guys turn down his street. "Oh yeah sure."

It had felt like so long since you both hung out. It was refreshing being with him again he was like a breath of fresh air for you after stressing about homework, grades, projects, and things like that- basically school as a whole- he was like reminder that everything was going to be ok and that its fine to take breaks (you tend to over work yourself). It was one of the reasons you liked him.

"Come on!" he says as he turns on to his lawn. You hum in acknowledgement as you follow him. "You can put your stuff in my room. Do you want or need anything before we go?" he asks opening his door and walking towards his closet. "No, thanks though." you say putting your bag down next to his bed. "Ok well I'm gonna change my shirt and grab a jacket." he says taking his shirt off and you blushing like a mad man. "Take one of my hoodies if you want I know how easily you get cold and how cold it can get in the movie theatres." he says looking for a new shirt. "Oh ok thanks dude." you say walking towards his closet and going through it finding one that you liked. "He should we pack a bag? Like with blankets and our own snacks and stuff." he says putting on his signature cologne and grabbing his jacket. "Yeah I think we should. I don't want to pay 20 dollars for 3 boxes of candy when I can get them for four at dollar tree." you say while finally finding a hoodie that you liked and putting it on.

You were going insane while packing the bag. every time you moved his hoodie scent made its way into your nose, you absolutely loved it. The nice smooth vanilla scent with hints of honey and mint it was paradise for you. You were seconds away from loosing it and squealing. I mean like you wouldn't because you would probably never be able to look at him again but still you get the point. He dumped a whole bunch of candy on the bed and said "there now we don't need to buy candy" while looking proud of himself. "Holy crap dude where'd you get this?!" his mom never let him eat a lot of candy so him having this much surprised you. "Secret stash. I've been saving it and buy it then not eating it. Specifically for occasions like this so I don't have to spend as much money.

You put the candy at the bottom of the bag then blankets, your chargers, and water bottles for the both of you. He walks up to the door and sticks his head out of it "SAEKO!!" you flinched slightly being caught off guard. "WHAT" you didn't even know she was home. "TAKE ME AND (M/N) TO THE MOVIES" he says sticking his head back in the room. "Are we sure that's the safest option?" you say feeling unsure about being in the same car as her while it's on and she's in the drivers seat. "I mean no it's not but like it'll be fine and plus would you really rather walk almost twenty minutes with this bag than let her drive us?" he says while zipping up the bag and and putting it on his arm. "Yes. Yes I would rather walk than be in a car with her driving have you seen her drive?" you say while laughing a bit. "Um no slandering my driving its immaculate." she says walking in. "Shawty bae... now you know that that's a damn lie." you say holding in laughter. "Well I think her driving is fine" Tanaka says grabbing you and Saeko's hand and walking out of his room into the kitchen to fill up the water bottle's.

Time skip

After telling Saeko thank for taking you too to the mall you both get out of the car and go inside. You still had time before the movie and were both really hungry you went to (F/R) waited for the waiters to take you to your seat. "So what are you gonna get?" Tanaka says finally breaking the silence. "Oh um I don't know maybe (F/F) still trying to decide." you say looking up at him from your phone putting it away from texting your (P/F) that you might bee home later than usual since it was already starting to get a little dark out. "Hello, I can take you to your table now" the waiter says as Tanaka goes to stand next to you an grab your hand. "Ok thank you." you say blush at the contact, it seemed like he was blushing but you brushed it off as the lighting of the restaurants lighting. You sit in your seat and say a quick thank you to the waiter as he handed you your menu. "Hi my name is Mafuyu and I'll be your waiter today, can I start you off with some drinks or do you need a minute?" the waiter says smiling and pulling out his notepad. "You can go first." Tanaka says putting his menu down with a small smile and a hint of blush on his cheeks.

Tanaka's POV

I'm going to confess to them tonight. I was suppose to a while back but I chickened out and then they started avoiding me so that made it harder, but I'm for sure going to do it tonight no matter what. I told Noya so he knows, he said that if they rejected me that he had ice cream, candy, and Attack on Titan ready for me to come over all I had to do was be there.

I think they like me back I could be wrong though they don't really talk about there emotions and stuff. But I'd like to think that I'm pretty good at reading them. They said yes to hanging out which I thought they were going to say no to but didn't which is good so phase one of the plan is complete. Next phase is to make them get that happy glow that they get when they're really happy and comfortable around someone. I really like when that happens they're like-...ok you know those super cute, calming and aesthetic cottage core videos on tiktok where they like wear the pretty dresses and the elf ears and are really pretty and they make you feel fuzzy and warm on the inside? Yeah that's what they're like but better.

The waiter guy is flirting with them you can tell. (M/N) probably just doesn't care or isn't thinking of it in that way. "-naka, Tanaka! Jeez dude you were like super zoned out, anyways what do you want to drink?" (M/N) says while giggling. "Oh sorry a loganberry will be fine." I'm literally so freaking embarrassed right now what the fuck.

"Would you like bread while you wait?" Mafuyu says looking up from his notepad. "Do you want bread" (M/N) asks looking down from the waiter to me. "Yeah we can get bread I don't really care" I say as I shrug my shoulders. "Ok then yea we'll get bread." (M/N) smiles at the waiter as he says that, god they're so pretty what the fuck. "Alrighty~... I'm gonna go get your drinks and bread and I'll be right back. "Ok thank you." (M/N) says going to look back at me. I look up from the table and see them blushing. I wonder if they think that Mafuyu guy is cute, maybe I mean he wasn't ugly he was pretty good looking and it did seem like he had a bit of muscle not a lot but enough to be able to throw a good punch. I notice (M/N) look up at me and "Thank you..." he said. What. "Why're you saying thank you" this really wasn't making sense I didn't even do anything for them to say thanks... well not that I know of. "For following me around and not letting me avoid you. I appreciate it, didn't know how much I missed you." I'm going to combust. Holy shat! They- He- I- HFRNJRSBRB!!! I probably look like a fire hydrant right now. "Oh- um you're welcome! It no big deal really I just missed you and didn't know what was going on hahah." I sound so awkward oh my god I'm embarrassing myself. Ok Noya said be fresh cut swag.

"Here are your drinks, bread, and butter. Are you ready to order or do you need a minute?" the waiters back I really don't like him. He keeps flirting with (M/N) and I mean like its not like (M/N) knows, and they would probably say no if he just asked like randomly and (M/N) isn't like prepared or anything or like doesn't know he's flirting with him. "-and what would you like to order sir?" I look up at the waiter, I mean if (M/N) did date him I could see why he's pretty cute and seems nice but that's also his job as a waiter so- "can I get a bacon cheese burger with a side of fries, Please." I smile at him as he writes my order down. "Is there anything else you'd like" Mafuyu asks looking in-between the both of us. "Yes, please instead of putting the pickles on the sandwich can you put them in a little container please. Oh- and can I get blue cheese with my burger. If it's not to much." I say. "Oh absolutely no problem, is that all?" he says writing in his notepad.

"Is that all?" Mafuyu says looking at (M/N). "No I don't want anything else, thank you though!" (M/N) says smiling and going to take a sip out of his drink. Mafuyu walks away putting his notepad in his pocket. "So what time does the movie start?" (M/N) says going to grab a biscuit and put butter on it. (sorry if you don't eat bread lol) "It starts at 9:30... it's 7:00 now so we should have enough time to walk around a little before the movies if you want." I say while eating my bread. "Ok." its kind of awkward right now... I'm just going to- "I'm washing me and clothes" I say while looking down. "To put a fucking story short I shoved a whole bag a jelly beans up my ass, an' it's 24 hours later an' I ain't find nun yet" He said looking up at me grinning widely. "You think those jelly beans ever come outta her ass?" I say looking back at him. "I don't know but I'm finna try and find out" (M/N) grabs his phone and sits there for like five minutes. "So- I can't find anything on it but I think she did...because she could like shat them out or like go to the doctors... I don't know- anyways...-" he says looking up from his phone.

Mafuyu comes up to the table asks if we want more bread and gives something to (M/N) smiles and walks away. "Oh my fucking god what fuck-... uhm... shit." (M/N) says with a panicked look on his face as he turns to I'm assuming look for Mafuyu. "What- what's wrong?!" I say worried. "Uhm- fuck-... he gave me his number! And I like someone!...What the fuck do I do with this?!" he says whispering a little. " I mean I don't fucking know give it back maybe...? You could always throw it away if you don't want to tell him." I say trying not to think about how I'm basically fuming at the fact that 1.) Mafuyu FUCKING hit on him!! 2.) he likes someone and I'm like 85% sure it's not me ugghhh. "Well obviously I can't do that, that's like mean! I'll just tell him- yeah it'll be fine just- tell him." he says starting to calm down and get blush a little. "Yeah and plus if he's a douche I can always fight him.." I say starting to feel a little better about the situation.

Time skip about 15 minutes

"Hello! Here is your (F/F) and here, is your burger with... the.. sides." he says sticking his tongue out looking determined. "Hey um thank you so much for the meal and stuff, but I'm... not interested so... take your number back." (M/N) says while slightly cringing and flinching when Mafuyu chuckles to himself. " oh my god no- please this is so embarrassing crap. Uhm I wasn't trying to flirt I just wanted to be your friend but didn't know how to ask shit- I should've put context- fuck-... I have a boyfriend.. plus I'm not a home wrecker I wouldn't try to ruin your date with your boyfriend please I feel so stupid. I'm sorry jesus christ I'm dumb." Oh- well it's fine... sorry haheh. And we aren't dating he's straight." (M/N) says smile getting smaller a bit. "Oh I'm so sorry jeez you both just were looking at each other like you were in love and he was holding your hand when you first walked in so I just assumed sorry-...! "Oh no it's fine we get it a lot anyways it's kind of funny to me.

Damn, that shit hurt. Yeah I'm totally going to tell him when the night's over because friend zoning dude really ?

After everything cleared up with Mafuyu we ate our food and left. We were walking around the mall going into different stores and getting things. "You want it?" Tanaka says noticing (M/N) looking at a vinyl by (F/S). "Oh umm yeah, but I don't have the money for it." you say looking down and going to look at different clothes. "Okay." he says going to look for new beanies. After walking around for about 15 minutes you both decided that you were ready to leave and start walking towards the movie theatre. You and Tanaka walked up to the cash register. Putting your things on the counter while the cashier scans your stuff. After the cashier finishes ringing your stuff up and Tanaka put his things down he did a awkward speed walk straight towards the section of vinyl's grabbed the one he was looking for and ran back.

"Sorry just had to grab one more thing." he says putting the vinyl you were telling him about earlier on the counter and pulling out his wallet. "No problem sir" the cashier says continuing to scan his things. Putting the clothes, vinyl's, and other random things in bags Tanaka grabs his bags off of the counter and bids a good day and farewell to the cashier, grabbing your hand and practically skipping out of the store. Getting on the escalader and rummaging in his bag he grabs the vinyl and pushes it towards you. "What?" you say confused on what to do with the 1931 edition of a CD. "Here. Take it. It's yours, you were saying how you wanted it but didn't have the money so... I got it for you. So take it." he says pushing the vinyl further towards you.

"You really shouldn't have. It was honestly no big deal like I would've been fine without it, I would've just bought it another time honestly-." you say rambling a bit. "Hey it's fine! I wanted to so don't worry about it too much." he says rubbing the back of his neck with a faint blush on cheeks. "Oh um ok... thanks then..!" you say looking at the floor while feeling your cheeks warm up. "Yeah it's no problem!" he says as you two step off of the escalator, walking towards the theatre.

While standing in line to get your tickets you say "which vinyl did you get?" Tanaka turns towards you while stepping forward and says "I got Tyler's flower boy and cherry bomb albums" hearing this your eyes light up and you reply with "dude we got to listen to them when you get home oh my god!" Tyler was one of the main reasons you and Tanaka were best friends. Well Tyler and the banana fish manga. (if you don't like tyler the creator then pick another artist this is just a head canon lol)

Flash Back

"Hey do you know where the manga section is?" you say walking up to the blond haired boy. You were new to the school and didn't know where anything was. The school was like a maze and everything seemed so far from each other. "Yeah, follow me!" the boy says practically skipping and running on his way there. The library was bigger than you thought it would be, your old schools library was nothing compared to this one. "So you like anime huh..." the tan skin boy says. "Yeah it's really cool." you say looking down the aisles for the yellow book with bold black letters.

"So what you looking for, I might be able to help you find it." he says walking closer next to you. "Oh no it's fine you don't have to!" you shaking your hands in front of you. "No really I want to plus your new your going to need help with stuff anyways!" he says in a semi hyper tone. "Okay well it's called banana fish and it has a yellow cover-" you say before getting cut off. "You sure that you want that book." he says looking at you with wide eyes. "Yeah, I got books 1 through 10 but I can't find the others." you say continuing to scan the shelves. "Well the books are over here... I don't know if they have 11 though it might be being used." he says walking to the next aisle as you follow him looking at all the other books they had. "Ummm yeah. Here!" he says holding books 11 and 12 in his hands shoving them towards you. "Oh thanks!... well I have to start heading to my next class so uhm... bye! Have a nice day!" you say walking towards the lady at the front desk to check out the books that you had been searching for, for what felt like like all of eternity.

"Hey, I can take you to your class if you'd like." the newly met male says while you both walk out of the library doors together. "Well I mean I wouldn't want you to be late because of me." you say continuing to walk. "Its fine and we're going in the same direction anyways- well I'm assuming." he says both of you turning the corner. "So what class do you have?" the blond hair male says turning his head towards you.

"Um I have chem." you say looking at your schedule to be sure. "Same! Which teacher?" he says smiling. "Oh I have Mr. McGill." you say hesitantly while checking your schedule once again. "I have him too, I can totally show you if you want." he says perking up a bit. "Yeah sure! Also, what's your name? I never got it." you say stopping in front of the classroom door and resting your hand on the handle. "Oh sorry heheh I'm Tanaka... and you are..." he says nodding his head your way. "I'm (M/N) nice to officially meet you, Tanaka." you say smiling. "Yeah, nice to meet you too." Tanaka says staring into your eyes.

Real Time

"-(/N)! (M/N)!... you zoned out there for a sec, come on." Tanaka says reaching for your hand and pulling you towards the doors that lead you to the lobby and the usher who's waiting to take peoples tickets. "Sorry, I just got lost in thought you explain as you look for (F/C) as Tanaka tried to decide on which ICEE flavour to get.

Walking up to the counter Tanaka asks "hey which flavour should I get?" replying you say "Well your going to get coca cola and cherry mix anyways so why ask?" "You know-... you're right. And why do I ask...? I do it every time we go to the movies." he says you both waiting for the woman in front of you to finish ordering her stuff. "I honestly don't know. But which should I get?" you say watching the lady leave letting Tanaka order for the both of you. Ordering your own food was never really for you.

After ordering snacks paying for them (obviously) and going to meet the usher so you can watch the movie, you both walk into the theatre noticing that there were very few people in the theatre. "You would think that that there would be more people considering its new." you say whispering to Tanaka while trying to find your seats. "Yeah but maybe we're just early." he says sitting in his seat and getting comfortable. "Dude... the previews are over now people just aren't watching the movie." you say going for the big container of popcorn. "I missed this... like hanging out with you like this." he says smiling at you. You becoming grateful that you both are in the dark at the feeling of your face heating up and a fierce blush going across your cheeks. (sorry if you're dark skin I know people can't really tell when you're blushing.)

The movie started and you were about 30 minutes into it. Getting some more popcorn you and Tanaka both reach in at the same feeling your hands caress one another. Blushing for what felt like the millionth time you grab the popcorn and shove it in your mouth. Tanaka blushes and mutters a quick sorry. "It's fine." you say grabbing your slushie and taking a sip.

After a while the movie got to the best part and that's when Tanaka decided to be a little bold.

Tanaka's Pov

I'm finally going to make a move. Then hopefully I can have more of a chance with (M/N). Deciding that now would be a good time to act on my idea I grab (M/N)'s hand in one swift movement and intertwining my fingers with theirs rubbing my thumb across the back side of their hand.

They seem a bit- "You okay? Do you want me to let your hand go?" I whispered in a questioning tone worried that they didn't like me holding his hand. "No you're fine. But can I have some of the Twizzlers and sweet tart ropes?" (M/N) whispered. "Yeah here." I state handing him the candy.

I think I might have a pretty good chance with him. But we've always had a touchy relationship so its hard to tell. I really hope that they do though. It would be so fucking embarrassing if I took all his kindness and touchiness the wrong way.

20 Minute Time Skip

Getting our garbage and heading towards the door as the movie plays the credits and closing song. Walking out of the theatre, missing the contact of (M/N)'s soft chubby/slender hands I go to grab (M/N)'s hand. Feeling a chill go up my spine while feeling my face progressively get warmer I ask "You want to spend the night? It's getting late." looking at him. "Yeah it is pretty late I tell my (P/F) that I'm staying the night."

Third Person POV

"They said okay." you say putting your phone in your pocket. "Okay, I texted Saeko and she said she's on her way. She's supposed to be no longer than 15 minutes away." he says checking his phone and going to sit on the bench waiting for the blond haired woman and you following in his footsteps. "Hey so can I talk to you about something..." the usually loud and hyper boy says you barley able to hear him. "Yeah sure what's up?" you say going to face him. "So um I'm Bisexual..." he says neevously playing with his thumbs and avoiding eye contact. "That's so cool dude! I'm glad you felt comfortable enough to tell me!" you say a soft smile on your cheeks.

'Maybe I have more of a chance now... nah prolly not he's fucking whipped for Kiyoko' you think as Tanaka smiles giving you a hug and you doing the same to him. "Thanks dude." he says as his phone notifications goes off and reading the message saying that his older sister is outside waiting for you both. "Hai (M/N)! So how was the date~?" she says a huge smile on her face. "HUH- a date what no- he doesn't like me like that we're friends." you say giggling a bit feeling a slight pain in your chest. You really didn't want to be friends with him but as long as he's in your life you feel s though you'll be fine. "Saeko shut up and take us home." he says rolling his eyes playfully with a small smile as he grabs your hand, once again making you blush.

Arriving home and walking through the door you get a smell of fresh baked cookies. "What's that smell it smell so fucking good oh my god!" you say as you and Tanaka basically sprint into the kitchen. (On a Usain bolt type beat.) "Holy shit they smell so good." Tanaka says mouth watering and going to get a plate to put some on for you both. "Hey- nuh uh no- these aren't for you! Make your own I still have some cookie dough left use that." Saeko says snatching the plate from Tanaka and putting it back in the cabinet after slapping his hand away from the cookies.

"What you making them for cAoCh uKaI~" Tanaka says in a mocking tone. "As a matter of fact yes I did. I owe him and he told me to make him cookies." she says sticking her head up and crossing her arms. "Bleh! Saeko could you please not flirt with him he's my coach dude I thought we agreed people like that were off limits!" Tanaka says in a whiney type voice practically throwing a temper tantrum.

"Oh shut up it's just cookies and plus I'm the older one here so you can't tell me what to do!" Saeko says sticking her tongue out, Tanaka doing the same. "Come on (M/N) we're going up stairs. She's about to start fawning over him" Tanaka says fake gagging while you giggle making your way up the stairs.

After going up stairs you take a shower remembering you didn't have any clothes. "TANAKA~!" you yell opening the door to the bathroom and wrapping your towel around your body and walking towards his room. "Yeah?!" he says opening he door and peaking out of it. "Do you have any clothes?" you say grabbing your leave in conditioner and combing/picking out your hair. "Yeah just pick something out. Anyways I'm gonna go take a shower." he says grabbing his clothes towel and walking out the door.

Coming back in Tanaka flops on his bed scooting next to you resting his head on your shoulder. "What you watching?" he mumbles snuggling more into you. "Twitch." you say resting your head on his. "Oh. Who's that?" he says looking up at you. "Quackity and Corpse." you said. "Oh they're cool." he says. Silence filling the room.

"Hey can we talk?" Tanaka says sounding a bit to serious for your liking. "Uh yeah sure." you say taking your headphone out and sitting up facing him. "So we've been friends for a while now and we're like super close, obviously, and I really like being around you and spending time with you and stuff..." Tanaka says playing with his fingers and hesitating slightly. "Tanaka what's going on? You okay, you bouta like die or something." you say jokingly trying to lighten to mood.

"Okay wait no- so um-... I kind of like... you... romanitcally-" he says avoiding eye contact. "Huh?" you said thinking you miss heard him. "If you don't like me back that's fine. We can pretend I never said anything, I'll just get over it-" he said before you cut him off with a kiss on the cheek, practically looking like a rose. "Um I like you too." you say smiling at him. "Really" the short haired boy looks up at you practically glowing. "Yeah. You wan to go on a date?" you say gushing hard as ever. "Yes!!- I mean yeah sure..." he says scolding himself for not being cool. "Okay." you say smiling at yourself and going to lay back down trying to calm yourself.

"You want to watch something?" he says laying down next to you putting his head back to the spot it was at before. "Yeah... what you want to watch?" you say hugging him. "Wait so I found this girl on Youtube and I know you don't really watch content like hers but she cool as hell. Her Youtube name is liyah li." he says grabbing his remote and opening youtube.

After watching the recommended channel you both went down a rabbit hole watching her videos for a while, finally deciding that you wanted to go to sleep you both put on a random show him holding you in his chest kissing you on the nose and falling asleep with a smile on your faces.

#noyas.works #tanaka ryunosuke #tanaka x male reader #fluff #haikyuu!!#haikyu fluff #haikyu fic #tanaka fluff #hq fluff #pre timeskip

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broadstbroskis · 3 years

Text

thanksgiving | jeff skinner

a/n: it’s here!!! this is like 4k that i threw together in like a week after i took it as a personal challenge from @blueskrugs after i asked why we don’t write more thanksgiving fics. a huge shoutout to her and @danglesnipecelly, for inspiration and cheering me on for this, as well as literally anyone else who’s cheered me on to finish thing, you’re all the real mvps and i love you all 💚

-----

Jeff shrugs, and from across the table filled with pizza, beer, and a bunch of other things that are most definitely not on his approved list of foods, you stare at him.

“I dunno. I don’t really have plans, I guess? Probably just sit at home, relax a little?” He says. Your jaw drops. He has...he has what now? “You're going to your parent’s right?” You nod slowly, still stuck on the fact that he’s going to sit at home and do nothing on Thanksgiving, the best of all holidays. Not spend the day with some teammates, not make a quick trip to his family, nothing. “That’ll be fun!” Jeff grins, dimples popping. “What are you-”

“You’re doing nothing?” You get out finally, the words coming back to you.

Jeff’s smile falters, but only slightly, and he nods. “Yeah? I mean, there’s no practice, no games. I’ll just…” He trails off for a second and then shrugs. “Rest.”

“You’re not going to go, like, visit your parents? They’re right across the border!”

“It’s a Thursday.” Jeff says patiently and you abruptly remember that his Canadian-ness is the whole point of this conversation.

“Thanksgiving is the best holiday! You can’t sit at home alone on it; I forbid it!” Jeff’s smile grows again as he laughs and you try and fight your own grin as you shove at his shoulders, to no avail. “Come home with me!”

“What?” He laughs again, but this time, it’s more like disbelief.

But the idea is already growing in your mind. “Come home with me! You know my parents love you, they won’t mind at all!”

“I can’t just invite myself to your Thanksgiving!” Jeff protests.

You wave him off. “You’re not, I’m inviting you! Come on, we’d love to have you!” He still looks hesitant, so you add, “Our Thanksgiving is huge anyway; one extra mouth to feed isn’t going to put anyone out, Jeff.”

“Alright.” He caves, and you grin, pulling your phone close to you to text your mom and let her know. “But ask your mom, okay? Like, really ask her, don’t just, like, tell her I’m coming.”

“Too late!” You say cheerfully, showing him the text you’d sent in your family group chat, telling them you were bringing Jeff with you next week. Your mom’s already responded with a string of happy face emojis and your younger sister with a How I Met Your Mother gif about Canadian Thanksgiving. “Be prepared for a lot of Canada jokes!”

“Is that supposed to be different than any other time I see your family?’ Jeff deadpans, but you’re pretty sure he looks like, at least 50% more relaxed, so you count this as a win and ignore him completely, already mentally planning for the best holiday of the year.

-----

The drive back home to your parents takes about an hour longer than you’d like, stuck in the same godawful traffic as everyone else trying to leave Buffalo on Wednesday so that they can get back home in time to go out that night.

When Jeff finally pulls his car up in front of your childhood home, you can already see that it’s bustling with activity, getting ready for tomorrow. Most of your siblings have already arrived- only your older brother, with his wife and daughters will come in tomorrow, with the rest of your family- but your younger brother and sister have already come home, a fact that’s even more evident when you and Jeff walk in the front door and immediately trip over three pairs of sneakers.

“Liam!” You cry, grabbing onto Jeff so you don’t fall. “Motherfucker, move your shoes!”

Your brother pops his head out of the living room, AirPods in his ears. “I’m on a call!” And just as you're marveling at the fact that your brother is a real person with a real job taking real work calls, said real person with a real job spots Jeff and lights up. “Jeff! Bro! What’s up, man?”

“I thought you were on a call.” You snap at him.

“I’m on mute.” Liam slaps his palm against Jeff’s pulling him in for a ridiculous handshake-bro hug combo, before he finally comes over and lifts you off the floor. “Yo!”

“Yo!” You repeat, honestly unable to believe you’re related to this kid. If the two of you didn’t look exactly alike, you’d probably think he was adopted. “You still coming out tonight?”

“Hell yeah, this is my last call. I’m ready to go.”

You snicker, looking down at his sweatpants and dress shirt combo- he must have taken a video call at some point today. “Yeah, okay, bud.”

He ruffles your hair, in that annoying way he’s been able to do ever since he grew taller than you. “Don’t you worry, I will be.”

You laugh, ducking under his arm, to let him get back to it. You’ve got no doubts about that. Liam’s always ready to party. “Finish your call so we can start pregaming.”

He grins, like you knew he would. “Now we’re talking.” And then he ducks back into your dad’s office.

Jeff is laughing when you look back at him and you give him a look. “What?”

“Nothing, just forgot how the two of you were when you got going.”

“Yup, and you’re stuck with us for next two days!” You grin.

Jeff rolls his eyes at you, but he’s still smiling when he follows you to the kitchen, in search of your mom. She’s at the counter, rolling dough for biscuits, her only other contribution to the annual Thanksgiving dinner that she hosts, besides the turkey; a holiday that she’d taken over hosting once it had become too much for your grandmother to handle, but only on the caveat that everyone began contributing food toward the meal. It’s been a potluck style holiday ever since.

She’s ultra-focused, the volume on her favorite playlist high (this wild mix of 80’s pop and today’s hits that’s actually kind of a banger), so you sneak up behind her and wrap your arms around her. “Hi!”

“Jesus!” Your mom jumps, elbowing you in the process, but you’re laughing too hard to care. “Don’t do that!”

“Just excited to see you!” You beam at her, squeezing her once more, before pulling away. “Where do you want the pie?” Jeff lifts the pie you’d made yesterday, showing your mom.

Your mom purses her lips, studying the kitchen around her. “Leave it on the counter for now; I’ll have your dad clear some space in the garage.” She gestures with her elbow. “Hi Jeff!”

“Hi!” Jeff pulls out his best smile, a real one, dimples super popped. “Thank you for having me-”

Your mom cuts him off before he can finish, like you knew she would. “Oh, we’re so happy you could make it! You’re welcome anytime, Jeff!” She assures him.

“Is the guest room ready?” You ask. “We’ll throw our stuff upstairs before Dad sees it at the bottom of the steps and has a fit.”

Your mom fights back a laugh at that- a statement that everyone in your family knows all too well-but then looks almost apologetic as she finishes, “It is, but we gave it to Katie.”

“Oh, Katie’s here too?” Your sister’s roommate at college was, at this point, basically another sister to you. She hardly went home for breaks within the semesters, usually came up for at least a month during the summer, and more often than not came home with Abby when she was back for anything. The “guest room” really was more like Katie’s room at this point.

“Where else would she be?” Abby appears, right on cue, with Katie right behind her, practically matching in leggings and oversized sorority shirts. “It’s Thanksgiving; she’s ready to rage tonight.”

You actually can’t wait for the babies to be hungover tomorrow-both were 21 for their first Thanksgiving Eve and you know they’re going to be in a super rough spot tomorrow-but you keep that thought to yourself.

“It didn’t even occur to me!” Your mom says apologetically. “I just gave Katie her usual room.”

“No, it’s cool. Jeff and I can share. He doesn’t mind, right?” But you barely even wait for his shrug and nod in agreement. It’s not like you haven’t before, when you’re either too lazy or too drunk to go home. You’re both adults, it’s no big. “I’ve shared a bed with you before; I’ll spare Katie the bruised shins.” You tease your sister.

Katie cracks up as Abby sputters out how rude you are. “It’s a hazard!” Katie agrees, dodging the swat your sister sends towards her. It sets the two of them off, which you take as your cue to grab Jeff’s hand and drag him (and your stuff) up to your room.

Of course, usually when you’re sharing a bed with Jeff, it’s a king sized bed, or at least a queen- definitely not the double that your parents just shoved in your old room to replace the queen bed that had been in there until you moved out and took your furniture with you. You hadn’t realized how small it was though, not until today, until the idea of actually having to share it with someone, with Jeff, who might not be a giant, but isn’t tiny. “Sorry.” You apologize, almost unsure of what you’re saying.

Jeff shrugs. “Well, at least you don’t kick.” He smiles, as then it’s like everything’s back to normal, that awkward feeling that was growing over you gone as quickly as it came.

“She’s a bruiser, don’t let her tell you otherwise.” You throw your bag down, rifling through it for the sweater you were planning to wear tomorrow, to hang it up so it isn’t too wrinkled.

Jeff laughs. “I’ll take your word for it.” He’s holding up his shirt, a button down and a tie. “Where can I hang this?”

“You can’t wear that!”

He frowns, likely at the vehemence you’d just spoken that with. “Uhh, why not?”

“You’ll get roasted.” Seriously, you’d told him it wasn’t a dressy affair. God, what part of not dressy does he think requires a tie? “Don’t you have, like, a sweater?”

“I mean, yeah, but-”

“Sweater and jeans, that’s fine.”

Jeff gives you a look. “That doesn’t seem-”

“Sweater. And jeans.” You repeat. He’ll thank you tomorrow, when your uncle doesn’t ask him when tea is. When your cousin doesn’t talk to him only in a fake British accent for the entire night.

Jeff hands over a sweater, a soft thing you’ve seen him wear on many occasions, and you smile your thanks at him, hanging it up next to yours. “Meet your standards?” He asks; you think he’s aiming for teasing but he kind of misses the mark, sounding a little more nervous than joking.

“Perfect.” He smiles back at you and you laugh. “Come on, you dork. Let’s go see what’s for dinner tonight.”

-----

“Don’t wake me up when you come in tonight!” Your dad calls, as he drops the five of you off at Mel’s, the bar for Thanksgiving Eve. Your friends are already at the bar, you’re anticipating a high school reunion for sure, and you’ve warned Jeff of this, even though he assured you that he could handle it, and he was just excited for a nice, chill night.

You’d actually laughed out loud at that. Oh Jeffrey.

“Pshh.” Liam waves your dad off. “I haven’t done that since I was like 16 and still having to sneak out.”

Your dad gives him a look. “I was talking to your sister.” He looks over at Abby, who ignores him completely, in favor of taking a SnapChat with Katie, and he sighs resolutely. You all absolutely know she isn’t listening to a word he says. “Have fun, be safe. Uber home.”

Liam salutes him. “Will do.”

Inside the bar, the night starts exactly as you and Liam have started your last few Thanksgiving Eve’s-with a round of shots at the bar as you’re ordering drinks, before splitting off to find your respective friends to start the evening.

Jeff fits in with your friends fantastically, laughing and joking around with them like he’s known them forever, even though you’re sure the only one he’s met is your oldest friend, Ashley. But he greets Ashley and her husband, Brian, like old friends, and quickly joins conversations with all your other friends, and soon hours have passed before your brother is sliding up behind you. “Heads up.” Liam mutters as he passes. “Douche at 3 o’clock.”

You tense as it takes everything in you not to turn and look over. “Hey.” Jeff nudges you, concern clear in his eyes as he looks at you, and you’re not sure what he pulled himself away from, but you must look pretty bad. “You okay?”

You nod, kinda spacily, but leaning in closer to him, and he takes the cue to curl in toward you- you’re not really interested in shouting to the entire bar and you’re really not interested in drawing attention to yourself. “Yeah, just- my ex is over there.”

Jeff purses his lips for a minute and then schools his face back to neutral. “I take it things didn’t end well.”

“No.” You say, thinking of the demise of your relationship with Dylan. “It did not.”

You hadn’t even realized that Jeff grabbed your hand until he’s squeezing it gently. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You shake your head. “It was...definitely for the best.” It might have taken you a while to see that, but you can now, even if the rare instances you still see Dylan sometimes rattles you. “I thought I was going to marry him, at one point, but I’m so much happier here now.”

Jeff smiles. “Good.”

You squeeze his hand once more, a thanks for his comfort and care, before both of you rejoin the conversation, and you forget about Dylan entirely for the next hour, until you physically run into him coming back from the bar with another round of drinks for you and Jeff.

“Hey!” Dylan beams at you, goes right in for a cheek kiss, like you’re still that familiar, and once again you stiffen up.

“Hi.” You return politely, ready to sidestep around him and return to Jeff and your friends.

“No, wait.” Dylan steps with you, blocking your path. “I haven’t seen you in forever. Let’s catch up a minute, what’s new?”

“No offense, Dylan, but I’m not really looking to catch up with you.” You say flatly.

He opens his mouth to respond, but before he can another voice cuts in. “Everything okay here?” Jeff asks politely, stepping very purposefully next to you, and Dylan’s eyes immediately fly over to him.

“Mhmm,” You nod. “Was just on my way back to you.”

“Good.” Jeff says, in a tone far more harsh than you usually hear him take. “Let’s get back.” He positions himself again, clearing a space for you to easily slip past Dylan, and then steps closely behind you, catching up quickly.

“Thanks.” You lean against him, gently, not looking to spill either of your drinks, but Jeff solves that problem by taking his.

“Any time.” Jeff says softly and you don’t have much else to say on the matter so you just nudge him once more in thanks and walk back toward your friends with him at your side.

-----

When you wake up the next morning, you’re warm and comfortable and only a little hungover, which you count as a huge success. There’s not too much noise going on downstairs yet, which means you definitely have some more time to sleep, so you curl back into your pillow, humming contently when it pulls you in closer.

And then your eyes pop open abruptly, because pillows don’t do that.

Except they do when they look like Jeff Skinner, who looks just as soft and warm and comfortable as you feel right now, still sleeping judging by the evenness of his breath.

It’s just...it’s a really nice way to wake up, with Jeff’s kind-of smiling face, looking super soft and cozy as he breathes just on the wrong side of too loud, but not so loudly that it drives you nuts.

It’s a little too early to unpack that, and your hangover might not be that bad but it’s definitely bad enough that you’re not ready to think on that, so you close your eyes and let yourself curl into Jeff and fall back asleep.

-----

When you do finally get out of bed, Thanksgiving morning is its usual chaos, running around with last minute errands, cleaning, and helping your mom in the kitchen. The last to shower for the day, by the time you arrive downstairs, the Lions vs. Bears game is well underway, your notoriously early grandparents have already arrived, and your grandmother is already asking your mom where that one turkey decoration she bought her one year is.

You bypass the kitchen entirely and move toward the living room, where you find your dad, grandfather, Jeff, and siblings all gathered, just as you’d expected. You slide down on the floor next to Jeff, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before more of your family arrives and you’re offering your set up anyway, and wait for the next round of chaos to begin.

It doesn’t take long. Your aunts, uncles, and cousins start pouring in and then it’s just introduction after introduction, as you wrap up showing off Jeff to one group just as the next arrives. You are absolutely confident he has no idea who anyone is, but it’s fine, because he’s still laughing and joking around with all your uncles and cousins that have joined you in watching football.

The kitchen is its own brand of chaos, when you make a quick stop in on your back from a beer run, but chaos has never stopped your aunt before and it certainly isn’t today. “Oh my god!” She exclaims, after you’ve pressed a smacking kiss to the top of your grandmom’s head. “That boy!”

“What boy?” You ask, like an idiot, which is immediately clear from the looks you get from everyone in the kitchen, even your usually oblivious uncle, who’s doing...something...with the ham they’d brought. “Who, Jeff?”

“Yes.” Another aunt stresses. “He’s cute!”

You shrug. “Yeah, I mean-”

But your grandmom cuts you off this time. “And so friendly! Just the nicest boy! Oh, you couldn’t have found anyone better!” She exclaims.

“Well, I haven’t.” You announce, watching all of their faces fall. “So sorry to burst that bubble.”

“Why?” One of your older cousins frowns. “Girl. Get on that. You are not going to do better than that boy in there.”

“I truly don’t know if that was meant to be a dig at me or you all think that highly of Jeff already, but regardless. We are just friends.” Now everyone in the kitchen is giving you a look. You gather the beers and retreat, distributing them as you return to your spot on the floor near Jeff.

He’s giving you a look as you pass him his, but whatever’s on your face must not be too bad, because he just thanks you as you pass him the bottle, and you nod in return as you try to find the same comfortable spot as before, leaning against his thigh.

-----

Your dad catches you a bit later, as he’s coming back with beers this time and you’re coming out of the bathroom, and he nudges you carefully as you take a few bottles from his hand. “So Jeff?”

You groan. The tone of that statement was far too loaded. “Jesus, you too?”

Your dad laughs. “Who else?”

“Everyone.”

“Well maybe that should be your hint.” Your dad says teasingly, but also not? There’s definitely some seriousness to this. “That Jeff’s pretty perfect for you.”

You stare at him. “You’ve met Jeff, like, a hundred times. Why’s this coming out now?”

“I always thought you were my smart kid and that you’d figure it out yourself.” He muses. “Now I realize you’re only book-smart and you’d never figure this out on your own.” And then he leaves you there in the hallway, with your jaw dropped and too many thoughts, as he continues on, laughing at you.

-----

When the call to come serve yourselves echoes into the room, the usual mad scramble follows immediately. It’s only as you’re getting into line behind your brother that you realize that Jeff’s not with you anymore, and you abandon the long line waiting for food, in favor of seeking out Jeff.

You find Jeff upstairs, in your room, just kind of lounging on your bed, and you lean against the doorway. “Hey! Food’s ready.”

“Yeah.” Jeff nods, the smile he sends you back in return far too tight and forced to be genuine. “Be right down.”

But he doesn’t move, so you step in and climb into your bed next to him. “What’s wrong?”

Jeff laughs; it’s kind of hollow and doesn’t sound anything like his usual loud laugh or his giggles that you love. “What- nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Jeff.” You say softly. “Come on.”

He sighs. “Why did you bring me here?”

That...was not at all what you expected. “What?”

“Why did you bring me here?” He repeats. “Why did you bring me home, to your family? I thought, maybe, finally…” He trails off for a minute. “Except, there’s like ten other randos here too!” He laughs again, that hollow thing that you’re already hating. “Everybody in this family just brings people home, and that’s awesome, okay? Please don’t ever change that about yourself. I just-I thought we had something special, is all.” He says, sounding almost sad? Melancholy?

“You are special.” You hate this. Jeff should never be sad; he should always be happy and smiling and joking. This is worse than seeing him after losses, worse than seeing him at low points in the season, that one game when he realizes that shit’s done and they’re just playing to keep playing now, that playoffs won’t be coming this year, again. “Jeff, you’re-”

“I’m in love with you.” Jeff says and it’s so straight-up, matter-of-fact, like it’s never not been a fact for him. “And I’m sorry I’ve fucked things up here for tonight and made this so awkward. I just- being here with you and your family just made me want you that much more.”

There’s so so so much you want to say to Jeff, but it’s like time is frozen. You can’t speak, can’t move, can’t do anything except look at him in awe, until he starts to move off your bed, when you reach for him, finally, resting your hand on his thigh, relieved when he looks back at you. “My dad thinks I’m an idiot.” You blurt out and Jeff just gives you a look. “I’m sorry; that wasn’t what I wanted to say.” You take a deep breath, trying to gather the jumble of thoughts in your head. “Or at least, not the only thing. He thinks I’m an idiot because he thinks you’re perfect for me and I didn’t see it. My whole family thinks you’re perfect- cute and friendly and nice- and god, Jeff, you are! You’re all those things!” He’s still watching you, with like, barely the smallest hint of a smile on his face. “I just-didn’t realize you were perfect for me until we came here.”

Now he’s full on beaming, dimples showing, and you don’t even realize that you’re returning the grin until his hand comes up to your face, thumbing at the corner of your lip. “I’m sorry I’m a dumbass.” You finish lamely, too busy smiling at Jeff. “Please kiss me so we can make sure we get biscuits.”

Jeff hums. “I don’t know if I can kiss you now and just...stop.”

“Well I’m not going down to eat until you do.” You say stubbornly. “And you’ve been hyping up those biscuits since breakfast.”

“Fair enough.” Jeff laughs and then you’re smiling into the best first kiss you’ve ever had, tangling your hands into his hair and wondering if you may actually end up missing the meal this year.

#jeff skinner imagine #jeff skinner fanfic #jeff skinner fanfiction #hockey imagine #hockey fanfic #Hockey Fanfiction #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #nhl fanfic #my hockey fics

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gojology · 3 years

Text

Clubs Aren’t My Thing. (1/2)

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 | i’m REPOSTING this because my already bruised ego absolutely rejects the fact that my writing got 33 notes, that, and i just don’t want to continue this if it doesn’t get any traction. i’m not good at nsfw, so i feel like if not a lotta people wanna read my work, why try hard on something i’m bad at? anyways, this whole club concept is totally from @/mystic-sky or skyfelt on ao3. pls check her out. if anything is inaccurate its prob bcuz the only reference i have is the club penguin dance club teehee.

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | mentions of sex, drinking, you’re literally at a club.

𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Gojo x Female Reader

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 2847

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | You’re alone, at a bar, waiting for the end of the night to come. Then again this was bound to happen, as clubs weren’t really your thing, but promises of snacks and money from your friends were really what you came for. A mysterious, yet intriguing white haired man approaches you, and eventually he piques your interest. Little do you know, you had piqued his as well, and he’s having a hard time trying to hide it.

Bright, flickering vivid lights was all the human eye could see from where you were sitting. You’re sitting at a bar, legs restless and rhythmically bumping against the table. You had come here for a “fun night”, even though they promptly ditched you for the lively dance floor afterwards, you assumed to pick up guys and have some encounters in the bedroom. It wasn’t quite your thing though, well, you didn’t know yourself, you were far too shy to find out, though. That’s how you found yourself alone, at a bar, completely sober. Your friends pushed you, (which was a bit weird since they were no where near you now- so really now, what was the point?) luring you with yummy snacks and treats to come out of your house for once. Hesitantly agreeing, you didn’t expect to have them dress you up as well. Fighting them off and running for the bedroom door, you hated the very idea of even interacting with anyone. Moaning and groaning like a child that you weren’t getting enough for going to a social event, and not wearing your beloved baggy hoodies and sweatpants. “Okay, okay!” your friend stood up, hands above her. Shaking her head and letting out an exasperated sigh. “We’ll add on a free dinner- on us.” Raising an eyebrow, you scrolled through your phone. This wasn’t a bad deal, not at all. You decided to not reply, though. “Ugh, (Y/N), Okay. A 50 DOLLAR GIFTCARD TO YOUR FAVORITE STORE. Do we have a deal?” Your friend blurted out, sitting down on her chair with a huff. The girl clearly wanted you to go to the club. You grinned evilly, realizing just how much you can get. Of course, you wouldn’t spend the money without spoiling some of your girlies, but you had gotten even more then you asked for, and well- sure it was a bit mean, but you figured afterwards you could go out with them without the bargaining. And so, facepalm after facepalm ensued, offering you more and more unnecessary amounts of money and food, you finally broke under the pressure of being a tad too mean. You weren’t planning on torturing your friends for life. At that point, who could really resist? Now, enthusiastic with your eyes only on the prize, you allowed yourself to be dressed up just this once. Your friends had whipped up the nicest outfit they could without it showing very much skin (per your request!). Your friends had let you borrow a rather short white plaid skirt they had paired with a casual simple t-shirt. Slightly sheer, and a warm, yet soft cardigan that was kind of scratchy. Donning a pair of tights that you had picked yourself and your favorite pair of beaten up Doc Martens. You realize that it didn’t look half-bad on you. For once, you thought you looked nice. However, it seemed to pale in comparison with the scandalous outfits your friends seemed to prefer. Dresses hugging their curves, showing as much of their skin as possible without being full-blown naked, you wonder how one can hold so much self-confidence. But you ignore the feeling, repeating to yourself that you looked good in your own ways. You wave for the bar tender, feeling a rush of self confidence as you glance down at your outfit. The rather disgruntled man eyes perked up at the request, rushing over. “May I offer you something, ma’am?” You gulp, the self confidence rapidly crashing back down, almost as soon as it had come up. You weren’t quite the drinker, and you weren’t looking to find if you were. Running a hand through your already tousled hair, you stutter out a short sentence. “Can I have some.. Water? With, uh, ice.” He nods, seemingly shocked that you weren’t ordering any alcoholic beverages before turning his back on you and quickly whipping up the rather simplistic drink. Well, then again, judging by the outfit, one glance would be enough to tell him that you were forced to come, or shy. Shocked by how comprehensible you had been when speaking to him, your lips curve slightly into a warm smile. Working around your fear of talking to people in unusual places was good. Handing the glass of water to you with cold fingertips, you nod back. Skimming his hand as you did so. You grimace, contact felt weird. Taking a sip, you looked away and hoped not to make conversation. You heard a rather loud laugh, which was an understatement, because you could hear it even through the mass of chatter and movement of the club. Curious by who could possibly be louder than the sheer deafening cheers of a drunken crowd, you look towards the other direction, before setting your eyes on a ridiculously white haired man. He was laughing again now, and your eyes immediately drift over to his very defined jawline. No wonder so many girls were around him, by the looks of it, he looked like a famous model. His head high above all the females crowding around him, you notice the man next to him. A disgruntled, yet polite looking individual you assumed to be his friend sat next to him. He was also towering over the women, nodding and smiling at the many girls tempting him with their bodies, but he seemed so clueless that you doubted he even had a clue of what was going on. Fidgeting and playing with his hair, he was clad in an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt. The crowd of women around him wasn’t as large as the white haired man, you noted, but still large nonetheless. “Oh, him?” the bartender blurted, you turn to face him again, cursing yourself for being so obvious in your endeavors. Wiping a cocktail shaker down with a towel, he ducks his head, studying the remaining water droplets. You stare daggers at the bartender for interrupting your train of thought, before cursing yourself for being so mean. “He’s a regular, gets drunk quite frequently, and he’s Prince Charming to the ladies.” Rubbing the back of your head, you stare back at the bartender. Unsure what to make of his approach on conversation. Reconsidering like the good person you are, you thought about how annoyed the guy got talking to a bunch of drunk college kids. He seemed like he had good intentions, and talking to someone that was sober was sure to be refreshing. “Yeah, I can tell, the guy has a lot of girls around him. He looks really... Lively. To put it simply.” The bartender laughed, relaxing himself as soon as he heard the friendly words leave your lips. He finished wiping down the cocktail shaker and proceeded to the neatly stacked cups which had just been washed. “No, the guy’s just friendly. Real hit with the ladies, especially his.. Uh, physical attributes. See his friend over there? Lil bit more modest, he started coming here recently. Don’t let that good natured face fool you though, they’re both the same..” You rolled your eyes, Typical. Taking the last few gulps of your water before you slammed it back down. The bartender took the cup, refilling it hastily and giving it back to you. You heard several girls giggling, and you glanced back in the direction of the men. The long, raven haired man had his arms wrapped around dozen or more girls, swarming him as if he was a celebrity. The bartender was right, he looked so bored when you had studied the two, but here he was now with the same army of girls heeding his every call. That left the white haired man alone. Shaking his head with a small chortle, he took another swig out of his drink before looking down at the empty glass, he stood up, and by God were those legs long, before walking to the empty stool next to you. “Yo. Bartender. Refill?” The bartender set down the cup he was scrubbing down, rummaging his hands through various shelfs, filled with various drinks and add-ons, before taking the mysterious man’s glass. Curious, you take a small peek at the man, almost jumping back when he was staring unflinching at you, too. Taking this as an invitation to gape at such an incredibly well-fit body. Your eyes stare up at what you could; starting with his collarbones. Paired deliciously with a simple gold chain, you had to admit, it was a good touch. The simplicity of the chain was enough for you to gape dumbly at anything else that was interesting, and was left dumbfounded by the sheer hotness of... Well, him, and those incredibly prominent collarbones. You look downwards, and he’s wearing a black, simple t-shirt. Not a wrinkle, nor specks of lint in sight. Well toned arms, and incredibly strong looking ones at that rested idly against his sides. An expensive watch glinted in the light. He hadn’t quite said anything yet, so you look down even more without hesitation. Almost like you couldn’t control yourself. Tucking his shirt in neatly was his belt, you could easily tell it was a high-end brand. Casual, wide flared black jeans, the guy really loved black you noted. The accessories made up for it though, various chains were lazily thrown in, and it made the outfit so much more hotter, especially on him. “My eyes are up here, girly.” Feeling your cheeks become full to the brim with warmth, your hands fumble about, words formulating at the tip of your tongue to apologize profusely, you look up. Circular black shades concealed the white haired man’s eyes, and your heart pounds more. Something about him was so intriguing. About to blurt out nonsense about actually being very interested at a wall, he held his palm up, a large toothy grin gracing his features. “It’s okay, I’m into hot chicks ogling me. Especially hot chicks with cute outfits.” Everything on your mind was suddenly wiped clean, you open your mouth before closing, unsure about what to say. He thought you were hot? He thought your outfit was cute? He laughs, and you snap out of your daze. Muttering a quick thanks when the bartender handed his rather sugary exotic drink to him. “Saw you looking at me earlier, sweetcheeks.” he hums before tipping the glassware near his glossy lips, sipping the drink, looking down at you as he did. “No, I think you saw wrong... Are you blind?” you asked, still recovering from the compliments you hadn’t ever received in your life prior to this strange encounter. Desperate to get out of the advancingly awkward conversation, you had never been placed in such a weird setting. He snorts, taking another deep sip of his drink. “Nah. People think that, though. People think I’m... Old, for some reason?” “Hm, I wonder why.” replying sarcastically, you felt yourself jolt up, a mix of uneasiness and excitement bubbling up inside of you. By your experience and tips from your friends, these type of guys seemed to like sassy, teasing girls. Whipping out your phone from your bag, you try to appear casual, even though your excitement was starting to die down by his silence, turning into dread. Whistling, trying to look like you didn’t have a care in the world, you physically wince as you realize how stupid you potentially look. Wondering what your friends would say about such an attractive guy seemingly hitting on you, then again, they didn’t seem to really care. No new notifications, and no familiar faces running up to you with open, friendly arms. He chuckles again. “I like your style, missy. You come here alone? That’s a shame, pretty girls like you deserve to have someone to come with.” You look down, struggling to contain the growing smile. Doing a small little victory dance in your head as you realize that he had literally stated that he liked your style. “I did come with someone, my friends.” “Where’s your friends?” he inquired. “Partying at the dance floor, flirting with guys probably.” you nonchalantly reply, struggling to hold your tone, but even then it wavered. You didn’t get hit on often, and when you did they were there to help you. “That makes two of us, my friend Geto pulled all my chicks, and my pussy for tonight.” He said it so nonchalantly, you almost spat out your water. “What are you here for? Some good dick?” he shifted his arm to rest against the table, his hand against his head, lazily looking at you. You study his figure once more, ignoring his previous question. He looked like he came straight out of a magazine, or a movie. Broad, yet strong looking shoulders. He looked straight up fake. He towered over you, and you estimated that he was over 6 foot. His hair seemed soft, and manageable, and so, so fun to play with. A Deep, yet playful voice that would probably make everyone within a 6 mile radius instantly melt. “Hm, cute. I like straight-forward girls.” he poked fun at you, grinning carelessly. “I’m not being straightforward in any shape or form, what do you mean?” you flutter your eyelashes innocently at him, knowing damn well what he meant. “You’re fucking studying me like a textbook before finals.” “You still haven’t told me your name!” you shot back without thinking, you didn’t want to be caught doing something so scandalous. He winked, you took this as a sign of him following suit. “That’s what makes it fun, baby.” “Here, lets trade.” You had decided that you really liked his style, after letting you off the hook so easily like that. He was shrouded in a cloak of mystery, and you found it hot. That, or maybe he wanted to just fuck around and have one night-stands, which wasn’t your style at all, but you still wanted to see where this would go. “Tell me your name, and I’ll tell you mine. Fair right?” He stroked his chin with his unoccupied arm, contorting his face and making you giggle a little, even though it wasn’t very funny. With him, you felt like you could strangely be yourself. “Hmmmmm....” stroking his chin more, he began to pick up and sip his beverage as if it was a tea cup, holding opposite ends of each other and deeply drinking. He set the cup down. “Nope.” Exasperated, you slam your cup down. “That aside, let’s get back to the point!,” he leaned closer into you, smiling a little as you jumped back. Your confidence when you talked with him had dissolved into thin air. “You’re really cute.” Frozen in place, you gawk back at him. He was straightforward, no doubt it, but you didn’t think he was this straightforward. Most men you knew played a game of cat and mouse, only if you caught them you were rewarded. Opening and closing your mouth, no sound came out. He snorts, taking another sip and waving the bartender to come back, who was now washing cups awkwardly on the other side of the bar. You almost pitied the bartender, the guy had ordered so many refills at this point, you wouldn’t be dumb to assume he was either a raging alcoholic or another dumb college kid. “Refill, again.” The bartender nodded solemnly in reply, swiftly taking the cup. You realize how overworked the poor guy was, wondering how many refills the mysterious white haired man had gotten before you had even step foot in the vicinity. “I’d love to take you to the bedroom, baby.” he nods as the bartender returns, sipping and looking back down at you. You bolted upwards, cursing as you realize you’re slouching, not very attractive. The straightforwardness from him was, though. No doubt it, but you were really not looking to break your heart over a fuckboy. “Uh, um.” He tips your chin upward, and your heart leaps out of your throat. There was something so undeniably attractive about this act, maybe it was the way he knew how to make you into pudding, or maybe it was the aura of dominance. Haughtiness literally radiated off of him, as if he knew he could pull a girl in under 1 minute. Well, then again, he probably did know. Fuck, what were you thinking, this was a complete stranger that could probably pull chicks more attractive then you, times 100. “Aw, shy? Cute. Don’t worry, you’re intriguing, and if you’re bad at sex, not to worry. I’ll do it all, and I’m good. Maybe give you a few lessons here and there.” he chirped, tilting his head, curiosity evident. “But, it’s all up to you, sugar. I’m not trying to force you into this.” the man added. He did seem hot, and this was really a one-in-a-million chance. No one had really looked at you that way at the level of attractiveness that he had. You didn’t want to regret anything, and getting out of your shell was good right? What could go wrong? “...I wouldn’t mind.” A crooked smirk spread across his face. “I’ll call an Uber.”

#fanfic #dont let this flop #pls im begging #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru #jjk gojo satoru #this fic is a mess #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen gojo satoru #gojo satoru fanfic #lord i pray that my posts just flop the first time #if this gets less then my previous post i will quit tumblr

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pascalpanic · 3 years

Text

Prom Date (Frankie Morales x f!Reader)

Summary: It’s approximately 2030, and you were in the graduating high school class of 2021. Your boyfriend, Frankie, is slightly older than you and doesn’t know that you never got a prom, a graduation, any of it. Being the sweetheart he is, he decides that he needs to fix that.

Warnings: cursing, the tiniest allusions to Frankie’s drug problem and his ex-wife, cavity-inducing fluff

WC: 3.4k

A/N: Okay, this one goes out to the kids who don’t get the chance for prom because of COVID: that sucks. This is my fix-it fic for you! This takes place after the events of Triple Frontier mainly because I didn’t want to write Tom but as if it happened a number of years after it did in the timeline so it’s maybe around 2030 here and the heist happened in like 2028ish then? So Frankie’s the age he was then, separated from the mom of his kid, and getting maybe like 50/50 custody of her. Here’s my inspo for what Luna, Frankie’s baby looks like! Her mom is only briefly mentioned but that’s where the gray eyes come from, the brown wavy hair is all him 💖. Also, I think the nickname Thumper is adorable for little kids who have lots of energy (it was also my nickname as a baby) and so Frankie most definitely calls Luna “Thumper”. I also, naturally, have inspo for the reader’s dress and Luna’s, but the outfits are never described specifically so you can feel free to imagine what you want for their outfits! Additional note: I don’t understand children’s milestones so please just suspend your disbelief if Luna is doing something that’s not fitting for a kid of 22 months, oops. Biggest thanks to @lunasblipsandblurbs and @ilikechocolatemilkh for their help- there may or may not be two characters named after them in here ;) and as always, my trusty proofreader Miki (who’s a nerd and doesn’t have Tumblr)

Movie night was going as it usually did for you and Frankie Morales: the TV droned quietly in the background while you cuddled with him, sitting in his lap. The two of you chattered and made out instead of watching the movie. Somehow the conversation made its way to your high school experience. That was a long time ago now. Both of you were fully grown adults. Hell, Frankie had a baby, you were working on a Master’s degree, and the two of you lived in a house together. Your high school experience was far different from his, you two soon discovered. He had all of it; you had your junior and senior year during a pandemic.

Your boyfriend looks at you incredulously. “So you never had a prom?”

You shake your head. “I wish I did, but no. I cried so hard when they announced that it wouldn’t happen,” you admit with a sad smile. “My best friend and I still wore gowns and got dressed up, but we just took pictures in the park and ate Mexican food on the couch.”

“As much as that sounds like a blast, that’s so shitty,” Frankie chuckles and snuggles you closer to his chest. “Was all of your senior year like that?”

“Pretty much,” you nod. “Fully digital and everything. Didn’t even get the chance to go to my junior prom either.”

“Jesus. And you had the shit luck to be born into the one year where you didn’t get either?” He asks, rubbing your back and nuzzling his face into your hair.

“Class of ‘21, what a time,” you sigh. It was true- you were the one graduating class that the pandemic hit hardest. It had upset you at the time, but you had gotten over it by now. It was years ago anyway, that didn’t matter. “My luck can’t be that shit. I still have a pretty damn cute boyfriend,” you tease and lift your head, softly kissing his lips before breaking away and resting your head on his shoulder once more.

Frankie pouts down at you. “But you got all of that taken from you! Senior year was supposed to be the time to slack off and have fun. I took, like, two shop classes and one on basic aviation. Didn’t do anything,” he laughs.

“Even if I was at school, it wouldn’t have been like that for me, Frankie,” you chuckle softly. “I was taking a bunch of classes for college credits and everything.”

“I know, hermosa, you’re a nerd. Just play along with me this time,” he asks jokingly, jostling you around on his lap.

“Frankie,” you squeal and cling to him, laughing. “Fine. Poor me, I didn’t get anything from my senior year. It has haunted me and made my life a living hell.” You give him a fake pout. “Is that better?”

A smile covers his face as he looks at you. “Much better. Because now that you’re upset, I’m going to get to make it better. We’re throwing you a prom.”

You immediately frown. “Frankie, we’re adults now. Prom is not important to me the way it was then,” you try to reason with him, but you know your boyfriend. If he’s got a plan, you can’t get him out of it.

Frankie shakes his head and takes off his ball cap, setting it on your head teasingly. “Too bad. We’re having a prom for you, babe. You deserve it, a night all about you. Here, you know what?” He says, his face lighting up as another idea pops into his head. “We’ll do it for your birthday, since that’s coming up. We’ll have a birthday party-prom for you,” he says, absolutely beaming.

“No, Frankie,” you start to protest, but he cuts you off.

“Come on, it’ll be fun! We’ll dress Luna up, I’ll rent a tux, we can invite the boys,” he offers and the more he talks, the more you have to admit that this idea sounds like a blast. Your frown slowly eases into a smile as he talks. “Oh, you like it, this is happening,” he laughs and kisses your head, pulling you close to his chest. “Babe, will you be my prom date?”

“It’s not the most elegant of prom-posals,” you tease, “but it’ll do. Of course I will.” You nod and beam up at him. He kisses your forehead and the two of you return to watching the movie.

When the day, your birthday, rolled around, your first order of business was queueing the music for the night. Frankie had decided it was your night, and that made it that much easier for him to pin that responsibility on you. It was to ensure you liked the music that was playing, he had said, and he had half-heartedly meant it.

As you sat on the bed you shared with your boyfriend, bouncing his daughter on your knee, you filled out the playlist for the dance. “There better be some Fleetwood Mac on there,” Frankie says with a grin as he walks into the room, fresh from the shower. Luna, his baby, reaches for him excitedly and he picks her up. “And maybe something like Baby Shark for this one,” he teases and blows a raspberry onto her tummy, earning a giggle from his daughter.

You grin up at him and his little girl, laughing. “Luna’s only in it for the pictures, come on,” you say and tilt your head as you look at him. “But you’ll be happy to know that I put down The Chain as the first song of the night.”

“Yes!” Frankie exclaims and flops down on the bed next to you, Luna giggling as the two of them fall. She crawls over to lie between the two of you, enjoying being between her two favorite people. “Aw, is that your mama?” He chuckles, and you shake your head.

“Frankie, no,” you say and bite your lip for a second, looking away from the two of them. You know she loves you, and you absolutely adore her, but it hurts your heart that you’ll probably be nothing more than Dad’s girlfriend to her. “She knows that.”

“Hey, she knows the difference in you and Maria,” he shakes his head. “But that’s her mother, and you’re her mama, right niña?” he coos to the little girl and she giggles, burying her face in your stomach. It melts your heart. “Yeah, your mama.”

“My niña,” you murmur happily and pull her up to your chest, wrapping your arms around her. Luna relaxes happily as her head meets your chest. Frankie chuckles a little at the fact that your Spanish grammar isn’t entirely correct, but he doesn’t challenge your words. “Are you gonna tell me what your daddy is planning for tonight?” You ask her, teasingly nonchalant, before looking down at Frankie.

His face holds a little bit of a red flush. “I have no clue what you’re talking about,” he says, playing it cool.

“I know you too well, Francisco,” you tease and look down at him, rubbing Luna’s back gently. “You’ve got some kind of surprise plan for tonight, and I can’t tell what it is, but I know you’re planning something. You’ve got the worst poker face,” you laugh and cup the side of his face with your hand, enjoying the feeling of the stubble beneath your palm.

Frankie shakes his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he repeats, but you can feel the way his skin warms with the lie. “I don’t have anything planned that you don’t know about,” he tells you quickly.

You simply smile at him and rub the side of his face. “That’s a blatant lie, babe. But I’ll let it slide, since I know whatever surprise it is will be a good one,” you chuckle and press your lips to his. He smiles back and cups your face too. Luna makes a noise of disgust and pushes the two of you away. You both laugh at her action and smile down at the little girl, a carbon copy of her father save for her eyes. She takes her tiny hands and puts them on either side of Frankie’s face, pressing a kiss to his nose. “Oh my god, Luna,” you laugh. “Am I not good enough for your daddy? Is he breaking up with me, is that it?” You ask teasingly.

“I’m getting you dressed up and treating you nice before breaking up with you, yes,” Frankie retorts sarcastically and rests his head on your shoulder, picking up his little girl and bringing her to sit between the two of you, perfectly fitting in the space where your thighs press against each other.

“You never know,” you shrug with a smile. Luna grabs your face and kisses your nose this time, and your heart melts. “Aw, thank you. We’re each getting some love, huh?” You ask the little girl and tug at her wavy brown whale-spout ponytail. “Well, I think you and I need to get all dolled up, don’t you think?” You ask her and she giggles excitedly, babbling an affirmation in her little speech pattern.

Scooting off the side of the bed, you kiss Frankie sweetly before picking Luna up. “Alright, Thumper,” you say with a mock groan. “Wow, you’re growing so much,” you say as you jokingly grunt at the effort of holding her. “You’re gonna be as tall as your daddy soon!” Luna protests that, giggling and playfully hitting your arm, mimicking what she’s seen her father do teasingly.

Frankie watches the two of you adoringly, his heart in his eyes. The two girls that matter most to him. “Hopefully not,” he shakes his head, chuckling and simply watching the two of you interact.

Frankie and Santiago did a wonderful job decorating, and the backyard is beautiful just as the sun goes down. Twinkle lights line the perimeter of the stone patio, and the night is a wonderfully warm dream, the colors of the sky absolutely stunning with tiny cotton wisps floating through. The boys are all dressed in their tuxedos, Frankie even omitting his traditional ball cap and putting some gel into his curls, and you beam as you and their dates take pictures of the four of them. They’re making the “delta” symbol with their index fingers and thumbs, naturally, since the Delta Squadron seems to be their favorite thing to call themselves. “You look like a bunch of sorority girls,” you call out over the already-blasting music, making Frankie’s face flush slightly.

“Santi’s hot as hell, but you sure got the cute one,” Lex, Santiago’s date murmurs to you, and you laugh at that. You wink at Frankie and he winks back, right as you press the button to take the photo. “Look at that, I mean come on,” she laughs and nudges your side. You two just met tonight, unsurprising since Santiago always brings new girls around, but you find her to be easy company. The Miller boys each brought a date, neither anyone you know, but the two of them stand separately. “And you, my dear, are just as cute as your daddy,” she grins down at the little girl holding your dress. “Okay, enough of these idiots,” she calls. “Time for couples’ photos! Moraleses, you first,” she says and scoots you (and subsequently Luna) towards the fence wall, decorated for the photos with fake vines, flowers and twinkling lights.

“We’re not-” you and Frankie both stumble nervously, avoiding saying ‘married’ or any word of the kind. You both give up as your eyes meet, and a smile falls across both of your faces. You give your head a little shake and the two of you dismiss it. The men disband from around Frankie and Luna runs to his side, him squatting down to pick her up. “Mija,” Frankie exclaims as she barrels into his chest, nearly knocking him over. “Don’t you two look wonderful, all matching?” he murmurs and presses a kiss to your lips before Luna groans and pushes your face away.

You laugh, both at his words and Luna’s actions. The toddler had insisted that the two of you match colors; your dresses were different, but the same hue, and you both had absolutely beamed at the fact that the two of you were dressed similarly, especially when she informed you that she wanted to look just like you. “And you, in your tux,” you smile and break away, straightening Frankie’s bow tie.

The group takes photos of the two of you as you converse and kiss, especially at Luna breaking the affection up with her tiny hands. You take pictures in different poses: where you stand now, Luna standing on her own, you and Frankie in the classic and cheesy prom pose, some with just you and him, him and Luna, just you and the little girl, who absolutely thrives under the spotlight given to her by the adults. Benny comments like she’s a model walking a runway, and she giggles, hiding her face in the tulle of your skirt. You keep an eye on the level of the sun in the sky, since Frankie’s mom is coming to pick Luna up later to allow the party to last as late as you want it to.

As the pictures are finished, you go to the ledge where you set your phone, starting the first song for the dance part. Just like you promised Frankie earlier, it’s The Chain by Fleetwood Mac. All of the boys holler excitedly as they recognize the song, grabbing their dates and starting to dance with them. Frankie picks up Luna and starts swaying her along to the slow beginning; naturally, with a father like hers, she already knows the tune and shouts along to the words. You walk over to the two of them, singing already, and Frankie takes your hand, giving you a little twirl. You happily follow along, grinning at his little girl resting against his chest. She’s tired already, and you’re not surprised; despite the excitement of getting ready, it’s past her typical bedtime. He sets her down and she runs off to find her Uncle Santi, dancing with him, and Frankie takes you in his arms, singing the lyrics at the top of his lungs with you.

As the song draws to an end, the second song comes on: a slow one, the song you and Frankie have always loved. His heart speeds up as he thinks about what he’s about to do. He signals behind your back to the older Miller brother, who finds his way to your phone and turns it down a little. You lift your head from his shoulder at the change in volume, clearly upset. “Will, why the hell did you turn it down?” you call across the backyard, and he simply shrugs, holding the best deadpan he can. Frankie pulls away from you, probably to go knock him upside the head, you assume, but the look on his face confuses you. “What?” you ask him, looking down as you notice Luna has once again attached herself to your leg.

Frankie takes a deep breath then grins at you, and your confusion is just as strong. You ask him the same question, tilting your head, and you notice that the rest of the couples have turned to stare at the two of you. “Mi amor, you know how much I love you, right?” He asks. You nod, a small smile on your face, still confused. “I adore you, with everything in me. The most important thing in my life, my little girl, she loves you just as much. I know I’m a difficult man. I’ve done some messed-up shit, been a junkie, been a recovering idiot basically,” he chuckles softly, “but you never care about that, just about who I am now. You’re so wonderful, so perfect,” he tells you, the softest smile on his face. Your heart starts fluttering. Where did this monologue come from? What is- oh, you realize, and the smile drops. His drops too and he pauses, but you grin again, even wider, and he picks up his train of thought.

“Do you have it, just like we practiced?” He asks as he looks down at Luna, who nods and giggles excitedly. She’s holding something, something she wasn’t before. “Buena, mija,” he nods and ruffles her hair. She hands the object to her father, quickly enough that you can’t see it, then runs off to clutch at Benny’s hand, leaning against him. Your heart stops in your chest as you see what he’s holding: a small, rectangular box covered in velvet. You go to say his name but the words die before they can exit your mouth. “Will you do me the honor,” he begins asking as he falls to one knee and taking your hand, “of becoming my wife, of letting me marry you and be with you forever?”

Tears well in your eyes at the love in your heart, your face hurting from how wide you’re smiling. He opens the box to reveal the ring inside, simple and elegant yet stunning, just like the relationship between the two of you. You go to tell him yes, to affirm the feelings inside, but your voice breaks. “Yes,” you say, your voice watery and cracking. You nod frantically and he takes the ring from the box, sliding it onto your finger. He stands and you immediately take his face in your hands, kissing him desperately and happily. You giggle into the kiss, and the men and their dates behind him break into whoops and cheers. You laugh as you break away, forehead falling to Frankie’s tuxedoed chest, before looking up through watery eyes and holding up your hand excitedly. Everyone cheers again and you laugh again too, hugging him tight. “Frankie,” you coo lovingly as you break from his chest and look up at him. “This is our senior prom. We’re just kids,” you joke. “You really want to marry me this young?”

That earns a belly laugh from him, shaking his head. “Shut up,” he teases back, spotting Luna’s excited bouncing. “Come here, Thumper,” he calls and waves her over. You both squat down and beckon her over, and she once again zooms into both of your arms.

“Mama and daddy getting married,” she squeals in her little baby voice and it melts your heart, her tone filled with contentment. You nod and squeeze her and her father tighter.

“We sure are, kid,” you laugh and stroke her head. “You’re gonna be my flower-girl-of-honor, right?” You ask and pull away from the hug. She nods excitedly.

“Flower-girl-of-honor?” Frankie asks and tilts his head.

“Well, she can’t just be my flower girl, Frankie,” you say as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “She’s my daughter, right?” you ask her, earning a happy nod. She agreed.

Later, Frankie’s mom indeed came and picked up her granddaughter, absolutely beaming and telling you that she was glad her son finally got the balls to propose. You had both laughed at that, thanked her once again for watching Luna for the night, and returned to the dance floor.

The party seemed to last all night, you and your new fiancé and the rest of the attendees having the time of your lives. “Well, this is the best prom I’ve ever been to,” you tease, grinning up at Frankie as the two of you slow dance. He just chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead and singing along to the words of the music playing. “Oh my god, it was a prom-posal,” you gasp as the pun hits you. “Jesus, why did I do that?” he groans sarcastically. “That pun is gonna haunt me the rest of my life now.” “Just like I am,” you sing happily, grinning so wide your nose scrunches. He laughs and shakes his head at that, but pulls you closer into his chest. “You just made a promise you’re not gonna wanna follow through on, Catfish,” you tease. “I’m gonna make your life so miserable.”

Frankie sighs at your sarcasm but smiles contently as he looks down at you. “I don’t think you could if you tried, hermosa,” he tells you before bringing his lips to yours for a sweet kiss.

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #benny miller #william miller #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia

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tiasgarden · 3 years

Text

4th

It was a beautiful sunny day in Salt Lake City. It was the Fourth of July and Gina. had such a fun day planned. Ash and her were hosting a Fourth of July Party. As Gina walked downstairs, she rain into Ash.

“ Hey G, you look ready to celebrate! I love the orange. To be honest the red white and blue is overrated.” Ashlyn says giving her a pat on the back.

Gina agreed. She had become much more informed about the tragedies and true history of her birth country. Fourth of July was nothing to celebrate, besides food. So she had decided to wear orange and any color than white, blue and red. Her hair was in a bun and she was excited.

“ Yeah Orange, was the way to go. I also um wanted to ask if we could make a donation to a indigenous people foundation to help those communities. “ Gina asked hesitantly.

Ashlyn nodded, she was already one step ahead of G. She had made a donation this morning when she was still sleeping.

“ I already made one this morning! 50 dollars to help indigenous communities around the country. I am so proud of you G, this party will be iconic. The best fourth party ever. “ Ash said.

“ Yeah fuck, the United States tbh, we are a bunch of monsters. But if we should do anything on this day it should be have a party. “ Gina said before going to help set up. Her job was to get the table where they would all be eating outside ready,. She also would be putting the appetizers out inside for people to eat.

The main meal would be some penne al la vodka and some pizza from big red’s shop. The two agreed to stray away from the torsional grilled food as some of them including gina were vegetation. It would be perfect.

They had got some cute decorations that were non 4th of July themed and quickly decorated the house. The two at this point had become the pros are parties.

It soon was 4pm and people would be showing up any minute. Everyone but Ricky Bowen was coming. He didn’t get a invite, he was being moody lately and no one wanted to deal with him.

The first to arrive was obvious. EJ Caswell. Who just happened to be Gina Porter’s boyfriend. The two had gotten together at the end of the school year. EJ had asked Gina out in a adorable way. The rest is history.

Gina embraced him in the biggest hug before pulling back. He held her hands in his.

“ Hey, so glad you could come. I love that orange polo on you, you look so hot and we match which is just cute.” Gina said smiling at him.

“ Thanks G, you look beautiful, The orange halter was a good choice. I also made my donation to the foundation you sent me this morning. “ He said as she took his hand in hers and walked to the backyard with him.

How did she get so lucky? No words could express how thankful she was for EJ Caswell. How he made her feel better with his presence. Anything he did . The biggest smile would breakout on her face. NO one besides her mom could do that to her.

He was her first boyfriend and she deep down truly hoped he was her last also. She wanted him to be hers till she died as gruesome as it sounded.

“ your the best you know that? Gina said before giving EJ a kiss on the cheek and continuing to welcome people to the party.

Within the hour, all their friends were there. Everyone wore orange, just like Gina had requested. The food was a hit, just like she had hoped. Also the music was wonderful and Ej and her danced for a solid hour.

Soon though it was the time of the night were the gang sat down for desert, which was ice cream Sundaes. Make your own of course. Gina just wanted chocolate with rainbow sprinkles and a few gummy bears. EJ on the other hand chose Vanilla with chocolate syrup and some m&m's. He also gave Gina a few since he knew they were her favorite.

Once everyone was sat down, the gang discussed what plans they all had for the remainder of the summer. Gina was THRILLED to tell them EJ was coming with her to visit her mom next week.

Ashlyn was excited as she got a summer job as a camp counselor, which would be excited as she loved kids. Seb and Carlos were spending their summer in Utah but planned a road trip to see more of it. Nina mentioned how she would be going to record a few songs to be released in the fall. She had been writing a lot more since her breakup with Ricky, She was a much more confident person Caswell. Kourtney was going on a vacation to California with her mom, it would be nice since she had a lot of family out there.

 It was nice to catch up, even though they all texted daily in their group chat. She didn’t know how she would last without EJ in the fall. He promised her though they would make It work and he would come home often. Luckily, she had Ashlyn another year. Her mom had agreed to let her finish school in Utah. She only was 2 years away. She then could either move back with her mom or EJ and her had talked about getting an apartment together depending on where she went to college.

As the night came to an end, Gina felt content. It was only the beginning of July and they had more weeks ahead of cuddles, kisses, hand holding and her favorite baking together. As she was looking around EJ used one hand that wasn’t wrapped around her shoulder to turn her chin to him and sneak a kiss. She quickly smiled into the kiss and after a few seconds pulled apart, while the rest of the wildcats “awed” them. Gina took this time to move from her chair onto EJ’s lap and relax into him. He wrapped his jacket he had brought with him around her and started rocking her back and fourth.

This was happiness Gina Porter thought as she cozied on up in her boyfriend’s lap and before she knew it she had fallen asleep.

#portwell #this was fastly written cause im BUSY today but hope you enjoy.#yes as per usual its short but it's cute so #hsmtmts #gina porter #ej caswell #i also know its more descriptive than dialogue and im sorry i'll try to put more dialogue in my next fic

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copias-thrall · 3 years

Text

Cause I'm Young and I'm Here and So Beautiful

A look into the rise and fall of Mary Goore's flash-in-the-pan modeling career.

~12.5K Mary Goore/Reader *drug/alcohol use; mentions of past child abuse; brief homelessness; plot no porn; POV shift*

This fic was inspired by and is very loosely based on Aurelio Voltaire's early days in NYC in the 90s, though I have set it in Boston in the early aughts. 😊

Many thanks to the artists who did commissions for this! 🥰

One Way Streets

Mary stepped off the regional rail and gripped his backpack. He had $72.57 in cash rolled into his socks and a give-em-hell attitude.

When he’d packed his bag the night before, he wasn’t even sure if he’d go through with it, but he couldn’t stand being home anymore. Some of his friends had told him he was crazy.

"Three more months, dude. You got this. Just finish high school, then bounce."

But they didn’t have to live with his dad and the step-monster. Every day was a new indignity. Having them bitch about his music and his style was one thing—that he could have dealt with—but everything else had just kind of…escalated.

Now that the kiddies were older, they’d turned into gremlins. They’d somehow sensed that Mary wasn’t their beloved older brother—he was some sort of half other. They’d stopped questioning why "mom was so mean" to him and had accepted that she was because there was something wrong with Mary. They realized they could be little shits and blame everything on him.

And dad just didn’t care. He’d throw up his hands and say, "I have to live with her"—as if Mary wasn’t in the same boat.

Dad hadn’t stopped her when—in a rage—she’d smashed every single vinyl album Mary had owned because the twins ruined her nice tablecloth. He’d shrugged when she cut all Mary's guitar strings so he couldn’t play "the devil’s music." He’d held Mary back when she took a match and burned all his secret stuff that Mary kept under his bed—action figures, books, guitar mags, journals—in the backyard because he got detention for smoking. He hadn’t said a word when the police showed up after she came at Mary with scissors because he’d dyed his hair black and he’d pushed her away before she could scalp him.

Mary thought for sure he was going to get carted off to jail as she screamed about him terrorizing the family and being afraid he was going to kill her sons in their sleep, but the officers had just looked at her bored and told her being a teenager wasn’t a crime.

So, no: Mary couldn’t wait 3 more months.

He’d scraped together what money he had left from his secret shifts working as a busboy under the table at a local dive downtown, packed his backpack with the essentials, and walked the 5 miles to the train station instead of going to school.

Eighteen was 10 weeks away. He could fudge it for a few months, especially since he could already get away without using his fake ID to get into shows most of the time.

So, to the big city it was.

He shifted his weight and tried to pretend that he belonged here in Boston, but actually facing the busy streets was a lot different from looking at a bird’s-eye view map. He had a printout in his pocket, but he didn’t want to look like a doe-eyed tourist. So he set off down the seemingly labyrinthine streets in the direction he could have sworn was the correct one.

It wasn't.

When he came out a side alley into Faneuil Hall, he almost wondered if he'd gone through a fairy portal, since he was clear on the other side of town. Begrudgingly, he checked his creased map, and set out once more.

And ended up spit out by the State building.

Finding the hostel turned into a fraught adventure, and he got turned around several times more. When he tried to ask for directions, most people pushed past him while one lady shoved $5 at him. He used the cash to buy a hotdog, and it was the vendor who ultimately gave him directions in his thick, Southie accent.

Of course, making it to the hostel ended up being just part one. The rates were almost double what it stated online ("Sorry, honey—that site hasn’t been upgraded since the 90s."), and two nights were practically all his savings. Mary had thought he’d at least have a couple of days to find a job, not 36hrs.

He left the hostel, wondering for the first time if maybe he shouldn’t go back home…but he decided it was a nice day out. Surely there was some place he could hunker down. Just for the night.

What he hadn’t anticipated was the cops at every fucking turn telling him to move along. And any place out of line-of-sight seemed to already be inhabited.

He finally found a place behind some rocks in the Seaport where he didn’t think he’d be murdered in his sleep, curled around his backpack, and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

Mary woke up damp from the dew and the morning sun streaming into his eyes. The birds were creating an awful racket, but Mary guessed it was as good an alarm clock as any.

He ran his fingers through his bird's nest of hair, and he made his way back to the South Station. The men’s room may have smelled like a sewage treatment plant, but at least it was free. He had expected it to be mostly empty at the crack of dawn, but it was full of commuters making that last run to the head before they had to take the train 2hrs out of the city for work.

And it was a sight: a bunch of suits with their fancy lattes washing their hands, and Mary in the corner trying to surreptitiously wipe down with paper towels under his Misfits t-shirt and his shredded jeans. At school, he’d have probably gotten into several altercations by now—no one would have let him just turn into Mary Goore without a fight—but this was Boston, and no one gave him more than a cursory glance.

Just another college kid.

It emboldened Mary to go full-out in the kind of way he had only done when going out to the punk shows downtown at night: kohl all the way around his eyes, and some on his cheekbones; mascara because his lashes are long and thick, and he knows it (his dad had said it made him look hard, and Mary had sneered that maybe that was what he’d been going for. But maybe it had been because he’d liked the way it had made his green eyes pop.); a smear of the step-monster’s fanciest matte lipstick on his full lips; and airplane glue in his hair to give it that lift.

He made a kissy face at himself in the mirror, and headed back out.

It was a nice Spring day—almost boiling in the direct sun—and it tempted Mary to wear only his battle vest, but even he kind of figured applying to jobs half dressed was a mistake.

He walked all over the city, trying not to get lost, looking for any kind of work—dishwasher, busboy, barback—but all he had to show for it was blistered feet and a raging appetite. The only good part of the day was that he noted any restaurant or bakery that looked like it might toss perfectly good food at the end of the day.

He and his friends had become experts at dumpster diving in his podunk town, and he felt confident that he had a good feel for a jackpot. Mary staked out a bakery and was rewarded with a find of "old" bagels. He shoved as many as he could into the nooks and crannies of his backpack before slinking off to the Commons to inhale at least two of them.

Cold, stale dough never tasted so good.

He watched the tourists and the professionals walk by in ones and in groups while he ran his bare feet through the grass. Some laughed with each other as they sauntered down the path while others seemed singularly intent on their ultimate destination. A pack of dogs ran and played with each other as their owners looked on fondly, and nearby the baseball diamond hosted a casual game.

Mary counted his lucky stars that his first week in Boston was April at its kindest—always mild during the day, even when it turned cloudy, and a few times even downright warm. The nights turned chilly, though, and it had Mary in more layers than an onion. If the birds or damp didn't wake him, his butt cramps from being curled in a tight ball all night did.

He spent those days walking around the city proper looking for work. He wasn't adventurous enough to make the leap across the bridges to Cambridge just yet, but his travels gave him a good sense on how the different sections of Boston connected—and showed him potential places to crash at night. He didn't even mind living off day-old garbage food and drinking from bubblers (he'd bought a water for the express purpose of reusing the bottle), but the barren wasteland that seemed to be the job market was beginning to weigh on him.

At home, he could always find a shit job if he was willing to put up with shit hours and ridiculous requests. Here, though, Mary was just one of many desperate people willing to do desperate work.

And he didn’t look particularly trustworthy or reliable.

@dipendancesld

Hashtag WTF

I’m scrolling through Insta on the T, and I’m way down the rabbit hole of hashtags. New content was at a minimum this morning (how can I follow accounts in triple digits and only see the same 4 posts?!), so I’d started with some art tags and ended up where I usually end up—trolling social media for blurry pictures of my boy.

His band has been a local staple for years—or at least that’s what he told me on our first date. I had just moved from New York after a nasty breakup, ready to start fresh, and I’d seen him at a coffee shop hanging posters for his next show in his leather jacket, asymmetrical Metallica crop top, and stomping boots.

Fresh had never looked so good.

Then, a few months back, an online publication had featured his band in the year’s 50 best bands "you’ve never heard of," and now the band's starting to gain traction.

He’s starting to gain traction.

Finding the new online content of him first has become a game the two of us play. We had to stop counting images posted from the popular fan accounts because Mary's now acquaintances with most of them, and I said it was hardly fair to snipe me that way. Mary had pouted—but it was to cover up his grin. So now we troll for the pictures of his latest gig or at his favorite haunts from either his casual fans or one of his new ones. I even have a whole range of hashtag typos saved if I really want to triumph, since Mary just doesn't have the attention span.

I usually win, though, by virtue of not keeping Rockstar Hours—and because Mary doesn’t have a smartphone. Mary delights in spending the wee hours while I'm sleeping finding new content, and I'll often wake to one he's pulled up on my laptop and a "suck it" sticky note stuck to my monitor.

(But I’m reigning supreme.)

There’s a thirst tag I sometimes comb through (for reasons), and today I’m desperate for that morning serotonin to keep me from dozing off, which is why I stumble across a particularly convincing cosplayer in some…risqué poses and outfits.

The dude is really good, and I have to admit he really does have Mary’s mannerisms down pat. He’s younger and a little skinnier than Mary is now, but his facial expressions are on point. I zoom in to see the contouring technique because he's using one of those filters to make it look old…and that’s when I sense something off. I can’t quite place my finger on it, but usually there’s an uncanny valley to his serious cosplayers, and this dude looks so real. He’s even 100% accurate with the mole placement, which is something I never see.

My heart does a flip-flop.

Is that…actually Mary?

Foundling

Mary's sixth night in the city, it rained. It was more of a brief Spring shower, but it was still enough to soak him and his backpack through. He shivered through the early morning hours until the sun came up, then he made his way to the Commons to lay his belongings—and himself—out into the sun to dry.

By midday, he had a slight sunburn across his nose, but most of his things were dryish—though the food was a soggy lost cause. He cut his losses and decided to buy a sausage from the hotdog vendor, even if that meant he was down to $52.37 in his sock bank.

It was the most amazing thing he'd ever eaten in his entire life (sometimes he still dreams of it), and he gobbled it down as he sat in the grass and watched the show of people pass by.

He could take today off from his job search.

Just another Groundhog Day of rejections.

A gaggle of kids about his age walked past, and he lit up when he saw them: studs and bright hair and cuffs and combat boots. They ran and shrieked and shoved at each other, and Mary had never felt such longing to be a part of something.

Not that nebulous feeling of "my world is out there somewhere," but "my world is right there if I can just get to it."

And he realized maybe he could.

These were his people.

Mary hopped off the bench and approached the boisterous group.

"Uh, hey…guys."

The pack stopped and looked him over, confused but not hostile.

"Oh hey, man" said a girl with green fins and a studded, leather jacket.

"Hey."

I have nowhere to go. Can I go with you?

"Sorry, I forgot your name."

"Oh, you don’t—"

A guy in a tight striped shirt, snake bites, and blue hair interrupted him.

"Shit, were you in my intro into film class last year?"

Mary was a high school dropout.

"Nah, dude. I’m new and shit."

…But he wasn’t stupid.

A curvy white goth with bleached blonde hair and a cream princess dress smiled at him.

"Aww, that’s rough, honey. If you think about it, they really ought to give transfers on-campus housing. It sucks to be so new and away from the action."

Mary nodded. "Yeah. Sucks."

"Well, we’re going to The Pit, wanna come?"

"If you guys don’t mind…"

"Fuck, the more the merrier!"

Mary smiled as they assimilated him into the group. He found out the goth’s name was Vanessa ("But call me Vanity."), green fins was Alexa ("Or Alex. I’m trying it out."), striped shirt was Billy, and the two other punks were Mandi (Manic Panic red) and Aaron (band tee, spiked collar).

No one laughed at him when he introduced himself as Mary or asked him why he had a girl’s name.

They took him onto the T at Charles MGH, and Mary marveled at the setting sun over the Charles River before the train ducked underground to barrel in Cambridge. At Harvard, they ushered him off the train and directly into The Pit, and Mary almost cried when he saw the pit rats there playing hacky sack, strumming guitars, and smoking cloves. Mary watched as his group high-fived, bumped chests, and hugged nearly everyone there before introducing him as if they’d known him for years.

He was shit at hacky sack, but he accepted a round on the guitar and shared a clove with a white girl who had a rat's nest of hair.

"Fuck their beauty stands," she said when she caught Mary staring.

Mary smiled and pointed to his own mess of hair. "Fuck ‘em," he repeated.

She cackled and handed him a brown bag with what he expected to be whiskey, but tasted like turpentine.

She laughed harder at his face as he coughed, and she pounded him on the back.

"Moonshine, dude. Lenny makes it in his bathtub."

"Which one is Lenny," Mary asked as he wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Oh, he’s not here. He goes to MIT. We have a strict trade agreement—booze for pot. I’m Katie."

Head fuzzy, Mary had made out with her until Aaron tugged on his arm.

"Shit dude, we gotta go before the T closes. You live close to here?"

"Uh…"

"Aww, I think he got into Lenny’s moonshine," said Vanity. "If he’s a transfer, I bet he’s at some shithole in Allston. You in Allston, honey?"

Mary just nodded.

"All right then," said Alex, taking charge. "We’ll put him up tonight. There’s no way he’s gonna make it back to Allston by himself, and I’ll be fucked if I’m trekking out there without a BU party to crash."

Mary wobbled slightly as Alex took his arm in his and led him to the T.

"Ok, we gotta go now or we’ll all be hoofing it."

They took Mary back to their dorm by the Hatch Shell and signed him in as a guest.

"Is this ok?" Mary asked warily—he didn't want to get kicked out in the middle of the night.

Mandi patted him on the back.

"We do it all time. No one really gives a shit. Vegan Mick dropped out 2 semesters ago and they don’t even check for his ID."

That night, Mary slept in the common room on a lumpy couch that was half as long as he was.

It was heaven.

The next morning seemed like the end, and Mary slumped as Vanity to sign him out. For one brief day he'd been a part of something, and now it was back to Mary, party of one. But Vanity took one look at his face and asked if he wanted to get breakfast at the dining hall.

Of course, he wanted to…but he thought of the dwindling cash in sock bank and hesitated. Vanity, bless her, misread his trepidation.

"It's on me, sweetie. I know most transfers don’t opt in. Too expensive when it’s not bundled. No worries, I got a ton of points I don’t use."

Alex and Aaron were already half done with their food when Vanity and he joined them, and they looked on in amusement as Mary ate half the breakfast buffet.

When the subject of classes came up, he shrugged off questions.

"None this morning."

Alex narrowed her eyes at him.

"What year did you say you were?"

"Sophomore."

"Not a freshman?"

Mary shook his head. "I’m not a freshman."

She seemed about to ask another question, so Mary quickly changed the subject.

"I thought I’d spend the day applying for jobs. You guys know of any place that’s hiring?"

"No work study?"

"No."

"What kind of work you looking for?"

"Shit, anything. I’ll sweep the fucking floors."

They bandied about ideas, places for Mary to try, but no one had any leads. Too soon, some unknown gong had them scurrying to get to class.

Mary suddenly panicked.

"Hey, do you guys mind if I spend the night again? I mean…"

"Yeah, sure," said Vanity. "Aaron?"

"Yeah, man. Meet me after class and I'll swipe you in."

It apparently was a time-honored tradition, passed down from upperclassmen to underclassmen, on gaming the guest system. Most kids used it to essentially move their significant others into their dorm rooms, but a handful every year used it to give haven to others who had questionable housing situations.

So, just like that, Mary had a place to rest his bones.

@dilfpassing

A Deeper Look

I’m so intent on scrolling through the comments on the grainy pics—which I'm sure now are actual scans—that I completely miss my stop, and I have to put my phone away so I can wheeze lightly jog my way to where I work as a receptionist at an alternative hair salon.

It’s really important that I start a good hour before we open so I can return any calls left on our voicemail first thing in case I can fit anyone in today. Which means I have to shelve my find for now, much to my irritation.

Mornings are super-busy because apparently there are some people in the world that like getting up with the sun and want everything done by noon. (June Cleaver’s salon lets me get away with a lot—like coming to work in denim short-shorts and ripped tights, free hair colors, and a snarky attitude—but late start times aren’t one of them.) I honestly don’t have room in my brain to obsess about the pictures because I’m too busy answering calls, making coffee, settling accounts, and giving the new customer spiel for the 57th time to a walk-in.

It’s just after midday, when Penny, the shampoo girl, collects my cash for the salon-wide sandwich run, and I finally have a moment to breathe. And obsess.

I take out my phone again, and I have to retrace my steps because of course the app has refreshed, which is why Sonia has the time to look over my shoulder.

"Missing dream boy’s dick so much you gotta spend your lunch hour ogling pics of him on the internet?"

I zoom in on the one of maybe!Mary in his underwear.

"Who does that look like to you?"

Sonia makes a guh sound in her throat and backs away.

"I don’t need to see your intimates!"

"That’s the thing! It’s not mine!"

"Your boy’s nudes get leaked??"

I wave my arms around.

"I don’t freakin’ know! They may not even be him. Fucking. C’mere and help me out!"

Sonia warily creeps back over, and so does Ryan, since all the yelling has attracted him.

The three of us peer over the phone as I scroll through the images again.

By the time Penny comes back with lunch, we’ve gone back and forth on who’s in the images—Mary or a fake—and I haven’t been able to do any actual research. The afternoon rush starts, and I have to table the whole thing again, having made no progress at all.

It isn’t until near-closing, when most of the other stylists have gone home—and it’s only June who does the post-work crowd—that I can really dig into the matter.

A deep dive and a couple of defunct, decade-old forums later, I find that what I took as an aspirational hashtag was actually the name of a zine called "Heroes."

There’s like, zero online trail about it—except for a few other grainy scans of other pages of articles, poetry, concert pictures, and art—but it seemed to be an early aughts missive for local underground culture and color.

It still doesn’t explain why Mary’s in there in various states of undress and poses.

Or why Mary has never said a word about it to me.

Stripped Bare

Mary settled into a sort of routine. He spent most days looking for a job—any job—with his backpack full of food from their dining hall. Most nights he rotated couches on different floors so the RAs didn’t notice that he basically lived there.

He made friends with Vegan Mick for about 5 seconds until Mary had eaten an entire Rotisserie chicken from 7-11 in front of him. Mick had launched into a whole spiel, and Mary had pointed out that Mick's jacket and Docs were made of leather. He’d only meant it as a joke—a callout in answer to a callout, like he'd do with his friends back home—but Vegan Mick had turned purple, then iced Mary out every time he saw him after that.

Oops.

The brief friendship had lasted long enough, however, for Mick to give Mary some tips and tricks of being homeless.

Homeless.

That had been a tough pill to swallow. Until Vegan Mick had put Mary’s situation like that, Mary had just thought of himself between places.

But it was true: he didn’t live anywhere. He skated by on the kindness of his new friends, and he didn’t know how much longer he could keep up the ruse of "transfer student who didn’t like his shithole apartment and was too busy job searching to concentrate on classes."

He still spent a few nights a week finding an out-of-the-way place outside to hunker down in or huddling in with Katie and a few of the other gutter punks under their boxes in the corners of the T stations. He knew they would have been more than happy to make room, anyway, but Mary always emptied his backpack of all the pilfered dining hall food for distribution amongst them.

It honestly wasn't so terrible now that he had friends and a warm place to go on cold or rainy nights, but.

He needed an actual place to live. To afford an actual place to live, he needed a job. To get a job, he needed a place to live.

It seemed like a catch-22, and he began to despair that he’d never get ahead…until Mandi offered him a leg up.

Mary was sitting on the grass in the Commons in the shade, thinking that with summer coming up, maybe he could fudge it until the gang came back in September. There was always Katie and The Pit, and Mary was sure he could chip in somehow.

Mandi sat down next to him.

"I thought that mess of hair was you, Mare."

"Hey, Mandi. What’s kicks?"

"You still looking for a job?"

Mary put his head in his hands and sighed.

"Don’t remind me."

"You over 18?"

Just last week. But Mary hadn’t said, since they thought he was a Sophomore.

"Yeah."

"Wanna be at least 21?"

Mary grinned at her.

"That’s what my fake ID says."

She laughed, a tinkling thing.

"You got anything against strip clubs?"

Mary furrowed his brows at her.

"Uh…what’s the right answer here?"

She shoved him playfully.

"Do you want a job?"

"Yeah?"

"Then say no."

"No. No problems with strip clubs." He squinted at her. "Are they looking for male strippers?"

She laughed again.

"Definitely not." She canted her head at Mary. "I mean, you're very pretty, Mare. I could probably put you on as one of the girls…even with these triple As," she flicked playfully at his nipple, which had him grunting and batting at her, "but I was thinking more behind the scenes."

Mary held up his arm and made a weak muscle.

"I don’t think I’d be much of a bouncer, Mands."

"You said you’d wash dishes, sweep floors and shit, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, the club I work at—"

"The club at you what now?"

Mandi gave him a strange look.

"Yeah. The strip club I work at."

Mary’s eyes bugged out.

"As a…waitress?"

"As a stripper, Mary. Duh." At his dumbfounded look she shook her head. "It’s kind of extra credit, as a dance major. I’m going to turn it into my thesis. Plus, I make hella bank."

She swept her arm across the park that made up her college "campus."

"How else do you think I can afford this rock-and-roll lifestyle? Not all of us are here on scholarship or mom and dad’s dime."

She tilted her head at him.

"I thought you’d get it."

When Mary didn't respond, she touched his shoulder.

"Mare. I know you don't go here."

"W-what…? I…"

He looked at her, wide-eyed as the blood drained from his face.

"Hey, it's ok. I'm not gonna tell anybody. Not if you don't want me to."

Mary looked down. "Thanks." He rubbed the back of his neck. "You know that means I've got no address."

Mandi bumped his shoulder and waved his words away.

"A lot of the girls dance. Paddy is used to dorm rooms as addresses. You can use mine."

Mary looked at her, hoping he could convey every ounce of gratitude he was feeling.

She grinned and punched him in the shoulder.

"So, you up for it? Sweeping floors and bussing tables?" She leveled a look at him. "Cleaning up puke?"

Anything.

"Fuck, I’m desperate, Mands. I’ll hold their hair back if it means a paycheck."

"That’s the spirit!"

***

Mary was sure Patrick was part of the mob—or at least in cahoots. The guy had taken one look at Mary’s ID and had said, "But how old are you really?" and Mary had said, "Nineteen."

Patrick had thrown up his hands. "Well, you ain’t gonna be serving alcohol anyway, kid. Your job is to do whatever I tell you. Some asshole breaks a bottle, you clean up the glass so the girls don’t hurt themselves. Some idiot ralphs all over the toilet seat, you scrub the shit out of that fucker. A bachelor party leaves a table a hot mess, you better be out there clearing off the table for the next one, got it?"

Mary had nodded.

"You show up at 5 to help the girls set up the bar. You stay til whenever it takes to close down—but you only get paid 'til 2am—and you get an hour to eat, unpaid. You don’t bother the girls, and," Patrick had leaned in, "you don’t steal from me."

Mary had gulped and nodded emphatically.

Patrick had jabbed a finger at him. "That includes the booze. If I get fucked because some snot-nosed, underage kid is drinking with my good friends Jim and Johnnie, I’m gonna be very put out."

"Got it, sir."

"Don’t call me sir. I’m Paddy to my friends, so you can call me Patrick."

"Yes, Patrick."

Patrick had looked him over.

"You get paid as an independent contractor just like the girls, so you gotta deal with your own taxes, you got that? I’ll start you at $10 an hour."

Mary’s eyes had gone wide. Back home he was lucky to get 5.

"Ten…?"

Patrick had tilted his head again.

"No, you’re right, 12. Do a good job, and I’ll think about raising it to 15."

Mary had to physically stop his jaw from dropping.

"You do weeknights for now so if you fuck up it’s not that much of a problem. If you don’t fuck up and the girls don’t hate you, you can get weekends. Deal?"

Mary had sat up straighter. "Deal." He’d held his hand out, but Patrick had just looked at it until Mary pulled it back into his side.

"Ariel vouched for you, so I’m giving you a shot. Don’t make her regret it."

Mary had shaken his head as Patrick had handed him some forms to fill out.

"Come back at 4 tomorrow with these and we’ll get you started. Now, get out, I got shit to do."

Mary had taken the forms and skedaddled.

Mandi was outside waiting for him, all smiles.

"Did you get it?"

"Yeah, but fuck—your boss is scary."

"Nah, he’s a teddy bear."

***

The job was awful.

The puke was an almost nightly occurrence, and by the end of the first week, little cuts covered Mary’s hands from the broken glass. The customers were loud, rowdy, and acted as if their mother was going to clean up after them.

Mary swore he would never get the beer smell out. It now lived in his soul.

One dude punched Mary and broke his nose for no reason Mary could tell before the bouncers dragged the guy away. The girls gave him some tampons to stop the bleeding, and Mary finished his shift.

Patrick paid Mary in cash at the end of every week with a "It’s your job to report that, not mine," and at the end of the month, Patrick bumped Mary up to $15/hr. He worked 5 days a week because, according to Patrick, "The Lord gave us a day of rest, and you get one day off per week."

Mary never reported a single cent to the IRS.

The girls loved him, and joked that Patrick had gotten them a pet. They showed him winged eyeliner and smokey eyes and how to contour. They guffawed when they watched him try out their shoes like a newborn deer. On slow nights, they tried to show him pole techniques.

He saw the gang less and less because by the time they were getting out of class, he was going into work, and when he was done work, they were crawling into bed. Fortunately, the desk sitters seemed to forget that he wasn’t an on-campus "student" and didn’t even bother signing him in anymore. There were a few sticklers, but Mary found that—while back home he was less than scum—here, he attracted all the right kinds of attention…and a smirk with the right compliment went a long way.

By the time their school year ended, Mary had saved up $1,000 (and he needed to transfer his money out of sock bank and into the ripped lining of his jacket).

Even though they didn't know just how much they'd saved him, Mary showed up on the last day as thanks to help them all move their stuff into family cars or rented trucks. They hugged him goodbye and said to ring them next semester.

Mandi bopped him on the nose and told him to keep his nose clean.

Mary took a sublet in Allston with 2 BU kids and a Berkley grad student. The "room" was a closed-in porch with a sleeping bag left by the last resident—but it was $400 a month until September, utilities included.

At first, Mary didn't know why the gang was so snobby about Allston, but the summer seemed to be one continual party. It didn't matter what day Mary got up, there were always broken beer bottles and stale beer on their front stoop, and the apartment had a designated watering can for washing away the vomit that dripped down from the top porches to their own.

But he took it in stride, and when he wasn’t at the strip club or sleeping, he was partying with the BU kids, or letting the Berkley grad show him better string fingering techniques.

Mary still tried to get out to The Pit with what groceries he could spare, but Katie had moved on with some of the others to do a protest tour with an activist street band that had come through town, and without her or the gang, it made Mary feel lonely.

By the end of the summer, Mary had saved up enough money for first, last, and security. He even had some left over to buy more than ramen and some new clothes. To Mary, it felt like a million dollars. He rented a garden-level apartment in the cheap part of Jamaica Plain for September 1st and spent that entire day with the BU dudes driving around in their rented truck for Allston Christmas’s best furniture finds.

Mary ended up with a mattress that he hoped on a wish and a prayer didn’t have bedbugs, a mismatched set of dishes, plastic drawers that were slightly warped, and a broken futon frame he swore he would fix. Throw in a few sets of slightly used string lights, and Mary’s cave felt downright homey.

When the gang got back, he simply told them he’d dropped out.

"Yeah, I just don’t think college is for me. Music’s my real passion, you know?"

Alex had groaned.

"I knew that Berkley kid was gonna be a bad influence on you."

Mary shrugged.

"My grades were shit anyway. But I’m still around, you know. The strip club’s only a block from campus."

"Because we saw you so much then," deadpanned Billy.

"Hey! Stop piling on Mary," said Vanity. "He’s following his path."

Mary shot her a wide smile.

"Thanks, Vanity."

Patrick finally gave him a little more leeway with his days off, and Mary started taking Saturday night to join the gang in Harvard Square for the shadow cast of Rocky Horror. One of Aaron’s classmates, Amber, was in it, and they all wanted to support her.

Mary felt that something again. That thing that told that this was his place and his people. This eclectic group who got up in front of strangers every week in their underwear for free enthralled Mary.

He and Amber bonded immediately, and Mary began going even without the gang. The cast welcomed him in as an honorary groupie, and Mary's friendship with the gang waned. There was still Mandi to cavort with at the strip club, but now when Mary wasn't there, he was at any one of the Rocky crew's apartments getting high and playing dress up.

"You’ve got such a Look, Mare," sighed Amber. "I’d kill for your cheekbones."

"I’d kill for your tits."

She slapped him playfully. "Don’t be gross."

"No, I’m serious. Someone once put it in my head that I'd be a hot chick."

The girls had giggled and proceeded to dress him up in bras and corsets with cutlets. They added a wig, and the glo-up surprised even Mary.

Still buzzed, they went out for girl’s night and hit up all the bars in Fenway and flirted their way to free shots from the dude bros before batting their falsies at bouncers to let them into the clubs ahead of the line and without the cover.

The cutlets eventually became a nuisance—and soon they were all flapping them about above their heads as they danced—but Mary had loved the feel of the lace and satin corsets against his skin.

When they’d all collapsed in a pile at the end of the night, Mary wondered if they’d tell him where to get some lingerie for himself.

***

By August, Mary was ready to quit the strip club.

He was tired of cut fingers (they were making it hard to play the guitar he’d bought), the drunks, and the sick everywhere. Now that he had a little cushion, he thought maybe he could at least find something with better hours.

Mandi had graduated and was well into a summer internship at Disney in hopes they’d bring her on as a dancer.

Alex had also graduated and moved out to LA to make it as a film editor.

Vanity and Aaron had started dating after finals, and they had moved in together in Cambridgeport for their last year.

Billy had stopped going to classes before dropping out altogether. No one seemed to know what happened, and when they called his home, his mother just said he was unavailable.

There didn’t seem to be much reason to stick around the Grid anymore, and it was a bitch of a commute back to his place if he wasn’t going to hang out with the Rocky crew. He landed a job at a record store that was walking distance to his apartment.

Patrick seemed surprisingly sad to see him go, saying, "Ah, the good ones smart up," and gave him a $500 bonus for not "fucking up."

Tim, one of the older Rocky people, turned out to not live too far from him, and when Mary started hanging out there, so did the party.

Now that Mary was no longer shackled by the strip club’s hours, his world opened a few more degrees. He spent his nights dressing up while he watched the cast rehearse. (When he showed them a move or two he learned from the women at the club, they tried to get him to do a guest star as Frank. But Mary had shaken his head and said that wasn’t the kind of performing he wanted to do.)

When they weren't rehearsing, they dragged Mary to TT The Bear’s, The Middle East, and The Milky Way Lounge for underground shows. They took him to fetish night at ManRay after a trip to Hubba Hubba for pleather and lingerie, and Mary made a lot of new friends.

Sometimes, Mary would show up to work straight off a night out in his club clothes, eyeliner smudged and lipstick smeared. It should have got him fired, but his boss just shrugged.

"I used to keep rockstar hours too."

Mary still wore all his old vestiges—his battle vest and his ripped jeans—it was just that now he sometimes added a corset and heels.

Wherever Katie was now, he hoped she knew he was still fucking their beauty standards.

ry.omen Insta

Answer Me This

I practically vibrate the entire way back to our place. I'm still trying to wring information out of the internet like it's too-wet clothes, but the only thing I accomplish is making myself motion sick on the bus, so I put my phone back in my pocket and breath through my nose.

When I get home, Mary is sprawled across the couch in his pjs with various limbs hanging over sides and edges as he watches some extreme sport show on my laptop.

I wonder if he just got up, but I see the start of dinner on the stove, so I decide not to snark at him.

"Hey," he says without looking up.

I am, however, gonna need some answers on "Heroes."

I gently close the laptop, and he meets my eyes.

"What?"

I climb onto the couch, and Mary’s limbs recede like vines to make room for me as I scroll through my phone to my photo app where I’ve saved screenshots.

"Lucy," I say in a terrible accent, "you have some ‘splaining to do!"

Mary squints at me and takes my phone, his expression morphing into one of surprise.

"Shit, babe. Where’d ya find these??"

"So they are you!"

He chuckles.

"Christ…I haven't thought about these in fucking years."

"Mind telling me what the fuck?" I ask, my hands on my hips.

I'm only half joking.

Mary grimaces at me.

"Ah."

"I'm gonna need more than that, mister."

He rubs the back of his neck.

"Fuck, you know those were hard times for me."

I know about his family, the homelessness. I know he tried out a lot until he found a life that fit. He'd given me the overviews with occasional anecdotes filled with names I never remembered.

But none of them included naughty pictures.

I worm my way under his arm.

"Yeah, I know, Mare."

His hand strokes down my arm.

"I mean, shit. I was kinda an asshole, you know?"

I wrap an arm around his chest.

"You're still kind of an asshole, Goore."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

When he doesn't say more, I poke him hard in the side.

"I’m literally dying here."

He laughs a little.

"Fine. But you gotta remember you asked."

Model Behavior

One day, Mary was walking down the street on his way to drinks with the new friends he'd made the weekend before. It was a good day. He wasn’t hungover as fuck, his makeup was only smudged artfully, and he was pretty sure he was going to get laid.

A guy in a leather jacket and tight jeans maybe a few years older than Mary stopped him on the street.

"Hey, man! I love your style."

Mary batted his eyelashes at him. "Thanks, dude."

"You ever think of dark modeling?"

Mary squinted his eyes at him.

"Dark what now?"

"You know—modeling but like," he gestured up and down Mary’s form, "for dark beauties. Show the world beauty isn’t cookie cutter."

"For like what? A website or some shit?"

The guy dug into his pocket, pulled out a card case, and handed one to Mary.

Heroes Greg Karson, Photographer/Web Design Butera School of Art

Actually, Mary had heard of this. It was a zine about the local happenings around town—concerts, art shows, parties, etc. There was a stack of them next to "Rrriot!" in the record shop. He’d flipped through one occasionally, mostly interested in the band reviews.

"We’re really on the lookout for anyone with the right look. You know, wear stuff you already own."

"So like a street fashion spread?"

"Well, we might do a little more with it, but—you know how it is. Most of the budget goes toward printing costs."

Mary perked up.

"Would I be paid?"

Greg laughed.

"Peanuts, my dude. But yeah. Even if it’s a T token. You interested, then?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Mind if I take a few test shots."

Mary smirked at Greg.

"How do you want me?"

"Just natural."

Putting his hands in his pockets, Mary arched his back and gave Greg his best snotty hipster face.

Greg dug out a digital camera from his carrying case and took a dozen or so pictures of Mary from different angles while telling him to turn this way or that.

Afterwards, the two of them huddled over the camera and scrolled through the shots.

"Aw yeah, this one. I love the attitude. The guys are gonna love it. You have a number where we can reach you?"

Mary gave him the number of the record shop. (His apartment had a phone, but he’d never gotten around to wanting to pay for service.)

Later, he and Amber looked up the Angelfire website on the back of the card. It was one page that contained the mission statement, bios of the creators, and locations to pick up the zine.

"Omigod—you’re gonna become a famous model, Mare!"

"Yeah, right. You know most of it ends up in the trash, right?"

But when Ben called, Mary said he was game. He directed Mary to a co-op in a converted warehouse in Dorchester, and Mary brought his favorite clothes in a borrowed duffle.

A girl in cat pajamas opened the door and pointed at a set of metal stairs with her cereal spoon.

On the second floor, Mary found Greg setting up a makeshift studio. A girl with multiple piercings and yarn dreads leaned against the wall in her black babydoll dress.

Mary sidled up to her.

"You here to model, too?"

She gave him an unimpressed once-over.

"I’m the art director, asshole."

Mary flushed hard as she turned to Greg.

"Couldn’t find one with brains?"

She turned back to Mary.

"I don’t know if you thought this would be a good way to meet chicks or what, dude. But I’m letting you know right now that I’m here on my day off to make sure this adheres to our aesthetic, so if you're not serious, fuck off."

Mary rubbed the back of his neck.

"Shit, sorry. I was expecting a dude named Ben."

She waved her hand in the air as if dispelling Ben.

"The Bens are morons. Good idea, terrible execution. I’m here to make sure we remain true to the idea of 'Heroes,' so don’t fuck up my shoot." She gave him a once over. "Christ. You have any experience?"

Greg turned from where he was testing the white balance.

"Angelique, stop harassing the talent. We get it, you have a degree from RISD."

Angelique snorted.

"As if I don't hear you going on and on about being a professional photographer. 'Hey, lemme shoot your portfolio, baby.' Whatever. As if we're not your only professional credit."

"Hey—you wanted a photographer for peanuts? You got me. You wanted models for peanuts? You got him."

Mary gave her his full snaggle-toothed grin.

"I take T tokens."

Angelique sighed, then pasted on a smile.

"Hi! So happy you’re here!" Her smile drooped. "You got your wardrobe in there?"

"Yeah."

Mary handed her the duffle, and she handed him release forms.

"Here: sign these"

She pawed through his offerings.

"Not bad, not bad." She pulled out a corset and his heeled boots. "We'll keep you in your jeans and have you wear your jacket over your corset. Cool?"

Cool.

The shoot was as professional as a shoot in a warehouse in what Mary was taking to usually be a living room could be. Angelique directed Greg with what she wanted. Greg called out positions and expressions for Mary to pose in.

It was surprisingly hard work, and by the end of a solid hour, his smirking lip was getting tired. Angelique and Greg scrolled through the shots, murmuring to themselves and nodding.

Mary waited—greeting at the other inhabitants as they squeezed by on their way either up or down—until Angelique approached him.

"That’ll do. You mind if we post on our website?"

Mary preened.

"Yeah, that’s kosher."

She handed him a pen and pocket notebook.

"Write down a quick bio."

He scribbled down a quick elevator pitch

Into general skulking and metal \m/

and handed the notebook back to her.

"Great, thanks."

She handed him a $20 bill, her eyes skimming him up and down.

"Next time we should show off those hip bones. Just jeans, I think."

Mary perked up. "Next time?"

"We’ll call you."

***

"Omigod, omigod!"

Amber perched on the record store counter, flipping through "Heroes," as Jon peered over her shoulder.

"Mary…look at you!"

Mary tried to swallow his smug smile.

Failed.

"Yeah. I’m hot shit, ain’t I?"

She bopped him on the nose with the newsprint.

"Don’t be vain."

He showed her his toothy smile.

"I like to think of it as confidence."

"So did Icarus."

Mary snorted and went back to putting prices on the new CDs.

"The camera loves you," said Jon, who was always quiet and reserved as you please…until he put on Frank’s corset and heels.

Mary had tried flirting with him, but Jon always ducked his head and played it off.

"Thanks, man," said Mary, giving him a softer smile.

"So??"

"So what, Amber?"

"Are you gonna do it again?"

Mary shrugged.

"I mean, if they call me, sure."

But he was kind of hoping they would.

When the next issue came out weeks later, Mary stared at the cybergoth on the pages and felt himself deflate. Listlessly, he thumbed through the delicate print, barely skimming the section devoted to the World/Inferno Friendship Society’s set he’d been at the week before.

He set it down with a sigh before he picked up his guitar and plucked out a tune he was trying to coax into a riff.

By the time a Ben called again, Mary had given up the modeling thing as a one-off.

"Hey, dude—thought maybe you guys forgot about me," Mary said in a teasing tone.

The Ben on the other end chuckled.

"It’s like herding cats to get shit out. Nah, dude—we definitely want you to be one of our regulars. You in for next Saturday?"

He was.

***

Over the course of a year, "Heroes" had Mary come out multiple times for shoots. Mainly, Mary wore his own clothes and did his own makeup, but occasionally, Angelique wanted something specific.

"How comfortable are you with boudoir shots?"

"With what?"

"Like a pinup, but more…saucy than sexy."

I'd pose nude if you paid me enough.

(Sure, he was a noodle boy, but he knew he had the goods.)

"Yeah, I’m cool with that."

Angelique brightened at him.

"Great!"

She picked up a set of complicated leather garters and thrust them at him.

"Put these on."

Mary had only ever worn lace garters—mostly out to clubs, but occasionally under his ripped jeans for an extra pop—but he found he liked these even more, liked the way they emphasized his thighs.

"Hey—where’d you get these…?"

(He was already thinking of what he could pair them with for goth night.)

"Local leatherworker. He mostly does pieces for Renn Fairs, but he'll also do custom. I can give you his info."

She led Mary into what was clearly someone's bedroom.

"Don't fuck anything up, or Joye will never let us use this again."

Mary shot her his best shark smile.

"Hey, I only mess up the sheets if someone asks."

Angelique gave him a flat look and called for Greg.

(But when he draped himself over the bed and told Greg to "Paint me like one of your French girls," Mary could have sworn she almost smiled.)

On one memorable occasion, she brought in a guy whose rope bondage demo she watched at a sex convention.

"Put on some of that lingerie and we'll truss you up. You ok with that, Goore?"

Mary ran his fingers over the coils and gave her a wolfish smile.

"You know I'm game for anything."

She gave him a vulpine smile of her own then, and she looked down at him from the height of her platformed boots.

"Good. I thought you should be submissive for once."

Mary had no witty rejoinder for that.

He listened with interest as the guy carefully explained what he was going to do, complete with pictures, and he relaxed easily into the process. (They put bunny ears on him, and it would be much, much later that he got that particular joke. Well played, Angelique.)

The ropes hadn’t let him do much posing, but Mary had kind of liked the constriction, and his thoughts were already on asking Amber to help him create a more versatile version for fetish night.

He’d left that day with a new kink…and the guy’s number.

"Why not just do one big shoot?" he asked another time. "Get it all done in one big bang!"

Angelique held up his garments to eyeball over him.

"Honey, we never even know if there's gonna be a next issue. The Bens spend most of the time arguing. My god you should hear them—Ben bankrolls the whole thing, so he says he should get final say on shit, and Benji wants total artistic control because it was his idea, because 'he's the graphic designer', and because it's his Kinko's employee discount they use."

She gave Mary a curled-lip smile as she tossed a few items at him.

"In the end it's this bitch you're looking at who gets shit done."

Mary began to change (they were long past modesty).

"How'd you get involved?"

"Went to school with Benji."

"Ben too?"

"Neg. The Bens are childhood friends. Ben works some cushy start-up job, so Benji lets him bankroll them both. Rent, utilities—everything. I love Benji to death, but he's a giant mooch."

"Shit, that must be nice."

Angelique shrugged. She stood back to appraise Mary's look.

"It's fucking lame. But it least it gets us fucking paid."

Mary didn't say I'd do this for free. Instead, he struck a pose and said, "I'm just happy for the exposure."

Angelique rolled her eyes and went to fetch Greg.

***

That year and a half would become a nonstop party with Mary as one of the VIPs; he wouldn't say no to anything—be it casual sex, club appearances, or whatever drug the current pretty thing was offering him in the bathroom.

But recognition started slow.

At first, it was customers who would leaf through the zine and recognize Mary.

Then, it was the occasional scenester who’d stop him on the street in JP as he walked about, and Mary would pose for grainy cell phone pics.

Soon, he was being approached at shows and clubs. The first time it happened, Mary was high off his new infamy and ready to please. A woman in a black bandage bra and pleated skirt with bondage straps approached him, and Mary was already thinking of what he could do with those.

"You look like that guy in ‘Heroes’!" she'd shouted to him over the music.

Mary had flashed her a crooked smile and leaned in.

"Maybe I am the guy in ‘Heroes’."

She'd given him an exaggerated once over before sidling closer with hooded eyes.

"I dunno…you're wearing way more clothes."

Mary had pulled his mesh top down by the collar in a tease as he'd curled over her.

"Take me somewhere more private and I’ll let you do a comparison."

She'd compared him all night.

And that was before he and the other "Heroes" models formed their own posse.

The Bens had thrown a BBQ and had invited everyone they'd ever met. There were people packed into their little 2 bedroom in Brighton, spilling down the back stairs, and equally packed into the little square of shared backyard. Ben had taken the 12-pack of 'Gansett beers Mary had brought, then introduced him to the other dark models.

"Now you're all here!" said Ben. He slung his arm around Mary. "Guys, this is Mary. Mary this is Mayhem, Lesley, Lola, and Bryan."

Mayhem was a rivethead, and Mary took to him instantly, but he was wary of the others. Lesley was the cybergoth who'd been in the first issue after him, and Mary still felt a bit salty at them, even though Mary knew by now the Bens rotated the models. Lola, the romantic goth, reminded him enough of Vanity that he felt guilty for losing touch with her and had him projecting a little. Bryan was a metalhead, so: competition.

Mary had thought they'd get along like cats and water, but weed, booze, and "Never Have I Ever" went a long way to creating a shared bond.

And there it was again. That pull. The magnetic force telling him that he'd found the place he was supposed to be. They quickly coalesced into their own pack, calling themselves the "Deathbutantes" (because they always killed it when they debuted for the night).

It had been rare for Mary to miss Friday and Saturday night shenanigans with the Rocky crew, but now, every night was Friday night. There was always a show or a concert or club that one of them knew about—and if they couldn't get lucky with the local color, they'd just go home with each other.

Mayhem taught Mary what Lola jokingly called the "grab a bat" dance, and the two of them cut quite the picture on the dance floors.

Lesley took to Lola, and the two of them could always be counted on for scintillating conversation in dark corners when Mary's limbst needed a break from flailing about.

The clubs weren't really Bryan's scene—take him to a sticky hole in the wall with concrete floors and a stage close enough to feel the sweat from the bands, and he was in heaven—but he liked to come along to hang. He'd drink PBRs, rub Lola's feet when she invariably abandoned her heels for the evening, and argue with Mary about the purity of death metal.

Mayhem and Lola weren't really into live music of the screaming kind, so—while Lesley, Bryan, and Mary bounced off each other in the mosh pits—they'd save a "home" base at one the bartops.

Amber noticed Mary's diminishing presence and stopped by the record shop to call him out.

"So you're not dead! Could've fooled me."

Mary was organizing the albums into order, and he grunted at her.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm a cad. I'll make it up to you."

"You missed game night."

"Sorry. Jethro Tull played some tiny venue in nowhere Mass, and Bryan was salivating. I mean, Jethro Tull. Can you blame me?"

He looked at her, arms out wide in supplication. But she just blinked at him.

"You have no idea who Jethro Tull is, do you?"

"Sorry, dude. But christ, Mare. You should have invited me. I'd've gone. Maybe I would have even liked them. Now you'll never know."

"I could just lend you an album."

"Nope! The moment passed. Too late!"

Mary riffled through the stock and shoved a Jethro Tull CD into her hands.

She tapped it against her thigh.

"So, when do I get to hang?"

"I can get us into 80s night free."

"No, I mean, with your cooler friends. Your 'murder models', or whatever."

"You wanna hang out with the Deathbutantes?"

Amber scrunched her nose.

"That's so fucking pretentious."

Mary kind of liked it.

"Dunno if they're really your scene."

"Oh? And what's my scene?"

"Musical theater on crack."

She mock gasped at him, "Called out!" before smacking him with the CD. "Whatever. You love musical theater on crack."

Mary draped his arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah, I do. But I don't live it, you know? You guys have your niche—and fuck…I love to visit—but it's not mine."

Amber looked up at him, her expression serious.

"So the Dumbutantes are your niche?"

Mary shrugged and went back to shelving.

The Rocky crew had been good to him. They'd taken him under their wing, no questions asked, and helped him realize things about himself. Tim had taken him to the ER when Mary had come down with a serious case of the flu. Matty had taught him the basics of sewing. Gretchen had held him after a bad trip. Omar and he had had many drunken heart-to-hearts about their shitty home lives.

And Amber was his best friend. She'd been his #1 cheerleader for years and had never been afraid to call him out on his shit.

So yeah, he loved the Rocky crew…but they laughed at anyone who took anything too seriously. Mary would show up to game nights in his latest creation—with everyone else in pjs or jeans & hoodies—and they'd tease him about trying to impress the wrong people. He'd try to talk about the newest guitar god he'd been mainlining, and they'd make snoring noises at him.

How could he explain the kinship he felt with the Deathbutantes? That they were as serious about music as he was, that they just…got why he felt the need to dress the way he did to express the way he felt inside on his outside.

Instead, he said, "I'm just trying shit out, Ambs." He quirked his eyebrow at her. "I gotta do something while you guys do your real-person jobs."

(Amber had recently started as a junior marketing assistant at the American Repertory Theater. "Purely mercenary," she'd said. "Maybe it'll give me a leg up during auditions.")

She made a disgruntled scoffing noise in the back of her throat.

"Fuck, don't remind me. I actually gotta go to bed a reasonable hour now."

"Don't worry." Mary winked at her. "I'll keep ya honest."

"That sounds a lot like my head in a toilet, Mare."

"I'll hold your hair back."

She gave him a good-natured shove, and he pretended to cower.

If she wanted to cross pollinate, who was Mary to stand in her way? So, he invited her out the next time the Deathbutantes went to a show, and it went exactly like he thought it would.

They disliked her, and she was equally unimpressed. They thought she was too loud and frenetic, and she thought they had no sense of humor.

"I fucking told you," Mary had snorted as they sat on the curb sharing a clove.

"Shut the fuck up, Mare."

But she'd put her head on his shoulder.

"They make you happy, though. So I guess I approve. Just as long as I don't have to play nice."

Mary still hung out with the Rocky crew—there were still game nights and drug-fueled sex parties and theater games—but the Deathbutantes introduced him to the underground scene. They always seemed to have insider knowledge about the best up-in-coming bands and the secret shows. Theme nights at the goth clubs were always a must, and they rarely missed one. Sometimes, Angelique would crash, and they'd take the commuter rail to Providence to party at Club Hell before collapsing in a sweaty, smeary pile at a friend of a friend's hole in the wall.

As a bit player in the Rocky crew, Mary had been another made-up face in the crowd. As a certified member of the Deathbutantes, Mary became the face.

They all did.

The owners loved them because they bought round after round at the bar, and if word got out that the Deathbutantes were there, their admirers came to spend money as well. The employees loved them because they were fun and talked to them as equals. The clientele loved them because they were pretty young things.

Sometimes, though, Mary wasn't in the mood to party or get laid, so he talked to the DJs instead. He'd buy them rounds and stay past closing to help them pack up while they talked about the history of punk and 80s new wave and nu metal. There was one in particular, Dave, that Mary even considered a friend.

The two of them would sit in the club past closing, sharing a whiskey and talking about life while the bartenders closed down and cashed out. Occasionally, Dave's other friends would be around, and they'd all walk back to his place; he'd fool around spinning in his home studio, and they'd drink box wine as they danced and laughed before Mary would have to sit on the ground in an intoxicated exhaustion, good for only thumbing through Dave's vinyl collection.

Mary was just happy to talk shop with another music aficionado, but Angelique had pointed out that he should leverage his minor clout.

They'd been waiting for Greg to finish setting up, and Mary had been struggle city after a particularly hard night out. It was all he could manage to sit there quietly and hope some god would put him out of his misery.

"You need to get your shit together," Angelique had said out of nowhere.

Mary had cracked a puffy eye and had slowly (as to not bring the nothing in his stomach back up) turned his head to her.

"As if I haven't seen your melted ass on the floor wanting to die."

"Fuck, Mary. You've turned it into an art form."

He'd closed his eyes and given her the finger, but that hadn't stopped her.

"You wanna be a rockstar, boy? You can't just sit on your ass and hope the right person on the right night hears you. You're effervescent and charismatic—heads turn when you walk into a room and not just because of your skinny jeans—but you need more than air, Mary, which is all you are right now."

"Fuck you, Angela."

She'd clapped in front of his face, and she was lucky he didn't Exorcist bile all over her.

"You're a fucking pain in my ass, Goore. I'm doling out the good stuff, try not to bite my hand off, k?"

"All right, all right!"

"You wanna start that band? You wanna get play and amass fans? Well, make that demo you're always droning on about and give it to those DJs you're alway fanboying over. Fucking network, Goore."

At the time, Mary had been too hungover to care, but her advice would sink in…

Eventually.

For the time being, Mary was content. He loved the attention, and it made him feel invincible, made him feel like it was finally His Time. And he was going to make up for every slight, every unfair situation, and every beat down with sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll.

With his newfound nightlife, Mary's day job had become an afterthought. He started sleeping through opening shifts, but with the extra foot traffic Mary brought to the store, his boss seemed resigned to let Mary slide (after a stern talking to and a pay docking).

The shadow cast had started using him as a mascot of sorts, and he was happy to show up on Saturday nights and hype up the waiting line with a pseudo striptease. (Even if it was sometimes to kick off his evening with the Deathbutantes and not hang with the cast after.)

Mary started a band ("auditioning" any and all of the many admirers who said they’d be more than happy to join it), and after a few false starts and a couple of lineup changes, they began working on an EP. (At least, when Mary showed up to rehearsal, they did.)

A Boston Phoenix reporter got wind of the Deathbutantes and called around about doing a story on them. The Bens were excited about the exposure that meant for their zine, and Angelique and Greg were excited about what it could mean for their careers. Mary did a brief interview over the phone where he answered questions about his style and talked about his dream of making his band a household name.

Mary saw his name up in lights, and he was reaching for it, full speed ahead.

But then things turned.

The story fell through at the last minute with no further explanation or contact by the reporter.

His boss finally fired him after Mary showed up too high to function too many times—or not at all.

The shadow cast had a turnover, and suddenly he was old news—a cringey hanger-on.

A trip to the clinic and a round of antibiotics for an STI had him way more wary of who he hooked up with.

"Heroes" lost momentum when imitators popped up and Ben cut off the gravy train.

Angelique moved to NYC for "better opportunities," and the Bens took their brand of counterculture to Portland, OR.

Greg took down the website when he got offered a legit job as an apprentice at a food magazine, and that was that.

The physical zines were cheap things, most ending up papering the sidewalk after trash day or lining the bottom of cages. Without the online presence, did Mary's "modeling career" even exist?

Mary was a little sad to see the era go, but when he woke up in Maine on the hood of some girl's car and only a hazy recollection of how they'd gotten there, he was beginning to see Angelique's point. He needed to get his shit together if he was ever going to become a rockstar. And frankly, he kind of felt like he needed to spend an entire month eating carrots and hydrating.

The 24/7 party had always been an ephemeral thing; it had been sand passing through his hands in a finite amount as he'd tried to hold onto it

He put himself on detox, and waking up sober for the first time in months felt like a revelation. And as it turned out, playing the guitar without badly shaking hands was way, way easier.

He found another job in another music store, and his starter!band was bringing butts into the smaller venues, like Toad.

He still had his old Rocky friends and the Deathbutantes. The club and venue owners still let him in for free, and Dave was always happy to give his demos a spin. By anyone's else's measure, he was steal one of the scene's darlings.

But Mary was beginning to realize that he needed to stop seeing himself as that scared kid who’d arrived in Boston 4 years ago with only a backpack, $72.57 to his name, and void where his family should be.

He needed to stop finding people to please into loving him.

Instead, he needed to live for himself and let them love him for who he was—fuck ups and all.

@slimylayne

Epilogue

"Honestly, that’s probably the reason I even got a band together," he says. "I was still kind of shit at guitar, but people came to see ‘Model Mary’ perform in his underwear."

He shoots me a smirk.

"I’m sure there’re pictures out there of me looking more glam than metal. I kind of played up the whole pinup thing for a while."

"Fuck, I would kill, literally kill to see that."

He pulls me into his lap until I’m straddling him.

"I could open up my underwear drawer and show you right now."

"Goore, you temptress."

I lean down to kiss him, and his hands sneak under my shirt, but I pull away again.

"I kinda thought I knew all your torrid secrets by now. Shit, how come Dave's never needled you about it?"

After 2 years with him, I’m surprised I hadn't even heard a peep from his oldest friend.

Mary snorts.

"Dave would miss shit hanging off his nose. Great dude, amiable as fuck, but he's always had fucking tunnel vision for his music."

I smirk at him.

"Sounds like someone else I know."

Mary pulls a face at me, and I apply kisses to every line until he laughs and bats me away.

"But really, Mare—how come you never told me about your brief career in blue steel?"

He blows out a breath, his hands smoothing up my thighs.

"Fuck. Cuz maybe I was a little embarrassed at how off the rails I was then, ok? Didn't want you to know what I fuck up I was." He takes my hand and kisses my palm. "And even I know it's a shit move to pitch woo at someone by telling them about banging half of Boston."

I make a face at him, and he laughs.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought."

His hands rest on my waist.

"Christ, everything about that year's a bit fuzzy, and it was like 10 years ago. Sometimes it feels like it happened to someone else, honestly. And shit—most of those people aren’t even around anymore. College kids who moved on and 20-somethings that grew up and moved who knows where. I used to watch Amber have—what is it when it’s four people?—and now she lives in bumblefuck Pennsylvania with 3 kids. After she left, I just kinda drifted away from all that."

He shrugs, his eyes downcast.

"I’m sorry, Mare," I say as I smooth his eyebrows.

He shrugs again.

"I mean, we all kinda keep in touch. It's like the only reason I have Facebook."

"When was the last time you even signed into that?"

Mary grins at me.

"Lola's birthday."

"One of the models? What happened with them?"

Mary bites his lip and thinks.

"Mayhem found religion after an OD and kinda ghosted everyone. Lesley followed a girl to New Hampshire. Uh…Lola pursued a PhD for something sciencey involving renewable energy with sugar beets in Idaho, and Bryan moved back to Florida to care for his grandma, who raised him."

Mary leans his head back on the couch and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"I mean, shit. We were fucking babies back then. Head empty except for a good time and unlimited potential."

I run my fingers through his hair.

"You miss it?"

His eyes pop open to look at me.

"Fuck no. Not for a million dollars. Too many question marks." His eyes glint as he runs his hands down me. "I like what I got going on right here."

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and kiss his forehead. The fucking sap.

Mary picks up my phone and scrolls through the pictures again.

"Fuck. I used to be goddamn adorable, though. Half this shit wouldn’t even fit me anymore."

I squish his little potbelly, and he grunts at me indignantly.

"Do you still have any originals?" I ask.

He shakes his head, his eyes wistful and his smile sad.

"Nah. Got destroyed when my roof collapsed and leaked everywhere. Fuck, landlords are useless. Glad we fucking own now, babe."

He scrolls up, scrolls back down.

"Just these four?"

I nod.

"Yeah. They were the only ones I found—and I did a lot of searching."

"Christ, I think there were at least 10."

I smile ruefully at him. "It’s not gonna be long anyway before they make their way into the popular tags and shit starts coming out of the woodwork."

He tosses my phone onto the table.

"Whatever. Just shows that I’ve always been cool."

And then he’s kissing me again, his hand tangling in my hair.

"You know, I’m your family now, Mare. Just for you."

He brings my hand up and kisses it.

"Fuck, I know that. Why’dja think I put a ring on it?"

#mary goore #longfic #gender neutral insert #aurelio voltaire

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