#that being said i want to punch her so fucking bad. shes the tape recorders?

[killmebythebeach]

Just finished tma. I have to go to fucking school tomorrow. How do I FUCKING BE A PERSON AFTER THAT?!?!

I'll probably reblog with more tags later (cuz 30 just isn't enough) but !!!

#you know the drill tma spoilers in the tags dont read tags unless youve watcged the whole series. statement begins #i never really cry over fiction and that held true but FUCK did i get close when jon said 'that ones for sasha' #ill get to the lamenting but let me talk about my fucking !!! first. helen my beloathed i was so fucking happy when you died #i enjoyed her character imensly but GOD was it satisfying to hear jon say 'helen... was that a lie?' and !!! shes a gaslight girlboss #hearing jude and notsasha get smited was also so good. hmmmm i love how slimy jude sounds and how corparate notsasha sounds too #love the moment when all the acatars jon kills realises theyve fucked up (careful who you bully in middleschool) #and daisy and basira :( never liked those two too much but it was still sad :( basira confuses me from a worldbuilding standpoint #i love it though. shes the only person in daisys domain and i think thats metal as fuck. but seeing trevor and breekon alone made me sad #and annabelle!!! stunning. love her. would die for her. shed let it happen. #that being said i want to punch her so fucking bad. shes the tape recorders? #i saw this post where it was like 'what kind of kid was jon that the web thought hed bring the apocolypse?' and i thought itwas exagerating #georgie and melanie! georgie was a favorite from s3 so im glad we get to see her a bit more! even if shes a... cult leader? #oh :( when jon leaves them to get martin from annabelle and when he comes back the other seven survivors are gone :( #i hate all the arguing though :( i have the nuance of an oreo so seeing my blorbos argue just makes me sad :( #anyway. night night my beloved. recollections my beloved. wonderland my beloved. checking out my beloved. gah! #and the rosie and elias statements!!! ive always wondered about rosie and now i wish i never found out! #and hearing jonah and jon work together on the elias statement sounded SO COOL!!! #with jonah being like the voices of all the people hes inhabited. and all the archivists wandering london like zombies! #i was sort of disapointed jonah wasnt like super hard to defeat but holy shiiiiiiiiiit #i. LOVE. the 200 statement. its like 10 minutes long but i just might have to make an animatic of it. #oh its so fucking cool. i always imagined the web and eye as the smart entity power duo but no. #the web was playing the eye like a cheap whistle the entire time. i guess the eye does need avatars to actually do much #like lonely your alone. end you die. desolation is your fault. spiral is all you. but eye needs people to do stuff with its information #martin and jon. Martin and Jon. MARTIN AND JON. #those fucking idiots. hearing martin enter the room and both him and the listeners realizing what happened felt like ORPHEUS turning around #dude. martin stabbing jon always gets joked about. i thought itd be a light hearted moment or some shit #and hearing the three girls at the end. basiras 'good luck'. gah. just hearing the birds chirping was enough #but i also get to know simon was probably mauled to death by a crowd wich i find hilarious. #jonahs 'good luck' as well. like sir. jonah fucking magnus does not have the right to choke me up. #the magnus archives

[kennahjune]

Steddie

I’m joining the s3 steddie train :D

…

Steve was late. He was so late and so dead. Robin was going to kill him— he’d never make it out of Scoops Ahoy alive.

This was his thought process after dropping Will Lucas and Max off at Mikes. This was also his thought process the entirety of the way to Scoops while he shoved his way through the mall.

The moment he entered the small shop Robins eyes locked on him in a glare. Steve barely gave her a second before he was going to the back room to get ready for his shift.

He heard the back room door open behind him.

“You’re—“

“24 minutes late I know,” he said as calmly as he could while trying to relax his breathing.

“Yeah and—“

“And you get an extra 25 minutes for your break, yes Robin I know!”

Steve finally closed his employee cubby and turned to look at Robin. “Look. Im sorry I was so late today but Will, Lucas and Max are assholes when they’re being petty and they needed a ride to Mikes cause all the others were busy! I’ll take closing shift today to if you’re really that mad.”

Robin stared at him angrily from the doorway. “Fine.” She uncrossed her arms. “And yes, you will be taking the closing shift tonight. I have a study date with a friend that I can’t miss.”

“It’s summer vacation?”

“Shut up!”

Steve shrugged when the door closed.

He closed the door to his employee locker with a little more force than necessary. He had a migraine building and the bright, florescent lights of the mall weren’t helping in the slightest.

He walked out and began his shift.

…

Eddie wanted to enjoy his day off. Preferably by himself. But Gareth and Jeff decided that his personal life was their personal life. So here they were.

He had wanted to spend the day away from the mall, considering that that was where everyone seemed to be nowadays. But the guys were insistent.

So they were walking around. It wasn’t too bad, considering Eddie had gotten himself a new record and tape with his newest paycheck. They were sitting at the fountain when Gareth shouted right in Eddie’s ear:

“HOLY SHIT!”

Eddie just about punched him with how hard he jumped. Jeff spit out his Pepsi all over Eddie.

While Eddie was worrying about getting the sticky drink off of his skin, Gareth continued with; “is that HARRINGTON in Scoops?”

Well. Now he has Eddie’s attention.

Sure enough, just in Eddie’s line of sight, was Steve Harrington in a sailors uniform and a dorky hat.

A dorky hat that was soon snatched up by his current customer, Billy Hargrove.

Jeff clapped him on the shoulder and leaned over him to get a better view. “Is that Hargrove?”

“Yep.” Eddie popped the P.

“It looks like he’s messing with Harrington.”

“Yep.” Another pop on the P.

“And Harrington looks like he’s gonna fucking explode.”

Eddie agreed. Harrington was red in the face and not in the cute blushy-way he usually gets (don’t ask why Eddie knows that). He was talking back to Hargrove, probably something bitchy and sarcastic in typical Harrington-fashion based on the way Hargrove seemed to recoil for a moment before jumping back.

“Should we do something?” Gareth asked skeptically. Jeff shrugged where he was pressed against Eddie’s back.

“I’m going in.” Eddie stood and nearly knocked Jeff down in the process.

“Hang on—“

“Nope! Wish me luck, boys!” Eddie yelled over his shoulder while he dashed over. He heard them both get up and follow him.

…

Steve wanted to cry.

His head hurt so fucking bad and his back was killing him and he had ran into a shelf earlier and had a killer bruise on his arm and leg from it and everything was too fucking much.

Then, in all his asshole and dick glory, in came Billy Hargrove.

At this point, Steve would rather take another plate to the head then have to deal with his annoyingly aggravating voice. Hargrove came in, probably expecting Robin to be there, but got Steve instead. And honestly Steve would rather deal with him then leave Robin with him.

So he’s been enduring it, giving his own comments and comebacks but overall hating his life and just wanting to curl up and die.

Then his savior showed up. In all his black leather and chains, Eddie fucking Munson.

Hallelujah.

Hargrove seemed to back down the moment Munson showed up. Which wasn’t too strange considering that Munson supplied over half of Hawkins’ weed supply. Including Steve’s own for a while. He hasn’t bought in a while cause of the brat brigade.

But not the point.

Hargrove nodded to Munson. “Munson.”

Wow. Real cool, Billy. Steve held back a snicker.

“Heeyyy, Hargrove!” Munson cheerily greeted. But there was something about his smile that was off, to Steve. It seemed tighter than usual, his eyes not crinkling with the motion like normal. Don’t ask why Steve knows this.

Munson’s eyes seemed darker, too. Like he was angry. Maybe Hargrove didn’t pay him? Steve couldn’t bother to care with how bad his head started to pound.

He shouldn’t be at work with this migraine. He knows that. His doctor’s told him this multiple times. But he owes it to Robin for being late so much and he needs to prove to his dad that he can take care of himself.

“So what brings you here, Billy?” Munson asks casually, stepping farther into the shop. Steve seems to finally be forgotten about, and he places his head down on the counter. The cooled surface definitely helps with the spinning room.

He hears Hargrove say something back, but he isn’t paying attention anymore. His eyes are stating to go blurry and he really needs to sit down. But then Munson says something that catches his attention:

“Just leave Harrington alone, man. Last I checked he did nothing to you.”

What the hell? Steve wished he could lift his head and see what Munson was doing. What he looked like when he said that. If he looked as mean as he sounded.

Steve only lifts his head a few moments later when he feels a hand on his back. He shoots up quicker than he intends, and nearly falls back down if not for the hands still holding him up.

“Shit,” he grumbles quietly to himself, whining even quieter at the sudden rush of pain and the black dots in his vision.

“Easy there, your highness.” Munson.

Steve blinks slowly, letting Munson set him down in a booth. He doesn’t remember walking over but he’ll take it. He puts his head back down and intertwines his fingers behind his head. He groans quietly again, the pounding slowly receding.

“Hey man, is there something we could do? Do you need anything?” He heard Munson ask.

We? Steve wants to ask, but finds himself not caring. “Water, and my bag from the back please,” he rasps out. Talking makes the pounding worse.

He hears someone rush off to the back and a moment later a hands on his back again and is helping him sit up.

“Here ya go sweetheart.” Munson slides the glass of water and bag over to him.

Steve silently reaches into his bag and pulls out his small “to-go” med-kit. He carries it around mainly for the kids. Mike tends to be clumsier than he comes off as and Max is always trying out some new skateboarding tricks. From inside the kit he pulls out a pill bottle and swallows 2 with the water and goes for another 2 before a hand stops him.

“I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to take more than 2.” This voice is new but familiar. Steve squints past the blurriness and makes out someone he recognizes from school; Gareth Emerson.

“4,” Steve manages past the lump in his throat. Munson, Emerson, and someone else Steve doesn’t quite know look at him. Munson continues to hold Steve’s hand on the table, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. It weirdly intimate but the comfort is very welcome.

“4 what?” The other guy asks.

“4 pills. I usually take 4.”

Munson and Emerson both wince. The third guy looks at him like he’s insane. Steve finally recognizes him as Jeff,… something. He actually never got his last name.

“Dude— are you trying to overdose!?”

Steve winced at the sudden loudness, whining quietly. Munson shushed Jeff and Steve heard him rush out an apology.

The bell over the door dinged at that moment, and Steve found himself face to face with Max, Mike, Will, Lucas, and— for some reason— Jonathan.

“Uh— hi?” Steve attempted for a greeting.

“‘Hi!?’” Mike yelled. “Hi yourself man! We called your walkie at least 4 times!! What the hell?”

“Are you ok? Why didn’t you answer?” Will asked in a much quieter tone.

Lucas and Max wasted no time before slotting themselves in the booth with Steve. Munson remained across from Steve, and Emerson and Jeff now hovered farther away, but Lucas slid right in next to Munson and Max next to Steve.

“What the fuck, Harrington?” Max demanded. But she clung to his shirt tightly.

“Language, Mayfield,” he reprimanded quietly.

Mike paused where he stood. “Why are you talking so quietly? Shit— do you have a migraine?”

Suddenly 4 pairs of little eyes were gazing at him with unmasked concern. Holy shit was this overwhelming.

“Guys—“

“Why didn’t you say that, Steve?” Lucas asked.

“Are you ok? How long has it been going on for? Asked Will.

“Why are even here if you’re not able to function properly?” Mike reprimanded in his own caring-ness.

Max clutched to him tighter. “Why aren’t you at home? You could’ve called in sick or something!”

“Shhh!” Mike shushed her.

“Don’t shush me—“

“Shut up!” He whisper shouted. “You have to be quiet and try to control your temperature while resting in a dark, quiet room to try and help with migraines. Pain killers help to but no more than 3.”

Everyone stared at him. He went a little pink under the sudden attention.

“Nancy gets migraines a lot from reading in the dark.”

Jonathan came over right then. Steve was suddenly overwhelmed by all the people surrounding him.

“Uhm—“

“Hey,” Munson called. Steve forgot about him for a good moment. “This is cute and all, but maybe we should not surround him? Poor boy looks like he’s gonna cry.”

Everyone turned to look at him. Tears had— in fact— sprung to his eyes.

“Sorry!” All the kids rushed out quietly at the same time. Max climbed out of the booth and Munson and Jonathan both assisted with helping Steve to the break room. Jeff and Emerson stayed with the kids, but Mike came with them since he seemed to know what he was doing better than the 3 of them.

On their way back to the room though, Steve’s legs nearly gave out from under him. Shit. It’s one of those days. Munson just barely managed to catch him under the armpits while Jonathan got him by the waist.

“Woah there, sweetheart.” Munson grunted.

“Careful, Steve,” Jonathan said quietly.

“Sorry. Spinning.” Steve exhaled shakily.

Mike came rushing back after realized they weren’t with him. “Damn. Spinning? Are you able to walk? Or are they gonna have to carry you?”

Jonathan looked up at the mention of having to carry Steve. “Yeah— I’m not able to carry him. I am so not strong enough for that.” He had the decency to look apologetic.

Munson chuckled quietly and the sound reverberated through his chest where Steve’s head was. It was soothing.

“Don’t worry Big Byers. I’ve got him no problem.”

Steve was given no warning before he was being picked up in a bridal carry. He winced sharply and laid his head on Munson’s shoulder. Jonathan whistled lowly from somewhere beside them and Steve blindly kicked his leg in his direction, scoring in kicking him in the arm. Jonathan snickered.

…

When Munson chased off Hargrove he didn’t expect for Harrington to all but collapse in on himself and try to fucking overdose on like 5 pain killers. He also hadn’t expected to be bombarded by 4 kids and 1 Jonathan Byers. Least of all did he expect to be carrying Harrington bridal style to the break room of Scoops Ahoy.

Somewhere behind him, Gareth turned the sign on the door to closed. Eddie silently thanked him.

The kid— who he vaguely remembers as Nancy Wheeler’s younger brother— opens the door and startles a half asleep Robin Buckley.

“Hello,” Jonathan throws her way before pulling a chair out for Eddie to sit on.

“Uh— hi? What the hell—“

Eddie takes the seat with Harrington in his lap. Robin looks dumbfounded.

“Migraine,” Jonathan helpfully supplies.

“Really, really bad migraine. Vertigo included. Full package tonight, folks.” Mike adds.

“Ok— um, is he ok? He doesn’t look ok. If it was so bad why didn’t he just call in sick?”

“That’s a good question,” Mike retorts quietly while rooting around in a freezer.

“What are you looking for”, Robin asks.

“Ice pack. The dumbass has everything in that first aid kit of his except a damn ice pack.”

“Language,” Harrington reprimanded quietly from where his cheek was against Eddie’s chest. Eddie chuckled quietly when Mike retorted with a half-assed “sorry”.

Eddie couldn’t help but admire the now sleeping Harrington in his lap. He bent in half like a shrimp, his knees just about to his chest, and his hands gripping tightly onto Eddie’s still-Pepsi-soaked t-shirt. But he looked so at peace while asleep. Like he hadn’t just had the worst migraine Eddie’s ever seen and wasn’t just about to pass out on his feet. Eddie smiled.

Mike comes over silently, managing to sneak up on Eddie and make him jump slightly and causing Harrington to whine. He’d been whining a lot today. And under “different circumstances” Eddie would’ve found it hot as fuck.

“Sorry,” Mike whispered. He seemed to be able mellow out a lot when he actually tried. He seemed like such an asshole out at the booth but now he seems quieter. These kids really cared about Harrington, huh?

“Here.” Jonathan helped him out and gently picked up Harrington’s head. Eddie caught Harrington actually kind of leaning into his touch. A strange but endearing friendship. Mike placed the ice pack— now wrapped in a cloth— on Eddie’s chest where Harrington’s head lays.

Harrington lays back down and is out like a light soon enough.

Eddie zoned out until there’s a very, very soft knock on the door. When he looks up, Jonathan is letting the other 3 kids in while Jeff and Gareth stand in the doorway.

“Is he ok?” Asks Jonathan’s little brother.

Jonathan nods and pats his head. “He’s ok, Will.”

The redhead walks over and takes a silent seat next to Eddie so she’s next to Harrington. She takes Harrington’s hand in hers and proceeds to just sit there and hold it.

“He’s ok, Max. Just a migraine,” the third kid, Lucas he thinks, reassures with a hand on Max’s shoulder.

“That’s what he said before. And then he was in the hospital.”

Woah, what?

“Hm?” Lucas looks at him.

Oh. He said that aloud.

“Wait what?” Robin asked quietly.

Jonathan’s whistled lowly. It seems to be a bit of a tic for him. “Yeah uh— funny story. Hargrove broke a plate over Steve’s head last year and nobody realized how bad it actually was until he passed out after claiming it was only a migraine.”

“He ended up in the hospital for like 2 weeks,” added Lucas.

“He needed several stitches on the side of his head.” Max unhappily supplied. Lucas squeezed her shoulder.

“It was a stage 4 concussion,” muttered Will and Mike put his head on his shoulder.

Eddie caught Gareth and Jeff’s eyes across the break room. Huh.

The Will kid came up to Eddie suddenly. “Thank you. For uh— helping with Steve. It means a lot to us. He means a lot to us.”

Mike, Max, and Lucas all nodded.

“Hang on,” Lucas piped up. “Who are you?”

…

So uh— set myself up for a part 2 there :’D

Part 2

#stranger things #steve harrington #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #eddie munson #robin buckley #will byers #max mayfield #lucas sinclair #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #corroded coffin #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie hcs #steddie fics #steddie #steve harrington whump #steve harrington gets killer migraines #the boy has 3 and counting concussions

[notchesandbullets]

Wherever You Go, I Will Follow (Boxer! Metal Arm! Bakugou x Reader) Underground!AU

Art credit: @/helloclonion on Instagram

Warnings: violence, drinking (everyone is of age), hints of ptsd and depression, mentions of cloning norms, angst but fluffy ending.

Synopsis: Bakugou doesn’t like to talk about what happened to his left arm. Years of fighting underground had made him harder than nails. Society was messed up. Children weren’t born, they were made and any who aren’t adopted are raised in mass orphanages. But you’re special. And you’ve chosen the light even though you’ve seen the darkness. Who else to get through to his heart other than someone like you?

Words: 7.8k

The lights blind you momentarily as they flashed on. The humidity in such a crowded space packed with people was making your skin crawl but it was worth it for the greatly anticipated show.

An underground arena that had this much hype was rare since most fighters didn’t make it past their 20s due to injuries so severe from boxing that it cost them their lives.

There were zero qualified doctors here in the society riddled with old factories that didn't exist anymore and sleazy underground cities where nothing could grow anymore due to the pollution. It had fallen to ruin and only a select handful that could heal like they claimed to. 

Due to that little insignificant fact, that meant the expected lifespan of everyone down here wasn’t more than 30 years of age.

Of course, it varied from section to section, but there was enough pattern to know that there wasn’t long to live once you got to your teens.

Therefore, everyone lived fast and hard down here, trying to experience as much as they could before it was their time to go.

And while you couldn’t say that you blamed them, that wasn’t how you wanted to live. You wanted to fight back against the norm and make a difference that would change this world.

Which is why you were so interested in this particular fighter.

Bakugou Katsuki. 

A reformed individual with a criminal record after a looting with his crew went sideways. He was stronger than most with an attitude and ego bigger than the city itself.

He was renowned to be one of the baddest in the underground and had a personality as difficult as a cloned Siberian tiger.

You sighed and rolled your eyes. You didn’t know why Mic couldn’t come scout today instead of you, you hated how jam packed Bakugou’s fights got, which is why you always steered clear of them.

Well, that and because you weren’t exactly partial to his famed temper.

Then, the glint of metal had you on the edge of your seat, eyes sparkling with curiosity as you caught a better look the second time around as he stomped into the ring. 

Was that… a metal arm?

It looked like something straight out of Marvel’s Winter Soldier from back in the day. Scarily so. 

You faintly recalled that his opponent’s name was Shindou, supposedly the underground’s upcoming rising star to the top. His undefeated reputation preceded him and he certainly was easy on the eyes.

So why did you find your gaze drawn to the arrogant boxer with a cocky smirk on his face across from the guy that was cuter than him?

Metal arm flexing, sweat dripped down his brow, his crimson eyes narrowed in concentration and tinged with a hint of malice as his much larger rival took a swing at him to kick off the round.

Bakugou blocked it head on, retaliating with a force that sent him spiraling towards the cage. His wrapped hands were crusted with blood and he hastily brushed the dirtied, spiky hair that fell into his eyes out of his face, a ravenous hunger coming through as he bounced on the balls of his feet. 

“Is that all you fucking got, extra?!” He screamed in Shindou’s face and you actually had to cover your ears at the sheer volume that carried through the stadium, egging him on.

Your mouth dried as Bakugou caught him across the jaw the second he flew at him, knocking out his opponent in one go, calling the match in under thirty seconds flat. 

Holy shit, he’s good. You thought to yourself, thoroughly impressed, barely able to hear yourself over the crowd’s roar as Bakugou punched his fist in the air victoriously. 

His technique seemed rough to the naked eye but taking a closer look, his form and tactics were flawless. His overall strategy could use a little work, since he seemed particularly keen on using brute strength, but he was really good at turning the tables on his opponent in an instant.

And really good at making sure that they couldn’t get up again after he threw them down.

You had your share of good fighters. Not like that, you dirty minded creature, you were a scout for your father’s gym. 

Aizawa wasn’t a revered name by any means, but that didn’t mean he lacked skill. He was the one who could take down more people than any other pro could, but he absolutely hated media attention. Hence why almost no one knew of his abilities, other than a select few of his colleagues and fellow fighters. 

And you of course. You were so incredibly proud of your him.

He had recently been scouting new talent after taking in several kids: Shinsou, Todoroki and Midoriya. 

The female boxers in his ring were a literal force to be reckoned with. You weren’t sure you’d ever seen someone pack a punch with as much power as Uraraka when she got serious. And no one could beat Yaoyorozu when they stepped in the same arena as her.

In the underground, it was normal to come across those that talked big, but rarely have you ever seen them deliver.

This guy had some raw talent. Perfect. 

Looks like Uncle Hizashi’s instinct was right.

After the fights ended and the exciting night came to a close, you wormed your way through the rows of people lining up to claim their bets that they had placed at the beginning of the night. You were at least smart enough not to get sucked into all that. 

A cage match had too many variables. The odds could change in a split second, no matter how good or bad the fighter was. And since there were no rules, anybody could win. 

You found the boxer in the designated fighters’ alcove security had put there especially for them to wind down. Here, they would be hidden away from the crowd and only the fighters knew about this spot aside from those that protected it.

“You’re good.”

Bakugou snorted, not looking up at the sound of your voice as he continued to unwrap the tape from his hands. “Of course I am, dumbass.”

You cocked an eyebrow at his arrogant attitude but after a fight like that, you guessed the pride was well deserved. After all, the guy he went up against was undefeated. No one had beat him and after Shindou earned his reputation of tearing the limbs off of the fighters he faced, no one wanted to step into the ring with him after that.

But Bakugou didn’t back away, even going so far as to taunt this guy, boldly proclaiming that he’d beat him.

Normally, you would brush off those guys as no good but he made good on what he said he would do, so you were at least a little bit curious.

A little.

You still didn’t like his attitude though. 

Tossing the bloodied wraps in his bag, he ignored you as you just stood there like a lost puppy. People like you didn’t belong in the underground.

Soft.

Bakugou scowled and huffed scornfully, throwing his bandages down with a little more force than necessary. 

Patching up wasn’t too bad this time around. He was lucky the round ended when it did though, that fucking extra had too much boisterous energy and willpower that had carried him this far. Still, it was better than fighting bare-knuckled. 

There was a time when wraps or gloves weren’t allowed. People liked the blood and violence, and craved someone to come out victorious by taking the other’s life.

Fucking sickos if anyone asked him. 

Bakugou slung his gym bag over his shoulder and shouldered his way past you since you had yet to say a word after that initial, begrudging praise. He couldn’t care less if you hung around but he wasn’t going to stick around for the damn media to catch whiff of this fight.

Once it was leaked that he had won, they would take a percentage of his cut and he would have to go without food for another week just to pay rent on that shitty place he stayed at. 

It wasn’t much but it was better than the streets.

“Wait.” You called out, inwardly chastising yourself for being so pathetic. 

You weren’t star-struck or nothing, so why were you feeling so tongue-tied?

Taking a deep breath when he snapped his head around to glare at you in annoyance for stopping him, you rolled your eyes when he tapped his foot impatiently. 

“You gonna take all fucking night, extra?” Bakugou barked at you, clearly not playing around. 

Your eyes widened as the metal plates on his left arm clinked together as he raised up his fist threateningly.

“I’ve got places to go and shit to do.” He grumbled. “So if you’re just going to stand there like a fucking—”

“Do you want to be a part of Aizawa’s gym?” You blurted out before he could get too carried away on his rant.

Bakugou arched an eyebrow in surprise. He hadn’t been expecting that. It was rare that the scruffy old man took on recruits.

Huffing, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and scrutinized you. “Who the hell are you?”

You cringed at how rough his voice laced with suspicion came out but you supposed you could understand. 

Collectors were far too common these days, usually rich scouts from corporations that searched for talented fighters to partake in their financial war when it turned bloody.

You weren’t really sure how it was possible for those airheads to train delinquents into soldiers for their military to fight in the wars that they created, but all you were really concerned about was dodging those scouts.

They weren’t people to trifle with.

Bakugou’s suspicions were misplaced this time around though and you jutted out your hip, planting your hand on it as you regarded him disinterestedly. 

There was only one thing that you could say to get him to trust you.

“He’s my dad.” You said quietly.

The boxer nearly choked on air and you flashed him a cheeky grin when he whipped his head around to glare at you.

“Fuck, seriously?”

You nodded and a heavy exhale whooshed out of his lungs in one breath.

Bakugou cocked up an eyebrow, seeing you in a completely different light. “Holy shit.”

You resisted the urge to dash away under his intrigue but you flinched when his eyes landed on you again.

“Sorry.” Bakugou muttered, averting his eyes. “Just never seen one before.”

You scratched the back of your neck, a habit you picked up from your introverted father whenever he was put in uncomfortable situations. “Yeah…”

Children weren’t born anymore, it was illegal. Partly because expenses couldn’t be covered if people got pregnant and partly because the kids would have nowhere to go, but mostly because the government wanted a controlled population. 

By controlling the gene pool, they could create whoever and whomever they chose, placing them in different status’ around the world to fill in the gaps and create the perfect society.

Except, it really wasn’t all that perfect.

You had been a product of your mom and dad’s unconditional love for each other, something else that was also forbidden, especially in the underground cities where disease ran rampant and claimed numerous innocent lives everyday. 

Your mother wasn’t dead but she did have to leave soon after you were born to protect you from the government officials that would come if she stayed.

Your dad was heartbroken but once every three years, the three of you were reunited under the bridge where seagulls cried and the waves crashed upon the shore.

Once upon a time.

Bakugou crossed his arms over his chest, his bicep bulging and you were willing to wager that he specifically got those measurements for his metal arm tailored to those specifications just so his huge muscles were distractingly the same size. 

He was still not entirely convinced you were who you said you were. He knew that you had to at least be a bastard’s biological child, no one was bold enough or fucking stupid to say that much out loud, but he still wasn’t sure that the old man was your dad.

Not bothering to be discreet as he eyed you up and down, he motioned for you to give him a little more information.

“Aizawa, huh?” Bakugou drawled. “You don’t fucking look like a brat that belongs to him.”

Clearing your throat, you smirked. Now you were the one tapping your foot impatiently. “Thanks, I’m told I have my mother’s eyes.”

He glared at your sarcasm but you didn’t care.

Craning your neck to the side to get a better look at that beautiful arm of his, you pouted when he ducked out of range.

“Prove that he’s your dad.” He demanded and you feigned innocence before shooting him a grin when he rolled his eyes irritably. 

Crossing your arms over your chest, you responded cheekily, “Coffee and cats are his two favorite things in the world, and he only tolerates Uncle Hizashi on a whim when he’s wasted.”

Bakugou barked out laughing and you smiled at the boisterous sound escaping from his lungs. 

“So,” You kicked your feet, scuffing the dirt as you sidled over to him. “You in or what?”

His left arm glinted in the dim, flickering light of the alcove and he tucked in his chin the slightest bit to stare down at you, the corner of his mouth quirked up.

“Hell yeah.”

Exactly one year later, you were weaving in between the clustered bodies in the dingy underground bar you were at to make your way to the obnoxious and rowdy group in the back, all while balancing a tray of beers in one hand.

They had just arrived a few minutes ago, eagerly chatting with your dad, who was their trainer, even though he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else but here.

Your skirt flared around your ankles as you sashayed through the crowd dancing on the dancefloor, a couple strands of hair sticking to your forehead from the exertion of how many tables you waited on already.

“First round’s here!!” You announced, beaming brightly at the packed group of 15.

Shoji, Mineta, and a few others couldn’t make it due to conflicting schedules. But it was alright, they would come again another time. Besides, you were quite sure that a special someone couldn’t care less if they made it or not for this particular day. 

“YES!!” Kaminari shouted escatically, throwing his hands up in the air.

A chorus of “thank you’s” came from the girls as Ashido eagerly reached for her first drink of the night, downing half the bottle in one go. You predicted she was going to be out like a light within the hour if she kept that pace up. 

“Don’t get shitfaced, Kaminari.” Jirou twirled a strand of her dark hair cockily as she teasingly held the last one out of arm’s reach. “Lightweight.”

“Jirou!!” Kaminari protested while the table burst into laughter.

The edgy fighter eventually gave into him, shaking her head in disapproval when he proceeded to chug all of it straight like it was some kind of shot. A knowing smirk appeared on her face when he choked.

“Told you so.” She rubbed in his face as Asui leaned into her side.

“Shut up!!” Kaminari shouted between violent bouts of coughing. It only got worse when Ashido slapped his back, already drunk.

But the slight pink dusted across his cheeks clued you in on what he was really doing.

You shook your head. If he was any more dense, you would’ve smacked him upside the head. Maybe then he would’ve come to his senses and that he didn’t need to do all these things to impress her. 

Jirou never hated anything more than someone who felt fake to her.

As you distributed the rest of the drinks to a clueless Todoroki, a way too eager Midoriya, and handed water to Koda, who thanked you shyly with a small nod.

You smiled at him, then left to the bar that your uncle was managing to get the order for the next table while Iida shouted for everyone to make sure they drank responsibly so that they didn’t cause any problems for you. 

But it was largely ignored in favor of raising their beers in a toast for the birthday boy.

Bakugou scowled in the corner that he was shoved into, wondering why he of all people had to be dragged to this shitty celebration for a birthday he couldn’t care less about. It was too loud here and it was making his head hurt. The only consolation he got was that you were a rare sight, wearing a dress that he had bought for you a week ago.

The seamstress who had made it for him specifically had charged him an incredible amount of money for it, since fabric of any kind that wasn’t made from recycled garbage liners was nearly impossible to come by.

But being a part of the ring of fighters that made up Aizawa’s Warriors gave him credibility and enabled him to make even more money than he did before, so it wasn’t a problem.

That much. 

After rent on his rundown place and scrounging for food, he had saved up the rest for weeks before he was able to afford the pale blue satin dress edged with delicate white lace around the sleeves that cascaded off your shoulders. The tightly-fitted bodice that wrapped around your waist was a simple leather corset, accentuating those curves of yours more than should be legally allowed.

You looked absolutely delicious. 

You continued to sweep around the tavern, oblivious to the looks you were getting. You had a bit of expertise in waitressing due to the lack of income your dad was able to provide so you had to convince him that you really didn’t mind helping out with the staff tonight.

The bar, owned by your Uncle Hizashi, a retired fighter but not retired in spirit, had all the profits go to the orphanages the city couldn’t keep track of or be bothered to pay for; which enabled those kids who were abandoned to have a roof over their heads in all the uncertainty.

The state of those houses holding those homeless children were horrendous. 

But your dad and uncle were taking steps to create something new that would provide them with some relief and a new family.

Kirishima clapped the ash-blond on the shoulder, jarring him out of his annoyance. “Come on, Bakugou, loosen up!!” 

He clicked his tongue and scowled at the red-haired guy’s energy. No one would think that this fun-loving guy and people person would be such a terrifying fighter in the arena.

Kirishima frowned when he noticed his lack of enthusiasm. “C’mon man, I know this isn’t your scene but Y/N worked really hard on this.”

Bakugou’s drink nearly spilled as he set it down abruptly. He wasn’t expecting that. Aizawa had told him that his friends had arranged this.

Picking up on his confusion, Kirishima then proceeded to tell him about how you gathered everybody to ask if they’d be willing to attend the party and how all of them enthusiastically said yes. You had gotten special permission from your Uncle Hizashi to borrow the VIP section of his bar and convinced your father to go easy on their training today. 

Really, the grumpy man with the metal arm should be thanking you since you were the reason all of them weren’t sore to death with barely enough energy to keep their heads up. 

Kirishima was going to blame it on Aizawa. He was tough on them. Too tough. No one should be that determined to make their students push past their limits but everyone knew it came from him caring more than anyone else. 

They were all like his adopted children, in a weird, skewed way. But, no one was going to argue against it. None of them had their biological parents in the picture. 

Besides, Aizawa had enough room for them all to crash in his home. An abandoned mansion overrun with thick green vines but had no working electricity whatsoever looked like something straight out of one of those old horror movies back in the 3000s. 

Bakugou scoffed. Like hell should he care about whether or not you planned this. He didn’t ask you to do any of this, you decided to do it all on your own. 

“Whatever.” He grumbled, snatching his bottle before stalking away from his shocked friends left in the dust. 

Todoroki raised an eyebrow as Kirishima sighed and Midoriya’s expression saddened when he saw him leave. They were supposed to be celebrating…

And yet, all three of them knew why today was so hard for the explosive boxer.

You frowned as you noticed the slumped figure retreating to the back of the establishment. Finishing up serving the drinks for the table you were waiting on, you briefly made a detour to your uncle and asked if it was alright that you take a break.

Ever the doting uncle who loved to spoil you rotten, Mic’s eyes softened understandingly when he noticed who you were staring after and granted you permission.

“Just don’t tell your dad I let you off the hook.” He bargained with an exaggerated wink and you giggled.

“I won’t.” You reassured, setting down the tray and squeezing his hand in thanks.

Then, you followed Bakugou. 

He disappeared around the corner and as soon as you tailed him, you came to a stop in front of a heavy door. Your brow furrowed, wondering why he would be coming here. 

Step after familiar step you took until you eventually came to a standstill on the roof.

Behind you, the heavy door slammed close but it sounded different than usual. Something metal crashed into it, denting it by the sounds of it, and it wasn’t until you turned around that you found Bakugou’s vermilion eyes boring into yours.

The wind was stronger up here and you pinned your arms down to your side, knowing full well from experience how mortifying it would be if your skirt decided to flip up right now.

“What the fuck are you doing up here?” He snapped angrily.

To his surprise, you didn’t look the least bit fazed by his outburst.

“I live here.” You responded nonchalantly, undeterred by his characteristic abrasiveness. 

If Bakugou was startled at that revelation, he didn’t show it. If anything, he looked even more irked, though you didn’t know why. He didn’t have any reason to suspect you of lying but in this world, it was safer to be skeptical than sorry.

However, you hadn’t given him one reason to doubt you the entire year you’ve known him. Not one.

So if anything, he trusted you more than the majority of the rats in his rundown city and just as much as his small circle of extras. 

Picking your way past him carefully since the roof didn’t have a safety rail, you made your way towards the curtained tent hiding behind the generator. Pushing the tattered material back, you showed him the bedroll and small table set up with a few bottles of water, a case of beer and a worn book. 

Bakugou’s mouth dropped open but he recovered quickly so by the time you turned back around, he had the same indifferent, kind of irritated look on his face.

Then, he was a bit at a loss of what to do. It wasn’t often he was faced with the dilemma of being wrong so blatantly. Should he apologize? Even when he didn’t say anything but the thought that you were crazy ran through his head? Should he apologize for something you weren’t even aware of?

Nah, fuck that.

You gingerly took a seat at the edge of the roof, leaning back on your hands as your legs dangled. Patting the spot next to you invitingly, a soft smile curved on the corners of your mouth as he grumbled but came over anyway. He plopped down on your right side and you took a moment to study him. 

He looked exhausted, spirit whittled down to the bone until there was nothing left for him to salvage. His eyes were bloodshot and the beer bottle in his hand probably wasn’t doing any favors for him.

Glancing at him out of the corner of your eyes, you asked worriedly, “You okay?”

He huffed in annoyance at your question.

“Fine.” He ground out through clenched teeth and you shut your mouth.

Bakugou clearly wasn’t looking to talk but you yearned to help. You wanted to be there for him. 

Kirishima hadn’t told you much, only that the incident that took Bakugou’s arm happened a long time ago and wasn’t something he liked to relive. 

You didn’t push it. You had your own share of traumatic experiences in this god-forsaken place and hated nothing more than being forced to talk about by a well meaning friend. So you understood it well. 

Instead of pushing the topic, you sat with him in silence. You didn’t ask why he walked away from the party or why it looked like he was drowning himself in his sorrows to forget something, you just offered him a quiet place to sit, with the company of yours truly.

Fate was flawed. You knew that ever since you were born.

The warped sense of justice that the city had was suffocating. People were put away in prison only to be left to rot with no chance of redemption. Those that made it out were casted out to the underground with no hope to see the light. 

Combatants-for-hire wasn’t an unusual job to take on in the ruined city. All Might knew you too had been mixed up in some shit. 

But it was what made you strong in the end.

“I’m here.” Was all you said softly, staring out at the city lights that were especially illuminating tonight.

Thanks to the heavy pollution, the stars could no longer be seen with the naked eye so this was the closest thing you could get to those twinkling lights raised high in the sky. 

“It’s funny.”

You tilted your head towards him as he spoke and was a bit surprised to find him looking directly back at you with an expression you couldn’t quite decipher. 

His eyes were a little dazed, probably from the alcohol, but he looked a little more grounded than he did a minute ago.

Bakugou chuckled but it was short and grated against your ears for a second.

It was mocking.

He tipped his head back, downing the rest of his drink before harshly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand while he crushed the bottle in his metal fist.

Leaning over, he let go and let the shiny crystals plummet to the ground below. 

You smiled faintly, watching how they sparkled. It looked so pretty. 

Sitting back down, Bakugou mimicked your posture and huffed out a dry laugh. “Out of all the shitty extras in the world, you would be the only one to fucking get through to me.”

Your puzzlement must’ve shown through his alcohol-induced haze because the next thing you knew was that he teetered to the side as he lost control of his equilibrium and careened into you.

Out of reflex, you caught him and gasped at the temperature difference as his cold metal arm pressed against you. You could feel it through the thin fabric of your dress and latched onto it when he moved to pull away.

“Sorry.” Bakugou slurred curtly as he gathered his bearings and tried to detangle you from him. 

But his coordination wasn’t the best and he was growing more and more frustrated when you wouldn’t let go.

He snarled. “Let go.”

You shook your head firmly. “You could fall.”

Oh yeah. You two were on the roof. 

This was a bad idea. 

He didn’t know how he ended up here with you but he needed to leave. Immediately. 

Bakugou stumbled to his feet, somehow managing to lose his way halfway to the door and face-planted in something that smelled faintly of lavender. Snuggling into the soft thing that was rubbing against his face, his brow furrowed in annoyance as you giggled at him.

“You have to take me out on a date first if you want that.” You teased lightly and he immediately sat up as he realized he had crashed in your bed.

He scrambled upright, nearly falling over again in his haste. “Fuck, I’m—”

“It’s alright, Katsuki.” You reassured nonchalantly, coming down to sit beside him, but not close enough where your legs were touching.

Bakugou’s mouth twitched at the sound of his first name but his eyes softened the barest bit and he didn’t fight against it. 

Before he met you, he hated his name. It was a reminder that the place he came from was from a lab, cooked up like some sort of sick science experiment to fulfill a role in society that was chosen by some prick who had money.

It was a reminder that he wasn’t real. That he was expendable to all those bastards that ran the world.

But when you used it, when you spoke it with such tentative curiosity and genuine concern, he didn’t feel so unimportant anymore.

“Fuck.” Bakugou breathed as you leaned closer to examine his face.

Your forehead creased in worry and you raised a hand to his head to check his temperature to make sure he wasn’t running a fever. “Are you feeling alright?”

Squeaking when he suddenly grabbed your hand, you gasped in shock when he tugged you towards him. 

You crashed into his chest and your cheeks flushed hotly as his chiseled form honed from years of training molded against your front. 

His arm wrapped around your shoulders and it took a second to realize that his metal arm was planted firmly on the ground, keeping the two of you steady. 

But when you reached out your fingers to brush against it, he ripped away from you.

You pulled back immediately, apology weighing in your gaze as your eyes flicked away from him. “I’m sorry, I—”

“It’s fucking hideous.”

You balked at his tenor. “W-What?!”

Bakugou looked away from you, his gaze fixed on the ground behind you as he rested his chin on top of your head, stubbornly refusing to look you in the eye as you breathed steadily against the base of his neck.

You were warm. Delicate.

Precious.

He didn’t expect someone like you to understand.

His vermilion eyes were shadowed by the ghosts of his past that continued to haunt him and he sighed heavily, curling his arm around you tighter. He didn’t want to let you go just let but he didn’t know why you weren’t pushing him away. 

Your soft voice rang out. “Katsuki, what do you mean? It’s not hideous at all.”

He clicked his tongue but otherwise didn’t verbalize his disagreement. 

“How could someone like you possibly understand this shit?” He spat but you didn’t recoil like he was half hoping you would.

At least then he would have an excuse to leave, under the guise that he had upset you. But you didn’t do any of that. 

Too fucking precious. Always saw the good in everything just like that shitty nerd. 

You closed your eyes in defeat. “No… I suppose I can’t.”

You didn’t quite understand him. 

The bite in his tone sounded like you had hit too close to home, and yet, his thumb was absentmindedly running over the satin of your dress that he had bought you, your side heating up under his chest and warmth bloomed from your heart.

And yet, he wasn’t pushing you away.

Leaning down, you rested your forehead against his shoulder, your heart beating too loud for your own ears. “You don’t have to say anything, but I know what it feels like to be an outcast too.”

Bakugou eyed you cautiously, wondering if this was some sort of trick because he was drunk and definitely not as attentive as normally but your tone was open.

Honest. 

“Yeah, maybe you do.” He scoffed, scorning you under his breath. “Maybe you don’t. It doesn’t fucking matter to me.”

“Maybe it doesn’t.” You whispered, tracing patterns on his chest as your head lolled to the side to gaze at him with complete vulnerability. “But just know that you aren’t alone.”

Bakugou whipped his head around as you stared at him. Didn’t you get it already? He didn’t want to fucking taint you with all of this shit that went on down here.

He didn’t want to tell you that he had to settle tinkering with whatever scrap metal he could find in the junkyard just to make his left arm operational again, didn’t want to tell you that the government had offered him a real replacement prosthetic but at the cost of becoming one of their combatants fighting in a war he never chose and as a result, he was casted to the side when something went wrong.

He had lost everything. 

The second he had been tossed out on the street, he had come crawling back to Kiko, a spunky little girl a part of the UA orphanage in the east, one of the ones that Mic funneled money towards to fund their food and supply them with fresh water every three days.

The girl, no more than ten at the time, with her dirty blonde pigtails sticking out on either side of her lopsided head, had been born with a unique appearance.

The officials called it a defect, as though they were talking about an object of mass production.

Fucking disgusting.

It never seemed to bother the girl though, and she often claimed that she was tougher than all those men in fancy suits. Bakugou liked her spirit already.

Kiko had had this habit of tracing her stubby little fingers all over the scars from his fights whenever he came to visit and it had been her idea to forgo a realistic prosthetic from the corporation that was looking to hire him and just go out, full badass, just like Bucky in the Winter Soldier.

It was her favorite movie but Bakugou claimed he had absolutely no idea where she learned that kind of language from. 

He had chuckled and patted her on the head at the time, swearing to hell and back that there was no fucking way he was going to build a metal arm. He would scare the kids if he did that, not to mention, full-grown adults.

But Kiko simply bounded over to him and beamed up at him like nothing was wrong in the world. It was fucking contagious, begging for him to at least consider it, selling the point of how cool it would look.

“You would be a superhero, Bakugou!!” She cheered, raising her hands up high, demanding for him to lift her up even though she wasn’t five anymore. “And you could save everybody, just like you want to!!”

He never got a chance to show her the finished product. Would she have liked it? Would she run around, screaming in his shitty apartment as she played with it when he detached it for cleaning? Would she try to hit him over the head with it when she thought he wasn’t looking like the cheeky brat he knew that she was?

Bakugou could hear her squeals of excitement so vividly some nights that he woke up from his terror of that night, soaked in cold sweat from a memory of the girl he had failed to save.

Defeated and overwhelmed by his circumstances after being rejected by the very people who sought him out because of his talent, he had ventured to the orphanage that night and on a whim, demanded her to live with him. He would take care of her, protect her, teach her things that she couldn’t learn from anyone else.

The widest smile he had ever seen stretched across Kiko’s face and she accepted his demands with eyes tearing up with joy. 

He vowed to protect her. 

He failed. 

He had an unsettled score with the government officials he had upset on his way out from the lab that day they told him he had been scraped from the program. 

The enraged fighter went on a rampage, tearing down anything in his path and clearing out the experiment rooms, offering freedom and a second chance to anyone willing and brave enough to take it. 

And as a result, many took him up on his offer and fled that place with white walls and food too bland to actually be considered nutritious.

There was no doubt about it. He pissed them off the day he saved the others.  

They had come for her and taken her last year on his birthday as revenge for freeing those they were experimenting on. He found a crumpled, poorly wrapped, newspaper covered package lost in the clutter of his apartment when he got home.

The creaking old door that kept out winter drafts had caved in, signifying that it had broken in with considerable force, and Kiko was gone.

That crushed gift hidden under the stairwell was the only thing that remained of her.

Inside, there was a small metal pin in the shape of an explosion. For his personality. Corny, but the little girl was simple-minded and liked the sentiment she found in things that she repurposed. 

Bakugou always thought it was fucking weird but he hadn’t taken it off ever since that day. 

The metal plates of his arm glided, clinking together softly as the polished steel lifted to trace your jaw, the pin visible on the inside of his wrist.

To keep her close to him always.

He had stormed their stronghold but by the time he got there, they were gone. Everything.

Every vial, all the equipment, every single one of the samples and officials had disappeared into thin air. 

Bakugou had tried everything to track Kiko down, paying off the highest crime organizations to get more eyes out on the street but nothing worked. She was gone.

And she wasn’t ever going to come back.

You were silent when he finished telling you his depressing life story, sure you were bored to death but when he started to get up, he found that he couldn’t get very far with you draped over his body like this.

Bakugou had a fleeting thought that you had fallen asleep while he had been lamenting and rehashing every depressing detail from his past but he noticed the stuttering rise and fall of your back.

Well, at least you weren’t asleep, but now he didn’t know how to feel when he had told you all of that and you had yet to say anything.

“I know you don’t want pity.” You whispered into his shoulder.

He raised an eyebrow but waited for you to continue.

“I know there’s nothing that I can say that would make the pain go away or bring Kiko back,” You said softly. “But I’m here for you.”

Bakugou pressed his cheek against your hair and inhaled your sweet scent, closing his eyes as an unseen weight lifted from off of his shoulders. 

“Thank you.” He murmured quietly with great difficulty. 

You smiled slightly, glad that you were able to provide him with a little bit of comfort. “Anytime.”

The two of you stayed entwined for a few more moments, time stretching as he held onto you, soaking up your soothing presence while you relaxed against his hold.

“Katsuki?” You called quietly when he still didn’t let go after five more minutes.

Tightening his arm around you, he frowned when you struggled in his grip. 

“Stop fucking moving.” He demanded and you ceased fighting in favor of pulling back to flick him on the forehead. “Oi, did you just fucking flick me?!”

“Yes.” You replied bluntly, snickering when he rolled his eyes. 

There he was.

Bakugou protested hotly when you pushed down his arms to untangle from him but you shushed him with a giggle, leaning back to open the box of beer by your bed, grabbing two bottles and fishing for something from underneath your pillow

In the underground city where liquor was the only thing that was plentiful, you would take what you could get. 

Bakugou caught the beer that you threw at him in midair with an expression a mix between annoyance that you tossed it at his face and gratitude that you knew how he needed another drink after that tale. 

“What the fuck is that for?” He scoffed, pointing to the roll of gauze in your hand. “You get a papercut or some shit?”

You rolled your eyes in disbelief, failing to notice how his eyes raked over you to look for any kind of injury you might be hiding from him, and held it up to him. “No, but it looks like you did.”

He almost spilled his beer that he just popped the lid off of, mouth furrowing in a deep-seated frown when he followed your gaze and landed on the cuts on his knuckles from the fight that happened earlier that night.

“Fuck.” He cursed, setting down the beer hard to wipe up the blood.

He hadn’t even known when he got hurt. 

But he didn’t even get started on tending to it when your gentle hands wrapped around his and you took over for him. 

“Here.” You murmured, pouring some water onto a clean cloth and dabbing carefully at his cuts. “Let me.”

“You’re fucking weird.” Bakugou grumbled but allowed you to take over. 

Your touch was so much lighter than the rough pads of his fingers. He was always too impatient whenever he had to patch himself up, jerking at the bandages to get them to lay flat when they wouldn’t cooperate.

It was a fucking pain to stop the bleeding when his shitty fingers fumbled with it. It was a trip to hell and back every single time he had to attend to wounds he got from boxing.

Your nose scrunched up in concentration as you finished cleaning the area before securely wrapping the soft cotton around his knuckles.

“There.” You declared in satisfaction, sitting back on your knees.

Admiring your handiwork with an unreadable expression, it was a second before Bakugou nodded begrudgingly with thanks.

“It’s not complete shit.” 

You giggled. “Thanks.”

He picked back up his drink and took a swig.

Offering up yours, you hid your surprise when he actually recognized the gesture and clinked his glass against yours.

The distinct hum from the music in the establishment below filtered up to the roof, filling the silence and the occasional echo of steel grating against each other. The low lights were pleasant and the ambiance was soothing as you two drank away the night.

You shivered, catching a chill as the night air blew by, but before you could reach for your blanket, Bakugou was tucking you in his side. 

“Get over here, dumbass.” He mumbled, turning his face away so that you wouldn’t see his blush. “You’re gonna get fucking sick.”

You noticed how he still kept your metal arm away from you. That wound was still too fresh and somehow you had a feeling that no matter how much time would pass, things would never quite be the same again.

Playing with the hem of your dress, you smiled softly. “But I wanted to wear it today, it was a special occasion.”

Special occasion his ass. It was fucking freezing out here and all you were wearing was that summer dress. His brow knitted as you puffed out your cheeks, breath visible, and he wasn’t so sure he wanted to leave you out here when it was so cold out.

“I’m sorry.” Bakugou apologized quietly as you lost interest in toying with the pale blue satin and folded your hands neatly in your lap.

At your questioning gaze, he suppressed the urge to roll his eyes but heat crept up his neck.

“For storming out on the celebration you planned, dumbass.” He grumbled, flicking you on the forehead in a similar fashion hat you had done earlier.

Whining, you held onto your forehead as you made an exaggeration of pain. He rolled his eyes at your antics and you giggled, snuggling further into his side.

“You’re warm.” You mused.

Bakugou scowled, cheeks still pink from the embarrassment tingling through his whole body. “Oi, are you fucking ignoring m—”

“Of course not.” You retorted, pinching his side in retaliation for the flick he gave you before your voice dropped a little. “It’s just— There isn’t anything you need to apologize for. I understand.”

Those words, they were so simple and yet, warmth bloomed in his chest from how they fell from your lips. 

And he could see that you were truly genuine.

He had rejected your kindness earlier when Kirishima had told him you had planned out all of this for him. He had never quite been accustomed to generously that lacked a price or some kind of condition.

Then again, he had never met someone quite like you. 

As you rested against his shoulder, Bakugou took the empty beer bottle from you and placed it on the other side of him so that you didn’t break it and cut yourself when you woke up from your little nap.

He gazed out into the city that had caused him so much misery and wondered how it was even possible for someone like you to exist.

Birthdays, he still hated them, but maybe, just maybe, he could start to heal.

It would start by telling that old man that you fucking needed a new place to sleep that wasn’t the goddamn roof.

It was a good thing he knew just the place you could go.

Brushing back the hair out of your eyes, he allowed a small smile to form on his face as you breathed softly, evenly and he smirked against the top of your head as a thought crossed his mind. And even though he knew you couldn’t hear him, he still murmured quietly.

“How do you feel about seagulls and sand, princess?”

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[yikesharringrove]

@kumathecatalyst made my brain go bbbbbrbrrrrrrrrr

-

Billy let his head fall back, resting against the side of the house.

He had lost track of time in his drunken haze, and was an hour past curfew.

No way his dad would let him in.

He thought about finding some girl, convince her into letting him drive her home, into letting him stay the night.

In whatever capacity that means. Rumors will only help him here, help him blend in.

He gave himself until the end of his cigarette. Then he would head inside are start sniffing at chicks.

He knew that Vicki girl was watching him earlier, and he’s pretty sure Tina is the one throwing the party. Maybe he can sweet talk his way into her bedroom. It’s beat having to go anywhere.

He stared at the dwindling cigarette.

It was cold out, but Billy was still drunk enough that it felt nice. It was too hot inside, everyone tugging at him, pushing him around, trying to cling onto him.

He took a deep breath, was about to stub out the dying cig against the side of the house when he heard humming.

A tune that nearly made his heart stop.

Harrington came around the corner, stumbling, and very drunk, holding a red cup with one hand, his stupid sunglasses with the other.

He stopped for a second, looking down at his feet, taking a shaking breath.

“It’s a beautiful day in this neighborhood, a beautiful day for a neighbor, would you be mine?” He laughed bitterly, pouring out his drink. He watched the spiked punch splatter in the grass at his feet. His eyes tracked up, landing on Billy as he clumsily sang, “could you be mine?”

“Mr. Rogers, huh?” Harrington just stared. “I like that show.”

“It’s good.” Steve was slurring, just a touch. “Mr. Rogers wants to be my friend. He says so. Every episode.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda the idea of the neighborhood.” 

“Wish I had a neighborhood.” Harrington threw his empty cup into the bushes.

“You do.”

“No, like, a Mr. Rogers kinda neighborhood. Where everyone was nice, and, and people liked me, and I had friends. Mr. Rogers is my only friend and he’s not even real.”

“He’s real.” Harrington huffed dramatically at Billy.

“But he lives in the t.v. He’s not here. He’s not real in my life. Or I’m not real in his.” He furrowed his brows, looked like he was getting confused.

It was cute.

And Billy suddenly realized he didn’t know Harrington’s first name.

That Tom kid just kept referring to him as Harrington.

“I’m Billy.”

“I know.” Billy rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, but I don’t know your name, Dumbass.” Harrington’s eyes went hollow. It was fucking creepy.

“It’s Steve. But Dumbass works too I guess.” Billy made a mental note never to call him dumbass again.

“Well, you know. Now that we know each other, we can be neighbors.” Steve’s face lit up slowly, like the words were sinking in one by one.

And then he threw himself at Billy, hugging him tightly around the middle.

And Billy realized, horrified, that Steve was sobbing into his neck.

Billy reached up, patting his back.

“Why don’t I take you home, Steve?” That was somehow the wrong thing to say, as Steve just started crying harder.

“No one takes care of me.”

“Whoa, who said anything about take care of? I was just gonna drop you off. Let your mom do all the heavy lifting.”

And then Steve’s legs seemed to give out under him.

“Mom’s not home. Never home.” A chill spread through Billy’s whole body.

“Is she, did she pass?”

“No. She just chooses not to be around me,” Steve wailed. Billy was very much in over his head.

But he may have found a place to sleep tonight.

And if Steve likes Mr. Rogers, he’s gotta have the channel at home.

Because that was the thing about moving to Hawkins. It meant leaving everything behind. Including, Mrs. Beverly down the street that let Billy come in and watch The Neighborhood with her.

She was old and kind, gave him cookies and turned a blind eye if he got choked up during an episode.

“Hey, Steve, just let me drive you home, okay?” Steve nodded into his neck.

Billy led him to his car parked far down the road. He didn’t want any assholes hitting it.

He had pounded some water before heading outside, and felt alright. Still a little hazy, but he’ll get them there in one piece.

Steve had calmed down some, just kinda had tears sliding down his face now, Which was better than his body wracking with harsh sobs.

He silently pointed at streets Billy was meant to turn down, and Billy, for once, drove slowly enough that it worked out.

Steve was still humming the theme song, his voice cracking every so often.

He pointed to a big house at the end of the street, and Billy pulled into the long drive way.

He glared at the huge fucking house. Steve made no move to get out of the car.

He was holding onto his seat belt, the car silent without his humming.

“Do you wanna come in?” His voice was tiny, like he already new the answer.

“Sure.” His head snapped up to look at Billy. Billy just killed the ignition and pulled himself out of the car.

He watched Steve, smile on his face, as he stumbled awkwardly out of the passenger seat, nearly falling over in the process.

Billy got one hand on his elbow as they walked to the front double doors.

“You wanna-I got Mr. Rogers on tape.” Steve was just holding his keys out for Billy.

There were only a few, one clearly a car key, so it was a matter of three different keys.

Steve seemed like he just didn’t wanna bother.

“I got a buncha episodes. We could watch one.”

“Sure, if you want.” Steve beamed at him. Billy just focused on getting the door open.

The second key worked and the heavy lock slid open.

Steve’s house was cold.

It was immaculately clean, like some kinda model home.

It looked like nobody lived in it.

Steve brought Billy through the entry hall to a door just off the kitchen leading into a basement.

This was better. The couch was worn and there was a blanket strewn on it like Steve had been curled up underneath it.

Billy realized this is probably where Steve spends most of his time in this empty house, the almost cozy television room downstairs.

There were shelves lined with tapes, all sorts of movies and neatly labeled television show recordings.

Steve had probably every episode of The Neighborhood in a section all on it’s own. Billy picked a random episode and hoped it wasn’t one guaranteed to make him cry.

He figured Steve’s breakdown was enough for one night.

Steve sang along to the theme song under his breath.

It was so damn cute.

He was slurring still, drunk and lazy, sitting low on the couch with the blanket pulled up to his chin.

It looked hand knit.

He had put some over Billy’s lap when he sat down.

The episode turned out to be fine.

For Billy that is.

It was an old one, one from about two years ago.

One about friendship.

And Steve seemed to be okay.

And then the story moved to the Neighborhood of Make-Believe.

The puppet people were on their way to a picnic at King Friday’s palace.

But Lady Aberlin was in a rush and forgot to get Daniel Tiger and bring him to the picnic.

And Daniel Tiger explained how hurt he felt, forgotten and left out by his friends. How they had fun without him and that made him feel bad.

And Steve was crying again.

“They, they just forgot Daniel-” Billy could barely make out what he was saying.

This was no pretty crying. This wasn’t a few dainty tears.

This was water covering Steve’s cheeks. This was snot and borderline hyperventilating.

And Billy has never felt more out of his depths.

“They don’t care about Daniel! They don’t love him!” Yeah, this was not about Daniel Tiger and the fucking picnic.

“Steve, of course they love Daniel. Lady Aberlin came back, and, and she apologized! Sometimes, you know, friends can just be shitty,” Billy offered. Steve wailed. There were tears dripping off his chin now.

“I wouldn’t know!”

“C’mon, man. Didn’t I say I was your friend?”

“You don’t even know me!”

“I’ve seen you fucking ugly cry three times tonight. I feel like I know you pretty well.” The episode was still playing, Mr. Rogers now explaining in that soft voice of his, that telling friends our feelings can help make us feel better. Billy pointed at the television. “Tell me your feelings! Mr. Rogers said it’ll help.”

“I, I, no one loves me. Nancy doesn’t love me, my old friends want fuckin’ nothing to do with me, and, and my parents don’t even like me, and I’m always left behind.”

“Wait, Nancy’s that girl, right? That Tom guy said you ditched him for her.”

“No. I ditched him because he was being a fucking asshole.”

“Them Steve, you kinda can’t complain that he wants nothing to do with you after you ditched him.”

“I tried to talk to him. Like, a month later. We were best friends since we were five, and it was one stupid fight, and I tried to talk it out, and he told me to go fuck myself.” Damn.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Steve had stopped crying by now, but his face was still wet. He was fucking covered in snot. Jesus Christ. “I tried. He just realized he was better off without me.”

“Or he was hurt and trying to protect his pride or some shit.” Steve deflated a bit.

“The Nancy thing is, that one’s real. She said she was just pretending. We’ve been together for a year. And I, I love her. And she’s just pretending.” Steve suddenly sat up, flipping the blanket down to let out his top half, scooting to sit against the armrest facing Billy.

The credits were rolling on the tape.

“Y’know, I offered to like, not go to college for her. I missed the early application deadline because my whole plan up until like two hours ago was to rot in this shitty fucking town for her. To settle down with her. To marry her. And she’s fucking pretending.” He finally wiped off his face. “I don’t even know what to do anymore. I fucking don’t.”

Billy didn’t either.

Well, he had a few suggestions, but you could always suck my cock, right here and now felt a little crass for the situation.

“You said early application. You’ve still got the regular deadlines.”

“I wanted to do early because Nancy had been helping me with my grades all fucking year. She helped me bring them up a lot last year and without her, man they’re gonna tank.”

“Nah. You got me now. I can give you a hand.”

Steve gave him a look, one eyebrow raised.

“What? I’m smarter than I look.”

“That’s not reassuring.” Billy reached out and slapped Steve’s arm. Steve pouted at him, rubbing the sore spot. “Owie.”

“Don’t fuckin’ say owie.”

“That hurt, Billy. What would Mr. Rogers say?”

“He’d agree you were being a pain in my ass.”

“Rude.”

Steve looked better. His eyes were a little bit brighter.

“So, Daniel Tiger. Did talking about your feelings help?”

Steve rolled his eyes, but he was smiling, just a teeny bit.

“Yeah, it did. Thanks, King Friday.”

“Oh, you better take that back! I am not King Friday.”

-

Here’s a clip from the episode they watch. It’s lowkey fucking brutal. (The clip is “Daniel Feels Forgotten” under the Daniel Striped Tiger section)

#yikes writes #billy hargrove #harringrove #steve harrington

[smol-and-grumpy]

EUPHORIA - Chapter 28

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, owner of a shady night club. She’s a journalist who has been asked to write an article to expose the indecency and debauchery that’s going on behind closed doors. But he’s also Dean Winchester, the boy who sat next to her in class. The boy who was too cocky for his own good.

Chapter Warning: NSFW, Flangst

WC: 3434

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons​ <3

This series is complete on Patreon!

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The next two weeks were uneventful compared to the one before. The threats are still coming in, but there were no vandalism anymore, and nobody who wanted to scare Dean off by driving into his fucking car. 

But Dean’s still alerted. He thinks it’s just a trick to make him feel like they’re not out to get him, and if he lets his guard down, he’d pay and Dean’s not going to give whoever it is the satisfaction. No, he has to be the one to set the rules, and it should never be the other way around.

After the night she poured her heart out to him, the things between them had gotten even better if Dean can say so. He starts to refer to her as his girlfriend to people who didn’t know her, and well, his employees all know that she’s his and that she’s off limits to anyone. 

Y/N’s still not living with him and that’s perfectly okay for him too. She’s working more to catch up on the things she had piling on while she was away and was taking care of him, so their time is sometimes really limited. Dean figured that it’s too early to offer her to quit her job, so he just really plays along. 

The first week after his accident they took it real slow. She was on her period as well, and Dean got a glimpse of how it’ll be in the future. They had a couple of quiet nights in and if she couldn’t make it to his place, he would tear himself away from his job to knock at her door with some chocolate or ice cream. They argued about petty things, too. 

Things he doesn't even really remember anymore but he knows that she does and he’s sure that she’ll bring it up at some point. They always do, don’t they?

Dean really made sure to show her often that she’s worth it and she questions his intentions sometimes. The fact is, that she thinks that she doesn’t deserve someone like him while he thinks that she is in fact the one who deserves someone much better than him. Maybe they both deserve each other. He thinks they do. Two broken people who come together as one. 

The week after them finding themselves and finding out so much more about each other, the week of him knowing that he’s able to work around those little quirks and annoying habits of hers, was kinky. 

They tried different rooms, and it was the first time that she used the safe word. They were in the medical room and Dean strapped her arms and feet to the chair while he had her eyes bound and clamped her nipples. He made her come four times without him even getting out of his clothes and afterwards, he taped the hitachi wand to her clit and fucked her like that. Another two orgasms later, she was writhing and wincing on her chair. Dean must say that he was maybe selfish too, with wanting to see how many orgasms he can tickle out of her in succession. 

As he continued to fuck her and felt her coming on his cock for the seventh time, she yelled out the safe word. Dean almost didn’t pull out fast enough to tear the wand from her stomach and the clamps from her breasts. He loosened the restraints on her arms and legs quickly and scooped her up, walked her to the sofa and sat down with her trembling body in his lap. She was sobbing and he pulled the fabric from her eyes, but she wouldn’t open them.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N said it over and over again, like a broken record, and Dean stroked her back, kissed her wet face, assured her that it’s not her fault. She was ashamed to have used the word, and he had to tell her and made sure that she knew that there’s nothing to be ashamed about. That the word is there to be used, that’s he’s not mad. He would never be mad at her, how could he, when all he does is fucking love her.

He picked her up, threw a shirt over her while he dressed back into his pants and carried her up to his loft, put her in a bath and joined her. He kissed her to sleep that night, holding her and let her know over and over that it’s okay. That they don’t have to do it anymore either. 

She needed her space the next day and only returned the day after. There was no contact and Dean gave her that. He didn’t want her to think that she’s not allowed to have her space when she needs it most. 

Dean found her cooking him dinner when she came back, said it was to thank him for giving her space and being patient with her and honestly, he didn’t know what to say to that, other than assuring her again that he’s here to stay, no matter what. 

During the meal she said that she’d have to go to California at the beginning of the next week and she’d stay away longer, because it’s a work thing and not a stupid workshop. It felt like the air had been punched out of his lungs. He hates to be apart from her and it’s one thing if he knows that she’s close, it’s a whole other thing when she’d be thousands of miles away.

He played it cool, though, even though he knows he probably didn’t look as cool as he pretended to. 

Later, he said that he’d need to set up the poker room for the guys before he can take time for her and she said she’d help him. While they were there, one of the guys asked Dean again if he’d want to join but Dean politely declined. It’s Y/N who elbowed him in the ribs and said that he should because it sounded like fun. He jokingly said to her that he’d of course only do it if she would be the one under the table sucking him off. To his surprise, she was game. 

That’s how she found herself under the table with some other girls that night and Dean had a hard time to keep a straight face when she gobbled him down like it’s the most delicious thing in the world. Not having a straight face is not a trait while playing poker, but it’s good to know that Dean’s not the only one. When one of the guests suggested that they switch the girls because apparently Dean’s face gave it away that he really enjoyed it, he sent the dude a glare and said that his girl is not up for negotiation. The guest suggested that they play for Y/N but that’s the last straw. Dean threw him out right away and pulled her off his dick to which she whined, but Dean took her hand and they went up to his office. He let her suck him off there, and she was happy again. It’s much better when he can watch her anyway.

The day before she had to leave for California, she surprised him in his office with the cutest, most sexy set of lingerie and he almost felt bad to have just ripped it off her body. He said she shouldn’t spend money on things like that. That from now on, he would buy them for her because it doesn’t hurt him as much as it would hurt her if he tears them apart.

He took her to the airport where her boss was already waiting, kissed her goodbye and it was hard, alright. Hard to let her go when all he wanted was for her to stay. He debated on telling her to quit right before she had to board the plane, but he knew as much as she did that she won’t do that. To get her to quit he would need some careful planning. He was too good of a girl. His fucking good girl. 

When she was there, they would try to call each other but time zones really worked against them and instead of going crazy while trying to find the right time, they decided to just text every now and then until she’d be back. Dean also didn’t have to pick her up as Rufus will be on the flight back with her and he was adamant to drop her off.

It’s the third day now and Dean’s anticipating her return. 

Only two days left. 

46 hours and 21 minutes. 

Not like he’s counting or anything. 

Dean’s down in his office when he checks his emails. There are some threats like always, apart from emails of new member sign ups and PR. Normally, he’d trash the threats right away, but there’s something about the header that really catches his eyes.

  SHE’S NOT TO BE TRUSTED

  He has a weird feeling about it and he doesn’t know why, but his heart starts to thump heavily in his chest. There’s a part of him that says that he should just delete it, but there’s also another part of him that wants to know what it’s all about. 

So, against Dean’s better judgement, he clicks on the email and a video starts to play. 

What he sees makes his blood freeze and he feels nauseous all of a sudden. He grabs at the trash can below his desk and throws up in it.

Y/N’s going back today and while she packs her things, she keeps on checking her phone. There’s still no message from Dean. She tried calling him last night and she texted when he didn’t pick up, but there was no text coming back, although she’s seen that he’s read it. Normally, he’d leave a good night and good morning text, but there’s been nothing and she can’t lie that she’s a little worried, but maybe she’s just exaggerating. Maybe he’s just busy and didn’t have a chance to text her. 

*

There is still no message from him when she lands and while she walks to the parking garage with Rufus, she sees a familiar face and it sends her heart racing because she’s been reminded of the day Dean was in a car accident.

“Hey, Y/N,” Cas says with a weak smile.

Rufus senses that it’s somewhat private, so he nods at her as if to say that he’ll wait over by his car. She nods back before she returns her gaze back to Castiel.

“I— is something— Dean?” She knows that whatever comes out of her mouth isn’t really coherent, but she doesn’t really care about it.

“Oh, no,” Cas says, “Dean’s okay,”

There’s a breath of exhale and she didn’t even know that she was holding her breathing, “Oh thank god!” 

“Yeah, well he’s not really okay. I mean, he’s not physically hurt or anything,” Cas stammers on and on.

“Cas?” She asks, notices that the man can’t look her in the eye, “Look at me,”

He reluctantly does.

“What’s going on. Did he send you here?”

“No,” He says, shaking his head, “He doesn’t know I’m here. Look, all I’m saying that maybe you should give him some time. It’s not the best idea to go see him now, Y/N.”

“Cas, you’re scaring me,”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Dean’s not himself these days and I don’t want to see you getting hurt by going there unprepared.”

“What?” She’s confused to say the least. What the fuck is going on? Why should she get hurt? Just what happened while she was away? What happened after the good morning text from two days prior?

“Look, I know that I can’t really hold you back and if you insist on seeing him, please have in mind that he’s really not himself. There’s something going on, but we don’t know what it is. He hasn’t been to the club and has been holed up for two days now. He wouldn’t answer his door to anyone but me. And I’ve been in there, Y/N, it’s not really a nice sight, or smell, let me tell you. He wouldn’t tell me what’s wrong, but he told me that he doesn’t want to see you.”

There’s tears stinging at the back of her eyes. He doesn’t want to see her?

“What happened?” Her voice is small and she feels stupid for even asking because Cas made clear that he’s doesn’t know and she believes him. 

“Something happened that broke him. I don’t know what it was,” He shakes his head, “I just came to warn you because I know that you would want to see him.”

Dean hears the knock, but his brain doesn’t really register. He’s slumped on his sofa, three empty bottles of whiskey are lying on the floor and there are another two half empty ones standing around. He grabs one, takes a swig and ignores the knocking. 

He doesn’t even know what day it is. Doesn’t know the fucking time because he drew the blinds on all windows. He also doesn’t remember the last time he ate or took a shower. It doesn’t seem relevant at the moment. 

There’s some more knocking, and he remembers Cas just came to see him a couple of hours ago? Or was it yesterday? He realizes that he doesn’t really remember, but also he doesn’t really fucking care. What does Cas want from him again? 

“What?” Dean yells out but doesn’t move from the couch. 

��Dean, it’s me.”

Oh no. It’s her. It’s fucking her. The audacity of her showing up blows his fucking alcohol fueled mind. 

“Go away!”

“Dean, I have to see you.” 

Her voice is calm and it’s fucking smooth and warm and goddamit he’s getting weak when he doesn’t want to be. 

“I don’t want to see you right now, Y/N. Go away,” He shouts out, but he couldn’t not add, “Please,” It’s because he’s weak when it comes to her and fuck this shit, really.

“Dean, please, I’m worried. I want to see if you’re okay.” 

He can imagine her standing on the other side, probably with her forehead on the door, has she been crying? A part of him doesn’t hope so. The other part of him does hope she cried as much as he did. 

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb, “I’m not okay and I don’t want to see you. Please, just go, Y/N.”

He never thought it would be this hard to say those words to her and there’s already tears stinging at the back of his eyes, which he blinks away. 

Dean takes another swig from the bottle, closes his eyes and lets his breathing get even again. However his eyes widen when he hears the turning of a key. 

Shit, she still has a key.

He stays still, maybe she won’t come in?

Ah yeah, she does. He hears the clicking of heels on the floor as they come closer. Until she’s standing on the side. Dean can see her in the corner of his eyes. He would see more of her if he would tilt his head. He doesn’t because he’s not ready to see her.

“What happened?” 

Dean snorts. 

What happened? What the fuck happened? 

He stands up then and turns around to face her and the sight of her drives a fucking knife through his heart. She has been crying. Good. And she still does. Not good. Fuck. He’s getting weak and he doesn’t want to be fucking weak. 

Dean swallows, “What happened? You wanna know what happened, huh?”

“Yeah!”

“Oh, I tell you what happened, Y/N,” He chuckles darkly but she’s not afraid of him, it throws him off and he tries to play it cool, “I got an email with a little video clip.”

She frowns and lifts her eyebrows. 

Dean’s a little irritated because he can see it in her eyes that she has no clue what he’s talking about. How can she not know?

“It’s a sex tape, Y/N. Of you having sex with someone while you were fucking away!” He growls, it’s fucking loud because he wants to intimidate her. 

She blinks, but she doesn’t back away. Not one bit. Her eyes stay focused on him. 

“What?” She asks with irritation on her face. 

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Dean scoffs, “You were fucking someone else and you let them film you and somehow someone sent it to me and I’m fucking thankful they did.” Dean sighs before he goes on, “Look, it’s over. Please leave.”

“Dean, I wasn’t—”

“—You weren’t what? Planning on getting caught? Yeah, you should know that if you’re fucking dumb enough to let some one night stand film you that it’ll get back to you, Y/N.”

“It wasn’t—”

“—What? You weren’t the one on there? Because I know that it’s you. I could fucking pick out your pussy from a police line up, Y/N and I’m not fucking proud of it anymore. It’s your voice and your fucking face!”

“Why don’t you let me fucking talk, Dean! Why do you keep cutting me off?” She’s yelling now too.

“Because I don’t want to hear your fucking excuses! You know how I felt, huh? You wanna know how I felt when I saw that you are fucking someone else? You know how fucking betrayed I felt? How fucking stupid that the person I trusted most did something behind my fucking back? The person I fucking loved!” He spits out, but goes silent after the last word is pushed out of his lips. It isn’t his intention to confess his fucking feelings. Not like that. 

“You love me?” She asks, her voice small. 

“Not anymore,” Dean mumbles and threads through his hair with both hands, “Please go. I have nothing to say to you and I’m not standing here to listen to your sorry excuses. What’s done is done. I hope you have a good life, Y/N, I really do.” 

Dean avoids her eyes. There’s no way he can look at her without getting weak and he doesn’t want to get weak.

She’s crying, he can hear that. But between the sniffles, she breathes evenly. She turns on her heels and walks to the door. 

Before she goes out, she turns around and Dean looks at her, doesn’t see her very well because his own eyes are clouded with tears, “You know, if you really loved me, Dean, you would have told me what’s been bothering you. You would have come to me first before jumping to conclusion. You would have fucking talked to me, but I can see that it’s not what you want. You don’t even want to hear me explain because you’ve already made up your damn stupid mind. You made it perfectly clear that you want me gone and that’s what I’m going to do because I respect your decision. But before I go,” 

She takes a deep breath and exhales audibly and Dean’s heart races and he clenches his fists to hold himself back from fucking running up to her and take her into his arms. 

“I know what clip you’re talking about and if you cared to look closer, you would have seen that my hair was much shorter, you would have seen that it’s not a fucking hotel room, but a normal bedroom in a run down apartment I shared with Cole. I’m sorry the existence of the tape hurts you, Dean, but you have no idea how much it hurts me too to know that my ex boyfriend forced me to do a sex tape with him and that it’s still going around. You don’t understand how much it hurts to come home and instead of seeing the man I love smiling at me, all I get are these accusations. And don’t come at me for not telling you about the tape before. I wanted to erase that part out of my past and I was hoping that it wouldn't surface. So yeah, maybe it’s my fault that I wasn’t frank with you about it and I’m sorry. But you could still talk to me instead of breaking it off. As I said, I wish you the best, Dean. Goodbye.”

Y/N closes the door behind her gently and Dean’s still gasping like a fish on land, unable to bring out a fucking word.

Chapter 29

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

#euphoria #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

[aflyingcontradiction]

The Magnus Archives Relisten: Episode 126 - Sculptor's Tool

Then Rosa made an off-colour joke about life drawing and getting – hands-on, and I forgot about it, but I still ended up going to the class. - Statement of Debra Madaki

I kinda like Rosa. I know nothing about Rosa, except she makes low-brow puns, but I kinda like Rosa.

Now, I’m not one to judge on appearances; I was the one who insisted Desmond still come to church after his operation

So, the statement giver is clearly one of those people who don't notice that they come across as giant fuck-off arseholes specifically when they explain how they're totally not giant fuck-off arseholes. Why, dearest Debra, the FUCK, are you acting like - erm - gracefully "allowing" someone to remain in the community even though they have - gasp - unseemly surgical scars shows how UNjudgmental you are.

It sort of – almost started out like a fish. But it just kept going and going, looping back and into itself, as if it was swimming through its own body. After a half hour, I had almost completely forgotten my own work, instead just staring at this serpentine structure that the dreadful man was building.

This may be the description in MAG that comes closest to making me feel how mesmerising the Spiral can be. Yeah, I'd be staring and forgetting my own work, too!

I know, it was an amateur class, and he was under no obligation to do exactly the work as instructed, but Ray was very clear with the rest of us that we were doing things in a specific order for a reason, and it was just a bit frustrating to see him nodding along to that awful man flagrantly disregarding what we were meant to be doing.

Okay, it's a bad sign when you're in a room with a being who literally feeds off people's fears and you come across as the worse person. MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS, DEBRA!

It made a noise that sounded like a scream heard through water and stretched out towards my mouth, which I’ll admit was hanging open in horror. If I hadn’t screamed and fallen backwards, I am sure the thing would have dived down my throat.

Oh yikes. There are some things you really don't want to accidentally swallow. Flies. Spiders. Creations of pure terror.

I was obviously taken aback at what had to be a really significant scheduling issue, but having a quick check of the timetable of classes, it looked very much like sculpting had always been on a Thursday, which didn’t make much sense to me, standing there in my dancing shoes and feeling like a fool.

Okay, I know this is a silly thing to focus on, but I feel that being told "No, you're wrong about your schedule, this has always been this way" would be genuinely fucking unsettling, especially when you're a very well-organised person, like Debra seems to be, and definitely wouldn't just randomly forget what day of the week a class was on. Like, I think I may have genuinely had nightmares with similar themes.

There was no sign of Mary. They still haven’t found her.

This is one of those "few words to reveal a deeper, surprising horror" moments that I love so much.

He coughed gently, and, well, I suppose it would have been rude not to look.

This is a very relatable thought process! So is Debra's later thing about "I would've run but that seemed rude." The number of times I've stayed in uncomfortable and occasionally genuinely frightening situations because I didn't want to come across as rude...

A door. “Perfect!” Gabriel told me. “It looks just like him!” I asked him if it was supposed to be a face and he told me yes. It was a good friend of his. I asked him who and he said they didn’t have a name. I told him everyone has a name, and he said his friend wasn’t like us, that having a name would only confuse them.

Okay, I'm aware we're talking about horrors beyond human comprehension here, but ... the Distortion has a friend! And that friend makes art for them! How sweet!

I got a letter, a week ago. It was from Gabriel. It said that he had found a new job, and he’d love it if I came up to assist him again. He’s working in a place called Sannikov Land. I looked it up. It doesn’t exist. And it sounds cold. I don’t think I should go. I’m not going to go.

Okay, I know it's revealed that in the end she DIDN'T go to Sannikov Land but my first reaction to this was definitely "Oh, she is SO going to go".

A Great Twisting, that Gertrude stopped at the cost of a single life. Hm... I thought moving away from my humanity would have made that seem more acceptable. That sort of sacrifice… But it just makes me sad. I remembered Gertrude’s notebook. We found it alongside the plastic explosives, but it rather got lost amongst the business of… saving the world at the cost of two lives - Jon

... damn. Jon seriously needs a hug. He's genuinely TRYING to be a good person, he's just not getting a lot of choice in the matter.

I don’t know, however, whether that was because she decided not to… or because shortly after this statement was given, they found the body of one Mary Randall in her basement, and she has spent the last nine years in Eastwood Park prison, where she remains to this day.

Now this was a genuinely surprising twist! Gave me shivers.

Martin: Really? I mean, it’s just admin. I-it’s not exactly thrilling listening.

I kind of love that Martin actually talks to the tape recorders as if they were human beings. It's cute. I mean, it's also a sign he really needs someone to fucking talk to because he is incredibly isolated thanks to Peter Fucking Lukas but hey, it's still kinda cute.

Martin: When all this is over, I’m telling him everything, with or without your permission. Peter Lukas: Martin, when it’s over, you won’t want to.

God, I want to punch Peter Lukas in his smug, condescending face so badly sometimes.

My impression of this episode

This isn't one of those episodes that stuck with me after listening, but the statement actually is delightfully unsettling and really well-written. It's actually one of the better statements for presenting the Spiral in its full glory, I think. And then that's immediately followed by a strong segment of Jon brooding subtly about morality and an even stronger segment of Peter and Martin being a) cryptic and b) infuriating that just left me going "I WANT TO KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON. ALSO I WANT TO KICK PETER LUKAS'S ASS." I'm ... rather protective of Martin.

#tma relisten #the magnus archives

[random-imagines-blog]

Promise Me {Reggie Mantle One Shot}

Requested by: @13reasonswhystan Wordcount: 3292 Summary: After your bad break up with Sweet Pea, Reggie Mantle tries to get your attention.

You’ve been in bar brawls at the White Wyrm, you’ve been in fights at Riverdale High School - but no bruise, cut or bone break hurt more than the betrayal that you had at the hands of your best friend and boyfriend, Sweet-Pea. It felt even worse because you liked Josie, after having seen her perform a couple of times. She was a sweet girl, a very pretty girl, both things you felt like you weren’t. You were just y/n Jones, sister of the highly inquisitive and weird Jughead and daughter of the King of the Snakes. That earned you the nickname Snakling, though you hated it. It sounded like a cross between a snake and a duckling which was some Griffons and Gargoyles type shit. Add that onto the fact that you were best friends with Toni Topaz - all anyone thought of you was 'Snake’. What they didn’t know was that you had a heart underneath the hard exterior and now it was shattered. 

“Oh wow, the snakling emerged without her boyfriend!” Reggie Mantle, the loudmouth of Riverdale High said on the first day back to school after Summer. You didn’t retort - he was never worth your time. You continued to walk past him and to your locker, which unfortunately wasn’t that far from where he was standing, right by the prime vending machine. There goes your chance of having a bag of chips for breakfast. He didn’t follow that up with anything, which was slightly surprising. After you got your locker open and started to replace your old books with your new ones, you peeked over at the football player. He was staring past you, down the hallway.

Josie McCoy was walking into the hallway, wearing a cute little sundress, her curls perfectly bouncy and all. And beside her was Sweet Pea, who kept his eyes down on his feet. Clearly he was trying to avoid you. The two of you haven’t had a conversation since you had caught him with the pretty dark girl, and had just straight up said that it was over between the two of you. You felt like there was nothing more for you to say apart from that. But though you had no words for him, you had a certain finger that you wanted to wave in his direction.

You slammed your locker door shut, making a couple of other students jump because of how loud the impact was. You performed the role of the angry ex perfectly. Even Reggie didn’t dare to say anything as you walked past him towards your first class of the semester, but looked from the new couple over to you with confusion and finally with understanding. His eyes narrowed at Sweet Pea, though no one noticed this motion.

“Y/N, can we talk?” Josie asked from the end of the hall before you disappeared into the classroom. You didn’t stop, not even for a second. God, it hurt even more because she was just so nice. You would have preferred her to be bitchy or smug or anything other than the sweetheart that she was. It would have been much easier to hate her.

“We can but we won’t,” You shut her down. “Unless you’ve been living under a rock this whole time, you might have noticed that we’re not friends.”

“You should hear her out-” Archie said from across the hallway. You rolled your eyes at him - the redhead always intruded on everyone else’s business.

“Do I look like I wear a stupid hat and listen to you?” You shot back, making Reggie grin. “I’m not my brother, so you don’t get to tell me what I should and should not do.”

“Y/N...” Sweet Pea said with a frown. He truly didn’t mean to hurt you, that much was obvious, but you weren’t in the mood for dealing with his guilt. He dug his own grave.

You took your cellphone out of your pocket. The cellphone with the pictures of the both of you, the cute text messages, the phone case that he ordered for you online. You let it drop to the floor and stomped on it with your boot. “Oh look, deleted our history. Feel free to pretend we never happened. I know I will.”

There were looks of shock from other students as you walked into the classroom, kicking away the remnants of your cellphone. You weren’t exactly well off and it would be hard to get a new phone but that felt damn good. You kept up the tough exterior until you were at your desk by the window, turned your head to gaze out at the sunny day, and let out a groan you were holding in. This year was going to be fucking tough.

-

You weren’t in a rush to get a new phone. There wasn’t anyone that you really wanted to talk to. Toni, your best friend, was busy with Cheryl all of the time, and Fangs was glued by Sweet Pea’s side at all times. Instead, you used a small amount of money to buy a tape recorder, and you recorded all of your classes so that you could doze off, then listen to the lecture back later. You needed an education if you were going to get the hell out of Riverdale like your mother did.

A strange effect of your breakup with Sweet Pea was Reggie Mantle. Ever since your public dispute with Josie McCoy, everyone knew what had happened. And most people took the young musician’s side, if there were sides to join. You had a reputation for being a hardass, for being unfeeling, for being intimidating. You guessed it didn’t surprise them that your boyfriend, someone who was supposed to love you through all of that, would choose someone who poured out her emotions through music and stupid little cat ears. But Reggie actually seemed to take this opportunity to get closer to you. It started slow, such as him calling out flirtatious things as you walked past his vending machine. Then the words took on actions as he’d walk beside you to class, despite not having the same schedule. You didn’t encourage this behavior, and didn’t talk to him much, but his presence was actually somewhat comforting during these lonely times.

Just because you weren’t particularly fond of him, didn’t mean that you didn’t think he was extremely hot.

“It’s my birthday next week,” Reggie said, joining you on your way to your first class after you switched out your books in your locker. “I was thinking after football practice of going to Nuit Blanche for a drink, and I want you with me.”

“Are you asking me, or telling me?” You asked, in your usual flat tone. He was surprised to actually get a response, but extremely pleased. His million watt smile was saved for this occasion.

“Both.”

“Then I’m saying no, and don’t tell me what to do,” You brushed him off, walking faster and disapparing into the classroom. Reggie stood where you had left him, his smile somewhat fading. It was very rare that a woman challenged him like this but damn, he was kind of into it. He walked faster to the classroom and stood in the doorway, leaning against it, giving you his best smoldering expression.

“Then you decide what we do. I’m putty in your hands,” He winked.

Half of you wanted to groan, but the other half of you was flattered. In order to keep up your facade, you smirked, looking him up and down. “We’ll see how much you can handle being stretched apart, boy.”

-

There were way too many people invested in seeing what you had planned for Reggie’s birthday. The fact that you had said yes to planning it was a surprise to a lot of people, considering how different you and the Riverdale Playboy were. When Reggie went to his usual spot in the morning to talk to his football friends and get presents from the adoring cheerleaders, there was a bigger crowd than usual. It was his birthday, but it was you getting all of the attention! The fact that you didn’t even show up and a quarter of the school were late to their first classes made it all the more interesting, and frustrating to Reggie.

When lunch time came around, you still didn’t show up. Reggie’s mood was getting worse and worse, and he was snapping at anyone who even asked about you at this point. He sat with the rest of his football team in the cafeteria, and was tearing his way through the shitty sandwich that he had bought but wasn’t all that hungry for. He felt like you had really let him down, and nobody did that to Reggie Mantle.

He was just about to take another bite of his sandwich when a hand went on his shoulder and pulled him off of his chair onto the ground. The cafeteria went silent as he hopped back onto his feet and turned to face Sweet Pea. The two of them never got along, but there was a lot more tension since the first day back. “What sort of game are you playing with her?” The serpent hissed.

“You’re one to talk about games, player,” Reggie shoved the serpent away from him. “She’s none of your goddamn business anymore.”

“Okay guys, let’s take a breath-” Jughead attempted to get between the two of them. “She’s nobody’s business.”

He was ignored, and pushed out of the way by the two bigger teenagers. “If I hear you’re going after her because you think you can be some sort of rebound...” Sweet Pea said, speaking slowly to give himself time to think of something to threaten him with.

“Who is the one who left her that way, huh?” Reggie said, remaining cool, and smug. “I can’t wait to see what she has planned for my birthday. See how far I can stretch, she said.”

That made Sweet-Pea see red. He pulled back his fist and was getting prepared to punch Reggie in the face, but Jughead managed to grab hold of it and bring him down. “Cut it out Sweet Pea. You messed up. Just let it go.”

“Just let it go,” Reggie repeated, pushing on Sweet Pea’s shoulder once more, and laughed when the Serpent stormed off, out of the cafeteria.

After class, he went straight to Football practice, which was a good place to let out the frustration that he was holding. Padded up, he ran straight into the heavy dummies that were supposed to represent the other team, slamming it down onto the ground. A whistle blew and he got back up onto his feet and started to set it right, when his eye caught on a form sitting on the bleachers. Not many people came to watch the practices, so you stood out like a sore thumb. When your eyes caught, you gave him a subtle nod, which he returned with a wink. When he turned around to go back to the starting line, he was grinning again, all of his doubts disappeared. As if anyone would give up the chance to spend time with him, especially on his birthday. He could have asked any one of the cheerleaders or the other girls in school and they would have latched onto him all day, but the fact that it was you who was here made it special. You were out of place here, but you still came. That meant more than he would ever express.

“Knew you couldn’t resist,” He said, walking over to the bleachers once the practice was done. He took his helmet off and ran his fingers through his dark hair, knowing that he looked damn good. But he didn’t get a reaction out of you. You weren’t the swooning type but come on - not even a giggle? Not a blush?

“I’m only bringing you out tonight because I have no one else,” You said with a shrug. “Jughead’s always with the blonde, and Toni is with the redhead. They both apparently need to bone all the time so I’m on my own.”

“Did you seriously just say bone?” Reggie asked, raising an eyebrow, ignoring the first thing that you said since it didn’t match his confidence.

“Bone, bone, bone,” You repeated, straight faced. “Also, I heard that you almost fought my asshole ex boyfriend in the cafeteria today.”

“Almost,” He said, that grin coming back. “But he wasn’t worth it, so I let him go.”

You nearly snorted, getting onto your feet. “You should have punched him right in the nose, I’d say it’s worth it,” You shrugged. “Go shower and get dressed, I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

“What are we doing?”

“Oh Reggie, you’re going to get stretched in ways you never dreamed of.”

-

Okay, so Reggie put up with riding bitch on the back of your bike. He didn’t like it, but he strapped on the helmet and he held onto your waist, which was the only good part of it. He put up with leaving his car behind in the parking lot of Riverdale High, though he didn’t trust that it would be safe when he got back. He put up with the fact that you raced past two counties to get to a third.

But asking him to come inside of the obviously gay nightclub? On his birthday of all nights?

“For the record, this is not what I thought you had planned.”

“I know,” You said, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you looked up at the neon lights. “But your idea was stupid.” Before he could say anything to protest that, you continued. “Veronica’s speakeasy? Where McCoy performs all of the time? You can be an asshole sometimes Reggie, but even suggesting that was too much.”

“What about your shitty Southside Bar then?” He asked, trying to find an excuse to get out of this.

“Sweet Pea,” You concluded as if it should have been obvious. “It’s drag night, so no one will even pay attention to us. But if you’re scared, I’ll take you back to the safety of Riverdale.”

Reggie knew that it was a challenge, and that your teasing was just to get him to go along with the plan, but still, the word scared was an affront to his pride. “Oh, I’m not scared,” He assured. “Just promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You won’t get too jealous when I have the Queens all over me,” He smirked, adapting his attitude to the situation.

“I’ll try to restrain myself,” You said, going ahead and opening the doors. Inside was very high-energy, with neon colored lights just about everywhere. Music was playing loudly from a stage, where a drag queen was doing her act, lipsyncing to Rhianna’s ‘Bitch Better Have My Money’ and doing a damn good job of it too. You waved at the bartender, then went to one of the tables near the back.

“Do you come here often?” Reggie asked, noting how the bartender had waved back.

“Once in a while,” You admitted. “It’s my safe space, away from the Serpents. None of them would ever dare come here.”

“I can see why,” Reggie said, looking around. There was no way that any of the North Siders would be here either. He thought about just leaving out the door and calling for a ride home but you got back to your feet.

“I’ll get our drinks,” You said, leaving before Reggie could even tell you what he wanted. The bar could be in big trouble for having a couple of minors here, but they were at least wise enough to not give you alcohol. Instead, they gave you virgin cocktails that had the full flavors that you liked, and were sugary and fizzy enough to give you a rush that was close to alcohol. You came back with two tall glasses filled with a purple liquid. “Just try it. As much fun as it would be to torture you, even I wouldn’t do that on your birthday.”

Reggie eyed you but then took a sip of the drink. It tasted almost like blue raspberry, but with some sort of soda added. “It’s not bad,” He admitted. You showed him a true smile, one that you didn’t show many people. It made you look like a whole different person, he realized. He liked the person that you were when you smiled. And it was all the more special because it was just for him.

“Drink up, then we’ll dance. I can’t guarantee that one of the beautiful Queens won’t flirt with you or feel you up but ... I have the feeling you won’t mind.”

Reggie laughed and took another sip of his drink. “The more the merrier.”

-

Reggie had never seen anyone so beautiful in his entire life. You weren’t trying to be sexy like all the other girls that he’s danced with. You were having fun, and bouncing along and moving, and not caring what anyone thought. But there still seemed to be a shy look to your eyes when they met his. The lights that were going all over the place made him feel a bit dizzy, like he had stars caught on his pupils.

The way that you interacted with the drag queens and the others in the bar was unlike a side of you that he had ever seen. You were softer, you were giving out compliments, and hugs, and love and just positivity. He liked your snarky self of course, and this was still you but ... it was hard for him to grasp. You  were not at all like anyone that he knew. You were in a league of your damn own.

After a couple of hours, you two stumbled out after last call. There was no alcohol in either of your veins, but you still had the giggles as if you were tipsy. That much sugar could do it to a person. “Promise me something, Reg,” You said, letting him put his arm around you to keep you warm on the way back to your bike.

“What’s that?” He asked, taking in the cool night air and the feeling of you wrapped up beneath his football jacket. “That you’ll never hurt me the way that Sweet Pea did,” You asked, looking at him, staring right into his eyes. “Because I might have to take off your clothes and throw you to the Queens if you do.”

“I promise,” Reggie said without the slightest hesitation. You both got to your bike and he was about to put his helmet on when a question came to him. “Why not do that with Asshole Pea?”

You laughed at the nickname, and how almost dirty it sounded. “As if I would ever want him to know about this place. It is, or was, my little secret. Guess it’s ours now.”

You winked then put your own helmet on. Reggie did the same, put his legs around the bike, then held onto you as you started back towards Riverdale.

Ours now - he really liked the sound of that.

#Reggie Mantle #Reggie Mantle x reader #Reggie Mangle oneshot #Riverdale #Riverdale oneshot #oneshots #ReggieM #x reader

[in-tua-deep]

tua s1 rewatch with my roommate

episode one (I forgot for the first episode oops):

I have been treated to pictures of a lovely cosplay of Klaus who won a cosplay contest my roommate was in !!

Klaus putting his arm in front of Five during the funeral fight is good shit

“I have heard like nothing about Vanya” “yeah that’s pretty much how she’s treated in show as well”

“I can see why he’s the fandom favorite” - about Klaus

“Istanbul is in the firST EPISODE?”

I forGOT about the “rapists can climb” line when he breaks into Vanya’s apartment omg but also like,, his dumb arm wound

Episode two:

HERR CARLSON

Aww baby fives first time travel his little smile. Baby. Baby boy. And the dawning horror in the apocalypse baby nO

Five: you got anything stronger

Also five: takes one sip and then fills up more, takes another sip, and then immediately puts it down ?????

The motel dude for hazel and cha cha just looks at them like “yeah these are serial killers” and just rolls with it

Also actually why tf doesn’t the commission spring for better stuff?? Why would they cut costs?? They time travel? They could game the stock market so hard ?????? Give the assassins their own rooms omg

Also why didn’t five like. Crush his tracker. Why did he just leave it whole and intact outside of the Griddys.

Forgot how much I love Agnes

(Oh man it is storming bad here it just BOOMED)

Also idk if Diego actually deserved that taser hmmmmm but also like,, communication lads five was literally right there killing people and Diego is like “hmm something is up here” like. Yeah Diego ur big brother “I can get my sibling in trouble for something” senses are tingling

Wow I really did repress all these Allison and Luther scenes huh. Also it’s still super cute that Allison read Claire moon books

Allison: dads heart gave out, which wasn’t how I was expecting to find out dad had a heart but it tracks

“SHUT YOUR PIEHOLE BEN... said with love 😘”

Did five actually sleep at Vanyas?? The sofa looks undisturbed but he had to wait for work hours to interrogate the meritech people,, five,, please sleep. The whole “IF YOU CALL ME YOUNG MAN ONE MORE TIME” interaction makes more sense with five on. Zero sleep.

I didn’t remember that Patch straight up knows about the umbrella academy oops. Like she clocks Diego as overcompensating for his childhood. Queen

Is that an umbrella adademy Diego cross stitch on Diego’s wall?? Did he buy that? Make it?? Did grace make it?

Vanya, walking into the academy: five??? five? pspspspspsps

Also like. Who was Vanyas therapist??? Clearly they did not help her

Aww the tow truck driver :(

I know the show wants me to dislike Patrick I KNOW,, and I think her fathers funeral is extenuating circumstance?? But still Patrick is valid for not giving an inch regarding his ex who mind controlled his child. Vanya didn’t really deserve Allison snapping at her but like. She had some good points. Allison arguably would have had to deal with vanyas book more than anyone else

Five smiling proudly at Klaus’s drama at meritech bless but also KLAUS DONT BREAK GLASS ON YOURSELF

Me, spotting Leonard: BASTARD

Love how everyone greets Diego in the gym and don’t question all his knives or anything like “yeah that’s Diego he lives here and loves knives :)”

Why could Leonard have not been like. A normal ass guy. Vanya needs friends who sympathize with her holy shit get this person some socialization

Pogo really did have to lead these kids by hand to the recording rooms because literally no one was super invested in reginalds ~murder mystery~

ahafahJAGSJWGAI MY ROOMMATE JUST SAID POGO IS THE BEST CHARACTER SO FAR,,,, I will probably never include pogo in my fics because I do Not Care About Him lmaoooo

Aww five does to see Dolores and being like “it’s been a rough couple of days :(“,,,,, baby,,,, but also tag yourself I’m hazel going “elastic wrist splint yesssssss”

Five I am begging you PLEASE get some sleep

OH FIVE SHAKING DIEGO IN THE APOCALYPSE TO TRY AND WAKE HIM UP OHHHHH OH :(

Episode 3:

my roommate is super faceblind which is an issue bc she identifies people mainly by hairstyle so seeing the s2 stuff on tumblr is tripping her over bc she keeps seeing diego and going ??? who is that again? bc she’s seen his longer hair

okay there is no way that the eggs that grace put in that pan are the ones that ended up on the smiley face breakfast plate,,, but also grace that whole scene was a mood honestly i would be like “okay maybe mom killed dad BUT he deserved it sooooo”

“what the FUCK” - my roommate about cha-cha’s shitty wound care where she holds a curling iron against her arm

i didn’t remember that five got shOT AT THE DEPARTMENT STORE did i just erase that from my memory?? i mean yeah it’s a graze but he stitches it up and then slaps a bandaid on it so he has a wound that needed stitches on his shoulder for the entire show ??????? is he okay???? that would make moving your arm,,, painful,,,,,

a bandaid just slapped over it i’m actively yelling

“Sometimes when I see a million gifs of a show before I watch I get really surprised when they talk but he is exactly what I expected” - my roommate, about five

“I noticed they’ve only really showed diego in really badly lit scenes so far” - my roommate defending her lack of ability to recognize diego

i’m still laughing about pogo literally having to point out the murder tapes and now allison and luther are investigating and just. allison is lowkey defending grace and i’m laughing

“why is he saying woodwork is embarrassing that’s like one of the most middle of the wood hobbies to have. you’re respectable to grandpas who used to carve wooden ducks AND twenty-year-olds who can’t make anything to save their lives” - my roommate on leonard peabody

“i think he’s already crossing some lines he’s met this lady ONCE” - roommate on leonard/vanya

five having flashbacks in the car :(

did allison and luther draw straws for who went to fetch which sibling?? allison was like “dibs on vanya” and luther was just like “aww :(”

five luther and klaus in the van - BOYS NIGHT BOYS NIGHT let’s go pick up diego

“the coat he’s wearing does have a nice swish to it” - roommate about klaus’s coat

luther being like “you’re just as messed up as the rest of us and we’re all you have” like luther,,, baby,,,,, you literally ARE all he has,,,,,, his family is the only thing he’s really cared about since he was thirteen and maybe before then :(

“I can’t tell if those are supposed to be cake or yeast donuts... i think extruded donuts are cake donuts but she said she lets them rise so maybe they’re yeast?” - my roommate focusing on all the things that i do not

sometimes i forget that hazel and cha-cha pretended to be private detectives trying to find a lost child in a potentially dangerous situation,,, five would be disgusted

“she shouldn’t get a vote” “i was gonna say i agree with you” “she should get a vote!!” this is peak sibling energy honestly i think i’ve had that exact interaction with my siblings voting for a movie or something

“hashtag android rights” 

“I want to be the tailor who gets a call one day that says ‘i want you to make clothes for a chimpanzee”

is it telling that only luther in the flashback didn’t really talk to grace at all,, i mean five didn’t either but i think he was gone by that point in the flashback ???? 

wait diego tells grace that she worked for him for thirty years,,, the kids are 29 and later it’s implied she was built bc vanya kept killing nannies when they were like four but maybe s2 clarifies that some more?? or diego just is rounding up

“that’s an interesting fabric to her skirt” - my roommate about grace’s outfit

forgot that hazel and cha cha broke the door to the manor busting in,, do they ever fix that?? we’re only at episode three do they spend the rest of the season with their door open to anyone on the streets

okay that bathtub is WAY too small to allow for klaus to be moving his elbows about like that underwater smh

“how is HE useful on mission??” my roommate about klaus

where is the SECURITY SYSTEM??? luther LITERALLY said that reggie was more paranoid and yet some assassin can just bust down the door and have unrestricted access????? he built a whole ROBOT but no security system????????

“maybe it was like,, practice for the kids? someone breaks in and they take care of it? wait no that doesn’t explain the thirteen years they’ve been gone?”

“why WAS he on the moon?” - about luther

“I want to see what she’s embroidering!!” about grace during the gunfight in the living room she’s absolutely ignoring diego getting shot at

what is a rope-a-dope,,,, diego yells “EVER HEARD OF A ROPE-A-DOPE???” at luther but like. no i haven’t. what does that MEAN diego

aww i forgot they played sinnerman, love that song

“what are you doing dude, rumor has it you’re not shooting at me that’s all you need to do” i mean. the roommate is not wrong. allison could just end the fight with a yell. i understand she’s pissed off and has rumor trauma but like cha cha is actively trying to murder them

how is luther not winning he literally has super strength. does hazel have super strength? just punch the man and knock him out jesus y’all suck at this smh

why is there such intense music we all been knew about luther’s strength - oH HIS BODY

forgot about that

is it allison’s fault that klaus got kidnapped because she didn’t literally just rumor them to give up?? like she literally has that power. she could have been like “i heard a rumor you left and forgot about us” it didn’t even need to be violent?? i understand she has rumor trauma but this i feel is allowable circumstances

diego showing his worry about vanya by getting angry which honestly i think all the siblings do that rip none of these idiots have even heard of healthy communication in their LIVES

you know,, i don’t think vanya can drive. she takes the bus. she took a taxi to leonard’s house. we see her walking a lot. does she know how to drive?? i imagine that the umbrella academy were taught bc of mission related stuff but,,, vanya wasn’t?? that’s just depressing tbh

#tua rewatch #i cannot beliEVE she likes pogo so much #pogo was complicit in the hargreeves abuse no i wont change my mind #i would be more likely to forgive him if he didnt keep mentioning how much reginald loved them #pogo fam dont say that #youre just going to feed luthers daddy issues #more to come #i cannot BELIEVE i forgot five got shot/grazed in the arm by a bullet #he slaps a BANDAID OVER IT #right after i said five is better at woundcare than cha cha with the curling iron #he just #slaps a bandaid on it #not even a big bandaid #that motherfucker

[aboysbestfriendishismum]

Chapter 57 - Phone numbers and Spring breaks

In the previous chapter: Eddie and Angie get some alone time in a secluded romantic place near the beach but are caught by two cops, who trap them in a cross-fire of questions, halfway between gossip and interrogation. During this conversation, Angie unexpectedly opens up and reveals she's afraid to tell her friends about her relationship with Eddie also because she doesn't want to lose them, in case they'd break up. Angie manages to overcome her fears and insecurities and, as he drives Eddie back home, she suggests to tell their friends about them at the Ok Hotel on the next Pearl Jam show. The two also have a small fight caused by Eddie being jealous once he finds out Angie had already been in the same isolated romantic spot with Jerry too. Thanks to the cop, who had read Angie's driving licence aloud, Eddie also finds out that his girlfriend has a second name that starts with a W but Angie has no intention to tell him what it is. In the meantime Stone and Grace are coming back from their latest eccentric date. She's brought a tape with some songs she likes so they could listen to it in the car and he criticize the selection and the sequence of the tracks. Once they're at home, after a moment of passion, Stone is determined to confront Grace and her problems with sharing her bed and intimacy with another person, also because he can sense there's something more going on. Anyway he's shocked when he finds out the true reason of her insecurities: many years before, due to an aggressive form of bone cancer, the girl had her foot amputated. Stone's reaction is total confusion, he doesn't know what to do or say and, although he reassures Grace about his feelings, he leaves, saying that he just needs to process the news.

**

I swear I didn't do it on purpose. I mean, maybe I shouldn't swear, because even if I didn't do it intentionally, my subconscious must have given me a little push. Or it's just some kind of fucking mental automatism, just like when you're used at driving the same itinerary every day and once you get to the crossroad you turn left as usual. But you had to go somewhere else instead and you only notice once you get to the wrong destination. That never happened to me anyway. But it's something that happens to everybody, you know, people's always talking about stuff like that. Well, this time it must have happened to me because I left the Music Bank, I got behind the wheel and, I don't know how, I drove and found myself in fucking Roxy's parking place. I sit still without doing shit for who knows how long, uncertain about what to do. Why am I here? What should I do? Do I get in and say hi? Sure, the first thing you wanna see after a hard work day is your ex boyfriend's shitty face, isn't it? Well, actually, maybe she doesn't even remember I'm her ex, just look at the way she treats me, like she treated me in San Diego. Just like a friend. She's not even mad at me anymore, you know, she's even grateful maybe. After all, if I hadn't sabotaged our relationship, she wouldn't be with Eddie now. 'Cause of course she's with him. I don't know but I can guess. He must have hit on her and she said yes. She said yes to me and I'm a loser. Whoever comes after me would look like Prince Charming in comparison. By the way, my car engine is still on. I turn it off when I see Angie with Brian and another girl, coming out of the diner, followed a couple of seconds later by Roxy herself, who waves at them and closes down. Angie's holding a trash bag and is walking towards the dumpsters on the side of the diner, while the others leave walking or by car. I get out of my car and run to the opposite side of the diner, hiding, I don't know why, and peep out from time to time to check her moves. She shows back up after a few minutes, she's still got her uniform on, both hands in her leather jacket's pockets, her face half hidden under a big scarf, her usual colorful bag on her shoulder. She crosses the parking lot and walks down the street, followed by me at a safe distance. I look around to see if someone noticed me, 'cause to the external observer I could look like an attacker going after a helpless girl. But I don't have bad intentions, honestly I don't even know what my intentions are, I don't even know why I'm following her. I almost get caught a couple of times, when she stops and looks at some shop windows and then unexpectedly turns around towards me. The first time I got to sneak into a phone booth, the second time I managed to blend in with the small crowd of a street busker. I keep on following her and I'd really wanna know where the fuck she's going, since we've already passed two bus stops. We're at the third one when she stops and looks around, whereas I literally launch myself into the first alley not to be seen. But why not anyway? Can't I just go there and say hi? I sneak a peek and see her lighting up a cigarette and pacing the small portion of sidewalk in front of the bus stop back and forth. And I hide behind the wall every time she comes into my direction. I look out once again and I just can't see her anymore. I get out of my hiding place and I guess she must have left to the next bus stop, maybe it's early and she doesn't want to wait standing still in the cold. Or maybe someone came to pick her up, maybe her boyfriend... No, there she is, she's still walking all alone, literally all alone, 'cause as we drift away from the shops and clubs the streets get more and more empty. I walk along the wall, basically on my tip toes, 'cause I'm afraid she could hear the sound of my shoes. And this is the very moment I realize there's no fucking sense in what I'm doing. I curse under my breath and jog to catch up with Angie, I put a hand on her shoulder and that's when I feel one of the strongest pains I mean can experience in his life, the moment she suddenly turns around and epically knees me in the nuts.

“JESUS, ANGIE!” I cry, I don't know if it's more for the pain or to call her, since she's about to run away.

“Jerry??” she stops and looks at me perplexed as I squirm in pain, before cautiosly coming back to me “Was it you following me?”

“Yes”

“Are you stupid? Why?”

“I wanted... well, I wanted to play a prank on you” I didn't lose my improvisation talent.

“What a shitty prank, you scared me!”

“Sorry”

“Well, I'm sorry too. Did I hurt you?”

“No, I'm great” I sigh as I finally start getting my sight back.

“You had it coming... you scared me to death!”

“And I got punished”

“I thought you were a guy who wanted to attack me”

“Hehe I was attacked instead.” it looks like I have to get hurt everytime I meet Angie, physically or not. I notice her hand and point at it “What about those?”

“It's a trick Meg taught me” she answers and takes the keys she had placed between her fingers in her closed fist and puts them back into her bag.

“Do you know you can get hurt if you don't hold them tight when you throw a punch? That's a dangerous trick”

“What's that, are you volunteering for training me?” she retrieves the keys and clinks them, whiles she gives me a devilish smile and I give up to the fact that I'll always love this girl. In my way, my wrong and senseless way, but I can't help it.

“No, thanks. It's not that I don't deserve it, but I have other plans for the night”

“What plans?”

“Something like... go on listening to the demos I've just recorded and try to figure out why they just don't work”

“Demos? Of the new album?” Angie goes from joking to being extremely interested and I cannot wait to satisfy her curiosity. That's probably why I came here in the first place.

“Yeah but it's my stuff, you know, songs I wrote by myself, I haven't played them to the guys yet”

“Well maybe you just need to work on them a little, with the band as well. And then Layne can sing anything and make it perfect, so don't worry” Angie shrugs and smiles and I think I'm going crazy, 'cause I'd happily let her kick me in the balls once more just to be touched by her.

“Do you wanna listen to them?”

“I'd love that! Do you have a copy for me?”

“No, but... I've got the tape in the car... we could go and listen to it, what do you think?”

“Uh well, I don't know, it's a bit late” even though it only lasts a second, I can feel the whole hesitation in her answer. It's obvious she doesn't totally like the idea but she doesn't know how to say no without removing that mask of complete indifference towards me. Admitting that being alone with me would make her uncomfortable would be like admitting that there are still unfinished issues and feelings between us. And she'd never do that.

“It's just three tracks. You'll listen and give me an opinion, and in return I'll drive you home. What do you think? “

“Ok, let's go!” she shrugs again and follows me like nothing's wrong.

“So?” I ask her after the first song.

“Jerry it's... what exactly do you think is not working in this song? It's great”

“Do you really think that?”

“Sure!”

“You're not saying so just because you don't wanna go home by bus, are you?”

“Don't be stupid...”

“It'd earn some points with Layne's voice”

“In the chorus for sure but I like your voice in the verse” play my new songs to Angie is not just an excuse to spend some time with her, I like her cause she's sincere and her opinions are honest. She won't tell you a track is good only to please you.

“Thank you”

“Does it have a title?”

“I was thinking about Would. A wordplay, with Wood”

“Andy?”

“Yeah, of course the song's about him. I've been thinking about him a lot lately. Well, I've never stopped thinking about him but he's been in my mind more and more often. Our first album did great, we've been playing around the country ever since it came out, Stone and Jeff are finally making it, many other bands start getting recognition and-”

“And he's not here”

“Right. He's not here. And I miss him. Andy was a friend. Not one you talk deep serious shit with or something like that. It was only fun, everything was fun with him, we had the time of our lives, Andy, Xana, Chris and I. He was such a great person, full of energy and life”

“His life choices tell a different story though...”

“He made the wrongest choices in his life but that doesn't mean he wasn't a good person. So he made a big mistake. I don't judge him though. I hate the people who judge”

“Sorry, I didn't mean that”

“Nuh, it's not you, I didn't mean you, you're not like that” Angie doesn't need to judge you, she just speaks her mind or looks at you in the eye and you feel like shit for the mess you made.

“Meg told me he died around this time last year, didn't he?”

“Yeah, it'll be one year in a few days. And to me it's like ten years have passed”

“Will you play another song to me?” Angie knows when it's time to change the subject. What she doesn't know is that the mood of the conversation won't get any higher with the second recording.

“Rooster was the nickname my dad's grandpa gave to him when he was a child,” I tell her before she even asks and I press STOP on the cassette player “because he had this cocky attitude hehe and  his hair, it used to stick up on top of his head, just like a rooster's comb, you know”

“Did you write a song about your dad?” Angie perfectly knows the whole messy story of my family and also knows how difficult it is for me to talk about it, although it was much less difficult with her.

“I wrote a song trying to put myself in his shoes, trying to imagine what an American soldier in Vietnam could think or feel in those moments. As you know, he never wanted to tell us anything”

“You should play this song to him”

“We'll see. If an actual song comes out from it, it could happen, who knows”

“That could be a way to reach out to him and reconnect, bring you closer”

���That's not why I wrote it”

“I know”

“I wrote it for no particular reason”

“Ok”

“It just came out like that”

“It just had to come out then”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, I do. Can I listen to the last one?”

“This was the last one” I shamelessly lie.

“You mentioned three songs..”

“Yeah, well, it's like three tracks but two complete songs. The third one is just an instrumental” telling lies to Angie is still easy for me, like in the good old days. What I don't know is if it's still as easy for her to believe me.

“I wanna hear that one too” she folds her arms and gives me a bad look.

“Alright, I'm taking you home” I play dumb and turn on the car but Angie has a different idea and stretches out her hand to press PLAY on the stereo.

Here are the first chords of a song that's too slow and too soft and will never even be a fucking B-side on a band's single and that I'd never play to the guys, not even under torture. Also because it's so personal that they'd make fun of me for ages and I believe I already gave them enough reasons to do that. Luckily, in the first part of the song I had the idea to sing the melody with some mmm mmm mmm so I can reinforce the excuse of the instrumental piece.

“See? It's just a draft. It's just an asshole strumming and humming an improvised tune” I shrug and stop the tape, then take it out and sneak it into my jacket's pocket. Why am I like that? I shouldn't have gone to see Angie in the first place. Then, when I saw her and talked to her and asked her to come listen to the demo I tried and told myself it was just a trick so I could spend some time with her. But that's not true. I clearly wanted her to listen to this song too. Well, especially this song. And now? Am I chickening out or did I just realize it was a stupid idea? What did I expect from this? What did I want to get? Let her know that, as she goes on with her life, I'm still stuck with my bullshit?

“Well, it seems a nice draft”

“Too slow, too depressing, I don't know”

“Jerry?”

“Yes?”

“Is everything ok?”

“Sure, why?”

“I don't know, just asking” why I ask. It's only natural for her to wonder if there's something wrong with me. I just show up out of the blue where she works, I convince her to listen to some songs I wrote, then it all turns into some fucking psychotherapy session under cover.

“It's alright, it's just... just the same old shit, you know”

“The same old shit will always be the same if you don't deal with it, Jerry”

“I know. In fact, I'm dealing with it. Music is perfect for that, didn't you say it too?”

“Yes, but it's not enough”

“Yeah. Oh and sorry if I came and bothered you and took your time. It wasn't planned, you know, I just found myself there. I mean, it's not like I got to Roxy's by chance, I'd say that until a certain point I had no idea I was coming to see you. Then, you know, on the last mile...”

“Ok Jerry, I got it”

“I'm sorry”

“Don't be sorry, you have no reason to be”

“It's just that, well, it's easier with you. It's easier for me to talk to you, despite everything. Weird, right?” Angie knows everything, I don't owe her any explanation and now that we're not together anymore, I don't owe her anything. At the same time though, she doesn't owe me anything either. She doesn't have to listen to me.

“Well, a little weird but not too much. People love to vent with me, maybe I look trustworthy. Or just innocuous” Angie shakes her head and I think that she's not like that at all, considering that the (too short) time our paths crossed left a big deep mark on me.

“Innocuous? With your key brass knuckles? I wouldn't say so”

The drive to Angie's house lasts more than it should, 'cause I deliberately choose the slowes most trafficked road, but she's too kind to say anything. Or she doesn't even notice.

“So, good night. And thank you for the ride” she says as she holds her hand on the already open car door.

“Thank you for being my test subject, and for the opinions”

“No problem. Anyway, whenever you wanna talk or let me listen to something else... I'm here for you, ok?”

“Really?” I ask, not because I don't believe her, but because I perfectly know that she means what she's saying, that's she's really ready to suffer through the rants of a guy who can't open up emotionally with anybody but his ex, who's with another man now.

“Sure. Only because you acted like shit, that doesn't mean I, I don't know, that I wouldn't rescue you from a fire or offer you a hand as you're on the edge of a brink to pick you up. For the serious stuff, the things that really count, I'll always give you a hand” Angie shrugs as she's telling me beautiful things and by now I should just stop and admire her kindness and selflessness, get inspired by her concept of friendship, learn something from her total lack of resentment. But all I can do is fixating first on her eyes, then on her lips, and this time I doubt she didn't notice I have every intention of kissing her. And that must be why she tells me good night and sprints out of the car in a couple of seconds, running towards the entrance of her condo.

“Good night!” I yell through the window as she distractedly waves bye at me.

What the hell have I got myself into?

***************************************************************************************************************************************

What the hell have I got myself into? What am I doing now? Making promises I'm not sure I can keep? Sure, mine were such great words, they sounded very good, but will I be able to support them with actions? Will I truly always be there for Jerry, although he's been a jerk? Aspiring to be a better person is great but I think that, in my case, it's more like a sort of masochistic complacency. Because you know what? I love being good, acting like a good person and have everyone see me like that, like a kind and understanding young woman. Everyone, even those who wouldn't deserve any regard, well, especially those. You were a bastard to me, right? And now you're expecting from me to at least cross the street when I see you coming, aren't you? But no, instead I'm here listening to you as you vent, holding your hand and encouraging you, telling you everything is gonna be alright. Take that! It's not like I'm faking it or doing it on purpose but I can't deny there's this element of satisfaction in being the one who does the right thing, or better, who does the good thing no one would do. Now I know that when I tell Meg about what happened tonight, she will shake her head and tell me I'm stupid and that I should've just told Jerry to fuck off as he deserves. But what she'll actually think is that I'm too good, too kind, or something like that. Well, I adore being too good, it makes me feel... well, good, at peace with myself and the other people, because it's one of the few existing social roles I easily fit in, that I feel comfortable in. At least for a while. Because the problem is that if you decide that you're good, then you have to be it all the way, from start to finish, without any doubts, afterthoughts or shit. And that means that if I've just told Jerry I'll always be there for him as a friend, the next time I see him I can't just kick his ass because I suddenly remembered he cheated on me and totally disrespected me, not only as a girlfriend but first of all as a person. That's how it works with Jerry: I talk to him and it's like I'm interacting with a completely different person from the one who was with me, but it's not just rhetorical, it actually is like he's another guy, no upset, no tension between us. That is until something happens, a word, some noise, a fucking joke or anything that reminds me who's standing in front of me, and then I swear I'd throw stones at his face just like that, out of the blue. But no, you can't. Because if you've got the Jesus Syndrome you gotta be Christ all along, turning the other cheek and all the rest. You can't just enjoy your fame as a messiah, you have to get crucified at some point, or more often crucify yourself.

My inner rant takes a mystic turn right when I enter my apartment, maybe it all depends on the fact that as I'm inside I take my shoes off and on the ecstatic feelings my feet had as I did after spending the whole day standing. I grab the phone without even turning on the lights, I notice something scribbled on the notepad nearby but I don't look it twice since I guess it's a note from Meg telling me Eddie called looking for me. After all we were supposed to have a phone date... well, like an hour ago. I plop down on the couch, even though I know it's not the best thing to do and that I'd better reach for my bed, and dial the number by heart in the dark.

“Hello”

“Hi Eddie, were you sleeping?”

“Obviously not my dear... Wallflower?”

“Haha no, you're cold, sorry! “

“How cold?”

“North Pole I'll say”

“Shit”

“I'm never telling you, just give up”

“I'm gonna find out all the same”

“Oh really, and how?”

“I got my persuasion techniques, don't you know?” yes, I do know, that's why I drop the subject.

“Anyway, you're getting more and more unpredictable, I was sure you'd have answered with 'Is it Friday already?' instead of hello”

“I love to surprise you, kitty. By the way, is Friday yet?” he giggles, whereas I try to get off the couch but end up losing touch and rolling down on the carpet.

“WHAT THE- OUCH!”

“Hey, are you ok? What was that?”

“Huh nothing. Excuse me Eddie, what the actual fuck have you just called me?” I ask as I straighten on my side, stroking my sore buttcheek.

“Kitty, why?”

“Why, he says!”

“Are you actually talking to someone or is it just your usual imaginary audience?”

“Don't ever do that again”

“Aw come on, it's cute”

“That's what you think”

“And you like cats anyway”

“I like a lot of things, I like horror movies too, but that doesn't mean I'd let you call me poltergeist... although, well, thinking about it...”

“That's not bad but I prefer Kitty”

“I'd prefer anything rather than Kitty”

“Beware of what you wish for”

“Ugh do you mean you could come up with something worse?”

“Try me”

“And kitty doesn't make sense anyway”

“Sure it does”

“'Cause I like cats?”

“Because you have big beautiful cat eyes, you're sweet and cute but you know how to pull out your nails when needed... also literally. My back says thanks hehe” it's past midnight, I'm still lying flat on the rug and I'm blushing.

“It's just I don't like nicknames in general” the defense diversion mechanism kicks in by itself as I try to get back up.

“You like princess though”

“That's another story, it's not a couple nickname”

“The fuck are you talking about, it's the epitome of couple nicknames!”

“Ok but in our case it was a thing between friends” I finally sit back on the couch and instinctively hug one of the pillows.

“Haha friends my ass, had it been about friendship only, that nickname would have been born and dead that same night”

“Ok but technically it was born in friendship so it can go” I focus on the technical aspect because I still find it hard to acknowledge the fact Eddie has had this... crush (?) on me for a while. I mean, I rationally understand he didn't get a sudden epiphany on that morning in San Diego at the bus station and that he must have thought about it before that. But my irrational side hasn't realized yet that Eddie is with me, let alone comprehend he's been having an interest in me for months.

“Alright alright, what's wrong with kitty?”

“It's too... too sappy”

“It's a nickname, it's gotta be sweet, that's how it is”

“It's stupid”

“What were you expecting from a stupid guy like me, kitty?”

“Umph you're really stuck on that, huh?” I roll my eyes and I already know I'm not gonna win this, not even by mistake.

“You know what? I think it's not that you don't like it, it just... you're just embarrassed for some weird reason I don't know”

“That's not true” I retort clinging to the pillow.

“Yes, it is”

“No, it's not”

“Do you know the tone of your voice slightly changes whenever I say something and hit the target right?”

“Haha what... what the hell are you talking about?”

“Nothing. If you let me call you kitty, I'll let you call me whatever you want”

“Haha you mean you really do want to introduce it as an official nickname! You've been working on this for a while, haven't you? Confess!”

“No, it just came out like that, without thinking. And I'd have probably forgotten like two seconds later, if only you hadn't had that amazing reaction”

“It's basically my fault then”

“As always, princess”

“Princess or kitty? You gotta make a decision”

“Why choose? You can be both, I mean, you are both”

“If by any chance that word comes out of your pretty mouth in front of one of our friends you're-”

“HA! So that's the big deal! Is that what terrifies you? That the guys could hear it??”

“If something like that happens, you're dead, just so you know”

“You're too preoccupied with what people think, let me tell you”

“But not dead as in me kicking your ass, ripping you apart or literally killing you. It's just that from that moment on you'll simply stop existing to me, I'll mentally celebrate your funeral, cry a little, then I won't talk to you ever again and won't even acknowledge your presence in any way”

“Have I ever told you I love it when you're so dramatic?”

“Have I ever told you my threats are always real?”

“Ok ok, I promise I'll never use that name unless we're alone. Is that better?”

“Yes” as I said, I knew I'd never win this.

“Thank you, kitty. What do you wanna call me instead?”

“I'll call you Eddie and that's it”

“Look, I'm fine with a non sappy nickname too”

“Ed?” yeah, that's the most I can do.

“Hahahahaha”

“What the fuck are you laughing for?” actually I love it when he laughs, especially when he laughs at me, but he doesn't need to know.

“Wow, isn't it too intimate? I don't know if I'm comfortable with you calling me Ed”

“Fuck you, Ed”

“Especially in front of our friends”

“It's not something you can say on command, it just comes out spontaneously, didn't you say that? When I feel the urge to call you a stupid name, you'll know”

“Ok ok. Now, on a more serious note, is it Friday yet?”

“No, it's still two days before that”

“Technically one, it's waaay past midnight”

“So if you already know, why do you ask me?”

“Just checking on your level of attention”

“See what happens when you talk stupid shit on the phone? Time goes by fast”

“That was my goal from the beginning. Anyway we could have talked more stupid shit if you hadn't took your time. I've been here waiting for you since half past eleven”

“I didn't take my time, I've just come home. I mean, like a minute before I called you”

“Roxy makes you work extra hours? I can't understand why you're always the one closing up, they're called shifts for a reason, they're supposed to shift”

“I'm not always closing up. And I'm the one who asked for these shifts because they're more comfortable for me for multiple reasons. Anyway, I almost left on time tonight, I wasted some time later, but I wouldn't call it wasted time, since I got an exclusive preview! Or pre-listening, I don't know how to call it”

“Really? What did you do?”

“I heard a couple of demos by Alice that are gonna be in the next album. Well, that's what I think, because they're very good, although Jerry's not sure about that. But that's normal, 'cause Jerry doesn't understand shit” another fucking perfectionist songwriter like Eddie, they should get along in this.

“Jerry? Did you see him? Was he at the diner?” in spite of their supposed chemistry, the adorable and playful Eddie disappears in a second and the very moment he says Jerry's name, I know he's about to get mad just like the other night.

“No, I met him after work”

“You met him? Where? Did you go somewhere after work with your colleagues and-”

“Oh no, I met him in the streets”

“In the streets?”

“Yeah”

“In the street in front of Roxy's at eleven o'clock on a Wednesday evening?”

“Yes” the conversation is slowly turning into inquisition”

“And what was he doing there?”

“I don't know, he was out, I didn't ask him”

“Ask me”

“Hehe what?” I'm not an idiot, it's not like I'm here laughing knowing that Eddie must be fuming, literally having steam coming out of his ears right now. It's more a nervous chuckle I can't hold.

“Just ask me, I'll give you the answer”

“Eddie, I don't-”

“ASK. ME.” Eddie can convince me, although I prefer his other methods, the most enjoyable ones.

“Ok, what was Jerry doing there?”

“He came right to see you, obviously”

“It didn't come to see me” of course he came specificaly to see me. What I mean is that he didn't come with the idea to hit on me and get me back, like Eddie thinks. He just came looking for me because he didn't know where to go.

“Sure, and then?”

“Then what?”

“Then what happened? What did you do? Where did you go? Where did he play THIS FUCKING DEMO?” Eddie shouting through the phone startles me on the couch.

“Ok, easy there, calm down, why are you raising your voice?”

“''CAUSE I WANT TO”

“Eddie”

“'Cause I've been here waiting to talk to my girlfriend on the phone at least, since we couldn't meet in person tonight, while she was hanging out wandering around with her ex”

“I wasn't wandering around”

“Did you go directly to his place?”

“No”

“Did he came to your apartment? Maybe you even made him coffee”

“We stayed in the car, just the time to listen to two songs, then he took me home” I ignore his sarcasm because if I didn't, I'd end up using mine back against him and we wouldn't come out alive from this.

“In the car”

“Yes, where do you think he would he play the tape to me? Nobody went to nobody's place and Jerry's not going around with a boombox on his shoulder like John Cusack” here it is, my sarcasm couldn't resist, this discussion cannot end well.

“In the car” he repeats harshly.

“Yes, in the car”

“And where did you sneak off this time? Since the old parking spot is off limits now, you know...”

“We didn't sneak off anywhere, we were there, on the street. Is the interrogation over?”

“No. Did you kiss?”

“WHAT? ARE YOU CRAZY? What do you think??” I'm unwillingly loud but at the same time I don't wanna react too vehemently and give him the impression he struck a nerve and something really happened with Jerry.

“I don't know or I wouldn't ask”

“You really don't know? I mean, you seriously think I could kiss Jerry? And, most of all, that after kissing him, I could just call you and talk about cats, poltergeists, names and nicknames as if nothing happened?”

“I don't know Angie, I only know you're ex boyfriend showed up with the excuse of the demo and you couldn't resist. And considering the timing, I'm sorry, but I doubt you just listened to a couple of songs and then went straight home, unless Alice in Chains turned into prog rock and now make 15-minute long songs”

“We talked”

“About what?”

“It's personal”

“Oh well great! Perfect! I've got absolutely no reason to be upset then! You met your ex and you talked about your secrets, now I'm really calm, thank you!”

“Personal stuff about him, that has got nothing to do with me”

“Oh because you're Jerry's favourite confidant now, right. Why can't he go tell his bullshit to the girls he used to fuck behind your back?” well, wow, thank you Eddie, that was so tactful of you... I remain quiet for a moment before replying.

“And how would I know? I don't know, maybe he does, maybe he doesn't. Why are you asking me about how he acts?”

“I'm asking you because you are my girlfriend, not his, just in case you forgot”

“I didn't forget. Maybe you did, given how you're treating me now” keeping calm is great but I didn't do anything, why should I be defensive? I don't like him at all when he's like this.

“Right, I'm the jerk here, after all you only went out with Jerry, I shouldn't get mad”

“Listen, I told you I saw Jerry, on my own initiative, without you asking shit. If I hadn't told you, you'd have never known. But I wanted to tell you and I told you, 'cause I've got nothing to hide and did nothing bad” fighting is one of the things I hate the most and I avoid at all costs. I hate fighting, it makes me anxious, even when I'm right, and that's why I often play dumb and close my eyes and ears, even when I shouldn't, even when I'd have something to say in the matter, because I simply don't wanna make a fuss and just wanna be in peace. In this case though, I can't really shut up, so I try and talk some sense into him.

“Ok, listen, I believe you didn't do anything, that nothing happened, I trust you. But I don't trust him. Can't you see he did it on purpose? It was a fucking excuse to see you” Eddie stops treating me like shit for a while but that doesn' make me feel that much better.

“That wasn't the case at all, I can assure you. But even if it was, I didn't do anything about it. He just asked me to listen to a couple of songs and give him my opinion, that's all”

“You could've said no. You could have told him you had to go home, that you had an appointment. Which you actually had, with me”

“Honestly I can't see anything wrong with listening to a couple of songs and half a vent of a friend, so I can't see why I should have said no” the appointment I had with him was a phone call, the world won't end because I called him a little later.

“Maybe because he's not a friend but he's your fucking ex?”

“Right because he's my ex, I can't see why you're jealous. It's in the past, it's over, I put multiple pins on it. If you're jealous, that's your problem” if there's one thing I can't stand is jealousy, I just can't, it's stupid, it's-

“If you can't see the problem, then you are the problem. Good night” the disconnect tone goes on for a while before I realize Eddie's just literally hung up on me. I'm weirded out, not just for that, but for the whole situation. What the fuck has just happened? How did we go from an easy phone call to World War III in a minute? Why did he get so mad? I don't know what to do, I wait for a couple of minutes, then try to call him back but his phone rings and rings and I get no answer.

“WHAT THE FUCK! Angie, what the hell are you doing there?” the lights in the living room suddenly go on and seeing me appearing on the couch out of the blue scares my room mate.

“Hi Meg, sorry”

“Sorry my ass! Ok, the Make your roommate shit in her pants championship has officially ended. You won, period. I give up” she walks up to me holding one hand on her heart and I already know now she'll sit with me, she'll sense in a second that somethig's wrong, I won't tell her shit at first, then I'll inevitably spit it all out, she'll confort me, insult Eddie, curse Jerry, then she'll tell me it's nothing that can't be solved, she'll give me advice that will not make sense to me but in the end will turn out to be just right and everything will be ok in the end. Maybe.

“Sorry, I was on the phone”

“Oh you called your friend back then” Meg completely disorientates me, as if I wasn't already confused enough.

“My friend?”

“Yes, Jane, your ex school mate. I left you a note...” Meg skips away then comes back holding the notepad I noticed before, beside the phone base. It only takes me that name, first mentioned by her, then written on the yellow sheet of paper, to immediately regain control of myself.

“Yeah yeah, I've just called her, thank you!” I get up from the couch and delicately but firmly take the notepad from Meg's hands, before tearing off the written page.

“Is everything alright? It seemed something urgent”

“Hahaha it's always urgent for Jane! Nuh, she just wanted to give me the big news, that she finally found a job. And give me her new number now that she has a place of her own” I take my bag, fish out my planner and stick my note in it, not to lose it. At least, that's the impression I wanna give Meg. I already have this number and I'd secretely love to lose it.

“718... uhm... what code is that, Texas?”

“New York”

“Wait, do you have a friend in the Big Apple? That's so cool! And what is she doing there?”

“She's a model. But her dream is to be an actress” it's be more correct to say that her dream is to be famous, actually to be adored. Possibly by everyone. But I don't feel like adding this detail, I don't even know why I'm talking with Meg about her.

“Will you direct her then one day? An actress and a direction: the perfect squad!” the enthusiasm expressed by my friend goes doesn't reflect my mood but I can't show that.

“Apart from the fact that I'd rather write than direct... don't worry, I still have a lot of burgers to serve before I get there” I zip up my bag and put it back on my shoulder.

“Why have you never told me about this Jane? It's the first time I hear about her, I thought you only had three friends” she doesn't give up and follows me across the hallway.

“That's right, I confirm the magnificent three. Jane is not really a friend, she's more... she's a more superficial acquaintance”

“It's nice of her to keep in touch though” yeah, sure, very nice indeed.

“Yeah, she's a good girl” I think she'd throw up if she heard me say this about her.

“What are you doing? Are you going out?” Meg stops me as I'm about to open the door instead of rushing into my room as she was expecting.

“Yeah, I'm out of cigarettes, I'm going to buy some, it'll take me a minute”

“And can't you just not smoke?���

“No, definitely not, Meg, trust me”

I leave, telling her to go to sleep since I've got my keys and she doesn't have to wait for me. I go downstairs in a flash and when I'm outside the condo I take a look at the windows on the fourth floor. They lights are all off again. That's better, I won't need to go around the block. I get into the nearest phone booth, put the money coin by coin into the pay phone as if they weighed a ton each and dial the number that's now inside my planner. But I don't need to take it out, I've been knowing it by heart for years now.

“Hello”

“What do you need?”

**************************************************************************************************************************

“Fuck, it's still too early” I tell myself as I look at my watch, which says it's a quarter to eight. And I should just throw away this fucking watch. Or sell it. I told Angie too, asking her if it was bothering her, but she looked at me as if I was crazy and asked me why. She doesn't care if every single day I wear the watch a girl who liked me bought for me, a girl I even kissed. Angie doesn't know what jealousy is, that angst that starts from the middle of your stomach and goes to your head, that makes you see everything black, that takes your breath away, like a sea monster emerging from the ocean that catches you off guard as you're swimming, wrapping its tentacles around you and immobilizing you, that convinces you that everything's lost. Angie doesn't even think about that, she didn't think about it last night, when she met Jerry, and not even when she told me, innocently, like it was normal. 'Cause to her it is normal. 'Cause it's most likely normal to everybody but me, the unstable jerk, who's been standing outside his girlfriend's house since six o'clock in the morning, waiting for her to come out so he can apologize and save the day. I had no intentions to wake her up early and I knew she wouldn't leave that early, but I couldn't stay at home any longer after a sleepless night, when I quite quickly went from anger to realizing the big mistake I had just made. I get out of my truck once again. I must have got out and in like five or six times in a couple of hours and the cigarettes butts of a whole pack are covering this shitty sidewalk. It's not raining but the air is cold. But I'm sweating. I stretch my hand through the half open truck window to retrieve the baseball cap I left on the passenger seat and I wear it. As I'm busy sticking all my hair under the hat, I hear the door open and see her walking out, while fixing her big scarf around her neck to protect herself from the wind. She doesn't look my way but comes towards me and I don't even need to put any effort into looking sad because as soon as I see her, my heart skips and I'm sure my natural expression is already the right one. I'm almost about to call her when, instead of walking right up to me, she turns to her right and goes who knows where. Didn't she see me? Did she see me and ignored me on purpose? I don't care. I throw the umpteenth cigarette away and follow her.

“Angie” she comes to a dead stop as she hears me calling her name and it clearly means that no, she didn't see me. She turns around and literally looked at me up and down, from head to toe, before stopping at my eyes and answering with a nod.

“Hi Eddie” she turns around and starts walkig again but slowly.

“I know you're mad at me, you've got every reason to be” I catch up and walk beside her, who's burying her face into her scarf, as if she wanted to hide herself from me.

“I'm not mad. You were the mad one, I think”

“I got upset for no reason, Angie, I'm sorry. I want to apologize”

“You were a fury”

“I know, I know, I was a jerk”

“You hung up on me and didn't even answer when I called you back”

“Better that way, trust me! I was out of my mind, who knows what else I could have said” well, maybe I shouldn't have said this.

“Ok, better this way then” Angie shrugs and subtly quickens her pace.

“Angie, can we just stop for a second? I need to talk to you, properly, not just walking like this”

“I got shit to do, I need to go to the bank and run some other errands before going to class”

“It'll only take a couple of minutes, Angie, please. Let me talk to you, I haven't slept all night” I delicately and cautiously circle her shoulders with my arm and gesture in the direction of the closest bench.

“Oh and what's new about that?” she asks with a weak smile. I guess she didn't get much sleep either.

“The news are that it's my fault this time.” I nod towards the bench “Please”

“Ok, just two minutes though” she rolls her eyes and gives up, sitting with me.

“So... well, as you might have guessed, I have a little problem with jealousy” I start confessing.

“No! Really?” she gives me that sarcastic smile of her and I feel a little better because maybe there's still I chance I didn't fuck up completely.

“I'm jealous. And it's my problem, as you said last night, you were right, you are right. As you didn't do anything, you never do anything, it's about me, it's not about the things you do or the way you act or shit like that. You could as well never leave your apartment and I'd be jealous of the pizza delivery guy because, the fuck I know, because he smiles a little too widely to you when you leave him the change as a tip”

“Well, yeah, considering the ridiculous paycheck they get, someone could actually fall in love for a tip, I can believe that” Angie keeps on making fun of me and I admit this makes me feel more and more comfortable.

“The fact is that nine times out of ten this thought flashes upon my mind, upsets me for a couple of seconds, then goes away and I forget about it. I mean, most of the times I can keep it at bay, I just ignores the voices in my head and go on with my life as nothing happened.

“We're not talking about actual voices, right?”

“Hehe no, just inner voices of conscience”

“Huh ok. And what happens that single one time out of ten instead?”

“What happens is that I lose my mind and say things I don't actually believe”

“Are you sure you don't believe them?”

“Angie, no, I don't believe them. I'm sorry, it won't happen again, I promise” I try and take her hands, kinda timidly, and she lets me do that.

“How can you promise that? If you lose control, like you said, how can you prevent that?”

“I can because I want to, because you're more important than anything”

“Eddie, listen to me,” she sighs and turns a little more towards me, still keeping her hands into mine “I can understand your jealousy. I mean, I can't accept it, I don't excuse it, but I can understand how it works, I guess what the mechanism is and what the triggers are. I know you must feel very insecure about yourself, although I have no idea how, since you're such a wonderful guy and I'd never leave you”

“Maybe there's someone more wonderful than me out there...”

“Who? Jerry Cantrell?” Angie doesn't waste any time and goes straight to the point.

“There must be something good about him if you got with him. And if you're still friend to him after... well, after he hurt you”

“Sure there's something good about him, but no potential boyfriend material for sure. Not anymore. And I don't know what else I should do to convince you”

“So why are you still talking to him? I don't mean you can't talk to him, I'm not that kind of guy, imposing things or telling you who you can hang out with or where you can go or shit like that. It's just that, I really can't understand how you can do it, I mean, if Beth came out of nowhere, looking for me and telling me she needs to talk to someone, my answer would be just showing her the middle finger”

“I'm not you” her reply is as quick as simple.

“Hehe I know. And thank god, I must add”

“That's the only explanation I got, that's how it is for me. Before he got with me, he was a friend, and what happened between us as a couple didn't change things. To be honest with you, I thought things would change, a lot, but as time went by I realized that to me Jerry went back being what he used to be before, no more no less: a friend”

“That's unbelievable, it's like you're separating the two things”

“It's not like that, it's exactly that. I separate the two things, the two relationships, the two Jerrys. There's my ex Jerry and my friend Jerry, the former has gone, the latter ha stayed” Angie shrugs as if she was explaining the most obvious thing in the world, but I don't even try to understand and I don't know if I should believe it or not. But I gotta make an effort if I want to make this work and not fuck it up now that it's just started.

“That's... a concept that's really far from my way of seeing things but... I can understand it”

“Same here with your jealousy. That's something really, really far from me but I can understand it. What I can't accept is the way you treated me because you were jealous.

“I know, Angie, I'm sorry”

“You said very bad things to me. And your voice... the tone of your voice was so mean, like you were trying to hurt me as much as you could”

“I told you, I just flipped out on you for no reason”

“I think your problem is not with jealousy but with rage. As soon as you feel in danger, you attack, blindly. It's not the first time I see this in you but not at this level” ok, guilty as charged. Angie has known me for less than six months and she's been with me for a few weeks and she already has me pretty well figured.

“I know, it's a mess. I am a mess.” I lean down and rest my head on her lap, without letting go of her hands “I hoped you'd never see this side of my character” I was just fooling myself, of course it came out almost immediately as we got closer.

“I'm a mess as well, we all are. But when you're deliberately mean to someone, to hurt them, well, that's where I draw a line, that's my limit. What am I supposed to do with sappy nicknames, if you then take your frustrations out on me?” I knew that, she's breaking up with me. She put up with me long enough though.

“It's over, isn't it?”

“WHAT? What are you talking about?” Angie lets go of my hands and grabs at my head, gently forcing me to turn around and look at her.

“Aren't you breaking up with me?”

“Hehehe who's the dramatic one now?” she pushes my head back down, takes off my hat and puts it on her head, before playfully messing up my hair.

“But you said that's your limit...”

“Do you think I'd break up with you after one fucking fight?”

“No?” am I safe?

“Next time you get upset for some reason, before insulting me, just take a nice deep breath and talk to me, openly, tell me what's wrong, what you're afraid of and how I can help you. Or you can as well insult me but only if I deserve it or if you believe there's a valid reason. I mean, it's ok to discuss, fuck, it's ok to fight too, although I hate fighting and I'd do anything to avoid it. But I admit that it can happen and it's not necessarily bad if there's a reason. Well, I wanna be free to fight with you without risking an emotional breakdown every time, ok? Because, as I already told you, I'm a mess too, just like you, I've got my problems as well, don't you know? Can't you see how hard it is for me to express a single fucking feeling? To a certain extent, I kind of envy you, you know?” what she says leaves me speechless at first because it's so... mature. I'm here whining like an annoying brat, whereas she's rationally examined the situation and is just telling it like it is.

“You envy me? Do you think that being a slave to your emotions is better? Every time is like flipping a fucking quarter in the air, I throw it and I have no idea what will come out: how am I doing today? Good? Bad? Happy? Mad? Jeff and Stone could place bets on me” I sit back up like a normal person and notice one of my shoes is half-untied.

“Well, my quarters are never flipped, I just push them down into the piggy bank, one by one, and I keep them there. At least until Christmas comes and you need to break the piggy bank and then BAM! They come out all together” I'm about to tie my shoe when Angie gets there before and ties it for me as she speaks, then takes my hands in hers once again.

“Can I borrow your piggy bank?” I ask her before I get that kiss I was afraid I wouldn't get anymore.

“Ok, but only if you let me flip your quarters from time to time” she smiles at me and now I'm sure: I'm safe.

“I'm sorry, Angie, for real”

“I don't need you to say you're sorry, I need you to not be an asshole anymore”

“Ok”

“And if something's wrong, you just tell me and we can talk about it, like adults”

“Ok”

“Because I'm not your punching bag”

“No, you're my...” I wait for her to figure out what I want to say and to react to the provocation. Finally she turns around abruptly and gives me that nasty look of hers I love.

“Don't you dare”

“Why? You said I could”

“Not in public”

“But nobody's around” I look around and the few passers-by don't give a fuck about us.

“Do you think that since I didn't break up with you for the scene you made last night, then I won't cut you off for calling me kitty? You could be surprised”

“HA! You said it. By saying it, you automatically accepted it as official nickname”

“Says who? You?”

“Yes, kitty” I whisper into her ear because I'm ok with risking but I don't wanna push it too far.

“What the hell have I got myself into?” Angie rolls her eyes for the nth time and I'm afraid forher it'll soon become a habit with me.

“You got no idea, trust me”

“I don't wanna fight with you anymore”

“I can't wait to fight again though”

“Haha what?”

“Only you can turn a fight into an open hearted confrontation about emotions, feelings and how to handle them. I like talking with you about these things, I like talking to you, I like you”

“I like you too,” Angie gives me a peck on my nose then stands up “but I really have to go now”

“Huh so wasn't it just an excuse to avoid me? You really got things to do?” I joke as I stand up too and I pretend to ignore the fact she's just told me she likes me, without blushing or being ashamed, without me asking her or trying to extract a confession with torture.

“Yes and I gotta hurry up”

“When does school end?” I puff as I get my cap back and put it on my head.

“Tomorrow's the last day”

“Finally! How long is your spring break, one week?”

“Ten days”

“That's even better... listen, I was thinking... well, actually I didn't think about it before, I'm thinking  about it just now as I'm speaking. What if we just leave for a few days, you and I?” I take her hands again, actually I take her by her wrists and softly stroke the inside with my thumbs. I know she likes that.

“Leave to go where?”

“Wherever you wanna go. Just to take a break and spend some time alone, would you like that?”

“I don't know, aren't you busy with the movie and the album recording?”

“Yes but we could leave this weekend, what do you think? It just makes me mad that I'll be busy right when you're on holiday and we could see each other more.

“I don't know, Eddie. Actually I had already signed up both with Roxy and Hannigan to work some extra hours, in the weekend and also during the week, you know, to save some more” she looks down too often, there must be something wrong.

“Oh ok... but is everything alright?” I shake her a little, prompting her to look at me and be honest.

“Sure, why?”

“I don't know. Do you need money?”

“Hahaha who doesn't?” Angie backs up from me and gestures for me to walk with her.

“Hehe no, I mean, maybe you have some problem and you need money for that”

“My problem is the same old problem: paying the bills, rent, college and books. Or books' photocopies, those cost too” we walk side by side as Angie counts her expenses on her fingertips.

“Well, ok, but your parents are helping you, right? Ray doesn't look like the type of dad who freaks out if you don't pay your part at the beginning of the semester but a little later”

“That doesn't count, it's a matter of principle. When I make a commitment, I follow through with it”

“Sure and that's great. But you know, there's nothing wrong with asking for help when you need it” I go on and I don't immediately notice Angie has stopped.

“Ok, now this is the kind of advice I should get as a tattoo, if I ever got one. So maybe I'll finally follow it” I turn around and see her standing on the first step of the stairs outside the bank.

“Everybody comes to you when they need help, what about you?” I walk back and hug her.

“I call you if I have a spider at home”

“You can call me for anything else too, you know that, right?”

“Thanks.” she kisses me again and this time she can't help looking around to check if someone we know is nearby “Anyway, everything's ok, it's just about every day needs, don't get weird ideas or something, really”

“Ok”

“I really gotta go now. Can I call you on lunch break?”

“You don't need to ask me”

“I'll correct my question: will I find you at home if I call at lunch break?”

“Yes”

“I'll call you later then, have a good day” she gives me another (too) quick kiss and leaves as quickly.

“Later... Whirpool??”

“You're so cold, you're freezing!”

'If something's wrong, you just tell me and we can talk about it' that's what you told me. I hope you know the same goes for you as well.

#pearl jam fanfiction #grunge fanfiction #eddie vedder fanfiction #eddie vedder #jerry cantrell #pearl jam #alice in chains #chapters

[marueonmain]

WINDFLOWER

part eight ~ the chance to pipe ~

(part one) (part two) (part three) (part four) (part five) (part six) (part seven) (part eight)

A/N: We are in it now; thank you for sticking around. Messages/Asks are open and greatly appreciated.

Summary: Alex seeks Will’s support and advice for how best to shoot his shot with Y/N. He also takes his first shower in 72 hours.

Pairing: imallexx x reader

Warning: Language.

Word Count: 2.6k

He arrived at Will's apartment, still wearing the mindless grin that Y/N coaxed out of him. Alex walked through the unlocked front door and straight to his friend's bedroom. It was bright, not near as cave-like as his own, and there was the lingering scent of a candle burned recently. Will sat at his desk: a second chair set-up next to him: scrolling through the youtube analytics for his most recent video.

It seemed that CPM was up – good news for the video and its one-million views. Will cleared his throat, causing Alex to freeze just two steps inside. Without lifting his head or dragging his attention from his screen, Will said with a flat and ominous tone, "I warned yous."

"What?"

"About being late." Spinning his chair, Will revealed the blue spray-painted plastic bat sitting in his lap. He kept his stern face for another five seconds before breaking into his usual toothy smile and laugh.

Rather than scrambling together a witty remark in return, Alex chuckled along. To that gag as well as the other usual playful abuse about his laziness and tardiness. Will finished the last one-liner he had prepared in the extra time he was made to wait for Alex to arrive, and his expression faltered. Not that he did not appear cheerful anymore – the smile remained – but it relaxed as a single eyebrow raised.

Will asked, "What's got you all giddy?"

Looking down at his hands, Alex chuckled again, though it sounded more akin to a humorous scoff, and gave no answer. He buried his hands in his pockets and took the seat next to his friend.

"What is it?" Will pestered on. "James Charles unblocked you, did he?"

Alex punched him in the arm as hard as he could (not hard). "Fuck off."

Will rolled his eyes before turning to the camera. He hit record and, putting on his boisterous presentation voice, shouted, "Right! Hello, welcome back to the second channel – welcome back to oddly satisfying. It's been a..."

Top posts for that month included photos of symmetrical flower arrangements, videos of tape-peelings from miniature canvases, woodworking gifs, beautiful block calligraphy, slow-motion capture of a sewing machine, and animation to fulfill the desire to sharpen a pencil to a perfect point every time. Alex gave out ratings of nines and tens like he had a quota to fill. As the video continued, Will argued the scores with him more and more. None so much as he did with the seven Alex gave to a real shit submission of ping-pong trick shots.

It was not an average filming session (unbeknownst to Will); it was a game where with each passing minute, Alex was building up his courage for what he wanted to talk about after the video was over. George had been the one person in the friend group he told about his feelings for Y/N, and that had not gone over well. But Alex thought he might now be able to explain it better – explain himself better – and be supported. Will was, after all, behind the act of snakelike behaviour, a very caring person who had held Alex's hand while he fixed himself several times over.

"What do you give the paw-print painting then, Alex?"

"Hm?" Torn from the bed of his subconscious thoughts into the waking world, Alex darted his eyes to the screen and to the camera. "Uh, ten. Definitely a ten."

"Right. Anyway, we'll end on a good note. Be sure to hit that like button for more reddit videos and go subscribe to Alex's channel—"

"It's really epic!"

"—link will be in the description. And we'll see you guys later!" Will gave a terse salute to the camera and, once the outro was finished, dropped his voice to normal and asked, "Care to do a second one while we're here?"

"Why not?"

Springing from his chair to his feet, Will crossed the bedroom to his cupboard and began to change. Giving the illusion of there being a more significant passage of time between filming. Taking off his beanie revealed his dark unruly hair, which he covered again with his 'crisis actor' hat.

"I was wondering if I could get your advice on something?" Alex began not moving from his seat at the desk. Neither did he turn his attention much from the screen, to give Will some privacy.

"What's that?"

"There's this girl— Well, um, this woman rather, that I am interested in approaching – romantically – and—"

"Why you talking like an android?" Will stripped himself of his black and green shirt. Interestingly enough, the same black and green shirt as Ethan wore when he last had the sidemen member over for a video. "Could you be normal for a minute?"

"I like her. Ok? What now?"

He pulled on a shovel hoodie and grabbing another turned to Alex. Gesturing to the pink zip-up jacket, he asked, "You have a decent shirt under there or want to borrow one of these?"

"I'm fine. But about the girl. Should I even bother?"

"How do you mean? If there's the chance to pipe – you got to take it."

"No. Like if I just end up fucking it up, why—?"

"Stop thinking about the end. We're at the beginning, alright? You're a good-looking lad, even got a decent trim for once in your life." Will ruffled Alex's hair as he returned to the seat beside him. "You're verified. All you got to do is slide into the lass' twitter DMs, and you're in."

"I'm not verified," he said with a bit of a huff. "You're verified."

Will shrugged. Pulling his phone from his pocket to check messages. "Whatever. You ready to record?"

"Not yet. What if she has a boyfriend?"

"Chin him."

"I'm being serious."

"So am I. If there's not a ring and a date...well...it isn't really all that important, is it?" Will scrolled through the next ten posts on r/oddlysatisfying, before changing his mind, scrolling back up, and switching to another subreddit. Adding to his previous comment, "Unless it's Mia we're talking about."

Alex sucked his teeth. "Unfortunately, it is."

"Shut it. I'm having none of that." He pushed Alex's shoulder with one hand and wagged a jokingly accusatory finger. "Let's get back to it."

"Alright. Alright."

Will turned to the camera and, as quickly as he had dropped it, picked up his presentation voice, shouting, "Right! Hello, welcome back to this incredibly ad-friendly youtube channel. Instead of rating sand-cutting and slime, today we're gonna be rating dogs again. So this, welcome to r/aww. There should be some decent content here..."

It was nice sifting through the top posts of the week: a golden retriever taking care of baby bunnies, deer fawns sleeping under lawn furniture, an albino skunk, and a lot more ducklings and birds in general than Alex remembered being popular on the subreddit. Their last filming was full of constant challenges and debates, but when Alex gave nine and ten ratings for animals Will agreed whole-heartedly – save for a single dispute over a cat picture. It was cute; Will just was not terribly fond of cats.

Alex simultaneously commentated for the video and pondered – now that he had his friend's blessing – how best to shoot his shot with Y/N. He beamed with excitement and energy, and the evidence was in the light blush of his cheeks. It was not soft happiness like he felt when sitting on the rooftop of his apartment building, with a sausage roll in his stomach and a decent buzz. It was sharp happiness like the entire world had been dragged into photoshop and had the contrast shot right up to one hundred. All the dust from the corners of his mind was gathered, swept up, dumped in a bin, and set ablaze.

Before Alex could think of anything, it was the end of the video.

"Thank you very much for watching! Hope you enjoyed. Check-out Alex's channel and the WillNE main channel, links in the description, and we'll see you guys later." Will stopped the recording, dropped the act, and pulled out his phone again. There were dozens of messages; his fingers flew across the keyboard, shooting off response after response. "Thanks for helping out the cause."

Alex returned Will's fist-bump. He stood from his chair just to walk the single step and sit on the edge of Will's bed. Any distance would do in helping him ease into the details of his situation; after all, it was not just any woman that he was after.

He started, attempting to sound casual, as if the topic was organic, "What do you think about Re—?"

"Red and Sammy?" Will asked distractedly. Believing he had finished the question how Alex meant to, he took it upon himself to answer it as well, "Haven't met Red to be fair, but Sammy is a solid bloke."

"You think?"

"Yeah, Gee wanted to rearrange some furniture, and Josh and I were useless. I rang Sammy, he came round, practically moved everything himself – even brought beers. You did well good picking him, Lex."

At what was likely intended to be a genuine compliment, Alex felt himself shifting a single step closer to his internal self-destruct button. Of course, Alex knew. He knew that it was not healthy for his mind or mood to be so fragile or rather so easily swayed, but there he was – fuming with misplaced anger.

How could he tell Will? How could he explain he wanted a chance with one of their mates’ girlfriends without coming off as a bad person? Was he a bad person?

Did he care? When he came into the world running a race where he was made to wear sandals while everyone else got trainers. Alex stood from the bed and readied to leave.

Attempting to lighten the mood despite likely not knowing why it dimmed, Will added, standing to throw an arm around Alex's shoulders, "And who said you have no friends?"

"You do."

Will chuckled. "Huh, I must be dead smart me."

"Alright, well..." He intentionally trailed off, ducking from under his friend's arm.

"Are you off?"

"Yeah, I'll sees you later." Alex left the bedroom with quicker and heavier steps than was his usual gait; the difference, however, was not enough for someone outside himself to notice. It was frustration. It was: a set jaw. : an unnatural heat rising from his core to all his extremities. : and a mouth pinched smaller than what seems humanely possible.

If he were a 2D cartoon character, as comments under all his videos would suggest, his irises would be redrawn in the shape of flames. Steam might have even come from his ears.

George likes Sammy. Will likes Sammy. James (or at least drunk James who met him) likes Sammy.

And Alex wanted to steal his girlfriend. Fuck.

He raced through the flat to the front door; just through the threshold and into the hall, he stopped. Waiting to hear the latch bolt behind him. Like the clap of a hypnotherapist bringing their patient back from a breakthrough session – the sound drained him of his anger.

It was not helpful to him to be angry at the situation: angry with himself.

Alex walked the hall to the lift and stepped in. During his descent, he looked at the warped reflection of himself in the metal doors: the prickle of hair on his upper lip, the trim which was different but somehow identical to all his previous, a picture in pink – and also red.

It was the reflection of a man. Despite how his followers portrayed him in collages and fanfics, he was an adult man. Confronting that distorted image altered his perception: what he knew himself to look like: his conscious image.

How interesting he must look in the strange light of an average person's perception. How confused. How tired.

DING of the sliding doors opening, ripped his warped reflection in half. Alex exited half-expecting for Y/N to be there on the other side, considering she was everywhere recently. Luckily, she was not. But that fleeting thought of Y/N snowballed as he walked the hall to his apartment. Outside the door, he stopped and stood Blair Witch style facing it but not moving to unlock it or get the key from his pocket just yet.

Y/N. Alex thought of Y/N. Thought of first meeting her with her cute ears and flushed face. How she doted on Sammy. Thought of speaking with her in the foyer with her calm aurora and chin-hugging top. How he wanted nothing more than to be cute with her – for them to have a song.

Thought of when she was making waffles with shaking hands and a little wrinkle between her eyebrows. How she dodged his questions. Thought of ~the dream~ and how different he would act if it were real.

He rummaged through his pockets to find his key. When he did, he shoved it in and pulled it out the lock with an equal amount of unnecessary force.

It was late. 

Alex had been awake over twenty-four hours, and he wanted – needed – he just needed it to stop. Unable to handle consciousness much longer, he dragged his feet along the straight shot to his bedroom. And into his bathroom.

Not particularly a nighttime shower type of person, Nor a morning shower type of person, Alex was more a when-I-want-to-or-remember-to-shower type of person.

During slight depressive slumps, however, the more accurate category for him would be a once-the-grease-starts-to-drip-off-my-hair-that-is-when-I-will-shower type of person.

Stepping under the showerhead, the warm water wrapped around him. Pelted down on the pale skin of his shoulders and back, relaxing the muscles there. Slender fingers racked shampoo through his tangled hair: it smelled like almonds. Like artificial almonds designed by chemists who had never seen or smelt an almond before. It was nice.

He ducked his head to rinse out the suds and lost his balance, falling forward a bit. Catching himself with his hands on the wall in front of him; it jolted him out from under his somnambulism spell.

Hopping out of the shower, he dried off and wrapped his single towel around his waist. There in the mirror above the sink were those little prickles of a moustache. Alex stepped up, took his razor in his right hand, grabbed the shaving foam off the counter with the left, and looked to his right again to find he had dropped the razor in the sink. His brain was too exhausted to focus on more than one thought – more than one task at a time.

With less than six flicks of the wrist, his upper lip was clean-shaven, and he was trudging along to his bedroom. Alex let his towel drop to the floor; he tugged on a clean pair of pajama bottoms and pitched himself from the other side of the room onto his bed.

"Ow," he muttered to his aching bones. Alex closed his eyes, and for the first time since ~the dream~ appreciated the contemplative silence of his bedroom – and of his head.

Taglist: (message to join!) @angelbabyivy​

#imallexx #imallexx imagine #imallexx x reader #alex elmslie #alex elmslie imagine #alex elmslie x reader #eboys #commentary crew #internet sensation #willne

[crimsonbluemoon]

For the prompt game 12//07//25 please? Ah... Ohmtoonz? or a pair you've been itching to do :3

EACH TIME I SAY I WONT OVERDUE IT

Yet here we are. >.> 

AU: BabysitterTrope: Childhood friendsPrompt: “I know this looks bad, but I swear it’s not.” 

Pairing: Ohmtoonz

“Okay, I know this looks bad-” Ryan had to take a deep breath to keep from bursting out in laughter at the scene. His kitchen, which had been pristine and tidy when he’d left for a meeting with his lawyer three hours ago, was covered in more colors than he thought he could process. In the middle of the room sat Joe, hands splotched in yellow and smearing the substance down the tiles already coated in pink. The ‘babysitter’, (the term used very loosely, since it was a last minute decision after Joe’s original babysitter got sick) was in no better shape. Blue clumps of paint (Ryan hoped it was paint) were threaded through hair he remembered being much fluffier when they were children. Age had tamed it, though the red beard was even brighter now with fingerpaint between the strands. The place, his four year old son, and his babysitter were a disaster that Ryan still wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry over. “But I swear it’s not.”

“Luke.” Trying to keep from smiling, Ryan stepped forward, hands leaving his slack’s pockets to point above. “My ceiling is purple.” 

“And orange!” Joe supplied happily, splashing his hands down into an actual pile of paint beside him. 

“What happened? You’re a police officer; you literally shoot people for a living. How did a four year old get the jump on you like this?” Ryan had to tease, because it’d been so long since he’d been able to. Luke had always been the one that got away; his best friend for nearly two decades before, at eighteen, he left to travel Europe and ‘find his meaning’ in life. Ryan had wanted to go, nearly asked to join, but had simply stood in the airport and held back tears just long enough for Luke to enter the gate without seeing them. He’d been head over heels in love back then, and sometimes he’d thought the feeling was mutual. But all the ‘what ifs’ flew away with Luke on his plane, and Ryan had forced himself to move on. 

Eight years, one messy divorce, and a son later, Ryan had run into his high school love at the bank four months prior. Luke had come back to their hometown years ago to become a cop, but Ryan’s wonderful ex-wife had demanded he move to the west coast with her. He’d never got wind of Luke’s return, too distracted by the birth of Joe and the mother of his child abandoning her duties to run off with the pool guy. Ryan hadn’t been able to move back to his hometown until four months ago, still working on finalizing the paperwork and letting Joe finish his first year in pre-school before moving him back across the country. 

He’d felt a little lonely, raising his toddler without a hand to help support him on days he didn’t want to get out of bed. It wasn’t like his marriage had given him much in that department, either. She’d been distant after Joe was born, jealous of the attention Ryan gave their son, and sought her happiness in someone else. She hadn’t even said goodbye to their son when she left, which had been the coldest part of it all. And Ryan didn’t know how to de-thaw from her abandonment. Joe helped, because he was Ryan’s world. Honestly, the only good thing about the marriage was the ball of optimistic sunshine. But he had bouts of crying and questions about why his mom left that kept Ryan awake and aching for hours. Wounded with nobody willing to help heal him. Maybe he’d always been that alone, that empty and unlovable-

Except one look of relief and the words ‘There you are’ in a bank full of people was enough to fill his heart to the brim again. 

“Your kid’s way sneakier than the idiots in our town.” Luke glanced down at Joe with a grin that proved his next words were affectionate. “Like a damn little squirrel.”   

“That’s my favorite animal!” Joe gasped out, and Ryan shook his head in disbelief. Two days ago, it had been a flamingo. He’d begged Ryan to buy him a lawn decoration of the pink bird, which Ryan had firmly said no to. They barely even had a lawn, and he knew that Joe would never play with it. The puppy dog eyes were hard to refuse, but Ryan was getting better at putting his foot down. They did not need the bird.

But then Joe asked Luke, who bought it before Ryan came back from the bathroom. Ryan wasn’t sure who he scolded more that night over chicken fingers and fries. 

“Yup, you mentioned that. Six times.” Without an ounce of annoyance, Luke let Joe climb onto his lap, sitting cross legged so the toddler had a better seat. Green was smeared over Luke’s sweatpants from where Joe had dragged his knees, but like the amazing human he was, Luke didn’t show any regret over being a human jungle gym. “And remember what I told you each time?”

“Daddy’s favorite animal is a bunny,” Joe chirped back, and the long forgotten memory bubbled up too quick for Ryan to hide his blush.

“Luke!”

“What? I didn’t tell him why you like rabbits so much.” Except there was a grin on Luke’s face that was anything but innocent. Because how could it be, when Luke had never let him live down the time he walked in on Jonathan and Evan’s first time. He hand’t meant to blurt out ‘they were fucking like rabbits’ so loudly, and didn’t know that Mini had been recording the party. Craig got the perfect angle of Ryan nearly throwing himself down the stairs to escape the traumatizing experience. He wasn’t sure who had the tape anymore (maybe Panda, since his friend always liked to watch it whenever he was needing a pick me up), but Ryan had to guess that Luke watched it over a hundred times. 

“We’re not talking about this,” Ryan said, sending Luke a meaningful look through his blush. “We need to talk about who’s going to clean this disaster you and my son created.” 

“I’ve got the kitchen if you take the rugrat.” The offer of help was so simple, yet every time, it sucker-punched Ryan. Luke had not been expecting Joe when Ryan came back from California, blaming Jonathan’s ‘lack of understanding with the English language’ as to why he didn’t know. Ryan hadn’t been a fan of social media, and only kept in touch with a few old friends from the town. But like Joe was his own, Luke didn’t hesitate to jump into the fray with Ryan, helping out whenever he could. Being a cop meant weird hours and long shifts, but Luke never complained when he popped over to visit them after work. Ryan never needed to ask for help; Luke just gave it. Whether it was cooking Joe food while Ryan took a much needed shower, or picking out pjs as Ryan bathed the fussy kid, Luke was there to lend a hand and a smile right when Ryan needed it.

But for the life of him, Ryan couldn’t figure out why. Luke was attractive and single, and the talk of the town even now. It was hard to go into the supermarket without hearing one of the cashiers asking Ryan how Luke was doing. It was common knowledge in their little town where Luke spent most of his days, and it seemed people thought the best way to catch his attention was through befriending Ryan again. The jealousy and insecurity from high school reared up, and Ryan had to attack it with a fire hose to keep from Luke knowing. Luke had a right to date, to court whoever he wanted, because he didn’t owe Ryan and Joe anything-

“Uh oh, daddy’s daydreaming again.” Joe’s words and a snort of Luke made Ryan re-focus, turning his attention back to the two still on the floor. Luke looked so content with the toddler in his lap, and Joe showed no signs of discomfort being so close to the other man. They were covered in paint and his house was a wreck, but Ryan felt his heart swell at the warm image. 

“Maybe you should go pick out your pjs so I can check in with your dad.” Luke’s words were like magic; with a quickness that he never had when Ryan asked him to move, Joe scampered out of the kitchen. Little purple footprints made Ryan groan, but his shoulders barely got to slump before warm hands were pulling him forward into a hug. 

“You’re covered in paint,” Ryan protested weakly, though put up no real fight. The smooth hand that slid down his spine melted his stress away, and Ryan felt helpless to the urge of sinking into Luke’s warm chest. 

“What did Tyler say?” Luke didn’t mince words, but kept his voice low against Ryan’s ear. There was no reason to shiver at the contact or intimacy of their position, because Ryan knew it meant nothing like what his heart hoped it would. 

“He said this next court case will be the final one; she’s not fighting for any custody.” He should have been happy about the news, since it’d been what he and Tyler had asked for when discussing Joe’s fate. But it’d stung, knowing that even now, his ex-wife wanted nothing to do with the son they had created together. How did he explain that to Joe when he got older? When he asked questions about her, when he got angry and confused about his own self-worth? Ryan would do whatever he could to raise Joe with love and care, but fights would happen. They’d disagree over bigger things than eating broccoli or only reading two stories before bed. Who would Joe turn to in those moments? That was why he’d probably tried so hard with his ex-wife to begin with; he’d never wanted Joe to feel unsupported or disadvantaged because he’d only have Ryan. 

But he couldn’t make her love Joe. And that killed him more than the divorce ever could. 

“She’s an idiot.” Luke’s words of anger toward a woman he never met was unlike him. Charisma and open-mindedness were his middle name, never judging a book by its cover. But Joe’s mother seemed to be the one exception, Luke showing disdain toward her from day one. “She had everything anyone could ever want, and she gave it up like an idiot.”

“You really liked babysitting Joe that much, huh?” Ryan tried to make a joke, but his laugh was cut off when Luke grasped his shoulders and pulled him back far enough to force eye contact. 

“I’m not just talking about him.” The serious gaze made it hard to breathe, Ryan’s chest stuffed with too much to sort through. His eyes blinked slowly, reminiscent of the unspoken feelings he’d shut down at the airport years ago. Now they oozed out without his permission, and he didn’t have a plane to help hide them this time around. 

“I’m…I’m not-”

“Not what? Intelligent? Charming? Sweet? A great father that your kid would spend every second of the day with if he could? Not someone who deserves love?” Luke’s words were followed by a grin, a warm palm cupping Ryan’s face and slowly dragging a thumb under his wet eye. “Not the most amazing guy I’ve ever got to meet? Who, if I ever got the chance to call my husband, would never go a day without knowing how crazy in love with him I was? Cause I’ll tell you right now, you are all of those things. Every single one of them. You are worth so much more than you could ever know. And I’ll knock out any fucking moron who says anything else.”

“Luke…” But what could Ryan say? His stomach fluttered at the words, hope rising in his throat and keeping his vocal chords from speaking again. There was no room for protest, because Luke’s steady words and lack of hesitation proved the statements came from his very being. He really saw Ryan as something to brag about, as someone to keep. When his own wife, who was supposed to want him until death do them part, threw him away. Ryan knew he needed to say something, to give a response in some way to the confession (and Jesus, did Luke say he loved Ryan?), but his mind was too fuzzy and scared to speak and destroy the fantasy. 

“Luke said a bad word!” Joe, however, had no such problems, and Ryan forced his eyes away from Luke to see his son with his hands pointing to the counter. “He needs to put money in the swear jar!” 

“Oh, ri-right.” Ryan swallowed slowly and tried to focus, but a little peek at Luke from the corner of his eye made his heart jump into his throat again. His blush was deep, he knew it, but there was no saving himself. “You owe a dollar to the jar.” 

Luke’s grin was a mile wide as he slipped past, dropping the bill into the jar while keeping his eyes set on Ryan. And when he spoke, Ryan knew he wasn’t speaking about the swear. 

“So worth it.”

#hubcat99 #Ohmtoonz #Ohmwrecker #Cartoonz #Sultry boys #<3 #Crimson drabblez

[hs-devote]

15. L O V E   I S   I N   T H E   A I R

Moodboard // Content // Masterlist

Disclaimer:

All characters and situation in this story are fictitious. Resemblance to any person living or dead is only God knows.

Previous chapter;

The tape was five minutes long and it was intense. Harry didn’t show his genital but the woman's bare chest was everywhere. Yes, their entire body wasn’t exposed but it still made her uncomfortable. They seemed to enjoy it very much and no doubt or worry was shown when the recording was made. She could clearly identify Harry right away and the lady was pretty. Y/N felt she had seen the woman somewhere but she couldn't put a finger on it. He was rocking the woman so hard made the headboard banging loudly against the wall. Their naked top was on display but the duvet covered them from his waist until down. They were so loud made she could feel their intensity.

15. LOVE IS IN THE AIR

It was 9 p.m when they had just left the office. The meeting was long and tiring since they had to devise some plans to anticipate the impending impact on Erskine. Harry and Y/N weren’t surprised when the faces of the directors were slightly different while looking at him. The couple assumed that they already knew the gossip. And of course, Harry had to clarify without justifying it.

The street that night was still crowded and a bit jammed made Harry's fatigue increase. He was tired of work and wanted to get Y/N's house quickly and then he would get home immediately. He grunted when the car could only move forward a little. Being stuck in traffic made him spacing out about what had happened to him in the past few weeks or months. This was one of the hardest things he faced while being in the work-life. Not only his work, but also his personal life.

While Harry was busy behind the steering wheel, Y/N who was sitting beside him suddenly remembered what Victoria had said that time. She thought back her words about Harry forced his girlfriend for a sex-tape at that time. As this case arose, her curiosity increased.

She was a bit hesitant to say it but she had to try, or her curiosity would haunt her. "Harry, I just remembered what Victoria Selley said when she came to the office. I forgot to tell you because our conversation at that time wasn't important."

“You met her? I don’t remember her going to Erskine after her first visit?” he asked, glancing at her every so often while turning the wheel. He sighed in relief when the road was less packed.

“She came when you were taken away by the police, not long after that if I’m not mistaken.” She shrugged, “We didn’t really talk about the work or anything related. She refused to talk to me and asked for you. Of course, I didn’t tell her where you gone. I convinced her but she still refused and even accused me of sleeping with you because I was so defensive about your whereabout. She thought I hid you from her.”

“She’s not wrong though. You were fucking me." He joked, "Well, she was a possessive and jealous person so it's not strange if she was like that."

"She's obsessed with you, H. I could feel it." She rolled her eyes, "But, did you know what she did? She was accusing you of being an abusive man and you had a habit of making a sex tape with your girlfriends! And she said you weren't hesitant to hit them if they didn't obey you."

He frowned, eyes squinting while biting his lips. He said nothing as his hand straighten the wheel when the car entered her apartment complex. “I didn’t make that with her if you want to know.”

“I know, H. She also told me that.”

The car stopped when he parked next to a silver sedan. He unbuckled his safety belt but the soft roar of his McLaren engine was still heard. His fingers were tapping to the wheel, "What kind of conversation did you have with her? Why does she sound like she was spitting out unimportant things?"

Y/N stared at him who also looked at her, "I just said to her that you were out of the office and I didn't know when you would come back. She started to act like I was hiding you and protecting you from her. She said we have affair and you're not as kind as I thought. She began to ramble about your bad past including your hobby of making sex tape even you had to force those women.”

"Well, about the sex tape. I would admit that. Yes, I made a sex tape with my girlfriend at that time but it was pure for a personal documentary. Nothing more. I did that when I was in my bachelor study and I did that no more than four times, I swear. I don't even have the tape anymore. I immediately deleted it when I was about to graduate." He clarified, "But I never laid my hands on them for the tape, never."

“You had other three sex tape?” she gawked at him, “And all happened when you were in university?”

Harry saw the look of disbelief from her eyes, and that made him quite insecure. He never thought this would drag him closer to his past that himself was disgusted with. His head felt throbbing like someone had punched him with a hammer.

"I did four. Yes, when I was in my first and second year. I had deleted the three since I was the one who kept but the other one wasn't in me." He shook his head, "But, how come she knows all that? I never told her anything about that."

He began to get suspicious about what Victoria was talking to his girlfriend. When he was in a relationship with Victoria, he never brought it up. And impossible for him to talk about the disgrace of his own past.

“She said that one of your ex-girlfriends is her best friend. And she was being told that you’d love to record that thing when you had sex.” She shuddered, “Which I don’t believe, at the first.”

“Absolutely bullshit. I never once force them. I admitted about the sex tape but I never force or laid my hands on them for the tape.” He scoffed, shaking his head on Victoria’s crap, but he quickly thinking something so fishy for him, “I don’t know I dated her best friend. This is ridiculous.”

Y/N nodded, “So, you were dating your ex-girlfriend’s best friend. The world seems so narrow.”

“Did she know she dated her best friend’s ex-boyfriend though? Don’t you girls like a sister code? Like never date your best friend’s ex or something like that?”

“I think she knew?” she mumbled, “But, that’s none of my business, H. I once asked her why she still dated you when she knew about that, she just said she believed you changed when you were with her. She also clarified that she dumped you because you cheated on her, with having a one night stand.”

"What an utter crap. I dumped her because I didn't like her attitude," he deadpanned, "She was the one who had her hands wandering to another male, not me."

"Okay, I don't want to hear from her again. Any news from Allen about the tape?"

“He’s still looking for the woman in the video. But, he told me that a mysterious man sold the tape to the media who first published the news. I’ll also sue the media who bought it.”

“Is there a possibility that the woman sold the video to him first?”

Harry shrugged, “I don’t know, but we’ll figure it once we found her.”

“Are you not keep in contact with her? I mean, it’ll be easier if you’re the one who approached her.”

“No, I don’t have her contact but I remember her name.”

“And her name is?”

“Elle. Elle Powell.”

Y/N's eyes widened when the name slide out from his mouth. The name was popular. Ridiculously popular. No doubt she had a feeling she knew the woman. Who didn't know Elle Powell? It wasn't surprised if the news became the main headline of several online news. Not because Harry alone was involved in the scandal but there was another name who also highlighted.

“Are you kidding me? Elle Powell? The fucking model?”

Her jaws dropped while Harry stared at her confused, he looked at his girlfriend like she just grew a horn. Elle was one of some women he dated while in university and the woman on the tape. He didn't aware that she became a model and he never wanted to know.

"A model? I don't know she's a model now. All I knew is she studied Philosophy when we were in Cambridge and I heard she moved out of the country in the third year." He frowned, "How's she a model here?"

“You didn't know she's a model? Really? She walks for Burberry and Prada!” she cried out, “She's also besties with the Jenner.”

Elle Powell was a British-Brazilian popular model not only in the U.K, but also in the U.S. She walked a lot for world-famous brand and rumoured to be a Victoria’s Secret angel. She was effingly beautiful, her friend's circle made her even more famous. She was close to the Kardashian-Jenner clan, not to mention a few experienced supermodel.

“I don't even care.” He mumbled, “That might aggravate the situation.”

Y/N shook her head, didn't think this would get any worse. The woman was a popular model and she believed this scandal would be easier to blow off. Her head felt like it would explode when thinking about all these problems. She didn't understand why Harry could be this strong. It all started with Dale filing the violence accusation, then the unknown messages, the falling of Erskine's clients, and now the sex tape. All because of Dale, except...

Hold on.

It was Dale, wasn't it? - her inner goddess gasped

“Harry. Something's fishy here.” She mumbled, “This was the first time Dale filing a case against you, right? I mean, you once punch him the night after gala dinner but he didn't anything. Then, he sued you for hitting him in the night club. Why is he only doing that now? Why he didn't sue you right after the night's gala accident?”

"Because he had CCTV footage from the nightclub while he couldn't ask the footage from the gala, even if there were people there. It couldn't be used as solid evidence." He sighed, "But, yes I agree. Everything is very coincidental and that makes me suspicious."

“What if this is all Dale's doing? What will you do?”

“I just hope he won't go any further if he wants to be safe.” . . . .

Allen had submitted the file regarding blackmail messages and all the evidence that led to Dale. Now, both Harry and Y/N just had to wait while they working on another case. They had been distraught since many companies were backing out because Harry's sex scandal had been up to the public. The Erskine legal team was asked to focus on the company while Allen tried to contact Elle's management.

Elle's management was very cooperative when Allen contacted them. They already knew about the scandal and currently asking for confirmation from the model. Unfortunately, Elle was still out of the reach.

Erskine itself has begun to get worse. Harry could no longer stand to see his employees threw disgusted glare to him although their mouth was shut closed. Who dares to talk about their boss?

The man felt he was going crazy from all these problems and now of the many Erskine's clients, only a few that they could save and it could be count by fingers. This was the lowest point he had ever experienced throughout his career. He was ashamed of his family, with the degrees he received from Cambridge and Stanford. Moreover, he was ashamed of himself. It never occurred to him what was left for him, it was a backfire for himself.

His sleeping schedule was messed up. Really messed up. If everyone worked during the day, he would sleep since he worked up all night. A night for him was daylight, and the daylight for him was the time for he drifted to sleep. It wasn't surprising if he forgot to take his medicine. He might forget when the last time he took it and he should have had new prescription by now. Of course, he kept grumpy and couldn't control his temper, making Marcel happy to switch positions.

That's why now Y/N took her boyfriend for a long walk in St. James', not really only the two of them but she asked Niall to help with Harry's temper. Since Harry became super busy, he had missed his therapy and it worried her a little. She also knew that Marcel would have refused if he was asked to see Niall. So, Y/N thought to bring the Irishman over and do their session like having a normal conversation than a therapy session.

The park that afternoon wasn't so crowded. Harry's mood also looked better so it wasn't Marcel there, she kept praying Marcel wouldn't ruin the day. The woman looked out Harry and Niall talking a few steps in front of her while she didn't want to disturb both of the men. She just watched them from behind while enjoying the fresh air.

Little she did know Marcel didn't like it at all. He just watching from the darkness.

"You don't even take the medicines and didn't come to me. You look skinnier, you know?"

Harry sighed, "I'm sorry for that. I try to balance work and life. I'm exhausted for real since I have to work out a lot of problems now."

"You know you have Y/N now, right? Share your thoughts and I'm sure she won't be mind. She will definitely help you." Niall advised, "She's not only your employee to do the work, H. She's your girlfriend too. Let her in."

That's the problem. Harry never really let her in. He always thinks to himself and that made him anxious; the overthinking that disturb him whenever he was about to fall asleep. He only let Y/N saw the way he exploded his temper, not showing how depressed he was because he didn't want to burden her.

"It's just the two of us now, H. Y/N is far behind. So, tell me everything that bothers you."

Harry tilted his head towards Niall who now looked at him. Niall's blue eyes gave him encouragement and assurance. As always. He sighed before lowered his head, looking at his footsteps. Both his palms in his pockets felt sweaty while he was thinking to spill whatever he thought right now and in past weeks. He lifted his head, jogged his shoulder before looking around. He smiled faintly of how his Y/N  chose this place rather than a restaurant or wherever. Nature always had its way to calm the human nerves.

“This gonna be long, I guess.”

“I'm all ears.”

Later that night, Harry was more relaxed. After they got back from the park, Harry fell asleep and woke up at dinner. Y/N temporarily stayed at Harry's penthouse to look after him in case Marcel did something. She was preparing the dinner when Harry watched Netflix on TV, and made sure her boyfriend away from his laptop. Or, he would go back on working something.

When she was about to call him for dinner, Y/N saw Harry on the phone. Her smile got bigger when she realised Anne was the one who called him. She slowly sat next to him, watching him smiled when talking to his mother. This was the first time Harry has smiled since the problems got bigger.

“I'm fine, mum. Really. You don't need to worry. I'm sorry I messed up Igor's legacy but I'm trying to get it back to normal.”

"I don't know. I forgot and now you called me I just remember it's only a week from now. I don't even know if we can do that."

“I know, mum. Maybe I'll think about it and let you know before the deadline?”

“Okay. I love you, mum.”

"Dinner is ready. I made your favourite." Y/N hummed after Harry ended the call. 

"Thank you. Anyway, mum sends her hello to you." He spoke, put his phone on the table. His big hand took her small one, led them to the dining room. His eyes closed smelling the aroma of dishes that look delicious.

“Thanks. It feels like ages ago since the last time I saw her.” she nodded while fetching his food. Harry thanked her once he got his full plate.

“H, does Anne know about all.. these problems? I mean, your article is everywhere?”

“That's why she called me earlier. She read all the news but fortunately didn't see the video.” He shrugged, “Which I'm grateful now. She would be more upset if she watched them.”

"And she reminded me of my cousin's wedding next weekend. Since it will be in Mexico, I don't know if I can come." He added, "Mum told me to think about it. She said it can be a short escape for me."

"I think Anne has a point. I mean, Mexico is quite far from the U.K. It's quite good for you travelling afar from here to relax. You don't have any meeting next week. You can take a few days off." she advised, "If you're worried they will talk about you, believe me, it won't happen. They're your family, and it's a wedding!"

Harry said nothing after that, just eating his food while thinking about it. He didn't want her cousin upset if he didn't come to her wedding but it didn't sit well with him if he left his company at a time like this. Well, he had the best employees at their level so why didn't he entrust them for only a few days?

"I'll check the invitation and my schedule. If we have a chance, we'll go there."

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows.

We? What did he mean by us?  – her inner goddess widened her eyes

“Of course, I'll go with you, darling. I will have no date if I come alone.” Harry chuckled seeing his girlfriend stared at him bewildered.

"You.. want me to come with you?" she asked in a small voice, couldn't believe what she just heard. She wasn't even sure if she was invited.

"Correct. The invitation is for me and the plus one which is you. It's Lisa's sister who gets married so at least you know each other."

“And bring some bikinis since it will be a beach wedding.” He smirked.

. . . .

Y/N didn't know if this will be a good idea or not. For the past few days, Harry, or Marcel was being awful. She didn't understand why Marcel was more dominant when Harry had already taken his medicine and slowly get his sleeping schedule back at normal. Even herself almost couldn't distinguish between Harry and Marcel because he was very good at manipulating. As in the past three days, Y/N could count how many hours her boyfriend had in his body and that wasn't nice.

Meanwhile, Marcel really enjoyed his time in Harry's position. He was satisfied with yelling to everyone who upset or angered him. It boosted his pride and ego, obviously. He had been there for days and he would play well if he didn't want Harry to take the position yet. He was tired of succumbing to Harry. Because of that, he pretended to be Harry so that everyone would believe him. Even he managed to have his eyes brighter than usual; close to Harry's.

As now, he was in an impromptu meeting with several of his directors. He wanted to curse their stupidity but he couldn't do that or, Y/N would be suspicious. He didn't care if they would judge him as bipolar. A minute he was good, a minute later he would be a bad-tempered man.

"This meeting is dismissed, gentleman. Thank you for your time." Y/N smiled before picking up her iPad.

“They must be tired.” Marcel spoke after everyone left them alone. He was still in his chair, watching the woman in front of him cleaning the table from the papers.

“At least these days they didn't overwork like before.”

"It's because they gave up on the client."

Y/N frowned, Harry never said something demeaning like that. This wasn't the first or second time Harry had to underestimate his employees. This past week, he didn't show any excessive temper, but often scoffed at them like it was normal. Harry almost never did it unless they have to be reprimanded.

“Why did you say that?”

He shrugged, “Because I'm telling the truth. We wouldn't lose more if they wanted to work harder. They should be ashamed of you because you were working late lately and they weren't.”

“We shouldn't talk like that behind them” Y/N shook her head, “I'll go back to my office.”

Marcel exhaled loudly, pinching her bridge nose after Y/N closed the door. It was easy to pretend to be Harry, but not when he had to deal with that woman. She was too smart than he thought. He even didn't sure whether Y/N knew that he wasn't Harry or not. But, from the way she behaved, his guile has been going smoothly.

Then, he remembered how she handled the meeting earlier. She talked more than him who just kept quiet and watched because he wasn't interested. Marcel always underestimated every woman Harry used to be date. But, this time he had to acknowledge her ability.

Marcel didn't realise he was thinking about Y/N until the sun had set and the sky was already dark. He didn't know he was daydreaming about her that long.

When he walked past Y/N's office, he saw her door was open. Without making the slightest sound, he peeked inside and saw that his girlfriend still busy and a little frustrated in front of her screen. Her hair was tied in a high bun with sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, the sound of a song accompanied her in solitude at that time.

Y/N was already very sleepy but her work was almost done just a little more. Keeping in her mind, she could go home on time tomorrow onwards. Her eyes had ached from staring at the screen for too long but she cheered her up and continue her work.

She startled when a cup of coffee placed next to her mobile phone. A sigh of relief came out of her mouth when her eyes recognised the familiar ringed fingers coiled in the cup along with her favourite perfume on him.

“Thank you, H.” Y/N took the hot drink but her eyes were on Harry, slowly pressed her lips to the tip and let the liquid ran down her throat.

“You can finish them tomorrow morning, you know.” Marcel leaned casually in the front seat of her desk. His eyes were still watching the woman enjoying the drink.

Marcel wasn’t lying that the woman in front of him was beautiful and charming. Maybe she wasn’t as pretty as Harry’s previous girlfriend, but she had things that make her different.

“I know. But, I have to get them done so I won’t have any work to pile up for the next few days.” She yawned before rubbing her tired eyes, “Finished soon.”

Shortly after, she sighed happily when the document was done, safe and secure in the folder. She was relieved because no workload for the next few days so she could relax for and no burden when in Mexico later. Little did she knew, Marcel watched her every move.

“I thought you left me alone,” she murmured as she shut down her computer, “you’re not in your office.”

“Why do you think so? I couldn’t leave my girlfriend alone.”

“I tried to calling you but you never picked up.” She shrugged, “I was thinking about using Uber to home.”

“It's a crime if I let you go home this late alone, darling,” he whispers, “C'mon. Let's go home.”

“Let me finish my coffee first.” Y/N winked before sipping the last drop of her coffee. Marcel smiled sweetly and offered his hand to her, only for the woman to take and hold it tight.

The corridor was so quiet and creepy even though the lights hadn’t actually died. This was the umpteenth time she got home late but she still felt afraid when she was alone in the office at night. She whined sometimes why her building was so far from the main area made her still had to pass through many walls and corridors before setting foot in the lobby.

When they reached the main lobby, there was no one in the floor at all even security or the cleaning operator who supposed to be standby was nowhere to be found. The good thing was, they could act like an actual couple without having no care to worry. Marcel had her hand on him, tucking into his pocket. He was used to doing this – this wasn't the first time he had pretended in front of Harry's girlfriend. He even took the advantage to kiss them when Harry was weak. At first, he was uncomfortable but he got used to it.

“Do you want to stop by first for dinner or just want to order?”

“Why don't we just cook?”

He shrugged, “You're tired and cooking will only make you even exhausted.”

“All right then. I think Chinese take away would be fine.”

“But, I think I want my appetizer now.”

“What?”

A second later, Marcel pulled her face closer to him. Licking her soft lips before he pressed his mouth on hers. Y/N amusedly smile as she pulled her hand out of his pocket and grabbed his neck with both hands. Her jaw was held by Marcel when he deepened his kiss.  They both softly hummed on each other; the way their lips collided into one was the best feeling aside from the union of their tangled bodies. But, what Y/N didn't know, wasn't Harry who was currently savouring her lips. . . . .

Mexico was beautiful as she imagined before. The warm air of middle May kissed Y/N's cheeks when she just landed at Cancun, her heart was impatient of the fresh sea breeze that she would feel within the next hour. She and Harry were the last guests to arrive in Riviera Maya, the place where Harry's cousin would get married. Other families had arrived first yesterday while they had to finish their work first.

According to her boyfriend, Kelly – his cousin, only invited families and some friends to attend her wedding. So, this would be more intimate since only the closest relatives were present.

Her eyes looking in awe when they arrived at the hotel where they would stay for three nights and also being the wedding venue. Good things they arrived at noon so she could enjoy the view that so spoiled her eyes. The place they would spend at, offered the natural beauty and traditionalism hospitality. It was a beach resort exactly in Mayakoba, the most luxuries one in the area. The eco-resort offered the rich of mother nature but still with five-stars services and facilities.

She never thought she would go along the river with mangrove forests all around while the resort was right by the beach. The soothing sounds of river and birds chirping made the mood and mind became calm. The ideal place for Harry to relax.

“The beach isn’t really accessible by foot. So, we have complimentary bicycles to get around.” Harry mumbled, “They should have been delivered to our villa.”

“I can see that. The river almost surrounding the villa but I can hear the waves from a distance.”

A private villa with its own pool and jacuzzi would be a place they would spend the next few days. Their bedroom and living room separated by a walkway with an outdoor bathtub in front of the small garden. Yet, her favourite thing was their pool overlooked to the mangrove garden and facing their bedroom, with terrace and sundeck on the left of it.

Yes, their Italian villa was exceptional but this one is something else.

“I love this place already,” Y/N sighed as she plopped down to the bed, “I would spend two weeks here if I could.”

“When Lisa told me Kelly was the one who chose this place, I never thought she would choose here. I mean, Kelly loves expensive things and there’s Los Cabos in the top tier.” Harry spoke while putting down their suitcases, “But, I must admit she has taste.”

“Definitely,” she agreed, “Speaking of Lisa. Has she come yet? I can’t wait to see her newborn.”

"We will meet them at dinner tonight. Clementia is here, too. She's staying with mum." He answered as his hand opened the refrigerator beside the bed, and took a coke.

“It’s been so long since the last time I met her.”

Harry nodded, “She can spare her time and come here for a holiday too. It’s nice to meet her again.”

“Are you hungry? We haven’t had lunch yet. I’ll order room service?” he added, looking at his girlfriend who was sitting on a hammock on the terrace.

"Sure!" she yelled in a smile, before averted her gaze to the mangrove garden in front of her.

. . . .

The waves that afternoon rolled to sweep the shore, along with serene orange hue painting the skies so beautifully. Several wooden chairs lined the beach area facing the rustic arch where the bride and groom would vow to each other in front of the priest and witnesses. Everything looked so pure and beautiful with the white decorations. Flowers and dim candlelight lanterns arranged in such a way as to add modest yet romantic ambience. Pictures of the bride and groom hanging on some dried branches stuck in the sand. Everything so flawless yet modest in their own.

Kelly and David, her soon-to-be husband, agreed to have their ceremony before the sunset and immediately have their reception right after. The pair also asked everyone to remain seated when Kelly enters, in honour of David's grandparents who were in a wheelchair.

All the guests were already seated filling the chair. David and the priest were already standing in the front and everyone was waiting for the bride to come. Y/N and Harry sat in the second row, it gave them the advantage to see the couple very clear. Speaking of Harry, the man himself was busy with Lucy who was sitting on his lap. They were both giggling around and engrossed in their own world. Lucy's parents sat right next to him. If Lisa was busy admiring her baby boy in her arms, her husband shook his head to see how attached his daughter is to Harry.

Once in awhile, Y/N glanced at him from the corner of her eyes, praising how handsome her boyfriend is. The businessman was wearing a navy suit with a black shirt underneath the fabric; hanging low to his chest, made his two cross necklaces peeking out among his swallow's tattoos. A pale cream-white boutonniere tucked on his lapel, identical with her corsage in the left wrist.

Y/N herself wore a baby blue lace dress. The dress featured a pussy bow collar and a sheer torso with short sleeves hung until her biceps. The skirt was only reached above her ankles, showing her shiny fancy sandals. She didn't want to slip in the sand if she wore high heels, so she opted casual footwear.

Soft music began to hum along with everyone’s head turned around, looking at the bride in the back ready to enter. Thomas slowly lifted Lucy up so the little girl wouldn’t bother Harry anymore. Unconsciously, Y/N grabbed Harry’s hand just as Kelly slowly walked down the aisle. The bride was so beautiful in her wedding dress, smiling widely to every guest. Her father also looked happy even though Y/N was convinced that the old man surely had a feeling of sadness having to let go of his daughter.

“Kelly’s so beautiful,” she murmured, smiling softly to Harry, “I bet she’s nervous wreck right now.”

“I heard she didn’t sleep all night. But, she looks fresh now.” He said while rubbing her knuckles, “Maybe Lisa forced her to sleep after breakfast.”

“Mhm. She indeed looked like a mess this morning.” She nodded, “But, still looked beautiful.”

During the ceremony, Y/N watched closely without releasing her hand from Harry's grasp. Everything went smooth and solemnly. No wonder many guests shed tears when the bride and groom read their vows, and laughing along when David did something funny. Without her noticing, all the time her eyes looked at the couple with joy, Harry looked at his girlfriend in awe. His eyes didn't focus on the ceremony but the woman beside him.

In his daydream, he saw them in black and white standing on the altar – staring at each other deeply. Ignoring all eyes on them. He saw himself lifting her veil once the priest announced them officially as a married couple, and kissing her so dearly. He saw the night skies were so clear and they were dancing under the starry night, barefoot in the soft sand. The sound of wild waves being their music for dancing all night long until their feet hurt. He saw them being the happiest couple and life happily until eternity.

Was that what he wants?

Does she want that too?

Hell, Harry did not doubt love for her. But, Y/N?

He was madly deeply in love with her yet he was scared to tell her. Is it wrong for him falling in love with her not even a year into their relationship?

Is it a crime if he was dreaming of a marriage with her?

Is it just a wedding fever?

Or, he really does mean it?

In his vision, Harry showed off Y/N proudly as Mrs Styles. The one and only who was captivate his heart, his love, and his world. He saw her always standing next to him in every situation. Even the worst one. He saw the two of them settle down and ageing together.

The roar of applause woke him up from his sweet daydream. He reflexively clapped his hands, and just realised that Kelly and David had legally and officially become a husband and wife. When he averted his gaze to Y/N, he frowned to find his girl shed tears without busy to wipe them. She still looked beautiful despite her red eyes and wet cheeks.

“Why are you crying, baby?” he murmured while his thumb wiped her wet eyes. The girl just shook her head, sniffling softly, “They’re so beautiful together. So happy, so in love. I’m just.. touched.”

Harry laughed softly, “Oh, darling,” bringing her head to lean on his shoulder, “Stop your crying or everyone will assume I hurt you.”

"You have indeed hurt me, H."

“I.. have?” he asked her dumbfounded, blinking a few times – didn’t understand what she meant. Slowly, Y/N brought her lips to his ear. He felt goosebumps around his body when her soft breath blew his earlobe.

“Yes, you were. You had no mercy on me last night until we broke the lamp.”

Oh…

Harry smirked after get what she meant. He arched an eyebrow, looking all smug and cocky, “You weren’t complaining last night. After we broke the hammock, it seemed you didn’t want to stop. We literally marked almost all place.”

“Not with the pool and jacuzzi.”

“Save the best for the last,” he shrugged, “But, the one in the bathtub was so dirty.”

Her cheeks reddened, “That was beautiful because the clear and starry night was being our roof.”

Both of them laughing softly before Y/N covered her mouth. They shouldn't be talking about their topic at someone's wedding. But, they couldn't help how funny yet sexy last night. Yes, that was wild and dirty. The couple couldn't keep their hands to themselves. Both of them were so eager until the hammock and the lamp destroyed. It was like every time they were on holiday, it became their tradition to had sex in almost every corner of the room or villa in this case. It was only the first night, they still had two more nights and who knew where they would do it again.

They didn't realise that only the two of them were left by the beach, everyone had left the place and headed to another site where the reception would be held. The sun has disappeared at the end of the ocean and the orange sky had become darker. Ready for the moon and stars replaced the mighty sun.

The couple walked hand in hand along the shoreline with other hand carrying their footwear. Feeling the cold wind hit their face and warm water kissed their feet. Say they were selfish for being busy with themselves enjoying the beauty of the dusk, while at the far end the reception would start shortly.

“Don’t even start, H. You don’t want your Gucci suit get wet and dirty of water and sand.” Y/N laughed when Harry playfully pushed her to the middle.

“Harry!” she shrieked while lifting her skirt so it wouldn’t get wet, “I really want to play with you but we still have tomorrow.”

“Too late, the tip of my trousers is wet already.”

Rolling her eyes, she pushed Harry away from the water. “We don’t want to late and being a centre of attention because we’re soaking wet, do we?”

Being the cheeky man he was, Harry just grinning before pulled her head to him with one hand. Landing a kiss on his lover's lips while the sky above them was darker than before, the moon shining beautifully yet wasn't compared with the girl in his arms. Their clashing lips was their main focus despite the soft waves hitting the rock to create a romantic atmosphere. Y/N threw her sandals away for her hands could sneak into Harry's soft locks.

“You have no idea how much I want to stay like this and looking over the stars above,” he mumbled in her lips, “But, we must still present there.”

Y/N cracked a smile before licking his wet lips, her eyes stared at the pair of green irises piercing into her soul, “I know. We can sneak out when people don’t realise our presence. For now, I think your mum is looking for us.”

“Well then,” he shrugged, taking her sandals and locking their hands together, “Let’s go, darling.” . . Please excuse some errors Talk to me :)

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles series #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #fic rec #fanfiction #romance

[smol-and-grumpy]

Something Just Like This - CH06

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, mobster boss. He’s a little cocky, a lot ruthless and more often than not, short tempered. But he’s also, Dean Winchester, a war veteran and hero who suffers under a shit ton of PTS. He met her in a bar and thinks it’s fate that brought her to him. Little does he know why she’s really here.

Warnings: There is still none, what the fuck is wrong with me?! Well, maybe mention of sex trafficking, abuse of minors

WC: 3717

A/N: There are some discussions about a scandal on a classified ad website that really happened. Thank god that page has been taken down but these things will continue to happen and they dominate the lifes of minors who are captured and exploited by these people every day.

SERIES MASTERLIST

It’s a sunny day and there are lots of dog walkers in the park. Y/N was never really a dog person but Linda is, so maybe that’s why they always meet here at the dog park. Plus, it’s always crowded and they are able to go incognito. 

Y/N schleps her bags to the closest unoccupied bench she can find and sits down. 

Thinking about it, maybe she shouldn’t have bought this much. She only wanted to go in for one bra but then another one jumps in her face and it’s so cute with the lace and all, and it was the same color as her dress and of course then she needed matching panties and then, of fucking course, she needed them in different colors too. 

She doesn’t really know why she bought so many. Why she thinks that someone will ever see her in them. It’s not like she has a boyfriend, nor does she have a boy she wants to show them off to, for that matter. She’s no prude by any means and has lost her v-card a long time ago, but work has always been more important than going on dates. Not that she hasn't tried the dating thing, it’s just— every time she met with someone, she couldn’t help but run a background check on him, which she is technically not allowed to, but she’s better safe than sorry. And even if their record is clean, they bored her to death, and when she mentions that she’s with the FBI, they usually backed off on their own anyway.

Once Y/N settles, she pulls out a book from her bag and starts to read. Of course she can’t concentrate on reading. Can’t really think about anything else but how cute Dean looked when he was mortified that he might have said something weird. She also can’t stop thinking about how big and firm Dean is. How the dress shirt stretches tightly over his chest, the buttons praying for mercy. Can’t stop thinking about his perky little nipples that poked at the shirt and screamed to be freed. And his arms. Ugh. It always looks like the shirts cling onto his biceps for dear life. Not to mention the veins in his forearms when he had his dress shirt folded back. She noticed that night that Dean Winchester’s arms and hands were, in fact, freckled.

No, she shakes her head. She has no business thinking about him that way. But also, he has no fucking business looking that good, so there’s that.

She hardly notices someone sitting down next to her until the person speaks up.

“You went shopping?” 

It’s a familiar voice. 

Y/N doesn’t turn her head, instead looks at the person through the corner of her eyes. The woman next to her pulls out her phone and puts it to her ear.

Y/N continues to pretend to read. “Yeah, got an opening to attend, remember? You got what I sent you last night?”

“We looked through it. It’s quite a finding.”

“Really?” Because Y/N couldn’t make anything from the scribbles, “Good.” 

“There’s something about Lucifer in the notes. That’s just his nickname, which is fitting because he is indeed the devil. He’s Winchester’s rival. Used to be his right hand but split with them. Now he’s up against them while simultaneously building up a reputation in human trafficking.”

“Oh,”

Human trafficking , she remembers the time in training where they taught her about that. Knows that it’s a multi-million dollar operation behind it, knows that it’s dangerous as hell.

“Be careful, alright?”

“I will.”

“You wanna quit?”

“Why?”

“Because it’s getting risky. You just have to tell me and I’ll pull you out.”

“I know,” Y/N says. 

She knows that she can pull out anytime. It’s just—

—the more she gets to know Dean, the less she wants to quit. Which is unlike her at all. 

Y/N feels some kind of need in her. A need to know more about him. Wants to know how he ticks, wants to know why he’s always so reserved. She thinks there’s another layer of Dean Winchester. A layer you can’t see with your eyes, a layer you have to see with your heart. 

She thinks that there’s more to him than the mob boss and she feels weird to want to stay to see what’s beneath the hard shell. “So you’re telling me that Dean isn’t such a bad guy after all. That there’s someone out there who’s worse. Shouldn’t I try to get this Lucifer guy then?”

“No, Winchester’s bad, okay? I agree that Lucifer is worse but I can’t get you close to Lucifer. That guy is not only bad, that one is dangerous. I’d be risking your life and that’s the last thing I want to do.”

“Human trafficking, huh?” Y/N still looks down at her book and turns a page, just in case. “What kind?”

Linda nods subtly, “He started with organs but he wandered into sex-trafficking. Mostly young girls.”

“Wow.”

“Girls from normal families, runaways, sometimes he gets them off the street, promising them shelter and care—”

“—But instead they get abused and drugged.” Y/N finishes the sentence.

“Yes,” Linda nods.

“Isn’t there a special unit for that?” Y/N remembers her dad used to tell her about the Village Voice scandal.

“There is, and there’s another team on Lucifer but we’re working close with them.”

“So, what is that about, some sort of backpage kinda thing? I thought we put that to rest?”

“Oh honey, for every page we close, there are two or three more showing up, and that’s only the pages we know of.” Linda’s voice is small. 

Y/N remembers her dad being engrossed in his work while the backpage story blew up. A place where underage girls were trafficked. Heavily. Up to 20 clients a day. Every time she went back from college to see him in the years where backpage won case by case and continued to exploit girls on their page, he’d make sure to hold her just a little bit tighter.

“Right.” Y/N sighs, doesn’t want to think about all the bad things in the world because it would only rile her up more, “I need to keep going if I want to be on time for my shift.”

“I love you.” Linda says without looking at her. 

“Love you too,” Y/N replies, stands up and grabs her bags to leave.

*

Dean didn’t show up that night but when her shift ends, Y/N receives a text from an unknown number. 

D: Hey sweetheart, where can I pick you up tomorrow? Dean

Her cheeks warm up and ugh, there’s the flutter in her heart. She should not be feeling this.

Y/N: Hey stranger, you were missed tonight. 

D: Yeah, sorry, have a lot on my plate. Broken any noses or jaws tonight?

Y/N: No, they behaved. 

D: Good. Would have been a shame if I would have to punch them all in the face next time I’m there.

Y/N: I can take care of myself. 

D: I know. I also know that I shouldn’t get on your bad side. 

She giggles at that.

Y/N: So, tomorrow, picking me up at the bar is okay. I’ll see if I can help Ellen before I have to leave.

D: You are really a good girl, huh? 

D: I’m kidding. I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart. Have a good night.

Y/N: You too.

She smiles to herself as she puts the phone back into her purse and proceeds to close the bar.

***

THE NEXT DAY

    “Alright, Ellen, everything’s in the cooler, you want me to help with anything else before I have to get myself ready?” Y/N calls to the back. Taking a look at the clock, she notices that Dean said he’ll pick her up in two hours time. There’s still plenty of time to do some other chores if Ellen wants her to.

“No, that’s alright. Just gonna hang up this sign,” Ellen comes through the door and pushes past Y/N with a sheet of paper in her hand. She notices some scribbles done with a black marker but can’t quite catch what it says.

“What’s that?” 

“Oh, I’m only open for a couple of hours tonight, gonna close earlier than usual.” Ellen shrugs and tapes the paper to the front door.

“Why?”

“I’m alone and I can’t possibly manage all the people. Have you noticed that there are more and more every night? I think it’s because of you, honey. They all drive out here to see you. And besides, Winchester paid me enough that I could actually close the bar for tonight, for the whole weekend even, but I guess some people still want to have a drink or two.”

“Oh,” Y/N could say she’s surprised that Dean paid Ellen, but really, she’s not for one bit. Thinks, it’s ridiculous how he always finds solutions by using money. 

“Go and get yourself ready,” Ellen pats her shoulder and disappears into the back office.

  *

She’s sitting at the bar on Dean’s stool when the door opens to a tall guy. One she’s never seen before. 

He smiles when he sees her and waits at the door. “I take it, you’re Y/N?”

“Who’s asking?” 

“Hi, I’m Castiel. Cas,” He looks around, as if to inspect the bar but makes no further move, “Everyone calls me Cas.” 

Castiel walks in and stands in the middle of the bar now, his gaze wanders from her to the back door. From the back door to the jukebox and further to the other side of the bar, “I’m working with Dean and he sent me to pick you up.”

“Oh,” She says and swallows down the disappointment she knows she shouldn’t be feeling. Of course Dean’s busy. He’s a fucking gangster boss who helps his brother opening up a legal law-fucking-firm. It’s a wonder if he’s not busy.

“We should get going. We’re already late as it is,” Cas walks back to the door he came through and waits for her while he holds the door open, “You coming?”

“Sure,” Y/N says, and hops off the stool, bites on her tongue as not to snap at Cas and ask him why Dean couldn’t come. Because let’s be honest here, she shouldn’t care about it as much as she does anyway.

They walk out and Cas is a gentleman, lending her a hand to walk down the front of the bar. He’d parked right in front of it too, so that she doesn’t have to walk through dirt with her nice new shoes. 

“That’s Dean’s car, isn’t it?” She asks upon realizing the Impala that Dean usually drives.

“Yeah, he told me that if you should get suspicious, I can always show you his car. Told me you’ve seen it already and let’s be real here, she’s a beauty.”

Right, she definitely should have interrogated Cas. Especially because Lucifer is on the loose and he holds a grudge against Dean, apparently. Only she doesn’t think that she’d be important enough for Lucifer to consider her a person of interest at all, so it never crosses her mind that someone would want to harm her. Not even after what Linda told her yesterday.

Cas goes on after he settles in the car, “Like, he never lets me drive, ever! So who are you really that he even made me drive out here in his Baby to pick you up?” 

“I’m his barmaid.” She just shrugs and it makes Cas laugh. Loud and sharp. 

Dean nervously flips his wrist and glances at his watch. The party has started and people are starting to pour in. Some of them mingled together in a group, talking in low hushed voices. The background music is soft. Sam had wanted some jazz music, had dismissed Dean’s suggestion that people might prefer classic rock. His firm, his party, so Sammy put his foot down. 

There were also powerful people here, judges, doctors, state reps, they’re all legal on the outside, but Dean knows their secrets — as much as they know his. Which kind of works to his disadvantage, really. 

He’s standing off to the side, grabbing a bite off the trays the servers are bringing every now and then, shaking hands with people he has never met, letting Sam introduce him as his brother, the war hero. To say that Dean’s bored and feels out of place is an understatement.

Jo’s hanging on his arm like she belongs there and Dean can’t remember when the last time was that she’s been so clingy. She’s talking to Jess who’s hanging onto Sam. Sammy’s beaming from ear to ear and Dean likes that. Finds his own comfort in Sam’s happiness. 

Sam’s been with Jess since college and Dean advised him not to spill too soon about who he is, who his family is but of course Sam did the contrary. Boy has some authority issues. To Dean’s surprise though, Jess stayed with Sam and cut all ties to her family. He guesses that it really must be love. 

Whatever love is. 

He doesn’t know it, can’t really say that he’s been in love himself. Love. It’s only a word, some utopian thing that only happens in movies. Well, or something that happens to other people. People who deserve it. Like Sammy for example.

“Dean!”

He doesn’t have to look in the direction to know who it is. Dean would recognize the voice — or rather the noise — anywhere. Jo’s hand around him grips him tighter, as if she wants to mark her territory. Dean thinks it’s weird but before he can even form a thought in his head, he hears loud clicking of heels walking swiftly towards him.

She struts closer with her mother. Both of them dressed to impress with too much make up on their faces. It makes them look like very expensive hookers. Those kinds where Dean wouldn’t want to get involved with.

“Amara,” Dean greets her and then, he’s being hugged. Amara’s strong perfume penetrates his nostrils, her boobs rub against his chest and he knows that she does it deliberately. Jo lets go off him by the sheer force of the hug.

Dean literally plies himself from her and her arms are still hanging off his shoulders when he greets her mother, “Rowena,” He nods. 

“Hello Dean,” Rowena’s smile was bright and white. “How are you, boy?” 

Dean knows that Rowena likes him like a son. She was madly in love with his father, he didn't even know if they had something going on, didn’t really want to know, to be honest. But he knows that Rowena would have loved it if he would have married her daughter, which, of course, would only happen over Dean’s dead body.

“Good, thanks.” Dean tries to smile and somehow winding out of the grip Amara still has on him. “Oh, hey, Sammy’s here. It’s Sammy’s night tonight.” He grins and it’s all forced, hoping to avert the attention from him to Sam. 

Jo’s gripping his arm again, on his other side hangs Amara, and the two women are sending each other daggers with their eyes as they greet one another. Dean looks around the room, trying to see if someone could get him out of his misery, knows that he could do it himself, and as much as he loves to tell them both to fuck off, he has to play nice because he doesn’t want to upset Sammy on his brother’s big night.

When nobody seems to notice his state of discomfort, Dean decides to make the best out of it, talking to the group of people and making lame jokes. To his amusement the two women laugh the loudest at something that isn’t even remotely funny, making Dean frown in bewilderment.

He looks up again, his eyes scanning the room, maybe someone will take notice of him now. His eyes stall at the front door.

Cas walks in, Y/N on his arm. Their eyes meet immediately, and maybe Dean’s wrong but he sees her looking down right after, as if she tries hard to look at anything else but him. 

He can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy hitting square in his chest, right where his fucking heart is, upon seeing her hanging off Cas’ arm. 

At that moment, all he sees is her. Sees her hair loose around her face, the pretty dress hugging her beautiful body. What he also sees is the color in her cheeks, and the puff of her lips, wonders how they would feel on his, or around his cock. Feels only a little guilty that when he rubbed himself off in the showers this morning and closed his eyes, all he saw was her. 

Dean pulls himself away from Amara and Jo. Shaking off Amara’s arm when he feels her nail claw into him more, hears her say something but he doesn't even listen because he’s literally running towards Cas and Y/N.

“Hey,” He comes to a halt in front of them, and she’s still not looking at him. Dean turns to Cas instead to get them some privacy, “Cas, thanks.” 

Cas nods and holds out Dean’s key to his car but doesn’t say a word, sensing the awkward situation that Dean’s in immediately. 

“I need a fucking drink,” Cas declares and pushes himself further into the room to find the bar. 

“You okay?” Dean asks as Cas has left. It’s a stupid question really, when he could clearly see that she’s not, in fact, o-fucking-kay.

He sees her hugging her arms around herself and when she looks up, he notices something else in her eyes. Something he can’t place. Maybe hurt? Annoyance? He doesn’t know, could never read a women like a fucking book. And he can’t say that he doesn’t hate that she feels this way.

“Yeah, why shouldn’t I be?” She smiles but Dean can see that it’s a little strained. 

He rubs one of his hands over her arm and she relaxes noticeably, which he thinks it’s good, isn’t it? Dean takes her hand, pulls her with him, and he’s glad that she let him, “Come on, let me introduce you.” 

     *

He got her drinks and it wasn’t long before she warmed up to him again while they talked and laughed with Sam and Jess, having successfully fended off the two other women as Dean stopped paying attention to them. 

Dean can see now from the corner of his eyes as he checks her out every now and then (he didn’t dare to stare at her too long though, fears that she might feel uncomfortable), that her smiles are genuine. 

Thank fucking god, Dean thinks. Wouldn’t even want to think how awkward the night would be if she would be mad at him for the majority of it. 

“Dean Winchester!” 

He knows that voice, knows it too well. Dean sighs and rolls his eyes before turning around, earning a giggle from her which actually makes him feel better too.

“Crowley,” He nods.

Crowley grins. “Nice party,” 

“Yeah, I agree,” Dean answers sharp. 

“And who is this lovely young lady?” Crowley looks at Y/N and the dude takes her hand, kisses it while Y/N clearly looks stunned. 

Dean balls his hands into fists, bites the inside of his cheeks to calm himself down.

“Y/N, this is Crowley—” He says at last.

“The mayor.” She finishes Dean’s sentence. 

Of course, Dean thinks. He tends to forget that Crowley is not the sneaky leprechaun but instead the mayor of the city. 

“Darling, mind if I borrow this giant for a moment?” Crowley asks Y/N and Dean hopes that she says no, even though he knows that he needs to talk to Crowley but tonight he’d rather let business be business and enjoy the time he has with her. Who is he kidding though, of course she’d say yes because she’s a good fucking girl. 

“Go ahead,” She smiles and nods. 

*

Dean didn’t see Y/N for the rest of the night. Amara’s back on hanging to his every step and every which way Dean turns, there’s always someone who wants something from him, even if it was Sam’s fucking night. 

He doesn’t complain though, playing his part — because he owns Sammy that much. He talks to people while Amara’s hanging on his arm, laughing at stupid jokes that people tell him and telling his own lame ones over and over. It’s fucking draining and he promised Sam that he won’t drink a drop, he regrets the promise right about now. 

Finally, by the end of the night, the guests start to leave one by one, and Dean looks around because he still couldn’t find her so he walks over to where Sam and Jess are saying their goodbyes to their guests. 

“Dean, you alright?” Sam asks and Dean knows that Sam can probably see in Dean’s face that he’s distressed. 

“Yeah, no,” Dean doesn’t even have it in his heart anymore to keep up the facade and lie to Sam, “Have you guys seen Y/N?”

“I saw her talking to Amara but it was almost two hours ago,” Jess says and as if on cue, Amara walks past them, grabbing at Dean’s arm again but Dean shakes her off.

“Amara, have you seen Y/N?” Dean almost shouts and it might have been louder than he wanted it to be but yeah, he’s a little worried — if not a lot. 

“I spoke to her and then she said she wanted to go outside to get some fresh air.” Amara’s tone of voice has something in it that rubs him the wrong way.

Dean pulls his phone from his pocket, thumbs over his contacts and dials Y/N’s number. It doesn’t even ring. It went straight to voicemail. He tries it again. And then again. 

“Right, Sammy, I gotta go,” Dean doesn’t even wait for Sammy to answer, instead he runs outside, and when he doesn’t see her, he runs to his car.

CH07

#something just like this #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #mobster!dean #nathalie writes

[somuchbetterthanthat]

Look at me unable to shut up about soulmates. Like, literally. This is so long it should probably be on ao3 but also? i started on tumblr so you’ll get all the typos, sorry not sorry.

Jonah appears on Jon’s throat when he is eight years old; he probably wouldn’t have noticed, if his grandmother hadn’t raised his chin and frowned in a quiet, pensive way and asked: “Is that why you’ve been so agitated, Jonathan? Have you met him?” 

Jon has no idea what she’s talking about until he’s staring at the elegant, old-fashioned name on his skin in a mirror. He thinks of Mr Spider, and a cold, terrified chill runs down his spine. Can monsters have a first name? Is this a promise or a threat? Is it even linked at all? 

His body shakes badly, and in an unusual display of affection for both of them, his grandma pats his hair and sits him up her lap. 

“There there,” she says, and her voice is gentle. “No need to fuss, Jon. Whoever Jonah is, he’ll be good to you. Soulmates always are.”

*

Georgie appears barely two months after they’ve met; he wakes up one morning and it’s right there, on his hipbone. Maybe it was here before. Jon doesn’t spend a lot of time inspecting his body. 

The next time he sees her, Georgie’s grin is wide and warm and she hugs him just a bit tighter than she usually does. “Oh,” he says, and she laughs and says “Oh, indeed. Guess we’re stuck together, eh?”

Jon’s heart is hammering in his chest. He hugs Georgie a bit tighter, too, feeling overwhelmed and quite stupid. “What a bother,” he says dryly, and it means the world that Georgie just laughs harder and doesn’t let go. 

He’ll be good to you. Soulmates always are, had said his grandmother. Jon barely thinks of Jonah, these days. But now he’s got Georgie, and he thinks he definitely wants to be good to her. 

*

Well. He tries, at least. 

He’s pretty sure he does. 

When she says, “please Jon” tired and angry, he realizes that, maybe, being good to Georgie means stepping out of her life for good, and does just that, telling himself it doesn’t feel like losing a part of himself. 

*

“Did you know,” Elias Bouchard says slowly, at the end of Jon’s job interview, “that the Institute was founded by Jonah Magnus?”

Jon feels a speck of irritation cross his mind; of course he’s known. He read everything  he could about the Institute before applying here. Anybody googling the Magnus Institute would know, it’s one of the first line of its wikipedia page. 

“Yes, of course I do,” he says, and it comes out rude and disdainful; he winces, but Elias Bouchard only looks amused. 

“I didn’t mean to offend,” he says with the shadow of a smile. “I think that you’re going to fit just fine in our Institute, Jon. May I call you Jon?”

“I, er -- yes,” Jon blinks, startled. His past interviews have never left him with the impression that it should be so easy. “Does that mean --”

“The job is yours, if you want it,” Elias nods. “I can have your contract ready for next week.”

“Ah, uh -- good,” Jon says dumbly. “I mean -- Thank you, Mr Bouchard --”

“Oh, please,” Elias waves his hand; “Do call me Elias. Everybody does.”

“Right,” says Jon. “Elias.” 

(It feels -- odd in his mouth. Elias’ smile stays bland and polite, but his eyes fall on Jon’s throat, just for a second, before moving back up; they look piercing and hungry and pleased, and Jon leaves as fast as he can, his skin itching.)

*

Jonah Magnus being his soulmate becomes an office joke the moment his colleagues spot the name on his throat. It’s hilarious, you see, because Jonathan Sims never seems to leave the Magnus Institute, married to his work and to the place. Jon rolls his eyes and lets people talk. As far as teasing go, this one is mild enough not to be too bothersome and, besides, it’s not like he’s actually ever met his Jonah. (Not like he really wants to, when he thinks of what happened with Georgie.)

(And if, sometimes, he grows curious and look up as much as he can from the elusive Jonah Magnus, well.) (It’s not like anybody can see him do so.)

*

“So, are we going to talk about it or --” Tim says, staring quite obviously at the name on Jon’s wrist. 

Jon hates the way his cheeks flush. “I’m sure there are plenty of Gerard out there, Tim,” he says primly. “Besides, I don’t think chatting about soulmates is any way relevant to a good work environment --”

“I mean, it is sort of work related if your soulmate is Gerard Keay from the statements,” Sasha points out, and Jon stares at her like she’s thoroughly betrayed him as Tim laughs. 

She gives him a sheepish grin but still high-fives Tim when he holds his hand up. Jon scoffs. 

“We don’t have to talk about it if Jon doesn’t want to,” Martin snaps behind him. 

His tone is unusually biting and Jon is taken aback for a moment. He really didn’t think Martin of all people would defend him on this particular subject. The man is probably the sort of sappy and romantic person that thinks finding his soulmates means a happy ending. Jon, of course, knows better. Still.

“Right,” he says. “Thank you, Martin.” 

Sasha and Tim exchange a glance; now they’re looking properly chastised. Jon brush his fingers against Gerard’s name, and pretends he isn’t just a bit hopeful that this is Gerard Keay, and that somehow, it means he’s not as dead as his research has led him to believe.

*

“Jon,” says Martin in a rush when they scramble up to move far away from the wall which is starting to break right in front of their eyes. “There’s -- there’s something I think I should definitely tell you, I think, before --”

He doesn’t have time to finish his sentence. In the midst of everything else, Jon quite forgets it too.

*

It takes him three weeks of forced bedrest to realize there is a new name just above his heart; he stares at it for a very long time in the mirror, unable to think of what to do about the familiar, terrible handwriting of Martin Blackwood scribbled on his chest. 

*

Jon is still laughing, stupidely relieved, when Martin says: “Also you’re my soulmate. And I know I’m not yours, but I mean, since you want honesty --”

Jon’s laughter dies in a cough. Martin stares at him with wide eyes like he can’t believe he’s just said that, cheeks flushed bright red and chin  stubbornly up, and Jon opens his mouth, closes it back, and then he says “oh.”

“Yeah, so, I’ll just. Be. Going back to work, now,” Martin mutters. “Unless you want to, to accuse me of anything else or --”

“Martin,” says Jon, a bit helplessly. 

It would be so easy, to say, you’re my soulmate too. But he watches Martin’s tense posture, the way he’s looking at everything but Jon, and he remembers Georgie. The words die in his mouth, and Martin says, voice too high: “it’s alright, Jon.” and flees the room before Jon can figure out what to do. 

*

Jon tells himself it’s best not to tell Martin. Martin deserves someone who can be good to him, and that’s certainly not Jon, especially not -- now. 

Martin thinks that it’s alright to bully Jon into going for lunch now that Jon knows about the whole soulmate thing. 

Jon keeps agreeing, and Martin keeps smiling, and sometimes, Jon’s almost able to forget how hellish everything else in his life has become. 

*

He calls Martin first. He calls Martin first as he flees, and Martin doesn’t answer. 

Fair enough, he thinks, a bit hysterically. Jon messed up everything the second he didn’t tell him, anyway, and, and just because they’re soulmates --

*

“Hey,” he says numbly to Georgie when she opens the door. 

Georgie stares at him for a long time. “Jesus Christ, Jon.”

His hip itches. Jon makes a joke he doesn’t recall afterwards. Georgie lets him in, and hugs him tightly. It feels like coming home. 

*

“Is there anything else?” Elias asks. 

Jon stares at him for a very long time. “Are you still lying to me?” he asks; now that he knows what to look for, it’s like he can feel the power tingling in his throat. Elias’ eyes flutter and his mouth curls into a slow, intensely pleased smile. 

“Lying can have very many different meanings,” he tells Jon. “There are, indeed, a great deal of things I don’t intend to tell you until you figure them out. I don’t personnally consider it lying, though you might.”

“I --” 

“Go clean yourself up, Jon,” Elias continues. He sounds almost gentle, and Jon wants to rip his throat out. “We can discuss more about what will need to be done once you’re feeling a little bit less -- shaken up.”

“Fuck you,” says Jon.

Elias’ lips twitch again. 

*

Nikola caresses Jon’s hip; Jon’s wrist; Jon’s heart; she cooes at each name, teases Jon with every single one of them. She lets her thumb lingers on Jonah the longest. 

“Isn’t it quaint,” she laughs. “Do you think he’s listening?”

Jon makes a noise; she laughs harder. “Of course I’m sure he’d like to watch, but he can’t, can he? Oh, but we’ll find a way to talk to him, won’t we?”

Jon doesn’t know when the tape recorder appears; he merely knows he feels faintly relieved when Nikola grabs it and stops touching him, winking at him conspirationally instead. “Elias?” she preens into the recorder. “Can I call you Elias?”

*

“You’re mine, too,” Jon blurts out awkwardly.

Martin slowly blinks. “... What?” he asks.. 

He sounds like he’s been punched right into the stomach, high and breathless, but he’s still holding Jon to dear life, and Jon hides his face deeper into his shoulder, breathing in deeply, and he says, his voice hoarse: “You’re my soulmate too.”

“Oh.” Martin’s voice is small. “Oh. I mean did you -- is that -- where -- I --”

“I’m very bad at being a soulmate,” Jon cuts him off. He’s aware he’s gripping Martin’s too tight. “And I think I’m turning into something dangerous, and there are people out there who wants to kill me, and I need you safe -- Nikola saw -- she saw your name, and I don’t want her to --”

“You’ve -- got my name,” Martin merely says. 

“I -- yes, I’ve had for a -- it doesn’t matter, I’m saying you’re in danger --”

“You’ve got my name,” Martin repeats. 

It’s definitely giddy, now. Jon refuses to be endeared. “Martin -”

“No, no, I get it, danger and all -- but I mean, I mean, it’s been years Jon, literal years --”

Jon never asked Martin about it before; he doesn’t get to ask much more right then. Martin takes a step back, and he’s grinning wide and stupid, and Jon feels his own treacherous lips curl up in answer. It’s not exactly a surprise, when Martin bends down and presses his mouth against his. It’s a terrible idea, an absolutely horrendeous, awful idea, of course, but not a surprise. Jon lets himself be kissed and closes his eyes all the same. 

*

So Gerard is dead.

He’s no less impressive, and Jon feels awkward and eager and flushed. 

“Oh no, I’m er - Jonathan Sims? I’m with the Magnus Institute --”

Gerard stiffens. “Jonathan?” he repeats. 

Jon’s mouth runs dry. He carefully raises his left hand, and the name written on it. “Hi,” he says. 

Gerard looked at it for a long time, and then he huffs a laugh. “God, figure.”

His ghostly fingers meet Jon’s, cool and so light Jon barely feels them. On his right wrist, Jon’s name is written in his terrible, rushed handwritting. Jon’s heart skips a bit.

“Figure,” he agrees, and they both smile dryly at each other.

*

“Be careful,” says Georgie on the phone, soft and tired.  

“Please, don’t die,” Martin murmurs against his lips, terrified and hopeful all at once. 

“Thank you, Jon,” had merely said Gerry, when Jon had agreed to burn his page.

*

Elias stares right into his eyes, and his hand smooths over Jon’s collar; his thumb lingers on Jon’s neck, and Jon feels -- something.

“Good luck,” he tells him. 

“Do you have a back-up plan if I die?” Jon can’t help but ask. 

“You’ve been quite successful so far,” Elias tells him. “I’m sure you’ll be just as efficient tomorrow.”

“I’m glad one of us is feeling confident,” Jon mutters sarcastically. 

“Always, Jon,” Elias smiles, and Jon thoroughly wished it didn’t appease him as much as it does. 

*

Jon dies. 

Jon comes back.

Jon’s alone. 

It’s fitting, of course; Jon’s always been alone, apart for a few years, thanks to Georgie mostly, and he exhausted her into leaving, eventually -- not only once but twice, which has to be a rare enough feat to be mentionned. Nobody likes to speak about unhealhty soulmates, but Jon’s aware that it’s exactly what he is.

Four soulmates, and one of them is dead, the second knows better than to stay, the third is -- the third is so deep into danger than Jon has no idea if any of his words will ever bring him back, and the last never had the decency to show up.

Jon can’t think of Gerry, or Georgie, or, god, Martin;

So he stares at his throat, and looks over Jonah’s name. His oldest soulmate. He idly thinks that maybe they were all right, the ones who spent years joking about Jon being bounded to the Institute, to a man dead for centuries, the one who’d started it all, the one who was probably as much a monster as Jon has become --

Can monsters have first names? 

Jon does. He caresses Jonah’s name and thinks there’s something familiar in the pretentious and graceful way the ‘J’ is written. It’s right there, he muses. At the edge of his mind. The mysterious Jonah --

“Jon?” calls Daisy from behind him. 

“Mmmh?”

“You okay? Basira said -- I mean, you’re getting pretty intense here.”

“Oh,” he says, letting his hand fall at his side again. “Sorry, I -- sorry.”

Daisy looks at him up and down. She looks as tired as he feels. “C’mon,” she says. “I’ve found board games we haven’t played yet.”

*

Jon looks at Georgie and Melanie from afar. He’d never realized, before, what it truly meant to be envious. Jealous. He turns away with damp eyes.

*

“Look, I know we can’t talk,” Jon manages to say. “But something’s real wrong and I just wanted to make sure --”

Martin sighs. He feels so distant Jon’s heart is growing cold just looking at him. “I’m fine, Jon; I’m handling it. Just - trust me, alright?”

“You know I do,” Jon says numbly. 

Martin’s kiss on his cheek is icy. “Thank you,” he whispers. And then, with a little itch breath he adds: “I love you.”

He’s gone before Jon gets a chance to say “me too.”

*

Jon stares at his throat every day, now. He feels restless and ravenous, pulled by something bigger than him, and he knows, deep in his bones, that he won’t be able to resist its call. He’s never been able to. 

“You’re losing it, Jon,” Basira says quietly. Dangerously.

“So are you,” Jon says. He doesn’t need to look at her to see her tense. He is still staring at his throat. “We need to go see Elias.”

“No, we’re not. He’s well proven by now he’s utterly useless --”

“I’m sorry,” says Jon calmly. “I didn’t say it right. I’m going to see Elias, and I don’t bloody care what you or him think about it.”

*

Elias smiles, when he sees him; of course he does. The prison suit doesn’t hide his throat like his pressed collars and ties used to, and Jon reads his own name on his skin without any surprise at all.

“Jonah,” he breathes out, and Elias’ smiles gets brigther, his thoughts melting gently into Jon’s. 

“Hello, Jon,” he says fondly. “Is it time?”

Jon has no idea what he’s talking about.

(Jon knows exactly what he’s talking about)

Yes, he thinks.

Marvellous, Jonah thinks back. We’re going to be so good to each other, Jon. Just wait and see. 

#this is so long holy shit. i literally just spent my afternoon writing this. apparently. #the magnus archives #well so much for cleaning or doing anything productive i guess. i'm gonna have to go meet with my friends soon too #i hope you guys like this because i feel exhausted from long writing #it's probably shit but yeah it's done now #tma stories

[ohshcscenerios]

Find Me

Chapter Five - Choose Your Own Adventure 

Previous Poll Result: Listen to tape recorder

Mitsukuni turned the small tape recorder over in the dim street light. Although he couldn’t read the black engraving on the side he could feel scratches with his fingertips. Given that he found it lying beneath a car he suspected someone tried to throw it away. 

“Come on,” He spoke, revealing his darker side had emerged, “We should show this to the others. I don’t have a good feeling about this.” 

Kyoya nodded, feeling an odd suspicion rise within him. It was bad enough Haruhi - his Haruhi - is suddenly missing but now... 

He wondered if this could simply be a coincidence, that a careless drunk person dropped their tape recorder and accidentally kicked it underneath a car, or this would be considered evidence. 

Evidence leading to a missing person.

He silently cursed himself as they made their way back to the room. He needed to stop allowing his thoughts to dive for the worse. Usually he could stack the facts before him and make a logical practical guess that wasn’t surrounded by dangerous pretenses. He needed to calm himself down but the heavy weight in his chest remained like a solid rock pressing against his ribs. His body somehow senses something sinister. 

They arrived back to the room to find everyone busying themselves with something - anything - that would help their situation. Hikaru was on the landline phone with the kitchen asking if Haruhi had wandered there and demanded they search the entire floor before he hung up. Kaoru and Takashi had a tourist map opened on the table where they were circling places she might have went to - been taken to - in their area. Tamaki, thankfully, was still asleep. Kyoya didn’t want to hear his blubbering cries. 

When the door clicked shut behind the two, everyone paused for a moment to look at them. Their eyes asked the same question as they tried to hopefully find Haruhi standing with them. No such luck, unfortunately. 

Mitsukuni held up the tape recorder for everyone to see and said, “We found this in the parking lot near Kyo-chan’s car. What should we do about it?” 

A moment of silence passed among them as they all considered his question. On one hand it could be a useless tape recorder that would have nothing to offer but on the other hand... it was suspicious that they found it in the parking lot. 

Hikaru hung up the phone with a soft clang and answered for them, “Let’s listen to it. If anything sound suspicious we’ll turn it over to the police.” 

Kyoya scoffed, “You forget I have my own private police force. If we do need officers involved I would rather trust my own men.” 

Mitsukuni hopped onto the booth beside Takashi and pressed a few buttons to prepare the device. He held up one finger asking for silence and pressed play.

“Do you think she’ll like my cover of Ocean Breeze?” A male voice asked.

“Yeah, she’ll have to, it took you almost ten tries to record the dumb song.” A second male voice said. 

A metal door opened and closed with a loud clang, possibly being another entrance, and then footsteps against gritty asphalt. The two men were walking outside, possibly the parking lot.

“Let’s go get some ramen man, I’m so hungry and this dumb place doesn’t serve food. What’s the use of having a kitchen if they don’t offer food?” The second male complained.

“Yeah, it does seem weird. Maybe they used to but don’t anymore.” The first male said.

Their footsteps began to sound more relaxed, suggesting they were nearing their car. A small voice in the background was barely audible on the tape but it was there nonetheless. A small, quiet, feminine voice. 

“Hey, hey, hey, look at that beauty there.” The second male said excitedly. “Gosh, I wish I had a girlfriend.” 

“You could have but you didn’t want to date Yuki from Physics.” The first male scolded. 

“Yeah-yeah, she was alright but she’s so loud sometimes and-”

“Get off of me!” The female voice shouted loud enough to be heard from the background. Her voice was still quiet but her words were now understandable. 

“Hey buddy - woah, woah woah - you shouldn’t manhandle your girl like that!” The first male cried out. His footsteps became heavy and loud as if he was now running. 

“Yeah dude, that’s not how you treat a woman!” The second male added, running alongside his friend. 

Beyond their shuffling footsteps a faint second pair of footsteps could be heard. The second pair were ragged, rough, as if they were fighting. A punch against a car hood was confirmation enough. 

“Help me!” The female voice cried out. The friends were approaching closer and allowed her voice to sound stronger. Another punch against a car hood and then what sounded like a kick against a car door. 

“Stop! Stop! What are you-” the friends halted to a stop and cursed under their breaths as they staggered backwards. “Shit, dude has a gun.”

“Please let me go, please!” The female voice begged frantically. She was completely terrified and desperate to get away. 

Kyoya noted that the voice was beginning to sound familiar although she still spoke in the background. Whether or not this was Haruhi - and he prayed to the heavens it wasn’t - it was still a serious situation that would need to be looked into. He decided they’d turn the tape recorder to his private police force and have them arrest the abusive boyfriend. 

“Shit dude, don’t shoot, put the gun away.” The first male pleaded. 

Another bang against a car hood sounded, though it was much more forceful as if someone was thrown against the car. The female voice whimpered in the background, suggesting she was now pinned. 

“What’s in your pocket?” A deep voice demanded, most likely the boyfriend. 

“What do you- what do you mean? I just have my wallet. Do you want money? shit we’re being mugged now...” The second male voice stammered. 

“You, back pocket.” The third male voice barked out. The female voice continued to whimper in pain as she struggled against the car. Very faint scrapes against asphalt suggested she was trying to keep herself upright. 

“Fuck dude my tape recorder! It’s not what you think, it’s karaoke night and -”

Someone grabbed the tape recorder and pulled it from the denim pocket then tossed it into the parking lot. It landed with a very loud clang and skidded to a stop. 

“There, see? No tape recorder.” The first male voice amended, sounding more distant now. 

The tape was beginning to stutter, meaning it was reaching its end, but just before it stopped the female voice was heard to frantically bellow out, “Kyoya! Kyoya!” 

A loud metallic thump sounded and her voice died off. The two friends cursed as they ran away. Then the tape ended.

What should the hosts do first? (Click to Vote)

I think it’s safe to say the third person in that audio wasn’t the woman’s boyfriend. I feel bad for the poor sucker for dares lay a hand on Kyoya’s woman. 

I’m sorry this update is so late. I couldn’t sleep last night and slept in. The next update should be around 6:00pm (ETS). Polls will end one hour prior. 

#ouran high school host club #ohshc #choose your own adventure #tamaki suoh #Kyoya Ootori #haruhi fujioka #takashi morinozuka #mitsukuni haninozuka #hikaru hitachiin #kaoru hitachiin #find me #vote #poll

[revelaare]

Shit said in the Crimson Discord & VC, taken out of context part 2, (the sequel)

Big NSFW warning, probably

his meat slid off and then slid right back on

[PRONOUN] can punch me in my uterus and make a hammock out of my ovaries

it’s one of the worst fucking things i’ve ever heard, and i’ve heard someone literally shit their pants

they tagged me and my ass clenched

this man just said “I want to eat ur ass and then kiss you” ok buddy

a man with a plan

my grandpa is texting his hoes from his flip phone

god my lawyer was a hit but idk if she will be the chosen one or not

hello give me your toenails

i'll touch you in a non-weird way

he was in that movie with the people, he was the human.

i want her to brush my hair

If we have dick glasses they have to be of the highest quality for the best experience

i don't wanna watch that white nonsense

i would throat him like a fine wine

these millenials can't live without ac? back in my day we lived on the sun

yall better put those goats on a wheel, tell them to start running

he looks like a bitch

yes or no, u wud punch the light bulb out of thomas edisons wrinkly pruned hand and asked him if he believed in god

still has skin and a working body

i needed to wait until my voice changes

you thought i was snacking on joe biden’s savory meat stick

barack guckin oglizzy, oguckma, barack osugma, Joe choden, OglchnnngggHHHYynnUUUnnghhma

why did i have a dream that i was taking the lid off my car

false gods require wine, real gods require coochiefice

fettucine wet ass pussy

that was all you sent me. the picture of a raccoon and then nothing

it isn’t hate, it is ‘continuously let down by’.

i never went to school who science

i’m gunna go peer pressure my mum into a shot

thank you for furthering my career at hot topic

i will suck the ingrown hair off of him

it has huge jackman in it

i chomped on this eggshell, got my calcium in for the day

i will take you to touch the mango

i want to see all the big things

[PRONOUN] has collar bones so deep you could hook a clothing hanger into it

no asscheeks in fucking family chat you animals

he will eat you alive and suck out your intestines like its a spaghetti noodle

[NAMES]’s Tiggle Biddie’s

dropped acid, cried the whole night.

my stomach is hooping and hollering, i’m about to eat some sleep

you want my throatsac ??

please dont know me as the toenail eater

you have to keep the skin on one side while you eat the other, thats basic mango physics

i mean he is some good sasuage

calm down dick Hannibal

respectfully, what the fuck is this

tbf i only eat my steaks where they need tampons

you committed acts of culinary terrorism

does your refrigerator whimper and cower in the corner when you approach it. that's your fridge trying to use echo location to locate a safe space

thundercuck

i almost met Jesus, I almost got an autograph. Almost got a greatest hits signed album.

respectfully, are you smoking fucking crack?

my left testicle could play better than you

i’ll eat him with ketchup

son of a biscuit eating bulldog!

now it’s back to me sucking, all is right in the world.

holy fuck weasels.

holy fuck, weasels!

why does the bad guy look like the Statue of Liberty?

this is a man that sometimes willingly dresses like a lumberjack

and me, being an emotional cripple, must make jokes about this.

hey my name is [NAME] i'm **definitely** who i say i am

[NAME OR PRONOUN] offered a back massage by calling it the “tickle thing”

i love a man who puts his parents in a nursing home.

my brain is going to take a hot shower

wait have u seen steve harvey's coochie

if it were me i would simply not be pregnant

look im not about to be out here saying i love [NAME OR PRONOUN] feet, but i am about to be out here saying that their feet are some of the nicest feet i've seen in a long time

i named my cloyster renesmee

[NAME] was texting me from the bathtub

you’re pregnant? That’s unfortunate.

do I say dumb shit? Perhaps. Do I take ownership? Perhaps.

i pay for things in blissful ignorance

i am an emotional vagrant

i am an emotional fragrance

to make a long motherfucking story short...

this enchilada tastes like asshole and sadness

you are not an ugly bitch, you’re just a bitch

that’s not a nut shot, buddy.

i’m sad because i sucked the meat off of this pumpkin spice latte

i want to make a blanket out of his eyebrows

what are you disgracing my Christian eyes for?

he be looking at that dick like why does it go so much to the left?

I want her to record an audio book for me so I can fall asleep listening to her voice.

Can I lick you like an ice cream cone? Asking for science.

like you're out to lunch with your bromie and you're eating some rubens or something and you wistfully look over the rim of your sunglasses and just: You ever buss 2 fast

my accent is flaccid

timotay chalamaymay’s sweet ass

on the bright side mcallister’s gave me 3 pickle spears. Almost enough to make a whole pickle.

you think they came from the same mommy pickle?

HIS DOODLE IS OUT

i thot that meant [NAME] wanted to...doodle his noodle

i don’t use commas, i don't respect u enough, fuck ur reading comprehension.

does australia have seasons

i want someone to embalm my body with mcdonalds sprite

his hermione grangina

purrrr my last email

its lore locked beneath 30 layers. u can only understand it if uve had a near death experience

LET'S GET FUCKY

i wanna have the heart of a stoner

his man titties look like little tattooed pillows

SWIGGITY SWOOTY COMIN FOR THAT BOOTY

there were no cheeks to shake. nothing to clap. no noise to be had from her literal slices of wonderbread

u ever just fuck around and ur tits fart

put a lil mint leaf on it for authenticity

alright brother god bless may u be fertile

i feel like im being advocated for something i shouldnt be advocating for

and i am adam with my fat pendulous balls lol

i’m making whuppie with whoopie godberg

theodore tits fart rex

yeah man do u also have the third toe on ur shoulder

the green spaghetti monster is coming for me and i can't blame him

today i learned starfish do not poop

that was nothing compared to some other things I saw

listen I'd willingly watch [NAME/PRONOUN] in a cell for 24 hours. Imagine that sounded less creepy

i'd lick a dirty flip flop off her abs

i’m tempted to show you all the gravity defining boobs, maybe tomorrow

my brain is on vacation

good morning! i ate breakfast and im ready to go to bed

tape the titty in

ive unironically had nightmares with [NAME] in them

the peanut in the auditory canal

so far this feel all comfortable, does this all make sense?

i know it's kind of a schlep to get through

nail polish or no nail polish for the shower?

and then he saw those big tt honkerz... and it all went down hill from there

can y’all stop chanting curses in the chat my furniture is stuck on the ceiling

EH?! CIAO? HELLO??

in Russia this is not ok 

i can’t buy pants here on Sunday either

IT'S LIKE TWELVE THOUSAND DOLLARS TO EAT ON A SOGGY PANCAKE

imagine me going up to [NAME/PRONOUN] and being like i love the way ur flesh smells

in a supermarket. The sickly blue light where humans congregate. Animal human masses. Nameless faces. Whole lives boiled into generalized categories like "asshole who definitely does need 4 boxes of cheerios". Yout hink and realize while stabding in line u didnt grab the bag of frozen peas...but its 2 late

its truly the only picture that gives me pure joy

are weasels real

my work mum just messaged me the phrase "use your booty call wisely" with no context

"let's bring u to the mustache chair"

If you’re not doing coke under the coke sign what is the point?

#⋆ ˚｡⋆˚ meme day #HERE U GO U SINNERS. #THE SEQUEL.