#id like for my cramps to let mE FUCKING SLEEP

[brandnewfridge]

whats the worst feeling ever and why is it needing a heating pad while its 30 degrees celsius

#id like for my cramps to let mE FUCKING SLEEP #menstrual period #period #people who menstruate #menstruation #period memes #menstrualproblems #menstrualhealth #my posts

[todayisafridaynight]

cant stress how obsessed i am with yamaguchis shirt

#snap chats #this is rgg related because i said so shut up ANYWAY #i DID steal this from twitter but i need to share it every with everyone so im not sorry #the person i stole this from rt'd a photoset from themselves and in it motomiya wearing The Silliest outfit ever #but ive already shared too much. ive already gone off topic too much we're moving on #i will bookmark it tho cause it makin me giggle #anyway if you cant read it. and id be so happy to type out what it says. #it says 'can't miss it!! you've got to go to nepal they have a big festival called Maha Shivaratri full moon night in february' #dont know why it makes me giggle it just does. like fuck man maybe i SHOULD go to nepal in february <- maha shivaratri is in march next yea #anyway everyone be nice to me today i have a spanish exam later and it Should be easy #but i was fighting god and the devil last night trying to sleep because my cramps decided to kick my ass EXTRA hard #I NEVER GET BAD CRAMPS WHYYYY DID IT HAVE TO BE BEFRE AN EXAM WHEN I NEED GOOD SLEEP !!!!!! #im lucky my spanish class is in the evening but god it was so painful #the last time i experienced pain as bad as that was when i was trying to sleep after busting my wrist #so awful.... i hurt a lil now but i'll get through it #ok bye let me study up just to reaffirm some Spanish Knowledge with myself

[snappedsky]

Fanatics 94.1

The Battalion and the Night Terrors suspect they know the current location of the Nightmare. It’s time to bring the fight to the monster.

*Links to previous and next chapters in reblog*

--

Final Awakening: Road Trip of Doom Part 1

           In the early hours of the morning, Dib is sitting at his computer desk. He’s scrolling through news reports from across the world, looking for anything of interest.

           It’s mostly just political stuff that he doesn’t care about, but every so often he does stumble across a story that sounds supernatural in nature. Stories like a woman with fins being found off the coast of Tahiti, or sightings of a supposed Sasquatch in Alberta, Canada. But while these stories are interesting, they’re mostly harmless.

           But eventually he comes across a story coming out of South Korea. As he reads over it again and again, he becomes convinced of its origin, and grabs his phone.

           Squee is fast asleep in his bed when he’s awoken by his phone vibrating on his nightstand. He groans with annoyance as he looks at the screen. It’s a message from Dib in the Battalion group chat.

           Stupid Dib, he thinks. Doesn’t he know Squee barely sleeps well anymore?

           Dib: I found an interesting story that I think you need to see

           Squee: How interesting?

           Pepito: not interesting enough to get me out of bed

           Gaz: Dib i warned you that if you woke me up before 7 again id kick your ass

           Tak: Pitiful humans, needing sleep.

           Zim: Can everyone shut the Irk up so my phone will stop buzzing.

           Dib: I found a story that I think is connected to the Nightmare

           Squee sits up, instantly intrigued.

           Squee: How sure are you?

           Dib: Like…99%

           Squee rolls his eyes. That’s not saying much. Dib is almost always certain about everything, even things he’s wrong about.

           Squee: Fine I’ll be right over

           Squee gets Johnny to drive him and they arrive to Dib’s house about an hour later. Johnny stays in the car while Squee goes inside, and he heads straight up to Dib’s room.

           “Hey,” he says as he enters the darkened room. Dib is sitting at his desk, illuminated only by his computer screen. “Nobody else came?”

           “Nope, just you,” Dib replies, “I guess the others figured it wasn’t worth their time.”

           “It had better be worth my time,” Squee grumbles as he leans against the desk. “So what is it?”

           “Look at this article,” he orders, pointing dramatically at the screen.

           The article is about a rash of murders around and within Seoul in South Korea. Victims’ bodies are disappearing without a trace only to be found weeks later in random locations, completely mutilated and drained of blood. Somebody was apparently beaten and abducted right off a populated street, but all of the witnesses claim to have not seen the assailant or even how the victim was attacked, despite them all seeing it happen. Any recorded footage, from CCTV or passersby, suddenly goes blurry during the event. Police are positively baffled.

           “So?” Squee questions.

           “Doesn’t it sound like when Johnny was under the Nightmare’s influence?” Dib insists, “like it was protecting him so he could do whatever he wanted?”

           “I guess,” he shrugs, “but even if it is the Nightmare, what are we supposed to do about it?”

           “We can go over there and stop it,” he declares, “it’s like you said at grad, the Nightmare is always lurking in the shadows. So how about this time, we strike at it before it can strike at us?”

           Squee groans, unconvinced.

           “Every time it attacks, it puts you through a rough time,” Dib points out sympathetically, “especially last time. So this time, we should give it a rough time.”            “You should ‘time’ way too many times,” Squee grunts then sighs. “Before we go hopping on a flight to Korea, we should be absolutely sure this is the Nightmare. We need a second opinion.”

           “From who?”

           A few minutes later, Reverend Meat, Sickness, Mr. Fuck, Psycho Doughboy, as well as Shmee and Nailbunny arrive on the scene. They let themselves into the Membrane house and up to Dib’s room, stopping in the doorway.

           “Jeez, it’s cramped in here,” Reverend Meat comments.

           “You lot wait out here,” Shmee orders, “Meat, you stay with me and we’ll check it out.”

           “Who died and made you king?” D-boy scoffs but they all listen to him anyway.

           Gaz leaves her bedroom and sees the Night Terrors all hanging around in the hallway. Nailbunny, Eff, and Sickness wave happily to her. She grunts with annoyance and goes downstairs.

           In Dib’s room, Shmee and Reverend Meat read through the article.

           “What do you think?” Dib asks excitedly.

           Reverend Meat looks like he’s about to say something, but Shmee elbows him in the stomach, shutting him up.

           “Wait here,” Shmee orders, “we must confer with my associates.”

           Dib and Squee glance at each other as the two Night Terrors leave. Shmee takes a quick look in the hallway, making sure there’s no one else around but the other Night Terrors, before grabbing Reverend Meat by the suspenders and pulling him in close.

           “This is it,” he whispers enthusiastically, “the chance we’ve been waiting for.”

           “I know,” Reverend Meat agrees, “it’s definitely the Nightmare.”

           “For real?” Nailbunny gasps.

           “Absolutely,” Shmee nods, “if we leave now, we can get there before it moves on to a new victim.”

           “Okay. How are we gonna get there?” Sickness asks.

           Shmee stops. “Ummm…”

           “Can’t we take an airplane?” Eff asks, “I’ve always wanted to.”

           “We need passports, among other things,” Nailbunny points out, “and we’re not exactly citizens.”

           “We need the kids,” Reverend Meat states.

           “We can’t get them involved in this,” Shmee argues, “especially not Squee. If he finds out what we’re planning…”

           “I know, but we don’t have any other choice,” he retorts, “we need their help to fly to Korea and we’ll need their battle skills too. This new killer sounds just as dangerous as Johnny, and you said yourself it’ll take all of us to destroy the Nightmare. We need them to be our soldiers.”            Shmee growls. “I don’t like it, but you’re right.”

           Reverend Meat nods. Shmee takes a deep breath before going back into Dib’s room.

           “Alright, we’ve decided,” he declares, “it truly is the Nightmare.”

           “Ha! I knew it!” Dib cheers.

           “And we think it would be the right course of action to head over there now and rough it up.”

           Dib laughs agreeably while Squee cocks his head in disbelief. “Really? You think so, Shmee?”

           “After all the grief it’s caused us over the years, hell yeah I do,” he nods, “so go on, assemble the forces.”

           “I’m way ahead of you,” Dib grins as he types quickly on his cellphone.

           About an hour later, everyone meets up in Zim’s living room for a team meeting. Dib, Gaz, Tak, Pepito, and Squee sit on the couch with the Night Terrors standing to one side and Johnny, Devi, and Tenna on the other. Zim stands before them all, ready to address.

           “Welcome to the meeting, everyone,” he says, “first order of business: why are they here?” He points with annoyance at Johnny, Devi, and Tenna.

           “If this is about the Nightmare, we want to know about,” Devi insists while Johnny and Tenna nod agreeably.

           “Fine,” Zim grunts, “onto the main order of business. Dib and Squee believe they found someone who is helping the Nightmare. This means the Nightmare is likely hiding with them. With this information, we can go after the Nightmare’s puppet and stop them, breaking the Nightmare’s hold and giving it a hard time.”

           “Sounds fun,” Pepito grins.

           “After all the trouble it’s caused us over the years,” Devi says, “I would love to cause it some trouble.”

           “How will we find this person?” Tak asks.

           “They are committing murders in and around Seoul in South Korea,” Shmee replies, “once we get there, we should be able to sense the Nightmare and track it down.”

           “We should be able to get a flight from Los Angeles,” Dib says.

           “I don’t have a passport,” Squee points out.

           “And I’m on the No Fly List,” Johnny adds, “don’t ask why.”

           “So how are we all gonna get there?” Gaz asks.

           “You’re all thinking like humans,” Zim scoffs, “we have a perfectly fine flying machine of our own we can use.”

           “We can’t all fit in the Epic,” Dib points out.

           “Not the Epic,” he argues and points at the Night Terrors. “Their bus.”

           “It flies?” Reverend Meat questions.

           “Of course. Why wouldn’t it?” Zim replies, “and it flies much faster than any human-made airplane. We should make it to our destination within a couple hours.”

           “Well, what are we waiting for?” Pepito asks.

           “Night Terrors, prepare your bus,” Zim orders, “we shall meet you there once we’ve gathered our supplies.”

           The Night Terrors leave quickly on foot, while the Battalion, along with Johnny, Devi, and Tenna get into the Epic and fly off. They stop at everyone’s houses to gather weapons, food and drinks, a change of clothes, and whatever else they may need. Once finished, they go over to where the Night Terrors’ bus is currently parked- a random parking lot downtown. Reverend Meat, Sickness, D-boy, and Eff are arguing with Serena outside while Aron, Shmee, and Nailbunny stand aside.

           “Oh, good, Squee,” Reverend Meat says as the Battalion approaches. “Tell Serena she can’t come.”

           “Serena, you can’t come,” Squee says apathetically as he boards the bus.

           “The hell I can’t,” Serena snaps, “if this is some big fight, I want in.”

           “You have nothing to do with this,” D-boy argues, “just take Aron to your family house and stay there.”

           “Maybe they’re right, Serena,” Aron points out, “this seems personal for them. We should just let them handle it.”

           Serena seems unconvinced, but doesn’t argue anymore. She and Aron take their stuff out of the bus and the Battalion go on board.

           “How long will you be gone?” Serena asks.

           “Uh…hard to say,” Eff replies.

           “Once the bus has been returned, it’ll be brought back to you,” Reverend Meat adds.

           “You guys will be okay, right?” Aron asks.

           There’s just the slightest beat of hesitation.

           “Yeah, of course,” Sickness grins and the others nod.

           Serena and Aron look suspicious but before they can say anything, Shmee steps in.

           “Okay, come on,” he orders, “it’s time to go.”

           Shmee and Nailbunny board the bus. The Night Terrors linger for just a second longer.

           “Um…you guys wer-are…good friends to us,” Reverend Meat says, “we really appreciate all you’ve done for us.”

           “Don’t make this sound like goodbye,” Serena scorns, “we’ll see you once you’re back.”

           “Right,” he smiles, “take care of each other.”

           He suddenly wraps their arms around both of them, surprising them with a soft hug. They’re even more surprised when Sickness, D-boy, and Eff join in. Then without another word, the Night Terrors step away and board the bus, closing the door behind them.

           “That was so sweet,” Tenna comments.

           “Yeah,” Devi adds suspiciously, “I didn’t think you guys were capable of ‘sweet’.”

           “Let’s just go,” D-boy demands.

           “Working on it,” Zim says from the driver’s seat. He flips a couple switches and the bus rumbles as the engine starts.

           “We’re taking off,” Squee says excitedly.

           Everyone watches through the tinted windows as the ground begins to get lower and lower. Serena and Aron stare after the rising bus and the Night Terrors stare back.

           “Brace yourselves,” Zim orders. With sudden force that nearly knocks everyone over, the bus blasts into the sky. Once it’s past the clouds, he straightens out and flies out of the city. The sky is clear and the flight is smooth. It should be an easy flight to the Nightmare.

#invader zim #invader zim fanfiction #johnny the homicidal maniac #johnny the homicidal maniac fanfiction #iz jthm crossover #myocs #myart

[blue-eyed-bloodstains]

What make up product do you never use? I rarely wear make up, usually only for like certain occasions but one thing I’ve never used is foundation

Do you ever sit with your legs open? more than I probably should lol it’s the tomboy in me...I’m always in jeans so it’s whatever I don’t care :P

Have you ever been offered drugs on the street? no

What is one place you have been to and hated? Clifton, CO...

Have you ever seen a jellyfish? not in person

Do you know who Dylan Moran is? yeah

What’s your favourite kind of soup? alphabet lol no joke

Do you ever put bread in your soup? if it’s tomato soup of course I dip my grilled cheese in it! otherwise no

Would you like me to stop asking questions about soup? lol I don’t mind

Is there anything in the USB key slots in your computer/laptop? no

What advertisements are on your screen at the moment? none

Do you ever get a really itchy nose when you’re unable to scratch it? I mean I can scratch it but it just keeps itching and drives me nuts sometimes lol

Has anyone ever randomly licked your face? not full on lick but like poke with his tongue when kissing my cheek to mess with me lol 

When was the last time you bought a book? Tom Felton’s memoir a few months ago

What question do you hate being asked in surveys? they can get pretty repetitive but I don’t necessarily hate any, it is what it is 

Are you upstairs or downstairs at the minute? it’s a one level house so neither lol

Did anyone ever draw on your face when you were sleeping? no

Have you ever done that to someone else? I’d never do that, I’m not Jigglypuff :P

Have you ever been asked for directions? yeah

If so, did you ever give someone wrong directions? hopefully not, I suck with directions even for myself let alone trying to help someone else!

What’s your favourite brand of chocolate, galaxy, cadburys, or nestle? Nestle since the other two aren’t a thing here lol

Are there any farm animals near you? oh yeah there’s tons of farm land here so lots of people have cattle. closest ones to farm animal around here I’ve seen are goats, sheep, and cows

Are there any lakes near you? a few small ones

Was there ever a time when you felt absolutely terrified? a lot of times actually

If so, why? many reasons, depends on what terrified me at the time

Is there any TV show you watch religiously? Jeopardy, Shark Tank, Hoarders, EVERYTHING on ID (crime shows), Law and Order: SVU, court shows mainly Judge Judy, Bar Rescue, To Catch A Smuggler...just to name ‘a few’ XD

Have you ever been in your local newspaper? one time the first time we moved to CO, I was in 5th grade and our class was in the newspaper for our class pet and I’m reaching toward it to pet it which is the pic they chose for the paper lol it wasn’t front page or anything though

Have you ever called your mother ma or mammy? no

Can you imitate any other accent? yeah Brit and “country” pretty well, I think :P

What is your funniest memory of the 6th contact in your phone? ironically enough that’s my fiance cause I have him listed as ‘Babe’ XD and wayyyy too many to even count or list

Have you ever protested? no

Have you ever participated in a parade? no

Are you going to do anything for Paddy’s day? already passed and couldn’t drink so...sucked

Were you ever chased by an animal? not that I remember

Has anyone ever really insulted you? ha you serious? all my life

Have you ever told an elder to fuck off? not to their face...but I’ve worked a lot of retail so nuff said XD

Do you ever make banana sandwiches? oh my goddddd no but I fuckin love them!

Do you blush easily? ohhh yeah it’s ridiculous lol

Are you single/or taken? taken

Are you happy with that?^ yes

Do you make the first move or do you prefer it the other way around? other way around

What is the most painful thing you’ve experienced? physically I’d say my collarbone being broken, with ovarian cysts bursting and the cramps from that a very tight close second

Do you feel guilty about anything? all the fuckin time

Do you hug someone whenever you see them? my fiance, my dad/stepmom/stepsis when we visit them in NJ

Have you ever been in the accidents and emergency room? I damn near live in the ER...accident wise? yeah, a few bike wrecks growing up and most recently when I totaled my car last year due to a DUI....I should be dead right now, let’s put it that way and I somehow came out with only major whiplash and a few bumps and bruises..

When was the last time you bled? What happened? I won’t state the obvious since I’m a woman XD umm this major basal cell on my hairline that I’m having major surgery on soon to remove with subsequent surgeries for skin grafts given how extensive it’ll be bleeds/pusses all the time even without touching it and rescabs/repeats so...yeah 

Is there anyone you know that gives you the creeps? not that I can think of at the moment

Do you call random objects ‘gay’? no

Have you ever started talking to someone that you thought was someone else? no

When you look behind you what catches your attention the most? the tv tray next to the loveseat (I’m sitting with my back against the armrest and legs stretched out) and the clutter on it :P

#survey #bored #about me #random

[kaunis-sielu]

Crash and Burn: 9

Your heat hits in the middle of the night. The cramp nearly bowls you over. You go and grab a heat pad and take some painkillers then attempt to go back to bed. You sleep on and off the rest of the night, never really getting restful sleep but it’s enough. You drag yourself out of bed at 11, you’re hungry and thirsty so you head to the kitchen. You get water first then make some eggs, you’re eating when the knock comes at the door. You can’t place the smell, but it smells like an Alpha. You creep your way over to the door and peer through the peephole, for a second it looks like Clark, but when you take a second look you know it isn’t him.

“Can I help you?” You call through the door,

“No but I can help you. Let me in sweet Omega.” He calls and you want to vomit.

“What’s your name?”

“Kent Clark.” Is he kidding right now? His name is the opposite of Clark’s? Or did he just get confused and say the name wrong?

“Uh, let me talk to my Alpha.” You lie, moving away from the door, the Alpha, Kent Clark starts pounding on the door. You grab your phone and hurry back into Clark’s room before locking the door and calling him. He answers on the first ring.

“Honey?”

“Alpha is pounding on the door. I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m on my way. Where are you?”

“Your bedroom.”

“In the closet there’s a gun safe, I want you to turn on the security system and get the gun out. The code is 0922 for the gun safe.”

“Clark I can’t shoot him!”

“You won’t have to, it’s just in case.” He’s so calm, how is he so calm? “I’m almost there Honey.” You hear more pounding on the door and you let out a soft whimper,

“Alpha.” You can hear Clark running up the stairs now,

“I’m almost there Omega, I’m one floor away. I’m going to hang up so I can deal with this okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll call you back, stay where you are until I do.”

“Okay.” You agree you don’t know if he meant to Alpha command you there but honestly you don’t care that he did, the line goes dead. You listen as closely as you can to the two Alphas, you know that they’re fighting but you can’t tell who is winning. God please, please let it be Clark. There’s silence then, much to your relief your phone rings.

“Clark?”

“Yea Honey, it’s okay.”

“Fuck. Are you okay?” You ask and he hums,

“I’m okay. I’d ask to come in but I can smell you from here.”

“Should I plug the crack under the door?”

“Not a bad idea. I can put a Beta out here too.”

“Okay. Thank you.” You hear him inhale slowly then let out a tense breath, “I’m sorry.”

“You just smell good.” He says softly, “And I kinda miss you.”

“Just two more days.” You tell him, you won’t admit that you miss him too.

“I’ll get Bruce out here, you won’t be bothered again.”

“Thank you.” Just before you hang up you say, “Clark?”

“Yea Honey?”

“Can I wear one of your shirts?”

“Take whatever you need.”

“Thank you, oh and I don’t think he’s actually an Alpha. Or something.”

“Why?”

“He tried to Alpha command me to get me to open the door but it didn’t work.” Clark is silent for a moment before he hums softly,

“Do you think it’s from when we had the issue with Lex? I told you to only listen to me.”

“Oh, that’s right. Could that be it?”

“I could Alpha Command you to not listen to me and see what happens?” He offers and you think about it for a second but if you really can only be Alpha commanded by him, you trust him and it would keep you from being commanded by other Alphas.

“That’s okay. If I can be protected from other Alphas like this too that sounds great to me.”

“Okay, I’m going to go now Honey. Bruce is here, if you need anything please don’t hesitate to call.”

“Thank you.” You tell him before hanging up.

The rest of your heat is peaceful. No Alphas come sniffing, once you dig a shirt out of one of his drawers your cramps chill out too. Which you know probably means something but you’re not going to think about it. When you wake up on Tuesday morning it’s to your phone ringing. When you glance at the caller ID it’s Clark.

“Morning.”

“Hi Honey, good news, Lex’s lawyer has put a rush on the trial since he’s an important businessman,” The skepticism dripping from his voice when he says important businessman makes you smile, “So he petitioned a judge to let us jump the whole wait and have a bench trial.”

“What’s a bench trail?”

“No jury, just a judge deciding guilt.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“I’ve agreed on the condition that I get to pick the judge so it’s a good thing. It’s also nice because I don’t have to worry about Zod stacking the jury with Alphas to try and intimidate you.” You scoff and he laughs softly, “I know, fat chance but still it’s a concern.”

“My heat is over so if you want to come home and talk me through what to expect I’d like that.”

“So, I would but your heat triggered my rut and I’m not sure if I’m ready to be around you yet.”

“Oh.” You’re stunned that he’d admit that to you, an Omega triggering an Alpha’s rut isn’t something you hear about very often.

“I did tell you.” He teases and you roll your eyes at him even though he can’t see you. “I should be good by dinner though if you’re comfortable with that.”

“Yea. I can cook something if you want?”

“That sounds really nice. If you need anything let Bruce know.”

“Does he need sleep? I swear he never left.”

“He did, just traded out with his son Dick every time he needed to. I don’t think Bruce needs the same amount of sleep as anyone else in the world.”

“Thank you for all of this.”

“No need to thank me Honey, just doing what I can to protect you. I’m going to let you go, I want to get a little more work done before I come home.”

“Okay, I’ll see you soon.”

The hours drag by, you start dinner around 4 and the security system beeps off at 4:45. Clark’s scent fills the space, more than it had before and you inhale deeply holding it in your lungs for a second. You could get used to this.

You eat dinner, catching up from the last couple of days. Clark met Blossom, the terrified Omega that you’d smelled on Maria, on the day you’d called him to come get rid of the Kent Clark, which turned out to be his real name.

You tell him about some of the things that you’d learned in your communications class and the two books you’d gotten through during your heat.

“I hate to ruin this mood but we should probably talk about the trial.” Clark says once you’re done eating and cleaning up.

“Yea, we should. Then I should go home.” You tell him, for a second you think he looks disappointed and you agree, you want to stay here with him but it’s not a good idea.

Clark runs you through everything. What questions to expect, how to signal to him if you’re uncomfortable or need a break and most importantly if Zod tries to Alpha command you which is forbidden by law.

Corbin doesn’t quite have the money or power behind him that Lex does so Clark is less worried about him which makes you less worried about him. After you eat and go through everything Clark walks you back to Kara’s apartment.

“I really should look into getting a new place. Did anything survive the fire at my old building?”

“I’ll call Steve, the problem is it’s been a crime scene.” He tells you. One of the best parts about living with Kara is that she lives right next door to Clark’s building.

“I’d just really like to have some more clothes.” You muse and he nods,

“I get that.” He gives you a little half grin, “Although, I do like seeing you in my clothes.” You glance down in confusion then realize that you’re wearing his shirt.

“Well, that’s embarrassing. I didn’t even realize it was yours.” You admit and he laughs loudly.

“It’s a good look.” He flirts and you grin up at him.

“A little possessive don’t you think?”

“No, if I ever get that shirt back it’s going to smell like you, and Honey you’re the sweetest smelling Omega I’ve ever met.”

“I like how you smell too.” You admit and he hums softly, it’s a happy sound and makes your stomach roll. Your hand brushes against his as you walk and after a second you curl your pinky around his. You suddenly wish the walk was longer, your finger curled around his.

When you stop outside of Kara’s door he looks down at you, his eyes flick down to your lips before he closes his eyes for a second.

“When this is over,” he mutters knocking on Kara’s door.

Tag list:

@andahugaroundtheneck @also-fangirlinsweden @pagina16ps @princesssterek @valsworldofcreativity @dumblani @inkedaztec @loving-life-my-way @animegirlgeeky @shinycupcakebaker @eralen @sophham @gh0stgurl @wonderlandfandomkingdom @abschaffer2

#Clark Kent #clark kent au #clark kent x reader au #clark kent x reader #alpha!clark kent #alpha!clark kent x reader au #alpha!clark kent x omega!reader #alpha!clark kent x reader #alpha!superman #alpha!superman x reader au #alpha!superman x omega!reader #alpha!superman x reader #superman x reader au #superman au #superman x reader #crash and burn story #firedogs story

[mypoisonedvine]

Hey, J.D. I know I'll miss tonight's aleepover because of prior plans so I wanted to submit this early if that's okay, if not I understand. I had the thought of reader having to share quarters/room with the Stucky boys and the reader has a really vivid sex deeam that causes them to sleep masturbate. Figured you could go wild with all the lovely, filthy ides of how they'd react to being woke up to that.

missions often called for close quarters, it was part of the deal.  you were relatively comfortable with it by now.

at this point you’d shared a tent, room, or bunk with nearly everyone on the team.  even steve, once.  but the idea of being in a cabin-- in a room in a cabin, specifically-- with steve and bucky was a little intimidating.

because, well, you sort of had a crush on them.  both of them.  and it wasn’t as bad with just steve because he was oblivious to it.

but bucky knew.  either he knew, or he was just accidentally perfect at torturing you about it.

no, he had to know.  he gave you too many unambiguous looks to dispute that.  he knew and he was toying with you.

in fact, ‘toying’ is a good way to describe what you were picturing as you fell asleep with them only a few feet away on either side.  bucky playing with your body, exploring you with those damn metal fingers.  using toys on you.  filling you with objects-- some meant for sexual stimulation, some not-- until you begged to have him inside you and nothing else.

but steve definitely wasn’t being left out, no you dreamed that he was watching it all go down, waiting patiently for his turn stroking his cock and encouraging his friend to fuck you harder: “really get her warmed up for me.”

steve heard your heartrate pick up, your breathing shift, and he furrowed his brow.  “do you hear that?” he whispered to bucky across the room.

“of course I do,” bucky answered instantly.

“I think she’s dreaming,” steve announced.

“she’s wet,” bucky sighed, “I can smell it.”

“that’s what that is?” steve gasped.  “smells... delicious.”

“steve,” they heard you mumble, and you’d said his name plenty times before but this was not like any of those times.  this was obviously a moan.

“she’s calling for you, pal,” bucky teased, “aren’t you gonna help her out?”

“she doesn’t know what she’s doing,” steve frowned.

“please, please,” you whined, your body writhing as you mindlessly reached between your legs.  “fuck me, please, bucky.”

“well, I’m not one to leave a lady hanging,” bucky grinned as he hopped out of his bed and slipped into yours.  he shook you awake as he cuddled up behind you, whispering your name.  “you alright, babydoll?”

“huh?” you whimpered groggily, “oh god, bucky...”

“were you having a dream, sweetheart?  you were being a little noisy,” he purred.

“do you really want that?” steve interjected.  “us?”

“I think that much is obvious,” bucky chuckled, kissing your neck as you shuddered.

“but I want her to say it,” steve explained sternly.

“ah-- I want it,” you moaned, gasping when bucky grabbed your face and turned you to kiss him, his tongue swirling against yours while you felt the weight of steve beside you in your bed.

it was already a cramped space, but the three of you in bed was nearly impossible.  not that you minded being pressed tightly against them, sandwiched in between them like the luckiest filling in a very muscular macaron. 

you didn’t even know whose fingers were reaching down to pull your panties aside, who was circling your clit as you moaned against bucky’s lips.  steve kissed your cheek and jaw until he coaxed you into breaking away from bucky to kiss him instead.  he was less aggressive but more precise, taking exactly what he wanted from you while bucky’s touch tickled down your back-- and you definitely knew it was him because you could feel the cold metal along with the flesh.

“you’ve got goosebumps, babydoll,” he noticed with a whisper right beside your ear that made your spine tingle.  “do you like this?”

“yes,” you sighed against steve’s lips.

“so do I,” he admitted as he grabbed your hips and guided you to grind your ass against his hard cock.  you gasped when you felt how thick it was, and choked on your moan when steve rubbed his cock on your hip and suddenly you realized you were going to have to take both of them when you could barely fit one.

“do you guys... how does this work?” you whispered.

“don’t worry about that, we know what we’re doing,” bucky assured.

“you do?”

“we’ve been sharing for the past 100 years or so... I think we can manage,” steve chuckled, making your face burn unbearably hot.  the idea that they’d done this before was hot and jealousy-inducing at the same time.  you really hoped this didn’t mean this was a one-night-only offering, because it was already the most erotic experience of your life.

bucky kissed you again as he turned you onto your back-- but instead of laying on the bed you were on his chest, his lips latched onto the back of your neck while he held you close and spread your legs for steve who hovered above you.  

but steve hadn’t even gotten to your legs yet, he was too busy tearing off your shirt to suck and grope your tits.

“oh fuck,” you moaned, your back trying to arch but failing against bucky’s strength holding you back.

“these are real sensitive, huh?” steve noticed, mumbling around the nipple in his mouth.  “been thinkin’ about doing this to you since I met you... you’ve got great tits, wanted to taste them so bad.”

“yeah, if you like those you’ll love my pussy,” you smirked, making bucky laugh.

“that’s my girl,” he whispered proudly.  “you heard her, get a taste of that cunt, stevie.”

“I’m getting there,” steve assured as he kissed his way down your stomach, navigating around where bucky was holding you, taking a detour to nip at your thighs.

“fuck, steve, please,” you whimpered, squirming a little.  steve grabbed your hips to hold you still and finally dove in between your legs, devouring you voraciously.

you were sure you’d never moaned so loud or so long in all your life.  

you broke your own record a few minutes later when steve suddenly sat up and sunk his cock into you, grabbing onto the headboard above you while bucky whispered filthy praises in your ear and pinched your nipples between his fingers-- keeping one hot and one cold from his different hands.

“yes, yes, yes,” you chanted, “oh god, steve-- right there, I’m gonna come...”

of course he immediately pulled out when you said that.  “not yet you’re not.”

“no, please,” you whimpered, but bucky was already reaching down to slip his cock into you from behind, your body still balancing on top of his as he thrust up into you.

“fuck,” he groaned against your ear, “so fucking wet, all for us, huh?”

“all for you,” you agreed breathlessly.

steve watched and fisted his cock-- slow at first, but you could hear how much of your arousal you’d coated him with as he stroked his length.

bucky slipped his metal hand lower to circle your clit while he pounded into you, and his flesh hand higher to wrap around your throat.

“say you’re mine,” he growled into your ear, “say you belong to us, and maybe I’ll let you come...”

“yours, yours, I belong to you,” you pleaded, “just need to come-- a little more, bucky, please, wanna come on your cock.”

he gave you a few more thrusts before he pulled out with a groan, making you whine childishly.

“I said ‘maybe,’“ bucky reminded you as he nibbled on your earlobe.

“you’re awful,” you mumbled.

“don’t be a brat,” steve warned.  “just take what we give you.  we’ll let you come when we think you’ve earned it.”

“h-how do I earn it?” you asked nervously, losing your train of thought as steve filled you again.

“easy,” he shrugged, “you just have to make us come.  four times.”

“each.” bucky added sharply.

your head spun as you tried to process that not only could they come four times in a row, but that they intended to take pleasure from you until they did.  you weren’t sure if you were praising or cursing the man who invented super soldier serum at that moment (perhaps a bit of both).

“think you’re up for it, sweetheart?” steve cooed, pushing in to you especially deep to emphasize his question.  you nodded, making bucky smile against your neck while steve started to fuck you faster.

“when we do finally let you come, we’re not gonna stop,” bucky warned you.  “we’ll keep going until you can’t take anymore.”

“whatever you want,” you shuddered, “just don’t stop.”

and they certainly didn’t.  as promised, they kept using your body until they’d each come four times-- they took turns with your pussy for quite some time, then filled your mouth, even let you use your hands when you needed a bit of a break although it didn’t last long.

three out of steve’s four ended up inside you, but bucky was a bit more of a ‘jackson pollock’ type, leaving streaks of his seed on your stomach first, then your tits, then all over the outside of your pussy, and finally your face.  he let you lick that one up but the rest had to stay and cool on your body while they began to send you into pleasure over and over, beyond what you thought your body could take.

“one more, babydoll, one more,” bucky encouraged as he showed off one of the features of his metal hand-- vibration.

“can’t,” you whimpered, “I can’t...”

“yes you can,” steve promised, “one more and you can rest.”

‘rest’ didn’t mean ‘stop,’ though, because that was only number eight and you finished the night at fourteen.

it was only possible because they had memorized your body by the second orgasm: they knew exactly how long to let you cool off before staring up again, so you’d be just sensitive enough to come quickly but just recovered enough for it not to hurt.

plus, they kept you craving more by praising you so sweetly for each one.

“that’s our good girl, just like that”

“keep going, babydoll, wanna keep watching you come for us”

“there’s another one, good job sweetheart”

“wow, look at that pretty mess you made”

“love feeling you squeeze my fingers”

“love feeling you squeeze my cock”

“love feeling you come on my tongue”

“can you give us another, honey?  that’s the spirit, just let go and come for us”

“how many was that, buck?  if you can’t remember we might just have to start all over...”

it was so overwhelming that you either didn’t remember when it stopped for certain, or you fell asleep in the middle.  when you woke up, steve was behind you and bucky’s body was limply draped over yours, almost making it difficult to breathe.

you tried to lift either of them off of you but they were just so massive you had no chance.

“bucky?  steve?” you mumbled, hoping to wake them up and escape to get ready for the day.

and they woke up, but quickly you realized you had no chance of escape.

“mornin’ babydoll,” bucky cooed groggily as he kissed your neck again, pulling you closer.  

“let me get up, need to wash all this come off of me,” you frowned, but steve wasn’t having any of that, reaching down between your legs to drench his fingers in the soaking mess of his and your come leaking out of you and coating your inner thighs.

“you can get up when we’re done with you,” steve assured.

“you’re not done yet?” you gasped.

“just ooooone more,” bucky promised with a wink as steve started to push his fingers inside you and curl right against your g-spot instantly.

you should’ve known it wasn’t going to be that easy.  but it was definitely worth it.

#stucky x reader #stucky x reader smut #saturday night sleepover #Anonymous

[midoriima]

facetime

www.tokyorevengers_mitsuya/fluff.com

"I fucking hate school, I could have just homeschooled but no, my dumbass didn't."

You began to complain to yourself about school due to the stress that started to build up. Your teachers have been pressuring you into doing more schoolwork lately. It feels good to be recognized and do great in academics, but that didn't mean you enjoy the work they pile up for you to do.

Your hands were starting to cramp and your butt feels like it's becoming flatter and flatter against the hardwood chair with every minute that passes. You were barely finished with half of what they gave you and it was already three in the morning.

Luckily it's a Saturday now, but you always reserved weekends for your shenanigans regarding the gang and sleep. You didn't want to spend another few hours on your chair and you didn't want to move either because if you did, your attention will be directed towards something else, and you can't afford to fail.

Aside from that, all this schoolwork is not related or needed for your exams in the next week, rendering it completely useless but you don't know why you're still doing it.

"God, I haven't even held my boyfriend's hands yet, at least let me do that before you take my life away." You joked but also complained once more.

Just as you said that, there was a sudden boom of thunder and your phone started to ring.

You were frustrated at the moment and failed to look at the called id, so you picked it up, and yelled at the caller.

"DON'T CALL ME NOW. I'M DOING UGLY SCHOOLWORK, OKAY?! LEAVE ME ALO-"

The caller only let out a sigh before a chuckle, "Don't worry, Yn. It's me, Mitsuya. I'm feeling kind of lonely right now, do you want to facetime? We don't have to talk or do anything, just maybe... enjoy each other's presence, I guess?"

You were taken aback by the sudden request but complied to it either way.

You turned your camera on before letting your phone lean on your glass, letting it face you. You were about to resume to doing your work when the sight of Mitsuya caught your attention for too long.

His hair was messy, he also didn't look like he was wearing a shirt. Your heart started beating fast before you averted your eyes back to the papers. Or at least tried to.

"Why are you staring at me?" He asked, looking up at you with his eyebrow raised.

"Nothing." You said and went back to work while trying not to let Mitsuya direct your attention from the papers to him.

"You're finally done." He said, smiling at you. The guy finally put on a shirt which you were thankful for.

"Yeah... it was faster than what I expected, but I think that's all thanks to you. So, thank you." Flashing him a small smile before showing him a pack of chocolates, but eating it in front of him.

"Wanna meet up and eat breakfast together?" He asked,

"Yeah, sure. I'll go wash up, where should we meet?"

"I'll wait for you at your house, see you later!"

"Yeah, see you!"

#(sy - 物語) #content: profanity #character/s: #mitsuya takashi #x gender neutral reader #mitsuya x reader #mitsuya fluff #tokrev mitsuya #tokyorev x reader #tokyo revengers #reader insert #mitsuya x you #mitsuya takashi x reader

[nanaminsonyfans]

Comfort Headcanons

masterlist

a/n; not requested but i need this rn. its more of a vent piece rather than anything else. as for the second half, those are personally all my thoughts and worries with my scars. like a i, a vent piece.

warning; mention of periods, s*lf harm, scars, and poor body image.

Being on your period with him

Mark

Mark came home late as usual to see you clutching his sweater he wore everyday. You were curled up in the fetal position and groaning. You looked almost dead. He got worried immediately.

"Y/n, baby." He whispers softly, wrapping his arms around you, not even bothering to take his super-suit off. You smiles a little at the comfort and warmth of him against your back and waist.

"Yes?" "What's wrong?" "Cramps...." You mumble, almost embarrassed. What if he didnt want to be around you. Even though you've been dating forever, and you usually stay at his place, that fear was always in the back of your head.

"Period?" You just nod, chewing the inside of your cheek. "What are you craving?" He was so sweet, even if you weren't craving anything and told him so, he would still get you something.

"The frozen yogurt from that place in Australia." You mumble and he gets up. "I'll be right back with that, then I'll change and cuddle. Deal?" You smile at him, he loves your smile so much.

"Deal."

Rex

Rex had been cuddling you back at the Guardian headquarters. He knew of your monthly, tracked it even. He may be a douche but he cares for his s/o.

So here he was, holding the heating pad against your waist, rubbing the balls of your hips softly. His hands were rough from being a hero but, sometimes it was nice.

The way you were secure in his arms made you feel safer than ever. You're blinks got more slow as you tried to watch the movie with your boyfriend. He chuckled softly, your back vibrating being of his laugh.

"Baby, just sleep...you'll feel better if you do." "But....'anna....'end time 'ith yous..." You slur, half awake. "You are babe. Now sleep...." Rex kisses your head softly, earning a hum from you.

"g'night...."

He sees your SH scars for the first time

Mark

You two had been dating for awhile. Not long enough to have sex just yet but, long enough to have heavy make outs. But currently you weren't doing that.

It was Mark's birthday and you took him to your family's lake house. William, Eve, and Amber came too. It was easier to convince your parents that way.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror.

The swimsuit was cute, it suited any body type, but it showed a little too much...of your hips for your liking. You shook your head.

You did everything to try and get rid of the scars. Coconut oil? didnt work. Foundation? Also didnt, pls you were going swimming. Bandages? too obvious-

You were snapped out of your thoughts when there was a knock on the door.

"Hey, Y/n, you gonna come out yet?" "In-In a second!" You panicked. Fuck! You cant go out. it went from your hip to a little bit of your thigh. He was gonna fucking notice-

"Are you okay? I'm coming in-" "No dont-!"

He came in. At first he was awestruck by you. You looked amazing in that! His eyes wondered and he saw.

Yeah you had a few scars on your arms, but those healed, they werent as discolored as the ones on your hips. Didn't help that you would basically relapse every other week.

"Y/n-" "I-I know...you probably think I'm ugly an-and an attention whore and you dont want to be with me anymore. That's fine- i wouldn't want me either-"

His soft fingers trailed across the scars. Mark placed a small kiss on your forehead, a small yet sympathetic smile.

"I love you. Nothing will change that. Okay?" He says with those amazing eyes. Eyes that were telling the truth.

"Okay."

Rex

This man was handsy. So if you relapsed, the next day he knew, or he knew something was up. You opened up about it once, but he said he didnt care, as long as you were okay.

You weren't okay.

After a relapse, the next day you would cuddle Rex, his hands would go to your hips and you would flinch, then wince. It stung.

You never bothered to clean it because, you deserved this. Everything bad happening to you was of your doing.

You knew you were a horrible person. You didnt know why the fuck Rex would he with someone LIKE you. What the fuck made you special? You don't deserve any of this love or happiness.

And thats why you relapse. Because you dony deserve it. You dont deserve Rex, your friends, or being a superhero.

Right now, you were cuddling Rex. You had shorts on that were riding up a tad, showing more of your thigh. You didn't notice that your scars and discoloration from said scars were visible, until Rex's thumb grazed eyes over it.

"Y/n...you said you stopped..." You thought he was disappointed in you. Who wouldn't be? Plus you fucking lied to him. But no, it was just concern.

"I-I know and im sorry." You whisper and grab his hand, pulling it away. "You probably dont want me now. I'm ugly. I'll never be as attractive as Eve or Mark or Kate or-or..."

You cried as you stumbled over your words, cursing at yourself.

"Stop it." Rex looked stern. "I love you. You could be a turtle for all i care and id still love you. Even if that is beastiality." "Turtles can speak-" "Yeah but...." You let out a small giggle.

"Whatever." Rex grumbled with a slight smile. "But, no matter what, i will love you. Forever. Okay?" You nod, hugging him. "Just....come to me next time?"

"I'll try." "That's all i ask for..."

#invincible #mark grayson #rex splode #rex sloan #mark grayson x reader #invincible x reader #rex splode x reader #rex sloan x reader

[chispas-and-broken-bindings]

I really wanted to get the next chapter of Nothing Sacred, All Things Wild up this week, but work was crazy and I also got caught up in another story (I can’t control my muse)...so instead I’m offering up a long snippet of the dystopian/space colonist fic I started off a prompt I got a while ago for an “Arranged Marriage + a/b/o” request I got from an anon.

A/B/O is not my cup of tea, so I twisted it into an arranged marriage by an artificial intelligence instead: 

He wakes up angry, sweat soaking through his pillow, heart racing, stomach cramped. The alarm is buzzing from somewhere beneath the bed, where he must have knocked it. 

“Turn it off,” Ygritte mutters into his shoulder, before rolling away with the rest of their thin blanket.

He complies, letting the shock of the cold floor against his feet spur him into full wakefulness. “I take the test today.” It’s raining. He watches the drops splatter against the small window near the ceiling, and he wonders if Ygritte remembered to check the bucket beneath the leak before she crawled into bed the night before. 

Their garden apartment doesn’t do well in the rain. Jon still doesn’t understand why it’s even called a garden...there’s nothing green about their cramped basement residence, besides the mold growing beneath the sink.  

“Oh yeah. Happy birthday...we’ll get drinks when you come home.” 

“If I come home.”  He could be part of the one percent, after all. That is the Institution's promise. Everyone is SOMEONE. Anyone can be part of the 1%. Are YOU?

Jon knows it’s unlikely. How could he, an orphan from Mole’s Town, have the magic combination of pheno-, geno-, and personality type to be chosen for the Colony? No...he’s just another loser of the 99% who will waste his twenty-first birthday behind the Brutalist concrete walls of the Institution’s testing center, playing lab rat for the day, until the examiners come to the inevitable conclusion that he’s just another nobody. 

They’ll spit him back out on the street, leaving him free to carve out a pathetic existence on a slowly dying planet. 

He doesn’t bother washing. It’d be a waste of precious water when he knows full well they’ll scrub him down at the testing center. Instead he spends his last moments at home drinking a pot of weak coffee, trying to remember anything he was taught in the schools he barely attended. His energy would be better spent bracing for the coming indignity of having every part of his body and mind exposed and dissected. 

“Is the area of a circle, two pi times the radius? Or is that the circumference?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Ygritte lights a cigarette at the stove before joining him at the table. “It’s not that kind of test.”

He knows that. It’s another Institution promise. The Test doesn’t ask WHAT you know. It asks who YOU are. Are YOU the 1%

How the fuck would Jon know? It’s easier for him to remember that the area of a circle is actually pi times the radius squared, than it is for him to explain who he is. He has no idea. That’s kind of what being an orphan is all about. 

Ygritte could at least throw him a bone and tell him what the test is like. She took it two years ago, though she won’t talk. Most people won’t. There are no rules against it, but The Test is treated like dysentery. Unless you live behind the gates, you’re going to get it at least once in your life, but that doesn’t mean you’re gonna go around describing your diarrhea to the world.  

Grenn went to White Harbor for the test a month ago, and though Jon had to buy him six beers and two shots of whiskey before Grenn would shut up about his first-ever train ride, he did give Jon a few insights into the rest of the experience. 

Not that the train isn’t worth the excitement, especially when the ride is paid for (another Institution promise. No matter your means. No matter the distance. EVERYONE makes it to the Test. Are YOU the 1%?) Technically, Jon has taken it once before, from Winterfell to Mole’s Town as a baby, but he doesn’t remember.  

Now he can’t believe anything that moves so fast could feel so smooth. He’s topped out at ninety miles per hour on the best snowmobile Donal Noye patched together, but that left his teeth rattling and his ears buzzing for hours afterward. The train is moving at double the speed, but he could be in the godswood, for how quiet the near-empty economy cabin is. He shares it with a twitchy young man who never looks up from a cheap tablet, and a black raven perched in a large cage who spends the entire ride staring at Jon with one eerie black eye. 

The testing center is located just across from the train station, in an intimidating building that used to have a name. Jon has a vague memory that it was a prison before the Institution took it over. Before that it was something else. 

He doesn’t balk when a masked orderly leads him to a small room, tells him to strip, and then takes off with his clothes. He knows they’ll be returned at the end of the day. Of more pressing concern is the man and woman who enter talking too quietly to make out at the other end of the room, while a nurse rolls in with a small cart covered in collection tubes, gauze strips, and butterfly needles. 

Everyone wears surgical masks, latex gloves, long white coats, and black clogs. 

Jon remains naked beneath a small paper covering. 

He has given blood before, and the messy, life-saving transfusion Mance performed to save Tormund three years ago was far scarier than the rapid, methodical draw that's taken from him now. Still, it’s disconcerting to think of the secrets the Institution will glean from his blood. He’s uncomfortably aware that they’ll know who his parents are before the day is over, even as he’ll continue living in total ignorance. 

Another Institution promise. The Institution values EVERYONE’S right to privacy. YOU control the right to tell the world who you are. Are YOU the 1%?

Before he’s finished the recitation in his head, five tubes are full, and the nurse pats a cotton ball and a band-aid over his arm. She tosses a granola bar on his lap before rolling out of the room with her cart of samples. 

Next comes a physical exam, where the other two examiners speak only to each other as they record his height, weight, blood pressure, and note his every blemish and scar in flat affect. 

“Post-burn contractures across the palmar and dorsal aspect of the left hand, adduction and extension in the metacarpophalangeal joint of thumb fall outside normal range of movement.”

“Keloid scarring along the right gastrocnemius muscle, five point three centimeters in diameter.”

“Slightly hypertrophic scarring beginning at left brow and running medially down across the left orbital cavity to the cheek. No ptosis noted. No apparent damage to the eye.”

He should feel worse beneath the weight of each fault. Instead he relaxes. He was nervous for nothing. Failure was always inevitable. The Institution would never invest in a malnourished kid with a burned hand and a badly healed leg wound. They are famously secretive about their selection process, but some reasons for failure are common knowledge. As the crows like to say, no cripples, bastards, or broken things. 

So, he chews his granola bar slowly and even closes his eyes for a bit, letting the examiners move his limp limbs as necessary for their measurements. He imagines himself a cadaver during the early stages of an autopsy. 

As long as they don’t cut me open….

When an white-haired man enters and lays out what look to be a series of tiny torture devices, Jon wonders if he stopped caring too soon. He white-knuckles it through an excruciating dental exam that ends with his first real exchange of the day. 

“Have you ever been to a dentist, kid?” 

There is still a tube in his mouth, sucking up his spit and a hook pressing at his gums, so Jon just shakes his head. There are no dentists in Mole’s Town. Just Chett, who used to work at a slaughterhouse down south and will pull a rotten tooth for the price of a bottle of whiskey. Jon wouldn’t give the creep the lint in his pocket, and he sure as hell wouldn’t let him near his mouth. Instead he brushes his teeth so hard his toothbrush regularly snaps in half, and prays something else kills him before gum disease has a chance.

“You’ve got better teeth than I see behind the gates, boy,” he pulls the hook from Jon’s mouth to dictate into a small microphone hanging from his mobile workstation. “Review DEFB1 on ID 17630343BA. At some point the focus will need to expand beyond the holy 22 and get back to the basics. Who is going to care about neuron growth if every fourth planter is born with anodontia?” 

Jon understands little of what the man is saying, but he’s heard enough to know he’s at least got as good of teeth or better than some of the rich tossers who live within the heavily guarded gated communities where the Colonists are actually culled from. Behind their high walls, wealthy sons and daughters of the only one percent that really matters, spend their youths preparing for the Test in homes and classrooms pumped with filtered air, where the water runs clear, and no one ever goes to sleep with their bellies cramped from hunger or disease. 

The Institution promises that ANYONE can be the 1%, but EVERYONE knows that's a lie. 

---

The physical exam ends at last, after several more rounds of sterile humiliation. Jon isn’t sure which was worse; having to lie within a noisy cylinder while a disembodied voice reminded him not to move, or being asked to run naked on a treadmill, wired with electrodes. 

When it’s over, the last examiner provides him with a sweatsuit that is softer and better-made than anything he owns, and he wonders if there is any way he can smuggle it out with him at the end of the day. Another orderly comes in with a waxy crisp apple that hardly seems real even as a spray of tartly sweet juice hits the back of his tongue. He’s given a pill as well that he swallows down with a cup of water so clear and so cold, it’s an act of incredible will-power not to ask for more. 

It’s only after, when he’s led to a small room with two chairs, a table, and a pulsing white orb in it’s center that he thinks to ask what it’s for. 

“This will make the answers come more naturally during your interviews,” the man explains before leaving him alone. “We want you to answer as truthfully as possibly, but we understand that can be difficult under the stress of the Test.”

He supposes people lie all the time on the Test, trying to game the system, though Jon doesn’t have the first idea how he’d go about doing that, nor does he have any reason to try. He’s not going to the Colony. This is all just a spectacular waste of time, and it’s a race day, which means he’ll have to pull extra shifts at the Rookery to make up for what he would have made beyond the Wall. 

By the time a petite woman with a neat low bun, and cracking, grey scar across half her face and neck enters, Jon is reckless with anger. 

“I’d like to go home.”

“Hello, Jon,” she smiles as she sits across from him, and she’s the first person he’s seen since he entered the building who isn’t wearing a mask. She’s also the first person to call him by his name. “My name is Shireen.”

“Where’s your mask?”

Her smile dims slightly, but she maintains her gentle tone. “I’m here to facilitate the interview portion of your Test today. Before we begin, is there anything you need to feel more comfortable? Something to eat, drink, a bathroom break? Should the temperature be adjusted?”

He’s sour with anger so he takes everything she offers, suddenly eager to make everything as inconvenient as possible for the Institution. Shireen takes his requests with an easy smile, however, escorting him to the restroom herself. When they return to the room, there is a bowl of hearty soup with a chunk of bread that is soft and airy beneath it’s golden-brown crust. Beside it is a tall glass of water and a smaller cup of green liquid that Jon eyes suspiciously. 

“What’s this then?”

“I thought you might like some juice. It’s mostly apple, with some kale, cucumber and celery in it as well, I suspect.”

It’s the best thing Jon has ever tasted, and while part of him wants to fling the rest of it at her frustratingly serene face, it’d be a horrible waste, and he’d be the biggest loser. So, he takes his time, savoring each bite and sip, rolling the bright flavors across his delighted tongue. 

“Feeling better?” she asks after the tray is cleared. 

“Is that an official Test question?”

“No.”

“Let’s get on with it then. I can’t afford to miss the train home.”

“As you may know, it is not individuals who decide the 1%. Our artificial intelligence algorithm, The Seven, determines who is the best fit for the Colony. That is how the institution guarantees objectivity in its selection process,” she taps the pulsing orb on the table. “Though we find people are more comfortable responding to another person, so I will be facilitating our discussion as The Seven records and analyzes your responses. Are you ready to begin?”

He shrugs. 

“I’ll start with a series of statements. After each, please say a number to indicate the degree to which you agree with that statement, wherein one equals strongly disagree and five equals strongly agree. Three indicates you neither agree nor disagree. Do you understand?”

“Five.”

“Okay. Statement Number one: At social events, you rarely try to introduce yourself to new people and mostly talk to the ones you already know.”

Jon knows everyone in Mole’s Town, and he doesn’t want to socialize with most of them. 

“Two.”

This goes on for a while, each statement absurdly divorced from anything relating to Jon’s life, but the numbers spring easily from his lips as he relaxes under Shireen’s soothing voice, and kind face, and the lovely feeling of a full belly and soft, warm clothes. 

It’s when the format shifts, that he begins to feel strange. Shireen starts with questions that are easy to answer. Where were you born? How many years of education have you completed? What was your favorite class and why?  What do you do for work? Describe your strengths. When are you most satisfied in your job?  Do you live alone or with others? How many others do you live with? What is your relationship to the person you live with? 

At this point, the questions grow more invasive; more personal. A voice tells Jon that the Institution doesn’t need to know how many times he and Ygritte fuck a week...but the answer escapes all the same. 

“Four or five times a week.”

“Do you use contraception methods?”

“No.”

“Do you intend to have children with your partner?”

“No.”

“Given your age and your partner’s, without contraception, given your regular intercourse the odds of conception are--”

“She’s sterile.” 

“How do you know that?”

“Most everyone in Mole’s Town is. It’s something in the water, or the air, or our weak genes. It doesn’t really matter the cause. If it’s not the one; it’s the other. She’s been fucking since she was fifteen, and nothing’s ever caught.”

“How do you know that you aren’t the sterile one?”

He shrugs. “I probably am too, but I’m not her first partner as you say. I’m not her second or third either.”

“How does that make you feel?” 

He glares, and Shireen clarifies. 

“Your partner’s sterility?”

“How do you think it makes me feel?” he pushes back from the table, letting his chair lean back on two legs. 

Shireen only gives him a minute shake of her head, and waits for him to answer the question. 

“Angry. I feel fucking furious about it.”

“So, you would like to be a father?”

“I’d like the freedom to choose. I’d like Ygritte to have that freedom.”

“What is your least favorite thing about humanity?”

She can’t be serious with that question. It’s like asking him to name all the stars. He takes a deep breath. Shireen waits. He stands up and paces. Shireen waits. He finishes his water and asks for another. Shireen calls for a refill. He drinks that too. Shireen waits. 

“My least favorite thing? That we’ve given up. We let this machine,” he points at the orb, “decide who doesn’t have to. It’s like….it’s like the men in Mole’s Town who wander into the snows when winter grows too cold, and there’s not enough food or warmth to go around. Grown-ass men who could be fixing furnaces and braving the cold to find the resources their families so desperately need. Most of the time they don’t even have the fucking guts to tell anyone  what they’re off to do. They just wander away one day, and winter takes them. 

That’s what the fucking Institution is. We’re all those men in Mole’s Town who’ve just given up, despite the blood still pumping through our veins. We’re sitting around, waiting for winter to kill us, so that a few can live. And there’s no one left to be mad about it either, because it’s a fucking machine that decides our fate. It’s like being mad at the wind. What’s the fucking point? But just because there is no one to be angry with, that doesn’t mean the rage goes away...and winter isn’t killing us fast enough."

“So you want to live?”

“I want humanity to want to live. I want humanity to want most of humanity to live. I want us to care about more than the one percent.”

It feels radical, saying it here; behind the walls of the Institution. It feels like he’s put the last nail in his own coffin. Shireen watches him as he cracks his knuckles, one at a time, waiting for her to say the interview is over; it’s time to go home. 

Instead she asks an even crazier question. 

“Do you think there is an essential connection between the morality of an action and the morality of the intentions behind it?”

#my writing #work in progress #jonsa fic #jonsa dystopian au #kind of inspired by songs of a distant earth #when I get to the new planet #whenever that happens #shireen!

[copias-thrall]

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

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

here it is! the first part of UTCM!

wc: 4.8k

taglist | story masterlist

͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧

With clothes flying across the room, trying to make each article of clothing land in the target of a rectangle, you rummage through your closet, trying to find the specific piece of your most treasured clothing. 

One that meant something special to you. 

As you dig through your drawer, trying to find the thick, vintage tee your dad had given you (more like you stole it and never gave it back), your hand finally feels the familiar material that has brought you comfort and lots of compliments if you do say so yourself. 

With a proud ‘bingo’ escaping your lips, you’re not surprised that it’s the only shirt you folded and gently put into your suitcase. You looked around your room, finding the hurricane of clothing sprawled out on the floor and your bikini top on your lap shade. Laughing a bit, you drop to your knees and begin to pick up your clothes, stuffing it into the suitcase. 

You check the time and see that it’s five minutes to 9 AM and your phone rings on your bedside table, knowing you’re behind schedule. You quickly grab your phone, placing it between your shoulder and your ear, and continue grabbing your clothes. 

“Yellow?” 

“Honey, quit answering the phone like that.” You take the phone from your shoulder and put it at arms reach before sighing, knowing you should’ve looked at the caller ID. 

“Hello, mother. How are you on this fine morning?” Your voice changes from playful to proper tone only to tease her. 

“Oh, quit it. I was just calling to see if you were all packed and ready.” 

“Yup!” You say confidently, looking around your room as it says otherwise. Obviously, packing wasn’t your greatest talent. 

It was your best friend’s parent’s anniversary. Minny has informed you a month ago, knowing that you would procrastinate on packing, and to be fair, she was right. Packing wasn’t your favorite, and she knew that. Aww, my best friend knows me so well. 

You and Minny have been best friends since you were 7. You two met at school and were in the same class. Because of the two’s last names being right next to each other on the roll call, you were assigned to sit right next to her. Throughout the years in school, you had always remained close. Sure, you two have met other people and became friends with them, but nothing came as close as the bond you have with her. 

It was 20 years of eating at lunch together, never missing a day. Sleepovers. Day and night calls to gossip or vent. Laughs. Petty arguments. Crying over stupid boys and girls that broke your heart. Monthly ‘glo the fuck up’ day. Jogging in the park. Living life. And most importantly, love. 

Damn, we’re getting old. 

“I’m sad I can’t make it to Dan and Lina’s anniversary trip.” Your mother sighed over the phone. 

Yours and Minny’s family had practically become one big family when you both turned 10. With occasional sleepovers and meet ups at the mall, your parents had become really great friends with hers. 

“I know, Mom. But you practically see them everyday, so it’s fine. They understand why.” You try reasoning out with her. 

“I hope so.” She sighs sadly on the phone, and it makes your heart hurt. 

“They do understand. Trust me.” 

“I wish you were here-” She immediately cuts off. 

“Mom, I can go with you. I don’t have to go on Dan and Lina’s trip. Let me call Minny so I can tell her to not come by.” 

“No, no!” You pause. “Please, don’t miss out on having fun for me. I want you to have fun. You deserve it.” You nod, even though she can’t see you. You check the time, and know you’re running out of time to finish packing. 

“You deserve it too, Mom.” She doesn’t say anything, but you know she’s smiling on the other side of the call.

“Hey, Mom. I gotta go. Minny is almost here to pick me up, so I just wanna double check everything.” 

“Of course, honey. I’ll call Lina later. Say hi to Minny for me. I love you.” 

“Will do. I love you too.” The door knocks once you hang up the call. Curses scolding yourself for being so lazy and procrastinating fly from your lips as you get the door. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” The last person you were expecting was seeing your ex boyfriend on your doorstep with keys in his hand. He wore rust color corduroy pants, a stripe shirt, and a turquoise jacket that’s stitched on the side. His hair was pushed back by his black sunglasses and he was wearing his pearl necklace. You hate to admit that he looks good and can possibly rock anything he wore, and you despised him for that along with other reasons. 

“Wow. No, hi or how are you Harry? I’m doing great, thanks for asking.” He says sarcastically and you roll your eyes, walking back to your room to finish packing. “Well, I see you’re still not that great with organizing your time, or your clothes.” You don’t say anything because you really don’t want to speak to him at the moment, or at all. “I’m assuming Minny didn’t tell you.” Your eyes perk up into confusion. 

“Minny didn’t tell me what?” You ask, continuing to fold the last pair of clothes. 

“She asked me to pick you up. You know, to take you to the lake house.” If it were possible, steam was coming out of your ears. Why hadn’t Minny told you? You huff loudly for Harry to know that you’re clearly annoyed before grabbing your phone and immediately dialing Minny’s number, and waiting for her to pick up. 

Harry looks around your room, seeing as things haven't changed with you, and you want to kick him out as soon as you're done talking to Minny. 

“Hey, girl! Are you on your way?” Her voice is high and she clearly is not prepared for what you’re about to give her. 

“How can you have Harry pick me up? And why didn’t you tell me that you couldn’t pick me up?” 

“Clearly, you’re the best at greeting people anymore.” Harry says, leaning against the door frame as he wears a smirk, and you immediately flick him off. He puts his hand on his chest with an exaggerated jaw drop, pretending to be offended. 

“I’m so sorry. I meant to tell you, I promise. But my dumbass of a brother decided to come last minute because his plans got cancelled, and so we were all rushing out the door and putting everything in the car.” You hear Minny’s brother, Jackson, say ‘hey!’ and you sigh. 

“It’s okay, I understand.” Not wanting to be annoyed anymore, you brush it off. 

“I can find someone else to pick me up, no worries.” Harry raises his hands up as if he’s saying ‘I’m literally here to pick you up.’ 

“No! Just take the ride from Harry. After all, he is staying at the house too.” Your eyes widen. 

“What?! Why would you invite him?” 

“You know, you’re doing a lot of talking like I’m not here in the room right now.” You mouth ‘shut up’ to him.

“Please, just go with him. We’re almost there anyways and I don’t want you guys to be late because you want to be difficult. Just ride with him. It’s only like a 3 hour drive and you can sleep on the way, and then not talk to him for the rest of the trip.” She persuades. 

Minny was always good at persuading people. In college, both of you were commuting from home and didn’t stay at the dorms, so you didn’t know that many people, especially not in the frat or sorority houses. She had convinced her parents that they needed a weekend to get out of the house and take a nice getaway trip, laying out the pros and cons so she can throw a party. And they really thought her pros outweigh the cons. 

“Ugh! Okay, fine.” 

“Thank you! Love you! Bye!” She gets off the phone quickly, and you turn to Harry. 

“Shall we get on the road?” He smiles. You were finally finished with packing and rolled your luggage to the front, ignoring him. He comes out of your room with your bikini top in his hand, and your eyes widen, forgetting to take it from the lampshade. “Think you forgot this.” He holds it up and you snatch it quickly. And you’re both out the door and possibly going on the worst trip. 

Two weeks and I’ll be home. 

͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧

Two hours down. One more to go. 

The entirety of the car ride had been filled with awkwardness and silence. If music hadn’t been playing, you were sure you were going to explode. Harry had asked you if you were alright about a million times or if you were too hot or cold. You kept your responses to a minimum, replying with ‘yeah, I’m good’ or ‘I’m okay’. Harry was gripping the steering wheel so tight, that he was sure his hand would cramp up when he tried to unlatch. The tension and awkwardness was getting to him. He hated that things had ended up like this between the two of you, but he was willing to change that. He wants to change that. 

“R. E. D.” He says suddenly after minutes of not talking, and just listening to the sound of the music and the engine of the car. 

“Pardon?” You turn to face him. 

“C’mon, you don’t remember the game we used to play when we would go on road trips?” He asks hopefully, looking at you quickly before turning his head back on the road. 

Of course you remember. Hours on the road with him, going to the next destination when he was on tour or outside of the city to get away from everything, led you both to play road trip games that included saying 3 random letters and finding it on a license plate. It’s what made traveling fun and the hours on the road much more interesting. Especially with Harry. 

“Yeah, I remember.” You say softly, not showing emotion. 

“Okay, well, start looking.” 

“You weren’t very good at this game.” You say, but quickly close your mouth, not realizing that you’re thinking out loud. 

And Harry’s surprised. He knows that your comment was a teasing one, and he was worried that he would t get a single sentence out of your mouth without you yelling in his face. “I’m very good at this game!” 

“I mean, considering that my board was filled with tallies, then I would think you’re bad at it.” You let out a chuckle and Harry has a big smile on his face, thinking it’ll hurt his cheeks later on. 

“You literally gave me impossible letters to work with!” 

“They’re license plates, not people’s names!” You tease. 

“Just look for R.E.D!” He ends the conversation. Although he didn’t want to, he knew that you’re most likely going to blow up in his face if you two acted like a happy couple again. He knew that you would overthink about the bad things overlapping the good, and you would go back to resenting him. 

And he was right. 

After he ended the conversation, you were thinking about what could’ve been between you; what could still be if he weren’t an asshole. The laughs and teasing you two had just a minute ago were replaced with deep breaths, not knowing if one of you should say a thing again. 

There were only a few cars on the same road for you; going to different places. You wondered if people going on a road trip had the same situation with you and Harry: the sharp tension that can be cut like a knife or wanting to jump out of the car. 

You must have blanked out for a while because Harry had gotten off the highway and onto a secluded street that leads to the lake house. 

The drive through the woods with high boulders and tall trees had you speechless. You got as close to the window as possible, looking up like you’ve just seen a shooting star. Nature has always been such a fascination to you. You’ve always loved camping trips and hiking; so much that you’re currently an environmental scientist. 

You don’t notice with your head practically sticking out the window, but Harry is having such a hard time keeping his eyes on the road. He thinks that it’s admirable how passionate you are, especially about nature and animals because it’s rare that people end up doing what they love. And he loves seeing you so passionate about what you love. 

The drive surrounded by the forest didn’t take long; about 20 minutes, and Harry had already pulled up into the gravel driveway in front of the lake house. 

The famous lake house that Lina and Dan have owned for 30 years; ever since they got married. It was a rather large lake house; able to fit two families of four. With brown wood hammered onto the sides and evergreen border along the windows, the house was generally very comfortable and homey. They had kept renovating throughout the years to keep up with the times changing, and they’re loving how modern it looks as of now, but very welcoming at the same time. 

“Well, we’re finally here.” Harry says, cutting off the ignition and getting out of the car. You do the same as well and meet him where the truck is popped open, Harry grabbing his bags. You went to reach for it, but Harry slaps your hand away.

“Hey!”

“Don’t worry about the bags. I got them.” 

“Thanks.” You give him a soft smile. 

“And besides, you’ve packed for like a month when we’re gonna be here for two weeks, and you were barely able to carry it out of your house.” He teases. 

“For a matter of fact, I happen to be very strong.” You cross your arms. 

“Okay, whatever you say, Captain.” The pet name slipped out. When you and Harry were together, he started calling you Captain because sometimes you can be so aggressive and demanding, but passionate, that it felt like you were the Captain of the ship, which technically you were. You were always in charge, always right, and always planning everything. Captain just stuck, and he thought it was so perfect for you. 

The pet name had definitely startled you. You haven’t heard that name come from his lips in forever. And admittingly, you missed it. But you don’t tell him that, of course. 

Harry notices your shock and just smiles instead of pushing it. He instead walks towards the car once his hands are full. 

“Hey, Harry?” He could’ve sworn that his head got jumbled up at your call for him because of how fast he turned around. 

“Yes?”

“R.E.D.” You pointed towards Minny’s car with a smirk on your face. Harry looks at her license plate and his jaw drops, but you see the corners of his lips turn up. 

“How did you-”

“You think I don’t know my best friend’s license plate when she’s had this car for 4 years?” Your smile is amusing and Harry has missed this side from you. 

“Well done.” He drops the bags and starts clapping. 

“Make sure to mark my tally.” You walk past him and towards the house. Harry turns around, watching you walk. Specifically landing his eyes on your hips and watching them sway like you own the fucking world. It’s endearing and he loves it. He loves how sometimes you can walk the whole universe and own it, but he always loves how you shy away from things and look for reassurance. He loves it. 

You don’t turn around because with the smile and hint of blush that crept onto your face, it’s bound to be a disaster if he sees it. 

“Aye, aye, Captain.” He chuckles before picking up the bags and following your footsteps. 

͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧

The inside of the house was opposite of what it looked like from the outside. While the outside was rustic and dark looking, the inside was light and provided very much needed natural lighting due to the big window that overlooks the lake. Sun shines bright through the window and into the house that it almost hurts to look out, but that’s Mother Nature at her finest. 

You head up to your usual bedroom that you claimed when you were younger, having taken trips to this house for so many years that your feet just subconsciously took you to your room. 

It remained the same: big window that led to a small balcony, wooden frame bed, and a mattress that is the perfect size and comfort for you. The walls were white, and with the light coming through, it made the room look even bigger. 

Usually you and Minny would sleep in the same room, but there were enough rooms so you two can have your own. But there were some nights where you would spend the night with her, and her, you. 

You hadn’t noticed Harry following you to your room, but when you hear bags drop onto the floor, you jump and turn around. “You scared me.” 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to. Thought you heard me following you.” 

“No, I didn’t. I was just distracted with my thoughts.” 

Harry leans against the door frame and crosses his arms. “What about?” He asks curiously. 

“Just… haven’t been here in a while, and I miss it.” He only nods, and it quickly goes back to silence. “Thank you for bringing my bags up.” This time, he smiles. 

“Not a problem. Let me know if you need anything else, Captain.” You chuckle. 

“Will do.” He leaves your room and shuts the door close, knowing you’d probably want to settle in and change into more lounge clothing. 

You sit on your bed, facing the window, and look out at the lake. You don’t know what you’re feeling. Before you saw him today, you would just get mad that you’re thinking about him, but that car ride broke every anger that clung onto your body. It was like your mind naturally reacted to Harry in a way that you couldn’t control. You can control anything else, but not with Harry. You naturally felt a pull towards him, and no matter how much you wanted to cut off the string you couldn’t. 

You had definitely missed the feeling of being around him, and that makes you angry. Angry at yourself because he hurt you. 

You try not to cry with the thoughts swirling in your head. You take in the beautiful view from your bedroom and tell yourself that you shouldn’t be sad because you’ve got a long trip ahead of you. 

As you changed into your lounge clothes, you headed downstairs to greet the family that was just back from the backyard. 

“Oh, sweetheart! I’m so happy you’re here!” Lina greets you with a warm hug. Dan does the same, giving you a bear hug. 

“Happy anniversary! How are you guys?” You ask the married couple. 

“We’re doing great! I’m excited this time has come again! We’ve got so much planned.” You smile at their excitement. They turned to look at each other and you can’t help but admire their love for one another, even after all these years. 

Yours and Minny’s parents’ love was like no other. You were pretty blessed to grow up around healthy relationships, and can’t help but feel so fond of the love they have for each other and wanting it for yourself. 

“The kids are still outside.” Lina kisses your cheek and Dan pats your shoulder before they head to the kitchen. 

You walk through the glass slide door that leads to the stunning view of the water that the sun reflects onto. You take a deep inhale in, breathing in the world’s scent. The outside is such a beauty that some people take it for granted. 

“Ahh!” The famous screams come from no other than Minny. “You’re here!” She runs to you and you engulf her into a big and hard hitting hug. Jackson also hugs you and runs his hand on top of your head, messing up your hair. 

“Dickhead!” You slap his chest. 

“How are you, other little sister?” 

“Oh, you know, here.” You say, not knowing what to say, so ‘here’ is usually your backup for not really wanting to say how you feel. 

Minny rolls her eyes, knowing you all too well for your liking. “How was the drive?” 

“It was…interesting.” 

“Well, that’s my cue to go.” Jackson walks back to the house, and leaves Minny and I to talk. 

“Was it that bad?” Minny asks worriedly. 

“No, it wasn’t bad. It was just awkward and there was tension between us. But then we started playing our famous road trip game and I started teasing him, and ugh! I smiled and laughed a little and I hated it.” You huffed and looked down. 

“What, why?” 

“I-I don’t know. I just… I was expecting to have the worst trip when he showed up at my doorstep, but my mind is taking over.” 

“Your mind or your heart?” Minny tests. You don’t reply. You just look at her, not knowing if she genuinely wanted a response or she was just testing you. 

“Why did you invite him?” You ask at the wrong time because you don’t hear the sliding door open, revealing Harry. 

“Hey, Minny.” He smiles softly at her and steps out of the house to hug her. Your breath was hitched in your throat, feeling guilty about your question because you didn’t hear him. 

“Hey, Harry.” She smiles back and hugs him. Once they let go of their embrace, Harry turns to you. 

“If you don’t want me here so bad, then the Captain shall be obeyed.” He teases, but you know that he’s more hurt than what he puts on. He puts on a brave face, but really you see it in his eyes that he’s hurt. You know that your question had hurt him and it was just the wrong timing to ask that. 

“I didn’t mean it like that…”

“Didn’t you?” His head turns slightly, knowing he’s trying to keep his annoyance intact. His voice is different and sarcastic. Minny senses the shift of tension, so she breaks it. 

“I invited him because he’s been my friend as long as you have, so he’s practically family too. He’s been to every trip as well, and besides, my parents love him.” She places her arm on Harry’s shoulder, and you can’t help but feel like they’re teaming up against you. Harry walks ahead of us and goes inside while you and Minny trail behind him. You know you shouldn’t think of it like that because they’re not, but you feel like such a downer once you found out that Harry was tagging along. “Let’s go in and eat lunch!” Minny changes the subject, feeling like that’s what they really needed. “By the way, which letters did he ask for?” Minny asks. 

“R.E.D,” you smile amusingly and roll your eyes, giving your best friend the ‘I know right?’ look. She laughs loudly, throwing her head back and clutching her stomach. 

“Well that was an easy win for you.” She says and you nod, before putting an arm around your shoulder, walking inside the house for lunch. 

Lina had prepared salad, homemade garlic bread, Brussel sprouts, and mashed potatoes. Dan had cooked his famous ribs, one that was his specialty ever since he was a young adult. They didn’t want to cook right when they got to the house, so they prepared it beforehand and took it with them. 

The six sat down at the table that was set in front of the window. Dan at the end of the table, Lina on his right, Minny right next to Lina, you on the other end, Harry next to you, and Jackson next to Harry. Everyone was loading food on their plates before passing it around or across the table, Lina making sure everyone got one of each. 

“Alright, eat up!” 

The conversation flowed throughout the table. The parents asked the kids how work was going, to which everyone responded that it was going well. 

“Harry, honey, is your mom and sister planning to stay as well?” Lina asks. 

Harry clears his throat and wipes his mouth before replying, “they might come at the end of the week—probably the weekend. Gems couldn’t get out of work, so they’ll only stay for a few days.” She nodded and turned to you. 

“Has your mother changed her mind? About coming?” She gives you a sympathetic look. 

“I don’t think so. She said she would call you later.” Lina smiles at that. Your eyes naturally gravitated towards Harry and he has a confused look on his face looking back at you, but you look down at your plate before picking up your ribs and taking a bite out of them. 

You listen to the conversation while you eat; Dan telling the table a story about a cliff diving incident that happened to Lina when they were in Greece, and the whole table was laughing their ass off, even though they’ve heard it a million times; it never gets old. 

You finished your rib and set it down on your plate before wiping your hands down, and before you went to wipe your lips, you felt a napkin, one that’s not yours, wipe your cheek. You turn and see Harry trying to get the stained sauce from your skin. 

“Thank you.” You say awkwardly once he’s done, and he gives you a smile followed by a chuckle. He didn’t mean to do that. He knew you were a messy eater and it was a habit that he wiped stuff off your face. A habit that worked well for the both of you, like you were a team. A natural born team. 

Once everyone was finished with lunch, it was nearing 2 p.m already, and the group decided to split and do whatever they please as they were going to be all together tomorrow and the rest of the trip. 

After everyone helped clean up the table and kitchen, you decided to take a nap before watching the sun set for the day. 

Your body hit the mattress and soft pillows that made you feel like you were on a cloud. The room was dark, thanks to the thick curtains that hung from the metal rod. The only light that was shown was a strip of it coming from the curtain not being able to close all the way. You snuggled your pillow, happy you’re finally getting some rest after a long day. 

When you woke up, it was still light out, but not as sunny as it was prior to your nap. You stretched your limbs out, relieving the feeling of any tense muscles from your sleep, and walked downstairs and to the backyard.

“Good nap?” Harry says from the lawn chair that is set on the grass. You rub your eyes, nodding while closing the sliding door. There’s a vacant seat next to him, and you’re not quite sure if you want to sit next to him or watch the sun disappear when your feet are in the water. “Want to sit here?” He asks as if he read your mind. 

“I-”

“I can see that you’re debating if you want to sit next to me or not, so I can leave and you can sit here if you want.” He says, and you feel bad a bit. He already thinks that you don’t want him here, and he’s simply here for Lina and Dan. 

“It’s okay. You can stay. I’m just going to go by the water.” He only nods and you walk away. 

The water softly hits the shore and you feel the coldness of it hit your feet. It’s refreshing and cooling, hoping it’ll cool down your nerves and your mood. 

You cross your arms as you watch the sun slowly begin to set. The fascination you have with the sun is like no other. It reminds you of the feeling of hope and a new beginning; how the sun setting resembles the end of a story, a day. And tomorrow is a new day. 

You can’t help but think about your situation with Harry and how it’s hypocritical to be talking about a new story when you’ve been clinging onto his story. You feel a little stressed keeping the grudge and anger towards him bottled up because he hurt you bad, but you’re also still in love with him. 

As the sky turned from light to dark, you turned around to go inside, and to see if Harry was still sitting on the chair. But when you’re walking away from the water and towards the house, you see the chair empty, and you don't know why you have a sad feeling in your chest.

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#utcm 1 #utcm #LETS GOOO BABYY #canyon moon #fine line #harry #harry styles #harry styles series #harry styles writing #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles ff #1d ff #famous!harry #boyfriend!harry #exboyfriend!harry #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles dirty imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you

[the-fiction-witch]

Black and Red p3

REAL LIFE VAMPIRES

COUPLE TBS X READER

RATING FLIRTY

The place was dusty and dirty as you'd expect, the candle sat in the window flickering but there was no steps in the dust on the thick layer on the floor that candle couldn't have been burning longer then an hour or so and yet no footsteps in the dust, no sign anything had been disturbed for decades the stone casket sat in the middle of the round room with old dusty symbols all over it and there sat loopy,

"Loopy come on were not meant to be in here. And get off that it's so rude" I said picking him up trying not to touch the stone "have a little respect for the dead loopy." I told him going back towards the door "sorry to uhh disturb you, whoever you are. We uhh we where just going" I said to the empty room, I not sure why I just felt compelled to apologise to whomevers tomb it was "come on loopy let's get home" I said but as I did I heard something a noise like stone on stone like grinding or moving. I froze feeling an ice cold shiver down my spine as I saw the stone ontop begin to move I held loopy close to me as the door slammed shut, the stone continued to move inch by inch away from the bottom until atlast it fell to the floor.

I was unsure what to expect, what to do, what id see.

Hands gripped each side of the stone and someone stood up and... I was surprised to say the least.

He looked my age, tall, skinny, lanky, fairly long blonde and brown hair, dark brown eyes, hair that graced his upper lip and chin, a black button down shirt half undone, a tight pair of what looked like almost leather pants as he stood up in the casket

"Owww! Fuck! Aahhhh! Leg fucking cramp!" He complained sitting in the edge of the stone seeming in pain

"Are you alright?" I asked going closer

He looked at me, looking me up and down a moment before he smiled "yeah, just fine."

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing. So... Your the one they sent to get me" he smirked

"What?" I asked in shock "I uhh I didn't mean to come here I was just going" I said

"Fine, whatever, wake the vampire why not" he sighed

"Your not a vampire"

"How do you know? Look I don't appreciate being woken up what the hell do you want?"

"Nothing I was just getting my bat. He flew in here. I didn't mean to wake you... What where you doing in there anyway?"

"Having a six girl orgy, what do you think I was bloody doing I was asleep"

"Sleeping... In a mausoleum?"

"Yeah"

"Why?"

"I live here"

"Then why sleep in the tomb?"

"It blocks the light out best, whoever's idea it was to give me a mausoleum with a window I swear I will eat him" he sighed

"You.... You really are a vampire..."

"Yes. Are we just now getting this?"

"Aahhhh!" I screamed "stay away!" I sqeauled getting a gothic cross pendent from my handbag that use to be on a necklace I had

"Oohh I'm so scared." He rolled his eyes "of your plastic with silver paint"

"It's a cross isn't it?"

"And who the hell told you vampire's are scared of those?"

".... I don't know"

"Look I'm already mad about being woken up what do you want"

"I don't want anything I didn't even know who was in here let alone they where actually still alive"

"Liar. I know you Goth girls have this whole... Whatever this is going but that doesn't mean you get to come over here and wake me up everytime you want attention" he explained

"Goth girl!" I yelled "I am not some little goth girl!"

"Aren't you?"

"Shut up you!"

"You think your a vampire Don't you?"

"Maybe I am"

"Your not a vampire"

"How do you know, you don't know anything about me?"

"I know your not a vampire. Or if you are your a young one."

"What makes you say so?"

"For one your own your own. Female vampires never go anywhere on there own, it's not safe for them you'd be captured and taken advantage off before you got ten feet out your house.  That and females would be married by your age and mated, and it's pretty obvious you've never had children" he explained

"Fine. Yes I'm not a vampire"

"So your a goth girl"

"I'm not a goth girl!" I yelled ".... I'm a wiccan"

"Fancy word for goth girl"

"No! I'm a witch"

"A witch? Really? I thought you guys all vanished... With the burnings and hanging and all that"

"There's been a resurgence"

"Fair enough, should have guessed I suppose, with the... Everything. And your little familiar"

"Familiar?"

"Your bat. Never known a witch with a bat, there supposedly not very loyal"

"Loopy is loyal, most of the time he always comes back just doesn't listen sometimes" I said

"Hey loopy" he smiled offering his hand loopy went over cuddling his hand and he whispered something to him before loopy flew back to me "he likes you very much, you must be very kind to him"

"I try" I giggled

"Now. Why did you wake me?"

"I didn't mean to."

"You didn't? So... Knowone sent you to wake me?"

"No, nobody's been burried in this graveyard for years, barely anyone comes near it anymore, I didn't even know who was burried in here knowone did"

"Oh. So my protection had not been taken over by the witches hu, how long have I been down here?" he said more to himself, "I'll check up in the house see what's going on" he sighed climbing out and almost falling over

"You alright?"

"Dead legs, I have been asleep a while" he answered he opened the door so we both headed out into the darkness he stopped as he saw the old decaying Manor house, long since abandoned, ivy crawled up every surface, windows broken, walls half fallen, the roof caved in, beautiful things smashed within, moss and mold grew up the walls, the path disappeared from years without feet walking it, there was little left of the manor house now days, he stood there holding the gate in his hands seeming broken, cold, and upset, but also confused as he stared at the remains "I..... May have been gone Longer then I thought" he says

#tbs #tbs fanfiction #tbs smut #tbs sex #tbs smutty #TBS Imagine #tbs imagines #thomas #thomas sangster #thomas brodie sangster #thomassangster #thomasbrodiesangster #thomas sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster i #thomas brodie sangster smut #thomas brodie sangster s #vampire #vampires

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

Handsome, Handsome Man

Summary: There was a million reasons Virgil was ready to declare today a lost cause and sleep until there was no day left, and only one reason to not. But when the other reasons a very caring partner, even the biggest of issues quickly lost their edge. Content: Dysphoria, mentions of misgendering, swearing, transmale!Virgil, nonbinary!Deceit Pairing: Romantic Anxceit Notes: For @figurative-siren-song because dysphoria fucking sucks

~~

    On a list of ‘bad days’, Virgil was ready to put this one up amongst the pretty-fucking-bads. He had woken up with the tell-tale cramps of coming bloody and messy days and from there everything had spiraled. His hair was just barely getting shaggy and yet it was too long, his binder was on and yet it wasn’t doing nearly enough, and there was a voicemail from his mom that he knew was just going to be brimming with unapologetic misgenderings. He had been awake for five minutes and he was already ready to give up, call it a failed day, and sleep for the next twenty-four hours; maybe longer.

    He had achieved steps one and two quite well, in fact, and was halfway to seeing the third one through when his phone rang. He huffed as he unwrapped himself from half his blankets and found the current object of his frustrations.

    “What do you want?” He half-slurred, half-spit into the phone as soon as he took the call, not even glancing at the caller ID. He was fairly certain it was his mother, and he really, really wasn’t in the mood.

    “To talk to my boyfriend, if that’s not too much of a hassle.” The caller responded, and Virgil moaned as he recognized the voice.

    “Damnit, Dee, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

    “Don’t worry about it.” Damien responded, cutting Virgil off. “Bad day?”

    “Very bad. So, so fucking bad.” Virgil complained, falling back against his bed and pulling more of his sheets over his body, treasuring how blob-like and formless his chest looked with them piled on top of them. “Everything’s wrong, Dee. Every. Fucking. Thing.”

    “Do you want me to come over?”

    Yes. Virgil bit back on his actual answer. He did want Damien there, more than anything just wanted to curl up against his partner and let them comb through his hair and tell him he was handsome and let the world fade into nothing until the only thing left was him and Damien.

    But for as much as he wanted Damien there, he also knew they were busy- they had jobs to do and things to sort and- and other stuff that Virgil was sure was very important, more important than his momentary crisis of self. So, his actual answer aside, Virgil shook his head against his pillow and answered, “Nah, I’ll be fine. Just tired of this shit.”

    “Nice try, darling.” Damien replied almost immediately, making Virgil wonder if his pause of consideration gave him away before his words could. “But you can’t lie to a liar.”

    “I can try.” Virgil returned, only garnering a chuckle from Damien.

    “I’m coming over.” Damien told him, leaving no room for argument. “How much ice cream should I bring?”

    “One tub’ll be fine.”

    “Two tubs it is.” Damien responded. Virgil laughed at that, laughter dissolving into a small but soft smile.

    “Be here soon?” He asked, trying (and mostly failing) to not sound too whiny. Luckily, Damien didn’t seem to mind the inflection.

    “I’ll break every traffic law, just for you.”

    Virgil laughed. “You always do that.”

    “Yes, but this time, it’s for you.” Damien stressed, and Virgil didn’t need to see them to know they were smirking. “See you soon, handsome.”

    “See you soon.” Virgil echoed, pressing a hand against his already blooming smile at the petname even though there was no one there to see it. He tossed his phone aside as soon as Damien hung up, well aware he wouldn’t want to take any other calls that came through.

    It only took fifteen minutes for Damien to get there, and in that time Virgil had managed to complete his metamorphosis into a complete blanket lump, several layers of sheets tucked over his body and head, blocking out the rest of the world. Even at the sound of his front door and bedroom door opening, he didn’t free himself, only snuggling in further as chuckles rang out through the room.

    “Cuddle piles don’t work too well with only one member, you know.” Damien said, voice quiet but smooth as one of their hands ran over the top of the blanket lump that Virgil had become. “Though you do seem to be making a valiant effort to make the first completely antisocial cuddle pile.”

    “Warm blankets suffice.” Virgil mumbled. Damien laughed again, hand now coming up to rest somewhere against his shoulder.

    “Yes, but warm people work better.” Damien told him. “Now, can I see my dashing dapper boyfriend, or must I continue to converse with a blanket that is not nearly as attractive as him?”

    Virgil didn’t fulfill his request immediately, but that was mostly because he wanted to give his rising blush a moment to subside before facing them. Within a minute or too, he lowered the blanket covering his face, peeking out at his partner. His attempt to hide his blush, however, was apparently for naught if the smirk Damien greeted him with was anything to go by.

    “There he is.” Damien greeted warmly, leaning over to press a kiss to his forehead, brushing aside his bangs as they did so. “My handsome, handsome man.”

    “And there you are.” Virgil replied, trying to sound more put together than he was feeling. “My lovely, lovely partner.”

    “You can’t turn this around on me, love.” Damien told him, just the faintest pink twinge rising in their cheeks. “Right now is about you.”

    Virgil huffed, but there was no heat in it. “Unfair.”

    “Very fair.” Damien rebuked. “Now, I guessed that the blanket pile was not in the mood for ice cream, but it’s in the freezer for when you do want it.”

    “Chocolate?”

    “No, I would’ve gotten my ailing boyfriend anything but his favorite ice cream in his time of need.” Damien replied, sarcasm thick in their voice, though their tone was teasing; not unkind.

    “You’re an awful partner.” Virgil told them, his sarcasm slightly more biting, but Damien understood it nonetheless.

    “Perhaps I am.” Damien told him, one of their hands moving to play with Virgil’s hair even as they spoke, looping it around their fingers and combing through it. “Though I suppose awful partners don’t cuddle with their charming boyfriends?”

    Virgil kneed Damien in the leg. “Don’t be an ass.” He said, attempting to glare as his partner did little more than laugh. “Either join the anti-social cuddle pile or get out.”

    “I don’t think that’s how anti-social things work, dearest.” Damien commented, though they were always raising up the blankets covering Virgil’s side and sliding onto the bed, pulling them over themself as they settled next to their boyfriend.

    “If you can make traffic law exceptions for me, I can make anti-social exceptions for you.” Virgil told them plainly, rolling on his side so that he could press up closer against Damien. “It’s only fair.”

    Damien shifted a bit so as to pull Virgil’s head into their lap, once more resuming their work at carding fingers through his hair, now occasionally scratching at his scalp as well. “I suppose.” They sighed in mock annoyance.

    Virgil smiled up at them for that, and after a moment of fake brooding, they smiled back, even sticking their tongue out to blep just the tiniest amount. Despite having many times experienced annoyance towards the action, saying it was too cutesy for their aesthetic, they were always more than happy to do it anyways when they knew only Virgil could see. Virgil loved the reminder of how close they truly were, and how much they trusted Virgil, and it always made him smile.

    Well, that, and because Damien really did look quite cute when they blepped.

    “I love you.” Virgil told them. It wasn’t really an impulse, since Virgil tended to be more reserved with how often he used those three little words, but in the moment it felt as if there was nothing else he possibly could say and nothing else he’d rather say.

    Damien’s smile softened into something more rare, something more adoring, as they leaned down to press another kiss against Virgil’s brow. “And I love you, my handsome, charming, dashing, dapper, masucline, manly boyfriend.”

    That was overkill, in Virgil’s opinion, and coming from anyone else it would have sounded sickeningly fake.

    But coming from Damien, as they played with Virgil’s hair and held him close and looked at him so sweetly, Virgil felt he had never heard anything truer. There was no doubt in his mind: he was a man. Maybe not the most stereotypical man, but a man nonetheless.

    And so long as his partner loved him for it, he was perfect.

#anxceit #ts virgil #ts janus #sympathetic deceit #nb!janus #trans!virgil #the cryptid speaks #fanfic #fanfiction #ts sides #sanders sides #casper #i hope this isn't too out of character #and that you like it! #also ik cas doesn't like chocolate but ik (famILY) virgil does so like..... make virgil like chco ice cream sdhfbcsdjf

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

summertime sadness .5.

work day

Sequel to kiss me in the d-a-r-k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 (masterlist under construction)

Warnings: dub con sex (fingering)

This is dark!(dad)Steve and dark(professor!)Bucky explicit. 18+ only. I know they aren’t super dark, but like questionable so I’m keeping those tags just to be safe.

Summary: Loki adds to your workload.

Note: Right, here we go, here we go, here go again. Girls, what's my weakness? Men! Sorry, minor detour there but are we ready for the darkness? Y'all hold onto your panties. Thanks everyone for their support and I love you all! 💋

<3 Let me know what you think in a reblog, reply, or like. I’m loving the feedback from y'all and the enthusiasm! Also as always, memes accepted.

💋💋💋

You didn’t sleep much. Every time you closed your eyes, the scene flashed behind your eyelids. Loki standing over you, the image on his phone, his hand on your chin. And then you thought of Bucky. It was hard not to; your phone buzzed all night as you ignored his messages. Steve’s too. It had finally caught up to you and it felt worse than you could imagine. A man you admired thought you nothing more than a floozy. Well, maybe you were.

Saturday shone through your window and you rolled over. You were exhausted; mentally, emotionally. Your hours were spent reprimanding yourself. Going over all your mistakes; every single choice that had led to such disaster. You sat up and rubbed your eyes. You moved slowly, your body cramped from the tension.

The grind of your coffee machine filled the apartment as you sat at your desk. A mark of your guilt. A gift from one illicit lover; another having defiled you a top it. A year ago, to think of all that had transpired, you would’ve been appalled. You were. You’d sold your integrity for fleeting pleasures. You felt cheated. By yourself more than any.

You filled a mug and grabbed your phone from beside your bed. You hadn’t looked at it since you laid down the night before. Missed calls, unanswered texts, unread emails. You answered Bucky first, a simple ‘I wasn’t feeling well. Sorry.’ Besides, he had plans with Tanya, or was busy dodging her.

You texted the same to Steve and his response was swift. Your phone vibrated as his ID flashed across the screen and you answered the call after several rings. You were weak, breathless.

“Hey,” You said quietly and sipped your coffee.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked.

“Fine,” You lied poorly. “Work’s kept me busy and… I guess it’s gotten ahead of me.”

“Oh,” He uttered. “Any plans today?”

“Rest,” You shrugged and sat back in your chair. “After I sort through all my work emails and catch up.”

“Bucky?” He asked.

“I… I’m tired.” You grumbled. “I… need a break.”

“I’m sure work would understand if you took a day to yourself.” Steve said.

“No, no, I can’t do that,” You said suddenly. “I wasn’t talking about work.”

“What do you--”

“You shouldn’t be calling me. You should call Kylie. See how she’s doing.” You interrupted. “And Bucky should worry about his students. About marking and whatever. And I need to think about myself and my job.” You stood and paced around the small space of your apartment. “I’m sorry but… you said it yourself. It’s okay to be selfish, so I’m going to be selfish and think about my future because fucking old men isn’t going to get me anywhere.”

You hung up before he could respond. And then your heart sank. Why had you said that? It all had spilled from you so quickly. You cringed and your phone began to buzz again. It was Steve. You let out a shaky breath and dismissed the call. You set your phone to do not disturb’ and tossed it on your bed. Maybe your words were rash but it didn’t make them any less true.

💋

Monday. You walked into Adder Press with a pit in your stomach. You were jittery from more than your morning coffee. You gripped the strap of your bag tightly as you passed Stacey. Everything around you seemed distant, obscured by the haze that fell over you. You sat at your desk, numb, and began to set out your stuff as you always did. In a desperate attempt to make it all feel normal again.

As you waited for your computer to boot, you felt a subtly weight on the back of your chair. You looked up at Loki as he gripped the chair and smirked down at you. You blanched and your pen slipped from your hand. He bent to grab it before you could and as he rose, he dragged the lid against your leg. He held it out and you snatched it from him.

“Morning meeting in five,” He said as he stood before you. “Then I wanted to go over layout with you. A useful lesson if you ever hope to be anything more than a freelancer. You have to have a good eye… for detail.”

You gulped and nodded. “Yes, okay, yeah.” You set the pen down on your desk. “Five minutes.”

He winked and left you there to stew in your shame. You glanced around but no one else seemed to notice your tense interaction. They were all too concerned with their own schedules, their own presence at the meeting. Really, who cared much about the summer intern?

You were antsy as you walked into the conference room. You hid between Vanessa, a political pundit, and Jory, who covered local business stories. Loki sat near the head of the table as the marketing head went over the final prints of the Pride issue. You folded your hands before you but couldn’t concentrate. 

Your eyes wandered from the powerpoint and you found the editor-in-chief peering over at you. Another sinister grin sent a chill through you. You looked back to the screen and prayed for the day to go quickly. Your heart felt as if it would explode.

When you broke out, you dragged your feet and were the last out of the room. You lingered at your desk as you grabbed your notebook and pen. Loki’s office beckoned to you ominously. He stood in the doorway watching you; waiting for you. You neared him as his lips curled.

He shut the door and you jumped at the click. He brushed past you before he rounded his desk. He pulled a chair with him and placed it beside his. He waved you over. You took a breath and crossed to him. As you sat, he pinched your ass and you pressed your lips together to keep from yelping.

His hand settled on your thigh as his other moved his mouse. He opened a page from last month’s issue and kept his eyes on the screen as he kneaded your leg. “We’ll go over composition. How to draw the reader’s eye and using layout to enhance your words.”

You nodded stiffly and shakily opened your notebook. He kept his hand on your thigh as you place the book on his desk and uncapped your pen. He circled the title with his cursor, entirely unfazed by your discomfort. His fingers slipped closer to your pelvis.

“Titles are easy but you’ll want to position them according to article type as well. Is it an editorial? Review? Reflective?” He continued. “Now, most editors would leave this to marketing and such but… I try to be hands on with every aspect of my business. My seal is on every page, ever word, that goes out.”

You scribbled down a jumble of words as his hand slid between your thighs and he squeezed. You flinched and he let out a soft chuckle under his breath. You kept your wide eyes on the monitor and he carried on his lesson. His hand never quite reaching its target. He was teasing you. Asserting the new power he held over you.

When he finished his spiel, he drew away and turned his chair to face you. His legs were far apart and you tried not to look at the obvious bulge in his pants. You kept your head down as you slipped your notebook down onto your lap. 

“I’ve got an important lunch date tomorrow,” He said. “I should like you to accompany me, darling.”

You peeked up at him. “Okay.”

“Sceptre Press is looking to expand its mediums. The director of Celestial has agreed to discuss a partnership.” He said coolly.

“Oh?” You breathed. “They… do podcasts?”

“Mostly,” He confirmed. “But, my dear, do wear something nice. A skirt.”

You crossed your legs. Your straight-cut pants felt thin enough. “Alright.”

“No panties.” He licked his lips. “Our little secret… well, another one, yeah?”

“Okay.” You said. You bit down and your pen rolled out of your grasp once more. 

His eyes followed the pen and flicked back to you. “Well, go on,” He mused. “Very… clumsy today.”

You bent to retrieve your pen and he caught the back of your head. He held you there and rolled his chair closer so that his lap was only inches from your face. He snickered as you tried to pull away but quickly gave up. His other hand stretched over his crotch and he grasped his erection through the thin fabric of his trousers.

“I could make you do it right now,” He slithered. “Hmm?”

“Yes,” You uttered. 

“I’m tempted,” He rubbed himself and shifted his hand as he pushed you closer. “Kiss it.” You closed your eyes and kissed his bulge. He shivered and let you go. You sat up, dizzy, and he grinned at you. “Not yet.” He preened. “But I do have to take care of this…” He ran his hand across his lap again. “So if you would excuse me. I am certain you have work to catch up on.”

You stood and back away slowly. “Yes, sir.” You turned as you rounded the desk.

“Sir? I like that,” He called from behind you as you neared the door. “Oh, darling, one more thing.”

You spun back to him and shielded your chest with your notebook. “Yes?”

“I’ll need some inspiration so before you sit down, go to the lav and take a nice photo for me.” He made a show of unzipping his pants behind his desk. “I bet you’re wearing a sweet little white bra, aren’t you? Maybe a precious pink number?”

Your throat tightened as you stared back at him. “Okay.” You forced out. “Is that all?”

“For now,” He shooed you away with a wave of his fingers. “As you will.”

💋

You had few skirts to choose from. You settled on a lavender one that ended just above your knees. With it, you wore a blouse with a Peter Pan collar and a grey blazer with three-quarter length sleeves. It wasn’t as enticing as any other outfit you owned; which was not at all. Perhaps that would work in your favour.

When you arrived at the bistro, Loki waved you ahead of him as you followed the hostess to your booth. You slid across the bench first and he was close behind. He took out his phone and checked it before he set it face down on the table. He asked for water and nothing else.

Your leg shook under the table nervously. He grabbed your thigh to still you. The waitress returned and he thanked her, his hand still on your leg. When she departed, his fingers slowly gathered your skirt. You reached to pull it back and he tssked.

“Our associate has informed me she’s running late.” He grinned. “About twenty minutes or so.” You squirmed as his hand slipped beneath your hem. “I think we can fill our time accordingly.”

“L--Mr. Laufeyson,” You gasped. “Someone might see.”

“They’d have to be watching us very closely,” He leaned against you as his fingers crawled along the top of your thigh. “Now,” He shoved his hand between your legs roughly. “Let’s have some fun, darling.”

You parted your legs reluctantly and he tickled along your cunt. You grabbed the edge of the table and your eyes searched frantically. The other diners were occupied with their own meals, their own company. You felt as invisible as you had back at the office. He rubbed you slowly. He lifted his glass with his other hand as he continued.

“After our meeting, I think we’ll head back to the office and call a conference. We’ll need ideas for prospective podcasts,” He swirled his fingertips and you let out a long breath between your teeth. “Of course, if this all goes to plan.”

You whimpered as you felt yourself getting wet. His fingers glided easily along your folds as he spread your arousal. You planted your elbow on the table and held your chin as you bit your lip. Mortified, you tried to hide your face.

“Uh uh,” He grabbed your wrist and shoved it down as his fingers dipped inside you. “Look at me.”

You leaned back against the booth as you looked over at him. He smirked as he moved his fingers steadily in and out of you. He pressed his palm to your clit and the sensation made your legs shake again.

“Is this what you like? Sneaking around?” He taunted. “Is this what he does, hmm? Or maybe he bends you over his desk?”

“Mr. Lauf--” You swallowed down a moan and clapped your hand over your mouth.

“I can see it in your eyes. I can feel it,” He sped up and your thighs squeezed his hand. “Are you going to cum? Here in front of everyone? In the middle of this restaurant?”

Your eyes rounded and you grabbed his shoulder pleadingly. You couldn’t speak, afraid you would cry out instead.

“You like being a naughty little girl, don’t you?” He curled his fingers and you heard a subtle squelch as your walls twitched around him. 

You bared your teeth and latched onto his arm. You rocked your hips without thinking as you came. You let out a shuddery breath and he slid his fingers out of your cunt, sure to drag them along your folds. He untangled his arm from your grasp and you fell back against the seat and pushed down your skirt.

He raised his hand and ran his wet fingers over your lips. He pressed against your mouth until you opened it. He stared into your eyes as he made you suck your own cum off his knuckles. He withdrew them and used a napkin to wipe away your saliva.

“It is a pity, however, that this lunch should set you behind, darling,” He crossed his legs and drank from his water again. “You will have to stay late tonight… to catch up.”

“Yes, sir,” You ceded.

He smirked and looked around. A moment of silence before he perked up and stood. He buttoned his jacket so it hid his bulge and greeted the tall woman who approached you. He shook her hand with the same one he’d just had between your legs. You stood in kind. Your legs felt weak.

“Valerie,” He purred. “Thank you for fitting us in today.”

“Us?” She looked between you. “And sorry about the delay. Traffic was… traffic.”

“My intern,” He introduced you by name, “She’s shadowing me for the day. To get an idea of the business and all its little quirks.”

You shook her hand and you sat down as she did the same. The server was quick to appear and offer you menus. You eagerly took yours, hoping to hide behind it for the rest of the meal. Especially as that familiar and irresistible tingle nestled in your core.

#summertime sadness #kiss me in the d-a-r-k #stever rogers #Bucky Barnes #loki fic #dark steve rogers #dark bucky barnes #dark loki #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #loki x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!loki #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!loki x reader #dark!fic #Dark Fic #Fic #au #series #Sequel #marvel #MCU #captain america

[100layersofdaddyissues]

Angel - Chapter 5

AGHHHH I KNOW IM SORRY it was an involuntary hiatus brought on by the horrible holiday we call christmas, but its here, ive had this idea since the beginning so i hope you like it!

rach im sorry this ones for you my queen of angst i hope i did you proud

 In retrospect maybe taking personal leave directly after your fight with Maxwell probably didn't fit in with the image you wanted to portray to him, you’d hoped it looked as though you truly didn't care about what he said to you. But you did. You wish you didn't, honest, you'd been burnt by men before, you shouldn't have been surprised that once you caught feelings you would be in trouble. But you thought “if he truly doesn't care about me then it won't matter to him that I’m not there, he won't even notice.” you'd still been working from home, you've been keeping up all your professional correspondence, he won't notice, so why should you care about him either. 

           Little did you know however, that the morning after his outburst, Maxwell had returned to the apartment you had presided in, expecting you to be there. But you weren’t. He wanted to apologise, to grovel and fall to his knees and beg you to forgive him. To tell you that he was an idiot and he never meant to hurt you and that he, well, he had very strong feelings for you that were really, really beginning to scare him.

 That night had been the first time he'd ever lost sleep over something in years. 

           Ever since he had lost his fiancée, Alice, Max made sure to never become attached to anyone, knowing how much pain it will cause him when they inevitably leave. Everyone left, whether it be willingly or not. His grandparents left, his parents, the woman he would have died for, and now you. He wasn't sure where you fit in there, his grandparents taught him to find happiness in everything, his parents taught him how to live, how to run the business he loved so much, and Alice taught him to love. And you. You taught him how to love again, you taught him compassion and kindness that he'd long lost. Before you he had promised himself that he would never feel pain again. But here he was, dealing with the consequences of breaking that sacred rule, and he hated it. 

           Max had hoped that he'd perhaps be able to speak to you at work, get you alone in your office, sadistically, somewhere you couldn't escape him, but alas, when he arrived early in the morning, two coffees in hand, Sookie had been there to greet him, letting him know that you were taking leave and working from home. He didn't press the issue, in fact he didn't say anything, just mumbled a quiet “you have this then” while passing her the second coffee. 

           Maybe he could call you to apologise, but it seemed pathetic to him to even consider apologising over the phone, after what he had said to you, you truly deserved the most heartfelt apology he could muster. But as the days went on and turned into weeks with you not at the apartment or at work, he slowly gave up. Max’s head started to fill with thoughts that maybe you were preparing to leave the company, to leave him. He had convinced himself that if you stayed with the company then you were staying with him. 

He didn’t know why he had assumed that it would be easy, you’d proven to be anything but, he’d hoped he could just apologise, and then fuck you enough to prove it. But no. it wasn't going to be that easy.

           Maxwell didn't want to admit it. But he missed you. 

           For the first week he stayed at the apartment every night, away from his home, just hoping that you would return for something. All of the clothes he'd paid for were still there, the kitchen was still stocked, you'd even left cigarettes in a pack on the balcony. It hurt to see how quickly you'd left him; you were obviously rushing to get away from him. He really fucked up. And he had no idea how to fix it. 

           He really fucking missed you. How soft your lips were, your cheeks reminded him of soft marshmallows for some reason. He missed the way the sun used to hit your face in the mornings as he was getting ready to leave the apartment, you always looked so beautiful, the golden light bathing you in a constant glow, he always felt content in those moments. Like nothing could ever go wrong or be bad, he simply let himself live in that moment, pretending that he could stay like that forever. And for some reason, he had convinced himself that h couldn’t stay. Every morning like that, where he left, the pain inside of him grew deeper and more unbearable. 

           And now all of that was gone, and it was his fault. 

You missed him too. You hadn't left your apartment in almost three weeks, and you had intended for it to stay that way until Jade had shown up at your apartment this morning. 

           “Listen, I'm sorry that Mr. Handsome was a cunt, but I did warn you, you can't wallow here for the rest of your life. You've kept the job, and your apartment is dirt cheap, so I know you're loaded, you know what that means? We're going day drinking.” 

           “I don't want to go day drinking. I want to sit in my cocoon and rewatch the Brady Bunch, I'm not hurting anyone.” you said trying to release from her grasp. You had no intentions of being seen in public. 

           “Well too fucking bad, George is going to be here soon and he’s bringing me a friend, so you can’t fuck this up because I’ve been trying to get Robert to ask me out for weeks. We're going.” she said, beginning to pull out your makeup and go through it. 

           You walked towards her to ask what she was looking for until you clocked what she had said. “Wait did you just say George? As in George, my ex-coworker? Why is he coming over?” you asked your tone growing in urgency as your questions progressed. 

           “Well, when I was talking to him, he asked where you been, so I explained that you'd been working for Maxwell lord and that you’d not left your room in weeks after a big fight with your boss I’m not an id- OW! why are you throwing things at me?” 

           “Because! When George saw me on the street that night, I told him that it had been a fight with my boyfriend! Now he's going to think Maxwell was my boyfriend! I'm in so much trouble if he tells anyone that!” You refused to panic. At least that's what you were telling yourself as you got more and more breathless, you're truly trying not to panic but god is it hard to convince your brain not to have an anxiety attack. 

           “Listen Y/N if he thinks Max is your boyfriend so what, he isn't anymore, so what's the deal?” how Jade could be so nonchalant about this began to frustrate you, this could ruin you. Didn't she realise that? “Get up and shower I’m sure they are almost here.” apparently not. 

And surely enough, just after you had gotten dressed there was a loud knock at the door, Jade went to answer it, hoping to distract the boys while you threw your hair together. 

You overheard their idle chatter, something about the work at halo being boring and Henry being a dick. Nothing you didn't already know. 

As you emerged you saw the two boys sitting on your couch and Jade standing in the kitchen. You'd never realised how small this apartment was until you were sitting here with others and everything felt so cramped. You missed your place with Max. you shouldn't say that. It wasn't your house with him. It was his place. You were staying there.    

“Hey guys! Sorry I was just fixing up my hair, should we head?” you try to sound as cheery as you could. You were not ready for this day. 

George slipped past you, saying something about “I just need the loo, I can lock up and meet you downstairs.” yeah, like you were going to let him do that, deciding to shoot jade and Robert downstairs, telling them you'd wait for George to get out and then come downstairs with him. 

He was taking an unusually long time in the bathroom, and all you could think was “dear god please tell me he's not pooping in there,” as you went to knock on the door to check if he was okay, you heard a loud bang, felt unbearable heat, and then, saw only black. 

 Maxwell had been staring out his window all day, he wasn't sure why, but he had been compelled to stare at the skyline, take in how beautiful the city really was. Returning from his office he sat down to do the exact thing he had been doing all morning, until he noticed a pillar of smoke coming from the south side of the city. A bolt of fear ran through him as he remembered picking Y/N up from her apartment in the south downtown area of DC. 

Immediately he called his assistant for the week and told her to access employee records for Y/N’s address, then he called the Fire Chief for the DC area, asking for the address of the most current fire that he can see burning from his window. And his worst fear was realised. They're the same address, it's Y/N’s apartment that's up in flames, and he's sitting in his high rise just watching it happen. 

Maxwell stormed out of his office yelling at the girl to have Darius in the car waiting for him at the front doors by the time he gets down to them or she's fired. Logically he knew that she had no control over that, but he was in a rush and he didn't care to care about her. He didn't even know her name. Something with a B maybe? This is not what he should be thinking about right now. 

He should be thinking about how the second chance he had at love was in danger and he had no idea what to do except go to her. That's if she even still lived there, what if she moved and she was absolutely fine, and here he was running around like a headless chicken hoping that she was okay when she could be fine; “yeah,” he thought, “she’s fine, I’m just going to go check up on the building just in case she's there and if she isn't then I will just go back to the office.” yeah because it was going to be that simple. Everything leading up to this point sure has been. 

“Master Lord, I have to ask why we were driving to the downtown area in the middle of the workday?” Darius asked him with a careless tone as if he was expecting Maxwell to say that he just wanted a coffee.        

“I have reason to believe Y/N is in trouble and I would like to ensure that she's not, now is that okay with you?” Maxwell knew he was being an ass, but he also knew that Darius cared for her too and that was accentuated in the way he stepped on the gas not saying a word, as if speed limits were not a problem. 

They were outside the apartment building in less than ten minutes, Maxwell racing out of the car before it was even parked. He stood in front of the building gulfed in flames staring at it feeling a sense of hopelessness. 

“Oh no you fucking don’t, Mister.” he heard someone say but barely paid any attention until a young woman got up in his face. “I’m talking to you Richie Rich what the fuck do you think you’re doing here? You yell at her, make her miserable, don't speak to her for weeks and then suddenly when she's in trouble you're here? To what? save the day? Sorry to break it to you dude but money is an accelerant so it’s probably best that you fuck off.” she shouted at him. He had no idea who this woman was but from what he had heard she obviously knew Y/N. 

“Wait she's in trouble? She's in there?” he didn't even think to ask who she was all he wanted to know was if she was okay.

“Yes, she's in there, fires have been burning long enough for you to get down here do you see her on a stretcher? No, she's still in there, my best friend is in there and if she doesn't come out of there alive, I'm going to blame you. if it weren't for you going all macho alpha bullshit man then she wouldn’t have felt the need to leave that apartment up town, she wouldn't have moved back into this shit hole, and she would have been at work today instead of watching brady bunch reruns for the last 12 days straight. So, for your sake you better hope she comes out of there alive or I’m going to kill you for killing her.” Max had barely had the time to process the thought before he was tearing up, light sniffles coming from his nose as he tried to hold them back. 

“Right, you're ahh… you're completely right, this is my fault, and believe me, I wish nothing more than to be able to take that night back, to make sure it never happened, because all I want right now is to hold her, and, and tell her, tell her that I love her. Because I do. I really do, and if I never get the chance to tell her that then I promise you can blame me forever and make my life a living hell but right now, all I want to do is focus on getting her out of there alive so excuse me for just one second please.” Maxwell walked away from her after saying his piece walking directly to the man who looked to be in charge of the fight.

“Excuse me, hi, I’m going to need you to go immediately to 21b and save the woman in there, she is of utmost importance do you hear me?”

“Sir, I'm sorry but we're going apartment by apartment trying to get everyone out. We can't just take priority for some girl,” the man said to him, slightly condescending as if he hadn't just asked the man to save the love of his life. 

‘Here, you take this,'' Maxwell said while fishing out his wallet and handing the man his ID card, “and I’m going to call Chief Wallace, shall I? Or are we going to stop wasting time and you’re going to go get my girl out of that fucking building son?” Max’s tone was commanding, he would get what he wanted, and he knew that much. 

           “Yes sir, I’ll go retrieve her myself right away.” the man said while running towards his truck, Maxwell presumed for him to suit up. 

           As he walked back towards the group that Darius had now joined, the woman, whose name he still couldn't remember or hadn't been told, had a relieved and vaguely smug look on her face. “You know she's going to kill you when she finds out you manipulated the fire department into saving her first right?” she said watching Y/N’s window for any sign of movement. 

           “I know, but it's worth the price to have her here to threaten to kill me.” he said staring at the same window.

           “Sorry, I know that was really rude of me, I’m Jade, I'm not sure if Y/N has mentioned me, this is Robert and George, two of our friends, guys this is Max, Y/N’s... Friend?” 

           “Yeah, I think it's best we go with a friend for now. I'd like to live long enough to be able to change that.” Maxwell slightly chuckled. He felt lighter, she wasn't safe but the hope he felt made him feel better. 

           Until he saw he being carried out, on the right side of her body her skin was burnt, he clothes blackened and singed, she looked lifeless, Maxwell heard nothing but silence and the ringing in his ears as he ran to take her from the man, Maxwell took her from his arms, and fell to the floor, he watched her, waiting for movement, and like the glimmer of hope he had held on to paid off, her chest moved slowly and minutely, but it moved, she was breathing. 

           Maxwell let go then, as he held her to him and sobbed into her, pushing the hair out of her face, being careful not to touch her skin while the paramedics brought over a stretcher, he didn't want to let her go, he just got her back he couldn't let her go. 

           He couldn't hear anyone, but he felt a hand on his shoulder and Jade's sympathetic eyes filled with her own tears staring down at her. That compelled him to stand up and lay her on the stretcher. The paramedics asked if he wanted to ride to hospital with her, but he looked at Jade and gestured for her to go. He knew that if she woke up on the way, the first face she saw after almost dying shouldn't be the man that put her in that situation. 

           He followed the ambulance into the city, finding jade within minutes, they sat in the waiting room for 8 hours, just hoping for some good news, they talked about how Max and Y/N met and how he knew he was in love and everything he can't wait to do with her if she gives him the chance. The conversation lulled around hour 5 with Jade opting to nap in the highly uncomfortable hospital chairs, urging Maxwell to follow in her suit but he couldn't sleep until he knew how she was. He needed answers the moment they were available to him. 

           By the time it was almost hour 9 a doctor came to them. 

“She's going to be just fine, the burns aren't too severe, however she did inhale a lot of smoke shop she's going to be rusty on the talking for a few days and her respiratory system is going to take a while to recover, so it's up to you to make sure she doesn't overexert herself okay? Other than that, she’s out of surgery, so you can go see her, but just make sure it's only 1-2 people at a time. This is a very traumatic time for her and it's only going to get worse before it gets better but I’m sure with a husband like you it won't be so hard for her to recover.” the doctor finished with a small smile and then walked back down the hall to attend to other patients he assumed. 

           Husband. She thought he was Y/N’s husband. And honestly, he didn't want to correct her on it. He liked the idea of being her husband. Even if it wasn't real. 

           “Hey Jade, come on wake up, we can go see her now.” Jade sat bolt upright when she heard those words. Asking for her room number and bolting towards the door, with Maxwell following behind slowly. He reached her door and saw her sleeping, so peacefully, the LED lights of the hospital only served to make her look more pale and sickly than she already was, but she still looked beautiful to him. Absolutely perfect. 

           Just before he could join Jade in the room his cell began to ring. “Maxwell Lord.” he answered, not expecting any calls on this thing, it’s 1984 who has this phone number? 

           “Mr. Lord I’m sorry to interrupt you, I know you're extremely busy with your wife, but I just had a matter to discuss with you about the fire in her building.” The man on the other end, Chief Wallace, sounded nervous, almost trembling, “I'm not entirely sure how to explain this, but preliminary investigation we conducted into the cause of the fire has indicated that the fire was started in Ms. Y/L/N’s apartment.” 

“I'm afraid we're going to need to question her when she becomes lucid enough for a police interview.”

tags: @innerstrawberrypolice​ @maxlordsgf​ @mrschiltoncat​ @historianwithaheart​

#Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal angst #maxwell lord #maxwell lord smut #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord fluff #maxwell lord angst

[yikesharringrove]

Jonathan and Nancy deciding they want Steve with them, and putting in the work to woo him. Steve not getting it and think they're being extra nice because he keeps getting beat up. Finally Nancy and Jonathan just make it clear. Maybe they take him to bed and are just real soft and sweet with him, taking care of him. Telling him how good he is, how much they care about him. There is so little of this pairing and I love your stuff.

There’s smut under the cut

-

“Look, I thought that I didn’t, didn’t love him, that I was faking it or something, but Jon, I think I did. And I think I still do.”

Nancy’s eyes were huge as she looked at him.

“So do you do you want to go back to him?” She huffed.

“I don’t know. I love you the same way. I wish, I wish I could just have you both.” Jonathan’s heart started pounding wildly in his chest.

He had always had a thing for Steve, always thought he was gorgeous, even if he was kind of a dick. But now, he wasn’t even kind of a dick, he was all soft and sweet, and Jonathan wanted him too.

“Maybe you could have us both.” She furrowed her brows. “We could, we could all be together. I like him too.”

-

Jon and Nancy kept inviting him to go places with him.

Steve didn’t know why, after a month of awkward stilted conversation all of a sudden they’re trying to hang out with him almost everyday, but they keep inviting him to the movies, to dinner, to go on fucking picnics with them.

He thinks maybe they just feel bad for the way everything ended, and Steve supposes it hurt really bad for his girlfriend to run off with the guy he sometimes had little gut twinges for.

But he thinks it’s straight up rude for them to invite him on these very date-like activities. It feels like they’re just trying to rub it all in his face.

“Hey, Nance and I were going to head to the city on Saturday, get dinner and see a movie at the nice megaplex. Do you want to join?” Steve smiled tightly at him.

“Nah, have fun on your date.”

“Steve, c’mon. We’ll have a good time.” Jonathan kept wearing him down all day, would just, appear after his classes and walk him down the hall.

“Okay! Fine, I’ll come with you guys.” Jonathan smiled brightly at him, squeezed his arm once before setting off to his own class, the one he would’ve been late for if he kept on pestering Steve like he had all day.

“Nance, he’s gonna come.”

-

Steve insisted on driving, said Jonathan’s car probably wouldn’t make the trip there and back. Jonathan just laughed as Nancy suppressed a smile.

He had a surprising amount of fun driving the two or so hours to the city. Jon had made a tape for the ride, had gone through what Steve had in his car and scoffed or hummed appreciatively depending on what he found.

They dicked around the city, finding weird shops to go in and laugh at the odd merchandise, drove past Steve’s dad’s office and flipped it off through the window, ran through parks and laid out on the green grass.

They ate dinner in a nice place they found on a random street, had spent about ten minutes trying to find parking since Steve could not parallel park.

They all sat huddled in a little booth, talking and laughing over beers Steve had used his fake id to get.

Steve was pleasantly surprised how much he didn’t feel like a third wheel.

Part of him even felt, even felt like the three of them were all on a date. Together.

He tried to keep that thought out of his head, even as they both looked at him with warmth in their eyes, kept touching his gently and softly just like they touched each other.

They were walking back to the car after dinner when Jonathan saw it.

“Could be fun. Nice way to end a good day in the city.” It was a flyer for a band, playing at a venue within walking distance from them, with a five dollar cover.

Steve just shrugged, let Jonathan lead the way.

It wasn’t exactly his ind of music, and judging by the way Nancy’s smile looked fake, she wasn’t totally into it either, but they still danced together, and had fun.

-

“Jesus, it’s late. What do you think about getting a motel room for the night? I don’t know if we should be driving back this late.” It was past midnight when they spilled out of the venue, tied and sweaty.

“I’m not mad at that idea.” Steve stretched, noticed with a curiosity in his gut that both Jonathan and Nancy’s eyes trailed down his body. His face went hot.

Steve stayed out for a smoke while Jon ran in to the office to get them a room, talked with Nancy while she perched on the hood of the car.

“I missed you. With all that Upside Down stuff, I think we both forgot how much fun you are.” He grinned at her.

“I haven’t had a good time in a while, Nance. Thanks for dragging me with you two. Sorry to cramp your date style.” She slid her hand in his, giving it a squeeze.

When Jonathan returned, Steve tugged his hand out of her grip, didn’t want Jon to think there was something happening between them.

“So, they only had one more room available.” Jonathan ushered them in.

The room was clean enough, smelled a little of stale cigarettes, and only had one queen sized bed.

“I can, uh, I can sleep in my car, if you want.” Steve’s cheeks were hot.

there was a huge part of him that hoped they said no, that hoped they said stay.

“No, stay in here.” His heart fluttered at the look in Nancy’s eye. “Look, we’ve been talking, and we both want you.”

“Was this, was this whole day an elaborate ploy for a threesome, ‘cause you could’ve just asked-”

“No. It was more than that. We both wanna date you. We wanna all be together. The three of us.”

Steve felt like he was gonna suffocate, the air thick in the motel room, Jonathan and Nancy on either side of him, both watching him with heavy gazes.

“Um, can I have like, a second to think about it.”

“Take your time. Nothing has to happen tonight, we just both wanted to take you out, show you how it would be.” He nodded at Nancy’s words, putting his jacket back on as he made his way to the parking lot.

Was it weird? To date your ex and the guy she left you for?

Was it weird that Steve had very strong feelings for them both?

Was it weird they wanted him to join them? As an equal relationship?

He lit another cigarette with shaking hands, gave himself ‘till the end of the stick to make up his mind. Stubbed it out after taking three drags and made his way back to the room.

“Okay. I wanna do this.”

-

He was in between them in the bed, making out lazily with Jonathan while Nancy mouthed along his neck, planting soft kisses to his shoulders, one hand resting on his hip.

His mind was reeling as they had all stripped off, trading soft kisses and even softer touches.

Steve rolled over, wanted to kiss Nancy now, let Jonathan start leaving marks on his neck.

“Y’know, Nancy told me you used to ask her to fuck you. Said you even bought her a toy to do it.” Steve shivered as Jonathan spoke in his ear, his hand trailing down his spine. “You want me to do that? Tonight?”

“Yeah, I want that.”

His back was cold for a moment as Jonathan rolled away, only for him to plaster himself against Steve again, cock hard against his ass. There was the sound of a bottle opening as Nancy reached down to spread him open.

Jonathan’s fingers were slimmer than his own when one pressed slowly inside of him. Nancy was still holding him open, the other hand had slid down his chest, wrapping delicately around his cock, stroking nice and slow.

“I want you to fuck me with he fucks you. Do you want that, Steve? Want us all to be connected?” Steve whined as another finger breached him.

“I-I want that.” His voice was breathy, Jonathan’s fingers spreading him open, curling and massaging inside of him.

And then he added another one, and pressed his fingers deep, curling them down.

Steve nearly screamed.

“That, Jon do that again, that felt, fuck.” His hips stuttered as he babbled. Nancy leaned over him to start kissing Jonathan, leaving Steve writhing underneath them.

“I think he’s ready.” Nancy whispered it into Jonathan’s mouth.

They shifted positions, Nancy on her back, with Steve sandwiched between her and Jonathan. They took a second for both boys to roll on condoms beofre they were back, Nancy blinking slowly up at Steve. She spread her legs for him, lining up his cock to her pussy, letting him push slowly in.

He fucked her real slow for a moment, taking her hand and keeping his thrusts shallow. He kissed her deeply as he felt Jonathan settle behind him, stopping for a moment so he could line up and push his way inside.

“Jesus Christ.” Steve let his head fall onto Nancy’s shoulder, was close to clappsing onto her as Jonathan bottomed out.

It was overwhelming, being full while still fucking someone else.

And then Jonathan pulled almost all the way out, and thrust his way back in, causing Steve’s hips to push forward.

It was like he was using Steve to fuck Nancy, made Steve feel like melting into the bed right there. One of Jonathan’s hands was holding onto his hip, the other came to link with Steve and Nancy’s on the bed.

Steve reached down to rub tight circles over Nancy’s clit as Jonathan sped up, started making him see stars.

He started lazily kissing her neck, her chest, wherever he could reach without having to move too much, vaguely remembering the sensitive little spot behind her ear.

He sucked on it lightly.

Her hips stuttered, grinding against his hand, his cock as she came, clenching tightly around Steve, making him spill out into the condom with a muffled groan.

Jonathan pulled his hips with both hands, shifted Steve until he was on his knees, face down on Nancy’s thigh.

He started really going at him, fucking into him with a strength Steve didn’t even know he had.

He moved his head, planting his face into Nancy’s cunt, started licking into her, sucking on her clit as Jonathan pounded him from behind. He brought his hands up to hold her thighs open, one of her hands tangled in his hair.

“Oh my God, I forgot how good you are at that Steve, Don’t, don’t stop.” He went in harder, shoving his tongue into her, spit trailing down his chin. She came again as he flicked his tongue against her clit, cried out while she arched her back.

Jonathan gave two last thrusts before stilling, crying out as he came, filling the condom. He pulled out gently, laying Steve down softly onto the bed, disposing of both condoms before climbing into the bed.

Steve was like a cat between them, all languid on his back as they both curled into him.

They traded kisses again, saying quiet goodnights.

He lay there, in between his two partners, let himself feel warm and safe as he drifted to sleep.

#nancy pegged steve all the fucking time when they were toghether you cannot change my mind #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #stoncy #stoncy fic #stoncy ficlet #stoncy drabble #yikes writes #steve harrington x nancy wheeler x jonathan byers #lemons