#[I know it looks like shit but in my defense it’s like 6am oKAY]

[spiderman2-99]

I'm sorry. I'm sorry that your life is at the whims of a universe that seems to be going off the whims of comic book writers who want nothing more than to torture their characters for money.

I'm sorry people treat you like a piece of meat on the Internet, to be used and abused for their gratification before being abandoned for the next hottest thing.

I'm sorry that people are dickheads who keep making terrible things happen to you.

We really don't deserve you, or any superhero.

[spicywhenspeaking]

If I'm There: Chapter Eight

read from part one!

Noah and Natalie meet in high school and developed a relationship through their love of music and art. Falling in love, innocent and young, they think nothing can keep them apart. However, sometimes in the pursuit of your dreams, the things you love the most get left behind.....

Warnings: mentions of alcohol use, mentions underage drinking, absent parents

“Hey Ky, I thought you were staying with dad?” I ask hesitantly not wanting to provoke his anger that I’ve grown so accustomed to. “I wanted to finish school in person. It doenst matter, dads place sucked anyway.” His smile falls and his shoulders tense. “Oh okay, well I’m gonna go back to my room.” I shuffle out awkwardly. “Okay, later.”

Natalie: so kyle is back…said dads place sucked. Wtf! 8:45pm

Noah: WHAT?! -_- your dad didn’t even call first? 8:47

Natalie: probably called my mom, but I have talked to her in a few days. She was passed out on the couch this morning. 8:47

Natalie: looks like she had a bottle of wine for dinner…or is it considered breakfast if you have it at 6am? 8:47

Noah: yikes. I’m sorry Nat. 8:48

Noah: did he say anything else? 8:48

Natalie: no, just started acting all defensive so I dropped it. 8:49

Noah: hm..think something happened with you dad? 8:50

Natalie: with Kyle? Probably. 8:51

Natalie: I’m just going to do my best to ignore him, and maybe we move movie night to your place lol. 8:52

Noah: lol of course, and you’re obviously welcome here anytime. I’ll come and pick you up anytime just say the word. 8:52

Natalie: my hero :) <3 ily

Noah: ily :)

We text back and for the rest of the night until I pass out on my bed. 

The next day Noah picks me up in the late afternoon so we can go to one of his shows together. Nick is in the back seat when I climb in the car. Greeting them both we drive off towards the venue they’re playing at for the night. Noah’s band has really picked up traction. He's put together a four member group of guys he’s found at other gigs, Nick is playing guitar and they have another guy Julius on drums and Mikey on Bass. They’re older and I don’t talk to them much. They’ve been asked to play in more bars and even some small venues. I can’t make all of them because of work but I try to go to as many as I can. It’s new territory for me. I’ve been to a lot of his shows over the summer but they're getting bigger and the crowd is rowdy. I have to stick to the back to not get overwhelmed but I’m happy to be there supporting Noah. 

The school year starts off strong. After a few weeks I’m managing my class work and work at the coffee shop pretty well. My AP classes are challenging but not impossible. Maggie from work is in my AP Econ class and it’s nice to have someone to study with. Sometimes Noah comes to surprise me at work. He'll order a drink and flirt with me the whole time I’m making it just to see how red he can make my face; those days he will wait until I’m off so he can drive me home. We’ll make out in the car until I have toI pry myself out before it gets too late. Noah and Kyle aren’t best friends by any means. They do their best to ignore each other in school and when Noah is picking me up or dropping me off but, that doesn’t stop him from making random comments here and there. 

“You came in pretty late last night, Noah hoping you flunk out completely and follow him around forever?” Kyle snips one morning as I’m making myself a bowl of cereal before catching the bus. “Since when is it your job to keep tabs on my comings and goings?” I say back to him “you don’t ever get any shit from me when you show up wasted on a school night. You know why?” I question. “Because I’m not mom or dad and neither are you, I can look out for myself just fine. But thanks for your concern” my voice is dripping with sarcasm. “Just be careful sis, he’s clearly more concerned with his own rockstar future than yours. Don’t throw your life away for some guy.” He finishes and I can almost hear genuine care in his voice. “You’ll end up just like mom.” With that I tense, my bowl of cereal placed down with more force than necessary, sending milk and Cheerios spilling over the side. “I am nothing like her.” I grab my backpack and sling it over my shoulder. “And I never will be.” I exit the house without looking back at Kyle and slam the door, heading for the bus. 

Noah has a Thursday night show out of town and is all but begging me to go “I can’t Noah, I wish I could but I have an Econ test Friday and a science project due” I sigh, knowing I’m letting him down. “This show is huge baby. There’s going to be a lot of people there that could really help me.” He’s holding my hand’s against his chest and I can feel his rapid heartbeat. “Having you there would mean everything to me. I promise I’ll get you home right after the show, you’ll be in bed sleeping, fully rested for your test.” He says with the sweetest smile. “I need my Natalie with me” he kisses me and my defense melt “okayyy, okay, I’ll go,” I concede. 

“Yes!” He picks me up triumphantly and spins me around making us both laugh “thank you Natty” he squeezes me in a hug “ugh I love you so much” I return his hug and sigh like a love sick fool “I love you too”. 

Thursday night rolls around and while I have last period free, Noah and Nick skip their last class so they can meet Julius and Mikey to make sound check. The venue is a little over an hour away and we make it there by 4:30 just minutes before he needs to be on for sound check. The night goes on without a hitch; Noah and Nick meet a lot of people and seem to make a lot of connections but time is slipping away. Suddenly it’s 11:30pm and I cant find either of them anywhere. I’m searching the dark and smokey venue and can’t see Noah’s towering figure anywhere. Quickly becoming overwhelmed with all the drunken patrons bumping into me, I decide to go wait outside on the curb for them to finish up. I take out my phone and text Noah that I’m waiting outside so they can find me when they’re done. Finally they finish up and I notice it’s already 12:20am. The car unlocks and I take a deep breath as I climb in, exhausted from the night.

I’m used to being fast asleep on a school night by this hour, so I’m having a hard time staying awake as Noah excitedly recounts the night “Natty, that was amazing I can’t believe it, we played so well. I think that guy from Nashville is going to offer us some recording space! Isn’t that awesome?!” I can barely keep my eyes open, let alone muster the energy to respond. I let out a soft “mmhm” in reply. “I’m sorry baby, I’ll get you home soon. Just close your eyes and we’ll be there before you know it.” 

There’s a massive pileup on the way home and with the sounds of the sirens mixed with the lights shining I don’t sleep at all. When we finally make it back to my house it's nearly 3am. I just about fall out of the car before Noah is able to throw it in park. As I open my door, he goes to exit with me, exasperatedly I turn back and tell him, “Don’t worry about it. I’m going straight to bed.” If I had the energy I would have slammed the door. He exits anyway and races after me apologizing “I’m sorry Natty, I know I said it wouldn't be late.” I stop before opening the front door and look at him with exhausted eyes “I know you didnt mean too Noah. Look, I’m too tired for this.” I sigh. “I just want to go sleep for the few hours I have left before my alarm goes off.” I open the door and stand in the doorway “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” I say to him, sleep the only thing on my mind. “Okay, love you Natty.” he responds and leans to press a kiss to the top of my head. “Mmhm, love you” I tell him, closing the door and locking it. I head upstairs and crash onto my bed, asleep instantly.

When I wake up the next morning I turn over in bed and look at my alarm clock. “OH FUCK!” I shriek. It’s 10am.

I missed my Econ exam.

page divider from here :)

Next chapter here!

xoxoxox love you guys thanks for reading!!

taglist : @lma1986 @cookiesupplier @notingridslurkaccount

[give-grian-rights]

CHAPTER TWO HOUR. CHAPTER TWO HOUR. I AM SO TIRED. IT IS 6AM. TELL ME IF HTERE’S TYPOS AND THAT NORMAL STUFF

Bets Against The Void, Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Whitelist au from @petrichormeraki

Crossposted on AO3

Tubbo quietly chuckled, smiling fondly as their friend squawked indignantly. “Tubbo! I’m serious, explain some shit, fuckin’ nerd!” Tommy scoffed, prodding at their side with his elbow. Tubbo hushed him, their smirk still lingering.

  “Hermitcraft is a super crazy popular server. If you’ve ever searched for examples of builds on your tablet, chances are, they’re from one of the Hermits. Or if you looked up something about redstone! Anything! You’ll find one of their instructions. They’re geniuses- just, complete geniuses. Grian’s one of them-”

  “Grian’s one of them!?” Tommy exclaimed, his eyes shooting open. Tubbo’s grin widened, nodding vigorously. “Yes! He’s the newest Hermit, last I heard.. Most of the guys he’s teammates with every MCC, they’re usually other Hermits!” They’d continue explaining to the best of their ability.

  “Should’ve fuckin’ started with the fact that Grian’s here! That fuckin’ dude! He killed Dream three times! Three times, Tubbo!” The blond continued with his excited shouting. Well, that certainly fixed the situation, Tubbo mused.

  The brunett nodded along, chuckling. “Yeah! He, and most of the others, really- post all that much right now. The new World Client, with the axolotls and caves ‘n stuff? They’ve started posting and sharing discoveries about that.  I know Grian did, at least. But considering they call themselves the ‘Hermits’ it makes sense to be a bit inactive, yeah?” Tubbo shrugged, tapping the chilly cool sandstone beneath them.

  Tommy nodded dumbly, glancing around the room for a moment. Tubbo, meanwhile, had pulled their tablet up. The holographic comm system was displayed infront of them, everything on the screen they touched being read aloud to them.

  Launching an accessibility app, the tablet began describing aloud the block palette, dimensions, and colors. As the tablet’s robotic voice played in his com system, reading aloud the details of his surrounding, Tubbo nodded along to an incoherent rant from Tommy.

Tubbo wasn’t too sure what Tommy was ranting about- likely MCC, and Grian. Grian got a kill on Tommy, last MCC, if they remember correctly.  The brunnett wouldn’t be surprised if that was the target of the blond’s current tangent. Tommy hadn’t even been able to get a word out, when Grian began shouting vigorous apologises between matches.

  The descriptions from the tablet were long, and boring. The robotic voice drawing on and on, as it attempted to describe the intricate room. Shutting down the program, Tubbo tuned back into Tommy. 

  “Fuckin’ am..So fucking tired. Of course we ended up here. It’d be to easy if we’d just be let back into Dream SMP, huh? Think Dream even knew we were out? I bet not. Even if he does, probably didn’t even care, fuckin’ dick. Bet that green asshole’s just sitting over his code and shit, simping over Gogy-” The blond ranted heatedly. The blind teen could hear the shifting and chustling of fabric, before the boy’s voice became muffled.

  With his head pressed against his knees, legs drawn to his chest, Tommy sat there practically panting. His chest heaved, the rage draining from him. “Why is all- all of this, always so complicated, Tubbo?” Blue eyes turned to meet the scarred, burnt front of the other.

  Tubbo picked at faded and torn tennis shoes, tentatively listening. The rymnatic pattern of the boy’s breathing, and the crashing overhead, offered some vague comfort. “All of what?” They’d tilt their head.

  The younger of the two quietly sighed, his mouth pressed in a thin line. His hand clutched the bottom of his torn, tan cargo pants, fidgetting with the frayed ends. “Us. Shit with us, it always gets so fuckin’ complicated. Big Man, you’re president. You’re- you’re the fucking president, now, Tubbo.”

  The bunnett’s brows furrowed together, as they inched closer to their friend. “Yeah. But it’s- it’s still us, y’know? If- if life was easy, then we’d be missing out on a lot of things. What if we had just never met-”

“We’d always meet eachother, Tubbo. There’s no fuckin’ getting rid of me, even in your fantasy world.” The blond nudged the teen’s shoulder, a wolfish grin evident in his tone.

  That made the other crack a smile, shaking their head. “I hope so, Tommy.” They’d chuckle, shaking their head. The weight of the day came crashing down all again. Before the rushing thoughts could boggle down their mind, Tubbo slumped against Tommy’s side sigh an exhausted sigh.

  “This is just, livin’ the fucking life, huh?” Tommy remarked, looking over his friend. The tall boy already shifted himself, his long legs sprawled out on the floor with his back leaned against sandstone walls.

  His head leaned against that of his compaignian, half-lidded blue eyes giving one last surveillance of the room. “We’ll figure this shit out tomorrow..” Tommy mumbled, glancing down at the brunette.

  Tubbo was already asleep, their expression finally one of peace. Tommy wasn’t given a moment more to appreciate the serenity of the quiet room, before he’d be pulled into slumber as well.

  Both of the teens were stirred awake by the whirring noises of an active portal- the Netherportal beside them, with particles flying, gaveway to two players. Tommy kicked himself up to his feet, defensively. Tubbo stumbled along with him, pulling back away from the strangers.

Though two stepped out, only one immediately caught Tommy’s eyes.

  “W- Holy shit!  You’re Grian!” Tommy squawked indignantly.

  Tubbo’s head immediately shot up, excitably breaking into a grin. Any exhaustion the two held was wiped away- neither was sure how long their unrestful sleep had been, but it was far more than other nights. 

  The target of the excitement, Grian, sheepishly stood there, nodding. “Uh, yeah! You guys are Tommy and Tubbo, yeah?  I’ve seen you at most of the MCC’s I’ve been to. You both did really good last time, by the way! I’m really looking forward to the next one!” 

This was easily the closest they probably ever were to the dirty blond. He also looked far more at ease, on this server. The iconic figure, ever-present in the community, had his wild mop of a fringe frazzled and framing his face.

  Poking under the bangs, Tommy could now see faint, ragged lines from a scar, along with other various healed-over wounds. Another contrary to how either of them had seen Grian, at MCC, was the large circular glasses loosely sat on his face.

Seeing one of his heroes like this (The only one that hadn’t betrayed, killed him, turned against him, despised him-) in such a..Domestic state, was bizarre. Tommy was scrambling for words, starting and giving up on getting his tongue around what to say.

  “This is so cool! Hi! I used to watch and- and listen, to a lot of your old build tutorials! A lot of people on our server would always say how we learned building from you!” Tubbo would blurt out, practically bouncing on their heel. Grian turned to the teen, slightly shocked but amused. 

  “Oh! I- well thank you! I’m glad I could be any help at all- my builds are nothing compared to some of what the other Hermits have going on..Speaking of others- this is Stress!” He’d take the opportunity to escape the small spotlight, glancing towards the brunette woman next to him sheepishly.

  The woman- Stress, apparently, quietly chuckled. A fond smile grazed her face, as she looked over towards the two teenagers. “Ello there, Loves! Sorry to interrupt your fan meetup,” She teased, side-eyeing the dirty blond beside her.  “We just wanted to come and check in, is all! X told us two to come visit, yeah?”

  Tommy quietly hummed skeptically,  surveying her. Short brown hair hung barely as low as her shoulder, a neat, white, blue, and pink flower-crown sat upon her head. The colors must’ve been very purposeful, considering they matched with her colorful outfit of the same color.

  “Fine, sure..Well, we’re still fuckin’ breathing, and we’re here. So you don’t really need to be here any longer, yeah?” Tommy scoffed, slumping back against the wall. Tubbo was already standing, nudging at his side. 

  “Thank you, for checking in. I- I’m sure this is a bit of a strange situation. That- Yeah, that’s my bad.” They chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of their neck. This caught Stress’ attention, turning towards the tene.

  “Oh, no! This isn’t a problem at all. Dear, this happens all the time. Grian just- just appeared, one day, in our previous server. We walk out the portal for the first time- and boom! There that weirdo is!” Stress chuckled, her grin unwavering as she gave a playful nudge to the dirty blond beside her.

  Grian scoffed, a smirk edging at his lips as he rolled his eyes. “Okay, but I’m not the only example of that happening- you didn’t have to pick me out specifically!”

  “Sure I do, Love! You’re the first new Hermit to join, after me and Zed! I get to bully you, lovingly!” She cheered. Stress’ energy was absolutely efficacious, Tubbo couldn’t help but smile and cackle at her and Grian’s banter.

“Uh huh,” Grian scoffed, dramatically crossing his arms. “Last I checked, that was Iskall’s job to bully newcomers- oh, Gord, when you all walked out of the portal and they just decked me ? I mean, it didn’t really hurt all that bad, but it’s a matter of the principle!”

  Stress seemed like she was almost gonna break down with laughter, clutching her stomach. “I forgot they did that with you, too! Iskall certainly is one that needs work with their introduction, that absolute weirdo!” She chostled, shaking her head fondly.

  She then turned towards the two teens, reassuringly smiling. “They won’t give you any hard time, they’re just like that sometimes, especially in the beginning of a new season..They’re usually just incomprehensible in the beginning, I learnt!” She giggled, covering her mouth.

  Tubbo awkwardly laughed, nodding. “Yeah- they, they sound like something.” It was..A strange environment, to be sure.

  Sure, they knew of the Hermits, their reputation impossible to avoid- but most outsiders didn’t know much about the actual Hermits. They went by that title for a reason.

  Tommy was having similar thoughts, he felt as if he was completely imposing on, everything. But he couldn’t find it in himself to care- it frankly was..Warming, almost, to see this. He missed being able to have that, on Dream’s server. 

  The blond in particular seemed to have tuned out, because by the time he snapped out of those thoughts, Grian was speaking again.

  “We’re glad to see you’re both alright, but, I don’t think we’ve been exactly great hosts. You both have gotta be hungry- I know the last thing you two seem to want is help, but..We’d be happy to help you however we can.  We can go get you fresh, real food. Or- you both come with us, and we take you to our central area, the Cowmercial district.”

  Tommy stared blankly at Grian for a moment, brows knitted together in bewilderment. “The… Cow..merical district?” He’d repeat, squinting.

  Grian snickered, nodding. “Yeah! The name just stuck. It’s our shopping district. We have a bakery- it’s never, ever too early for cake. There’s Doc’s shop, but that’s all villager-bought, if it’s the rare occasion that it’s stocked at all- so the Bakery may be the only option, for today.” He glanced back at Stress, who nodded in agreement.

  “Only if you’d want to,” Stress would interject. “Either of us could come bring you food here- but, we figured you might want to just..Get out. You’re allowed to leave here whenever you want- but, navigating our server by yourself, for the first time? Not the easiest.”

  The two teens glanced towards eachother. Tubbo looked like they were practically buzzing in place, at the idea of exploring the Hermits’ world. Tommy watched them for a moment, before quietly scoffing.

  “..Yeah, okay, sure- how the hell do we even get out of here though, for starters?” Tommy crossed his arms, inching closer towards Tubbo. He, for one, was really not a fan of having to fly out.

  Stress cheered excitably, pulling open her inventory. The woman promptly dropped a stack each to the two teens. “I came prepared, just in-case!” She grinned. With a swipe of her arm, the digital screen dissipated.

  “If you know how to use elytras, X already said he’s more than happy to lend out two from the back-up system. I have some to spare, as well.  But- you two never seemed the most comfortable in the air, during flight-based games.” Grian would add awkwardly, adjusting his own wings behind him. 

  Tommy didn’t pay much attention to the words- instead, he promptly threw open his inventory, gawking at the full stack of pearls. “What! I don’t think i’ve ever had this many pearls! Holy shit!” He pulled out the stack of sixteen.

  One pearl manifested in his hand, while a holographic icon hovered beside him. The pixel-image of an enderpearl, with a large 15x in the corner in white font was projected for only his vision. The blond couldn’t remember a time he had so many enderpearls.

  “Thank you! Wow- yeah, pearls aren’t really common in our server!  This- this is really nice!” They felt giddy, as they pulled their’s out as well, the action muscle-memory.

  “Well, I’m glad you two can put them to good-use, then!” She chuckled. The idle question of how can a server lack pearls skimming through her head for a moment.

  Within seconds of her saying that, Tommy had already blindly tossed one of his pearls- promptly falling down from the ceiling, and landing on the floor with a short shriek. Tubbo straightened up from the sidelines, tilting their head.

  “Tommy! What did you do?” Tubbo called out accusatorily, as they quickly popped their surrounding descriptor back on.

  “Nothing!” Tommy quickly yelled back, lunging to their feet with a stumble as they dusted themselves off.

  At the sidelines, Stress and Grian cackled, watching in lighthearted amusement. Tommy could feel his face flushed red with brief embarrassment, quickly attempting to play it off.

  “Truer answer; I was being awesome. That was what, Tubbo. Are we eating or what? I want to throw pearls and go places. And eat, that too.” He quickly turned towards the two Hermits expectantly, narrowing his eyes at them.

  Grian grinned, nodding. “Yes, yes we are! I have boats. Go ahead and pop up with your pearls, and we’ll fly out to you.” He explained briefly, pulling the boats from his inventory. The thin, digitized object manifesting in his hand. 

  Tommy turned expectantly to Tubbo. “You got this, Toob?” He tilted his head, watching his friend. Tubbo had immediately nodded vigoriously, running over towards the center of the room, the ceiling above open to the water. 

  “Yeah! I’ve got this, Big Man! No sweat!” They gave a toothy grin, shifting the enderpearl in their hand. Arching their arm back, the teen cautiously stepped back.

  Their communicator had continued reading off the details of the room into their thin earpiece,  primarily the dimensions. All they had to do was hit the wall leading up to the surface to get out. They could do that, surely.

  With a huff of effort, they chucked the pearl. They heard it  break through the under-surface of the water, and then they were submerged. Breaching the surface, they gasped for a moment. The ocean rippled, clothes heavy and soaked. They were certainly glad they had been in their casual clothes, rather than their presidential outfit.

  Within a moment, Tommy was up beside them, quietly gasping as well. The blond pushed his hair back, lightly nudging Tubbo away from the gaping hole in the water beneath them- and then Grian and Stress flew out.

  The sound from the rockets were deafened from beneath the ocean, thankfully. Only a thin trail of smoke followed them, the sight certainly unfamiliar to the fireworks the two teens had been accustomed to.

  Both Hermits had dived straight into the shallow water with a splash, before the dirty-blond dropped down two boats.

“I want to drive! Tommy, i’m driving us!” Tubbo cried out, at the sound of the wood hitting the water. Beside them, Tommy scoffed.

“Tubbo! I’m not gettin’ motion sickness! We just woke up, no way. Your idea of ‘driving’ is no one elses, my friend.” He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he pulled himself into the boat. Beside him, Tubbo whined.

  “C’mon, man! Nothing like a bit of motion-sickness to get the day started!” They playfully remarked. Despite that, they had already accepted their defeat, pulling up into the boat.

  Stress and Grian watched the teens carefully, with Stress laughing lightheartedly at the banter between them as she pulled herself into the boat, behind Grian.

  Grian, on the otherhand, was mostly quiet. A thin wisp of a smile was present, conveying one of bemusement. Tommy didn’t get a good look, but, he couldn’t quite pinpoint the look from Grian. He didn’t like it.

  “Alright,” The older Brit at hand started. “We’re real close. No one should be at Looky Looky At My Cookie- and it should be early enough that there aren’t any real occupants at the Cowmerical District.” He explained, turning the boat as he got a small start ahead of the teens.

  “Sure, then! That sounds g- wait, what’s that name?”

“C’mon, then!” Grian wouldn't answer Tubbo’s valid question, before boating off. Tommy quickly following behind, shouting indignantly after them.

  It certainly was odd. It felt..Comforting, here. Certainly not relaxing. The opposite of cf relaxing- Tubbo had nothing but the craving to do something. But it was..Welcoming. It was strange. They hadn’t felt so- so unbothered, since..Ever, really. They liked it.

  Tubbo wondered if it could stay this way.

  Tommy wondered what the hell they were about to get themselves into.

[magdaclaire]

partner

read it on ao3

a/n: This fic is at least a little based on the fact that as soon as I met my boyfriend, the very first day I met him, I spent 5 and a half hours with him, and he became my best friend. Some people, you just know. Partner.

He’s got, probably, three million things to do today. Football practice before school, the 6am slot because lacrosse had booked the 7am, and a Student Council meeting at 7am anyway, first period math, second period english, a lunch interview with one of the kids from the school newspaper (“Are you ready for the game against the Bronx Hydra? Do you ever feel like you’re going to let the team down? Now that you’re… not at your best shape?”), actually eating lunch, maybe getting a glimpse of his friends, and he’s still got half the day left after that. He’s only done the practice and the meeting so far. He could do this math in his sleep, of course, because high school Algebra 2 is child’s play, but it’s so time consuming, as if not showing his work is evidence of cheating. Everyone here knows that James Rhodes doesn’t cheat, but some people are just waiting for him to slip. It’s fine. He won’t slip. He’ll show his work. He’ll be perfect. He’ll do it all. 

“James,” a clear voice cuts into his monologue as he walks into English, his bag slung over both shoulders evenly because only rebels and boys who don’t care about their future throw around their things, Jamie. He turns loyally and puts on a perfunctory smile, smiling down at the principal he recognized from voice alone, because of course he did. Nicholas Fury is a man of slightly shorter stature than James, but rather large presence, and he has his hand on the shoulder of a rather beautiful young man, despite the fading bruise above his right eye. “This,” Fury says, putting an undue amount of emphasis on the word, “is Anthony Stark. Anthony, James Rhodes. James, I’d like you to show him around a little. He’ll be in this class, and Miss Harvelle will be assigning you as his study partner. I trust you’ll be treating him well. That’ll be all, Mister Rhodes.” 

With that, and no explanation to boot, Fury turns and leaves. Typical. He had done the same thing to Clint when he had brought Natasha in, and she had barely spoken any English. He hopes this one speaks English. He knows this one speaks English. Everybody knows who Anthony Stark is - even though he usually goes by Tony in the tabloids. Maybe he goes by Anthony in everyday life though, James can’t assume. Just because somebody is tangentially famous because of who their Dad is doesn’t mean you know them, right? And, everybody has heard that Howard is kind of a dick - it’s all over social media. But, that’s not James’s business. 

“Tony,” the guy says, still not looking directly at James. 

“What?” James asks, startled. He hadn’t really been expecting Anthony to talk. Anthony’s eyes snap to him, and those pretty brown eyes are sharp, dangerous in their analysis and wow. It’s a lot of attention, a lot of terrible, awful attention. It might say something about James that he doesn’t quite mind it. 

“I prefer Tony. Where do you sit? If we have to sit together. Honestly, I don’t care. If he’s not seriously, I’d prefer to sit anywhere else,” Tony says, looking James up and down. James raises an eyebrow, shifting his bookbag on his shoulders. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, slightly defensive. Tony snorts. 

“You wear your bookbag on both shoulders, like a fuckin’ narc. You get assigned the new kid, like a fuckin’ narc. You wear a letterman, which means you play sports, which means you have cronies, which means not only are you able to get away with shit because you’re a narc, you’re a narc with backup. I’m not interested in being a chew toy. Count me out. I’m gonna go sit in the back with that kid who’s definitely high even though it’s second period, which means he definitely smoked between classes, because that’s a kid who isn’t a narc. See you around, quarterback,” Tony says, the bell ringing in perfect timing for him to slide into the seat next to Brock Rumlow. 

James doesn’t know what to think. 

“James, is there something you need? Please, take your seat,” Miss Harvelle requests from the doorway, and James hadn’t even noticed her come in, given his distraction. He clears his throat, but finds he has exactly nothing to say, thrown completely off kilter by that interaction. He slides into his own seat, the desk next to him empty, and he wonders what the fuck just happened to him in here on this day, really. Brock Rumlow laughs from two rows back, a barking laughter that James hears probably everyday because of just how little Brock cares about his classes and the reputation he holds with teachers, but it holds more of James’s attention this time. Because Tony is back there. A kid he just met. 

James turns his attention to the front of the classroom and doesn’t allow himself to look back there again for the rest of the class. Miss Harvelle doesn’t insist upon the study partners thing, not like Fury said she was going to, and James tries not to feel disappointed by that. It’s not because Tony is pretty or anything. James isn’t that easily distracted by a pretty face. He has enough to do today. 

He catches Tony after class anyway. With a tap on the shoulder, Tony follows him reluctantly to the stairwell that has emptied out for students heading en masse to the cafeteria. James thanks whomever for the small blessings of his life. 

“Hey, I think we got off on the wrong foot there. I don’t know what you think I’m gonna do to you, but I’m not a bad guy, Tony. You can ask anybody. Fury wants me to show you around, and you don’t seem that bad either. Maybe we could try again?” James offers, putting out his hand for a shake. Tony narrows his eyes, ignoring the hand to cross his arms. 

“I was really rude to you, Rhodes. What do you mean that I ‘don’t seem that bad?’ And maybe you just put on a good face, honeybear. Doesn’t mean you’re a good guy,” he says, looking smaller, actually, in his defensiveness. Something in James, something that he’s never had before because he’s never been an overprotective friend, not even of Pepper or Wanda, and never of Nat because she could fucking kill him with a spoon, but something in James wants to wrap him in a blanket and take him home to meet his mom. Something has made him damaged, and Jesus Christ, what is his fucking damage? 

“Come meet my friends, Tony. Come meet my friends, come sit at our table, and everything will be okay. Okay? I promise nobody will do whatever you’re thinking is gonna happen. You have my word,” James promises, looking in Tony’s eyes then. He tries to put as much of himself as he can into that eye contact, and he watches as something in Tony wants to believe him. He watches as that desperate kid wants to believe in something, anything, wanting to protect him and like him and get to know him, and he watches as Tony lets himself believe in it, even if just for a lunch period. Tony sighs, looking put upon, but somehow, James knows, James just knows, that he’s okay with this. 

“Alright, I’ll come with you. Don’t be a baby about it. I’ll come. Lead the way. I don’t know my way around quite yet, and you’re supposed to show me around anyway, right, Rhodes?” Tony says, his voice taking on a teasing note that isn’t half bad, and James grins. Not bad. He takes Tony’s wrist in his hand and guides him toward the cafeteria, leading him directly toward their table, not toward the line at all. 

“The food here is trash, and Thor always brings enough food for everybody, even extras, so you’ll be fine,” James promises, his hand still not having moved from Tony’s wrist, though now it was a little further down. His fingers are now wrapped around Tony’s palm without him having realized at all. He doesn’t remove them, just drags Tony over to meet his friends. 

“Rhodes! We’ve been waiting for you - Thor brought that kroppkakor shit you like, and he won’t let anyone else get into it until you have first dibs,” Bucky says from the table, perched on the side of Clint’s lap like he nearly always is. His legs are in Steve’s lap, who is also balancing Bruce on the side of his lap, like they can’t just sit in their own seats. Tony snorts derisively. 

“Even your friends call you Rhodes?” he asks, looking at the other boy incredulously. James raises an eyebrow. 

“Bucky over there, his first name is James too. Don’t want everybody getting confused on who is getting talked to, so it’s easier. Why? What would you call me?” James challenges, nudging his shoulder. The others, silenced by a newcomer, look on interestedly. Even Pietro and Wanda have stopped their usual squabbling to show their interest. 

“Isn’t it kinda obvious? Rhodey. Rhodeybear. Rhodey is the obvious take here,” Tony says, a bored front forced into his voice, but his hand is tense in James’s. Rhodey’s. Yeah, okay, he can see where that could work. That isn’t half bad. He tosses it around in his mind a little bit, and maybe his distraction is why he doesn’t notice Mary Jane Watson saddling up beside him, clipboard already out. 

“Come on, Rhodes, you and I have an interview to get to, and you’re already late. My photographer and dramatic artist are already in the interview room,” she says, grabbing him by the shoulder. He holds in a groan at the mention of who will be waiting. The photographer is fine, but the artist. Michelle Jones, one half of the dynamic duo (Mary Jane being the other) known as MJ&MJ, is the bane of pretty much every male’s existence. She hates guys, especially upperclassmen. 

“Come on, Tony, right? I heard you introduce yourself in English. Stay with us, okay? Let Rhodey do his interview. He’ll be fine. Stay,” he hears Clint coaxing, only then realizing the grip he still has on Tony’s hand, and the fact that Clint must have turned up his hearing aids to have heard a conversation in a full classroom at 9am at all. James lets go of Tony, but leans in to talk to him anyway. 

“You don’t have to stay with them, not if you don’t want to, but I think you should. They’ll like you. It’ll be okay,” Rhodey says gently, leaning in just a little too close, before MJ snags his arm. 

“Let’s go, Rhodes,” she says, and then they’re off. The interview goes about like he expects it to, with the prying questions he didn’t want to answer. He does fine on his braces, he’s not scared of the Bronx Hydra, their own team, Shield, plays good enough football that it’s fine even if Hydra wants to dry and play dirty. It’s not like they’re playing hockey and somebody can try to cut a tendon with their knife feet. He gets a laugh out of Parker with that one, which is always fun; the kid is just a freshman, and he just lost his uncle, so startling a laugh out of the kid is a point of pride. He and Rogers have been trying to get him to join the team - he’s small but he’s fast, they’ve seen him run from Thompson, as many times as they’ve tried to get him to stop giving him a reason to run - but he’s stubborn. 

“It’s been nice, kids, but I’ll be back to my friends now. Let me know when that’s hitting the paper,” Rhodey says as he leaves the newspaper room, which is really just one of the old conference rooms that Michelle bullied her way into keeping. He pretty much sprints back to the cafeteria and checks his phone on the way; ten minutes til the end of lunch. Awesome. 

“Hey Rhodey,” Tony greets him when he gets back, sitting between Bruce and Maximoff like he was born to be there. Rhodey laughs, shouldering Pietro sideways so that he can sit beside Tony, just because he wants to and just because he can. Snorting, the Sokovian takes no offense, just sliding closer to his sister like it was his idea in the first place. Pretty much all of them just move Pietro - he’s a wide receiver, tall, sure, but real thin, and light because of it, and even with his braces and Bucky’s arm, they’ve both carried Pietro on their shoulders a couple of hours each. 

“Hey Tony. Enjoying my kroppkakor?” he asks, because low and behold, Tony is already eating his kroppkakor, which Thor was supposed to be saving for him. Tony, who is proving to be a little shit, eats a forkful of it cheekily, grinning. 

“It is delicious, and did you know that Thor makes it himself? Yeah, his mom used to make it, but when his brother started poisoning him, you know, as a prank, Thor started making his own food so he could make it and store it in his room and always know where it was and be sure and stuff. Isn’t that so funny?” Tony asks, giggling. It sets James’s teeth on edge, and he leans in, sniffing Tony’s jacket. The smell there makes him want to go out to the back lot and knock Brock Rumlow’s block off. 

“Tony, are you stoned?” he asks, even though he knows the answer. Tony’s face goes dark. 

“Are you my fucking mom? Wait, no, ‘cause she’s in Argentina, just like she’s been for the last fucking month. Couldn’t even come home for me getting kicked out of school, could they? Never good enough or bad enough to fucking matter for a good goddamn, even when it’s not my fucking fault I’m getting kicked out, so why should you fucking care if I’m stoned, Rhodeybear? We just met this morning, partner. You’ll be fine,” Tony says, standing up roughly, patting Rhodey’s face. Every single person looks at James before any of them follow Tony, and it’s him and Clint that struggle out of their seats to do it. He looks at Clint, begging him with his eyes to sit back down, to which their archer complies. 

Great. One less thing to worry about. 

He catches Tony at the exit of the cafeteria, catches his arm and leads him over to an alcove that is relatively devoid of activity. He’s already decided on investment. He’s a man of commitment. So stay committed, Rhodes. See it through. 

“I fucking care, Tony. I fucking care because I’ve decided to care. It’s time to get good with that, alright?” he asks, crowding Tony against the wall, just a little bit. Tony leers up at him, a false smile taking over his face. 

“Is that what it is, Rhodes? Do you want something else from me?” Tony asks, scanning Rhodey up and down. Rhodey pushes down the impulse to be flustered, pushes down the impulse to say no, why would you say that?, pushes down the impulse to lie, and instead sighs. Smiles. He leans his head down, and looks at Tony honestly. 

“Maybe one day, when you’re not as fucked up, and I mean more than just sober, Tony. I don’t know what shit you’ve got going on, and I know it’s something - you don’t have to tell me, but you need to tell someone. My friends, they’re good people. You can tell them, you can go to a counselor, you can tell an adult, you can go to therapy, but anything but this, okay? I’ve known you for one day and I can see the self-destructive on you from a mile away. You need to tell somebody what’s eating at you, Tones,” Rhodey rambles, running his fingers along his short shorn hair, the speed across textured curls leaving a buzzing feeling in his fingertips. He’s nervous, maybe more than nervous, but it needs to be said. Tony looks like he’s been punched in the gut. 

“Jesus, Rhodes. Don’t hold anything back,” he says, coughing, “couldn’t have said that when I was sober?” 

“Maybe don’t get high in the middle of the school day then,” Rhodey quips, a huff of laughter escaping despite himself. The bell rings then, with Rhodey having eaten exactly nothing for lunch, with Tony still half high and neither of them at all prepared for the rest of the day, and that is the first time that James Rupert Rhodes skips class in his entire junior year of high school. He and Tony peel out of the high school in Tony’s obnoxious cherry red custom Ferrari, because of course he drives something terrible, and they go get lunch at the Avengers’ favorite diner. The Avengers is something that their friend group calls themselves, which is a story that gets told that afternoon. They exchange quite a few stories that afternoon. 

Tony comes down more as he eats more, and Rhodey tells stories to fill the space; he doesn’t want Tony’s trauma when he’s too out of his head to hold his jaw shut. Apparently, he had given Rumlow eighty fucking dollars for six consecutive hits off of his pipe. First of all, who hits a pipe six times in a row? Second of all, eighty goddamn dollars? James doesn’t fight. But Bucky and Sam sure as fuck do, Bucky boxes, metal arm or no, and Sam does whatever the fuck Sam does, and if James texts them underneath the table, that’s none of Tony’s business. He lets Tony Stark buy him a milkshake for skipping his fourth period (because apparently, that’s a separate offense from skipping third), and they have a nice afternoon. 

When the high has completely faded, Tony does tell him. 

“I was kicked out of my last school, a private school, for fighting. Howard paid to keep it out of the media, and paid enough to keep Jus- Hammer’s parents to keep from pressing charges. But, Rhodey, you gotta know, I didn’t fight anybody. Justin was my best friend. His… lackeys, they backed him up, they lied. Anything to get baby Stark kicked out, you know? I skipped a grade, fourth grade, and they never forgot it, still resented me, and I-” Tony is rambling and ranting, and Rhodey needs to get him back on track. He takes Tony’s hand from across a shitty diner booth, holds his hand across the table. 

“It’s okay, Tony. Just continue. Tell me what happened,” he encourages, his voice much calmer than he feels, because he has a feeling he knows where this is going. Tony still has a bruise on his face. He doesn’t know if he still has bruises anywhere else. 

“The night that Justin… decided we weren’t friends anymore, he punched me in the face. It wasn’t even that good of a punch, but it surprised me, you know? And, uh, two of his cronies were in our room, because me and J were roommates before I got kicked out and he let them in, but… yeah, he and they… beat the crap out of me, I don’t know. Lied about it. Really committed to it, you know? I thought Justin was… he was my friend, you know? God,” Tony says, shuddering. Rhodey squeezes his hand. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay. Everything is okay. You’re gonna have better friends now, Tony. Nothing like that is ever gonna happen again,” Rhodey promises, dipping his head to look Tony in the eyes. Tony smiles bitterly. 

“How do you know? You gonna follow me to college, Rhodes?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. Rhodey shrugs a shoulder, sitting back and splaying out confidently. 

“Depends, where do you wanna go?” 

[stilinskishit]

Too Long (A Stiles Stilinski Fanfic) - Chapter 7

**First couple of posts have a different title but I changed it because I didn’t like it :)**

Summary: Teen Wolf with a female main character alongside Scott and Stiles? Here it is. Ramie McCall is Scott’s twin sister and best friends with both her twin and Stiles. The trio’s friendship means the world to all three of them, so what happens when there are more than friend type of feelings present?

Tags: @multi-madison​​ @purple286 @multifandxm353​ @bralessandflawless

A/N: My second favorite teen wolf character is here a bit early :) This chapter is long as fuck and took me forever. I’m keeping to the basic storyline of the show but changing a few things up.

MASTERLIST

Chapter 7 - Formal

Season 1, Episode 8 + 9

Ramie, Stiles, and Scott had a test first period, during which Stiles and Scott took off in the middle of. Ramie tried to follow them, but Harris didn’t believe that all three of them had to use the bathroom at the same time, especially when he already didn’t trust the three of them to even sit near each other during class. Scott and Stiles thankfully came back and finished their tests, and Stiles explained after class that Scott had a panic attack because he was worked up over Allison. Stiles was acting like the night before hadn’t happened at all, and Ramie couldn’t decide if she was thankful or upset about that.

The rest of her classes before lunch Scott and Stiles weren’t in, so she tried her best to put any thought of the previous night out of her head. She found herself at lunch with Allison and Jackson, feeling oddly like a third wheel. Jackson was flirting with Allison hardcore, and Allison seemed to be completely oblivious. Ramie tuned them out until she heard Jackson nearly choke on his food.

“What?” Jackson was looking at Allison like she had four heads.

“Do you… want a bite?” Allison held out her sandwich.

“Oh, I’m okay,” Jackson looked down. “I thought you said something else.”

Ramie narrowed her eyes at him. He had been acting strange, first freaking out the other night at school, the scabs on the back of his neck, then freaking out over the word “bite.” Ramie as beginning to worry Jackson might be a lot more in tune with what was going on in Scott’s world than they thought. She wanted to tell Scott and Stiles, but the two were sitting at a different table across the lunch room, and she didn’t really feel good about leaving Allison and Jackson alone at the table together.

At the end of the school day, Ramie found Scott and Stiles in the hall heading out to lacrosse practice. They were in the middle of a conversation when she arrived, not noticing her behind them at first.

“Can you just, use your scent to see if you pick up on anything with someone?” Stiles was saying. “Like attraction, arousal, anything.”

“Attraction from who?” Ramie butted in, stepping between them then turning back to face them. They both jumped at her sudden arrival.

“Lydia!” Stiles nearly yelled.

“No, Ramie,” Ramie pointed at herself, teasing Stiles.

“No, I mean I’m talking about Lydia,” Stiles stuttered. “Seeing if she likes me.”

“Yeah, I’ll ask,” Scott said, giving the two of them a weird smirk before walking towards Lydia, who was a bit down the hall pulling books from her locker and putting them in her bag. Ramie saw Scott ask Lydia something, then the two of them went into Coach’s office to talk.

“You coming to practice?” Stiles asked suddenly, breaking the silence between the two of them. Ramie looked up at him but broke eye contact almost immediately, unable to get over the awkward feeling between the two of them.

“Nah, I have to write a paper,” Ramie nodded, tugging on her backpack straps. “Gonna go to a coffee shop and try to finish it up. You’re gonna come over to help Scott with the full moon right?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Stiles nodded.

“See you later then,” Ramie gave him a small smile before turning on her heel and walking quickly away, desperate to get out of being alone with him. As upset as she was about Stiles saying their kiss didn’t matter, part of her wished it never happened at all. Things were weird between them, which is what she always feared. She never told him her feelings because she didn’t want things to be weird. And now things were exactly that.

…

Ramie ended up spending the whole afternoon writing her paper at a coffee shop near school and got home just as it got dark. Her mom’s car was gone, but Stiles’ jeep was in the driveway. She opened the front door and immediately heard yelling from upstairs.

“You can’t tell her Scott,” Stiles was yelling. “She’s like, the one girl. My one girl.”

“And what if I do Stiles,” Scott’s voice sounded strange, almost robotic and sinister. “She would laugh in your face if she knew. She would never like you.”

“What is going on up here,” Ramie yelled, running up the stairs. She found Stiles sitting on the floor outside Scott’s door, leaning against the wall and looking upset. He glanced at her then turned his head into the room, telling Scott to shut up, even though Scott wasn’t saying anything at the time. Ramie walked past Stiles and looked into Scott’s room, finding him handcuffed to the heater.

“Full moon precautions?” Ramie glanced down at Stiles. He nodded, not looking up at her. She sighed and slid down the wall on the other side of Scott’s door. She could hear him struggling to get out of the handcuffs, but ignored him, knowing it was just to keep him and everyone else safe.

“Stop being a bitch about Lydia,” Ramie said towards Scott, not looking into the room.

“Stiles is just so in love with her,” Scott muttered, making Ramie’s heart twang. “I don’t think he’ll ever have feelings for any other girl. It would be ridiculous for any girl other than Lydia to even think about being with him.”

Ramie started at her hands in her lap. It was almost like Scott was saying these things specifically to hurt her. More clanging came from the room, Scott obviously still struggling against the handcuffs.

“Don’t listen to him, he’s been like this all night, it’s the full moon,” Stiles said from next to her. She could feel his eyes on her but she didn’t look up, just continued to look at her hands. Suddenly there was a loud crash and Stiles and Ramie stood up quickly, running into each other as they tried to enter Scott’s room. However, it was too late. Scott had torn out of the handcuffs and took off out the window.

“Shit,” Stiles muttered. “Should we follow him?”

Ramie moved to the window, sticking her head out of it. The street was empty and quiet, Scott was nowhere to be found.

“Can’t follow him if we can’t find him,” she sighed, sitting back on Scott’s bed. Stiles groaned.

“I’ll go drive around and see if I can find him,” Stiles said, grabbing his keys off Scott’s desk. “Wanna come?"

“Uh, I can’t,” Ramie lied. “Gotta finish my paper.”

Stiles nodded at her, moving towards the door. She got up and followed him out of Scott’s room quickly, saying goodbye to him before going into her own room. They both agreed they would let the other know if either of them saw Scott. Ramie sat in her room the rest of the night, watching Netflix since her paper was actually finished, and tried to not think about the previous night and Scott’s words from earlier. Even though he was probably right. Stiles had the biggest crush on Lydia forever and Ramie told herself she needed to get over her crush on Stiles. Formal was coming up and she figured she could get over Stiles if she found someone else to go with.

She was about to text Lydia and ask if she knew anyone that could take her when she heard the front door open, and voices coming upstairs. One was Scott and the other sounded like Derek. Ramie’s door was closed, the door on her side of the bathroom was open and Scott’s side was open a crack, so she could hear the conversation happening in Scott’s room. Scott was asking Derek if there was a cure to the bite. Derek told Scott that the only cure he had ever heard of was he had to kill the alpha that bit him, aka the huge creature that was chasing them through the school the other night. And Derek didn’t even know if that cure was real.

Ramie was in the middle of texting Stiles that Scott was home safe when she heard Derek walk past her door. Without thinking, she got up quickly, quietly following Derek downstairs. She snuck out the front door, closing it slowly behind her so Scott wouldn’t hear.

“Derek, wait,” she called, running down the walkway to the driveway. Derek was standing outside of his car, the door open but not yet inside.

“You’re lucky I saved your idiot brother’s ass,” Derek told her, closing the car door and leaning against it.

“I’m not here to thank you,” Ramie mimicked his posture, crossing her arms at him. “I wanted to ask you something, a favor.” Derek raised his eyebrows at her, glancing up towards Scott’s window.

“A favor you don’t want Scott to know about?” He questioned. Ramie sighed, following Derek’s gaze. She nodded.

“I want you to teach me how to protect myself,” She tore her gaze away from Scott’s window, meeting Derek’s eyes. He raised his eyebrows at her again. “I know I don’t have wolf powers or anything like that, but I feel so helpless in every situation this shit gets me into. You’re much better at fighting than Scott and I’m sure some is experience and some has to do with wolf powers but-“

“I know some things about hand to hand combat,” Derek shrugged. “Self-defense kind of stuff.” Ramie nodded excitedly.

“Can we just not mention it to Scott or Stiles? I know if they find out they’ll freak out about it and not want me involved.”

“They want to keep you safe,” Derek told her.

“I know, but I want to keep myself safe too,” she fired back. Derek looked like he was considering things.

“Fine,” Derek said, opening his car door again. “Meet me at my house at 6am tomorrow. We’ll train for an hour or so and you can get back home before Scott wakes up.” He closed his car door before saying anything else, backing out of the driveway and driving down the dark street.

…

The next day felt like it went on forever. Ramie got up early to train with Derek, had school, then later that night found herself in a car chase with Scott, Stiles and Derek. The cops were after Derek, thinking he was the murderer from the school, and the Argents were also after him. When Ramie, Scott and Stiles diverted the Argents by driving Dereks’ car, and once they picked up Derek, making sure he evaded the police, they learned that Derek was sure he was close to catching the alpha. After that, it was an extremely awkward ride home shoved in the backseat of Derek’s tiny car, practically on top of Stiles, due to there barely being any space. Ramie was thankful that night to be in bed, her body sore from her training and her mind racing from being in the middle of a car chase, and from being so close to Stiles for the whole drive.

Their next step was stealing Allison’s necklace. Her necklace had some sort of symbol on it that Derek needed to see. Ramie said she wouldn’t steal from her friend, saying she refused to get in the middle of Scott and Allison.

“Just ask her if you can borrow it,” Stiles was saying as the three of them walked into school the next morning.

“How?”

“Easy, just say hey Allison, can I borrow this?” Ramie encouraged.

“Just need to see if there’s anything on it, or in it, that might help me figure out how to kill an Alpha werewolf so I can get back together with you,” Stiles continued, shrugging as if it was simple. Scott raised his eyebrows.

“Just talk to her,” Ramie said.

“I can’t,” Scott whined.

“So steal it,” Stiles shrugged again.

“I can’t do that either,” Scott threw his hands up, defeated. “What if she only takes it off in the shower or something.”

“That’s why you ease back into it, remind her of your good times,” Stiles stopped, turning to Scott, who was looking dreamily at nothing in particular. Ramie furrowed her eyebrows at him, her brother clearly not listening. Stiles shoved him on the chest. “You’re thinking about her in the shower aren’t you.”

Scott smirked, giving a dreamy nod. Stiles scoffed and Ramie pulled a fake gagging noise, turning to continue walking down the hallway.

“Men,” Ramie rolled her eyes as she heard the two boys following after her, mumbling at each other.

“Hey, it’s not just me,” Scott was saying. “Stiles just told me the other day he had a dream about-“ Scott didn’t get the chance to finish as Stiles shoved him, pushing him into the lockers. Ramie turned to the two of them, Scott a smirk on his face and Stiles looking at Scott like he could kill him, his cheeks red.

“I don’t wanna know,” Ramie shook her head, turning and walking to her first class, leaving the bickering boys behind.

…

Ramie’s classes for that day were different from Scott and Stiles, so she didn’t see them until school had ended, when Scott asked Ramie to spy on Allison and Jackson with him. Ramie was hesitant, Allison being her friend, but Scott was pretty upset about Allison breaking up with him, and she decided she needed to put her brother first. She found Scott not so subtly sulking on the bleachers above the pool, staring down at Jackson and Allison, who were swimming laps together. Ramie sat down next to her brother as he pulled open the backpack in front of him. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Is that,” she started, but Scott gave her a death glare. She lowered her voice. “Is that Allison’s bag?”

Scott nodded, rummaging around in the pockets while Ramie looked around, making sure no one was watching to two of them. Ramie huffed at him but didn’t stop him, moving her eyes down to Allison and Jackson in the pool, who were playfully splashing each other. She could tell Scott was not happy about how flirty Jackson was towards Allison.

“Jackson knows,” Scott mumbled, opening another pocket of Allison’s bag. “Knows?”

“About me,” Scott continued. Ramie nodded, not pushing further. She wasn’t surprised. Jackson was conniving and knew practically everything about everyone, which he usually used to his advantage. “He was talking to me today in the lunch room, whispering. He knew I could hear him.”

“He’s a dick,” Ramie said, glaring towards him even though Jackson was preoccupied with with Allison.

“It’s not here,” Scott sighed, closing Allison’s bag.

“You need to just talk to her,” Ramie told her brother, who was about to protest when Ramie’s phone rang. It was Stiles, telling her he was by her locker waiting to bring her home. Stiles was planning on convincing Danny to trace the text Ramie and Allison got on the night that they almost got killed by the alpha, and Ramie had, of course, agreed to help him. Ramie again told Scott to talk to Allison before heading down the stairs towards the hallway to her locker.

She found Stiles playing on his phone, leaned up against the locker next to hers. She couldn’t help but look him over as she approached. He was wearing black jeans and a muted blue flannel over a white tee, not an abnormal outfit for him, but Ramie thought he looked particularly good on that day. He glanced up and Ramie tried to look like she hadn’t been staring, giving him a small smile.

“Hey Raim, ready to-“ Stiles started, before a voice cut him off.

“Ramie,” The voice came from behind her. A tall boy with curly light brown hair stepped out of the classroom she had just walked by. Isaac Lahey, he was in their grade and in most of Ramie’s classes. He was quiet but sweet, and Ramie always thought he was pretty cute. She knew him casually, but she never talked to him outside of class. “Can I talk to you?”

Ramie glanced towards Stiles, who had his eyes narrowed at the two of them. She looked back at Isaac, who was looking at his feet.

“Stiles I’ll meet you at the jeep, okay?” Ramie said to Stiles, who opened his mouth but Ramie gave his a death glare and he closed it again. He huffed but turned down the hallway, leaving Ramie and Isaac alone.

“What’s up Isaac,” Ramie asked, continuing her walk down the hall as he followed, stopping beside her when she got to her locker.

“I was just wondering,” Issac said quietly, Ramie having to listen hard to hear him. “Did you have any plans to go to the dance this weekend?”

Ramie shoved her books in her bag, closing her locker and turning to Isaac, who was still looking at his feet. She hadn’t thought much about the dance, with everything going on she forgot it was so soon.

“I’m sure Lydia will drag me there as she usually does,” Ramie laughed, and Isaac giggled with her. He glanced up, meeting her eyes for a second. He had a soft smile on his face, and Ramie couldn’t help but grin back at him.

“Well I was wondering, maybe we could go together?” Isaac asked, breaking eye contact again and fiddling with the straps on his backpack. “If you wanted to, it’s okay if not.”

“I’d love to,” Ramie said, surprising herself. She had been hoping Stiles would ask her, but she knew deep down there wasn’t a chance of that happening. Isaac was sweet and certainly attractive, so she decided to take the chance with him.

“Really?” Isaac asked, his eyes meeting hers. He looked surprised, though Ramie wasn’t sure why. She always thought that if Isaac was more social he would probably be a hit with any girl or guy in school. He was more the type to purposefully blend in, though. Ramie nodded at him, and smile spread across his face.

“Awesome, okay, cool,” He stuttered. Ramie’s face felt hot, he really was cute. “Can I get your number? We can plan everything out and whatever.”

Ramie put her number in Isaac’s phone and gave him a quick hug before heading out to the parking lot to meet Stiles. She hopped into the front seat of the jeep and buckled up, glancing over at Stiles when she realized he wasn’t starting the car. His eyes were fixed on her, looking confused.

“What?” She asked, almost defensively.

“What are you grinning about? What did Lahey want?”

“Okay detective Stilinski, calm down,” she raised her hands at him as he questioned her.  Stiles just continued to look at her.

“Issac asked me to the dance this weekend,” she said casually, looking down at her phone to find a text from Isaac and saving his number.

“And you said?” Stiles questioned again.

“I said yes,” Ramie shrugged. Stiles was silent. She glanced over at him and his eyes were straight ahead, staring out the windshield.

“I didn’t know you were going,” Stiles said after a minute.

“Well Lydia usually drags me along to those things and I figured it would be nice to not third wheel for once,” Ramie told him, not making eye contact. “Isaac’s sweet, he’s in a bunch of my classes.”

“Yeah, he’s on the team,” Stiles grumbled, finally starting up the jeep.

“So you like him, he’s nice?”

“I don’t really know him,” Stiles said. “I’ve heard from other people he has a thing for you.”

“Really?” Ramie looked toward Stiles, who simply nodded. His jaw was clenched. She wondered if Isaac had played more than Stiles or something, which could be why Stiles didn’t seem to like him. She didn’t press him any further the rest of the way home, and didn’t have a chance to bring it up again once they got back to the Stilinski’s, since Derek had shown up in Stiles’ room, still hiding from the police. Stiles explained to Derek that Scott was still trying to get Allison’s necklace, but they were also going to try to trace the texts Ramie and Allison received. When Danny showed up he was not impressed that Stiles’ told him he looked up his arrest records to find out that Danny would be able to trace the texts.

“I was 13, the charges were dropped,” He stood over Stiles, who was sitting at his desk chair. Ramie was pretending to read on his bed while Derek flipped through a book, sitting in the chair in the corner, a permanent scowl on his face. Stiles made a noise and shrugged, clearly not caring about Danny’s charges and only caring about the text being traced. “We’re doing lab work.”

Stiles gave an annoyed look towards Ramie who shrugged, mouthing at him to keep trying. Stiles rolled his eyes, turning back to the computer.

“Who’s he again?” Danny asked, pointing towards Derek.

“My cousin,” Stiles glanced at Derek. “Miguel.”

Derek’s head slowly raised to glare at Stiles, and Ramie bit her lip to hold back a laugh.

“Is that blood on his shirt?” Danny whispered.

“He gets bad nose bleeds,” Stiles nodded. Ramie snorted and attempted to cover it with a cough. “I thought I told you you could borrow a shirt, Miguel.”

Derek got up, slamming the book closed and throwing it on the bed, it smacking Ramie’s leg, her giving him a glare. He ignored her, walking over to Stiles’ dresser. Stiles was trying to get Danny to give in on tracing the text while Derek pulled off his shirt, throwing in on the floor. Ramie shameless looked over his back muscles and she caught Danny doing the same. Stiles looked between the two of them, sighing.

“Stiles,” Derek said. “This, no fit.”

“Then try something else,” Stiles spat back. He looked back and forth between Danny, who was staring, and Derek. Derek pulled on a different shirt. “Hey, that one looks pretty good, huh? What do you think Danny?”

Danny nodded, mumbling that it looked fine. The shirt was incredibly tight on Derek, looking like it was made for a child. Ramie had to pull her book over her face to keep from laughing.

“It’s not really his color,” Danny said as Derek pulled the shirt off.

“You swing for a different team but you still play ball, don’t you Danny boy,” Stiles said, turning back towards the computer.

“You’re a horrible person,” Danny shook his head.

“I know it keeps me awake at night, anyway, about that text.”

“Stiles!” Derek nearly yelled. “None of these fit.”

Stiles slowly turned back to Danny, who looked between Derek and Stiles. He sighed, pulling the laptop away from Stiles.

“I’ll need the ISP, phone number and exact time of text,” Danny said, beginning to type. Stiles threw both of his arms in the air in celebration, turning to Ramie and sending her a wink. Fifteen minutes later Danny had uncovered that the text was actually sent from a computer, which wasn’t even the strangest part. The computer was registered under Ramie’s mom, Melissa, it had come from her computer at the hospital. When they found this out Ramie had immediately left Stiles’, going home to see if her Mom was there so she could ask her about the text. She unfortunately, wasn’t home.

Ramie waited awhile to see if she would show up, but it got to be too late and Ramie had to head to the school for the lacrosse game. She didn’t want to miss it, since Stiles was actually supposed to be playing. She found a seat in the stands by herself, Lydia had told her she wouldn’t be there, which was strange, but Ramie didn’t get the chance to ask why after the afternoon she had had with Derek and Stiles. She searched the bench for Stiles, since the game was about to start, but he was nowhere to be found. She made eye contact with Isaac, who waved and gave her a huge grin, and as she watched him take the field, she forgot about Stiles for a few minutes.

[lixxen]

Part Three Scrap

So I uh,,,, started to write a third part of my dinner series but ended up hating it. This is literally all I wrote before I threw ideas at a group chat and had them help me decide. This is literally it. I stopped mid sentence. Here we go:

-----

3

--

“Do you want to move in with me?”

Y/n looked up from the laptop on his lap and blinked at Aaron.

“Really?” Y/n felt a nervous bubble in his stomach. He was nervous in a good way.

“Of course. I think we’ve been together long enough to know that we won’t absolutely kill one  another when we’re under the same house. You practically live in my house and I don’t see a reason not to. Especially with everything with…” Aaron waved slightly, trying to motion towards an unspoken entity. “Coming back and trying to reach out.”

Y/n nodded and smiled.

“I would love to move in with you, Aaron.” Y/n placed his laptop onto the table and moved to sit on Aaron’s lap. He wrapped his arms around him and placed a kiss on Aaron’s lips. “You’ll be here to protect me.”

“Of course I will.” Aaron smiled up to Y/n.

-

Reid walked into Garcia’s office, bumping the door open with his hip as he juggled a bag and two cups of coffee.

“Why’re you here so early?” Reid asked with a small yawn. “And why did you call me?”

“You met Y/n first, right? You’re also his age almost.” Garcia asked, looking up to Reid as he placed down the cups and the bag that she now recognized as a food bag.

“Yeah. He was pretty nice to me. Why? What’s up?” Reid frowned and fished out their breakfast from the bag.

“Well, I got curious, you know? What his life was like. Who he was growing up and who he is now.” Garcia explained as she started to type into her computer. “I found out his father died when he was 18, a seizure. He visits his mom a lot. He has two siblings. He’s a radio host during the hours of 2pm to 7pm, and sometimes is the host from 3am to 6am.”

“Okay? That’s some pretty normal stuff.” Reid gave Garcia a confused look before focusing on her screen. It showed his records in school.

“The thing is though, while I was going through his school records, it showed that he was a perfect student. Like, amazingly perfect. He even was in swimming and cross country. He got a full ride to college, he had chosen to major in Criminology. He got into the nice private university in his city with his full ride. Passed his classes with flying colors.” Garcia then pointed farther down in his transcripts. “But suddenly he had two gap years. He disappears from the system and even loses his scholarships. Odd, right?”

“That’s really weird.” Reid leaned forward. “Why was that?”

“Well, my amazing genius,” Garcia pulled up headlines and medical records. “He was hospitalized and went on trial. You know the movie Scream? Well, someone tried to reenact the movie in real life. Him and his friends were all butchered and maimed. He was one of four to survive. Surprisingly, there were twelve people killed. Including the two unsubs.”

“Why did he go to trial then?” Reid asked, looking to Garcia. “The unsubs were killed.”

“They were killed in self defence.” Garcia pointed to the article. “‘Two college students murder ten, injure four. One survivor saves the others by taking out the killers.’ He stabbed one of them in the chest and he and the other unsub fell over the balcony and he landed on top of the second one. The second one was already hurt so the fall basically did the rest.”

“Holy shit… so they tried to convict him?” Reid was gobsmacked by this.

“The family of the unsubs tried to pin it on him at first, but the other three backed him up and so did the cameras in the house. They then tried to get him for the murders of the unsubs but it was ruled out for self defense. He was in the hospital for three months like the others before they went to trial.” Garcia pulled up the medical records. “The surviving victims were all cut up and almost gutted. Thankfully the unsubs couldn’t finish before they were overpowered. The wounds were too shallow.”

“Holy shit… do you think Hotch knows?” Reid was staring at the medical records, taking it in.

“I don’t know in all honesty. This was before all of us came together. Y/n was only 20 at the time.” Garcia then let out a small oh before typing again in the computer. “But, if he doesn’t already know, he will know soon. A letter was sent to the police a week ago claiming that there was a third unsub and that they want revenge for their partners dying.”

“We should go to Hotch about this. Or at least the team.” Reid stood up.

“We should only bring it up to Hotch. If he wants us to see if we can step in, then he will see.” Garcia turned in her chair towards Reid. “This is a closed case and they might not open it up. For all we know it is a fake note.”

“True.

------------------------

Let me know if you guys would like to have a one shot based off of this idea. I still really like it (I love Scream), but I just didn’t like the flow.

[regular-nessian-trash]

It’s Vegas, Baby - Chapter II

Summary: Nesta goes out to the store and so does Cassian. Classic Nesta, she thinks he’s stalking her. Trust me it’s more interesting than it sounds lol(I hope)

Word Count: 2k

A/N: I'm back on my grind yall *sunglasses emoji*

Nicknames:

Feyby- Feyre(its supposed to be like feyre and baby put together cause shes the baby of the family)

Nestella- Nesta(its supposed to be nesta and nutella. u will learn more later;)

Tiny Ancient One- Amren(kinda self explanatory)

Mor Boobiez Plz- Mor(idk i just thought it was funny lol)

"I'm home!" Nesta calls out to Feyre. She can smell pizza and instantly strides towards the kitchen, where she finds Feyre with a large cheese pizza still in the box, half-eaten.

"Finally! I was beginning to wonder if you and Cassian finally acknowledged the sexual tension between yourselves and fucked."

"Feyre! That is not appropriate to say at all! Cassian and I are barely colleagues, we will never be anything so stop with your meddling!" Nesta replied, trying to will down a bright red blush. Feyre and her boyfriend, Rhys, had this insane idea that she and Cassian were made for each other, it didn't help that Cassian was constantly flirting with her either.

"We're back!" Mor and Amren had just gotten home from some party, with Mor holding Duchess, their shared Chinese Crested Dog. When the four of them bought a penthouse together Feyre and Mor wanted a dog, and Nesta and Amren didn't. After begging and pleading with her sister and friend to please give him away after they adopted him they finally decided to just lock her, Amren, and Duchess in a room together. They all became friends, and they found out that Duchess was, in fact, a boy. They had been calling him Duchess for too long, though, so when they called him Duke he wouldn't reply so the name just stuck. When the rest of their inner circle found out-"the rest" being Cassian, Azriel, and Rhys- they didn't stop teasing them for days. In their defense, he had a very small you-know-what and he was a very ladylike boy.

"Bring my baby boy to me! Oh I wove you so much you wittle cutie pie!" Feyre was letting Duchess lick her face, making Nesta gag. Sure she loved the dog, but seriously, he licks his butt.

"Ugh, Mor, your cousin is working me to the bone! And he won't stop trying to push me and Cassian together! He thinks he can push us together just cause we “have hella sexual tension”! Also, I was thinking about this last night, Rhys is dating Feyre and if I'm Feyres sister and he's Cassians brother, that's literally incest!"

"You know they aren't actually brothers, right? They're just best friends." Mor replied, trying not to laugh at Nesta's flustered expression. She put down Duchess and reached for a slice of pizza. Everyone knew that it was just a matter of time before Nesta and Cassian got together. Nesta and Mor were the only single people in the house, not including Duchess. And Mor was just recently dumped so she was in a big love life meddling mood. Amren was dating some guy named Varian, and Feyre... Well, let's just say that it's a miracle that she's here right now and not out getting nailed by Rhys.

"I know that, but still. They refer to themselves as brothers."  

"So you're saying that if they didn't call themselves brothers you would have sex with Cassian! I knew it!"

"No, Feyre, I am not saying that! Besides, he flirts with everyone so even if I was into him- which I am not - we probably wouldn't become a thing."

"Keyword being probably." Mor says with a smirk.

"Enough of all this bickering, I'm hungry and bored so someone turn on the T.V. while I make some popcorn." Amren quickly breaks them up before Nesta tears off someone's head.

~~~~~

Cassian pulled up at the townhouse he shared with his brothers. All the lights were turned off which meant that Az was sleeping, or not home. The former was more likely because Az usually got pizza on his rest nights and there were three cold slices of meat lovers pizza left. Cassian was so hungry, he ended up eating them cold. He fought back a moan at how delicious the pizza was. He would never understand how Nesta was able to be a vegetarian. Shit. He had been such a dick to Nesta earlier. She was genuinely concerned about him and he had just pushed her away.

Cassian pulled out his phone and checked instagram. Mor had posted a photo of her and Amren with their dog, Duchess, at a party. He didn’t know if he should laugh or cry at the fact that a misgendered dog had a better social life than he did.

~~~~~

“Ugh, Feyre, Tomas and his little gang showed up at work last night.” Nesta and Feyre were chilling in the kitchen, the latter making a breakfast spread that would put Disney Channel moms to shame. Amren and Mor were nursing killer hangovers, so Feyre made sure to bang around a ton in the kitchen.

“Again? A-fucking-gain? Nuthin new, nuthin changed? Same old shit. Same old fuckin shit.” Feyre replied, forgetting that Nesta had no idea what that reference meant.

“I told them to leave and that I almost had the money to pay them back, but Tomas just slapped my ass and said ‘sEe YoU oN yOuR nExT sHiFt’ then he got up and left.”

“You do realize that we could end all of this by just telling Rhys? I know you have this whole thing about your pride and shit, but we could tell Rhys and he could pay off all your debts to him.”

“Feyre, I appreciate it, but I need to fight my own battles. I got myself into this mess, so I sure as hell can get myself out of it. Plus, I don’t like the idea of feeling like I owe my current employer money.”

“Nesta, sweetie, I love you… BUT YOU NEED TO PUT YOUR DAMN PRIDE TO THE SIDE FOR LIKE, TWO SECONDS AND ACCEPT HELP!”

“FEYRE-”

“Okay, can we yell about Nesta's issues at some time other than 6am? Also, is that bacon I smell?” Mor walked in holding her head and wearing one of Nesta's sweatshirts with some leggings.

“Yes, fattie. And it’s like, 10:30.” Feyre slapped Mor's hand away from a stack of pancakes cooling on the countertop.

“And I do not have any issues, Mor. I’m not the one that went partying with a dog last night.”

“Nesta, that is exactly the reason why you have issues. If you went partying with Duchess, maybe you would loosen up a bit. God knows you need it.”

“Brat.” Nesta threw a piece of toast at Mor's head.

“Thanks! Hey, Feyre, pass the butter.” Feyre slid the butter across the counter and cursed loudly when it just slid on the floor at Mor's feet. Facedown.

“Really, Feyre?” Nesta said in an exasperated tone.

“I’m sorry! I thought she would catch it!”

“That was our last stick of butter, you absolute dingbat!” Nesta sighed and picked up the keys to her car.

“Where are you going?” Mor asked, ever the worried friend thinking she had caused a family feud.

“To the store. We need more milk and eggs anyways. Tell me if you guys are gonna go out while I’m gone.” Nesta walked out the door of their spacious apartment and made her way over to the elevator, pressing the ground level button. She stormed over to her car, got in, and slammed the door shut. On her way to the store, she noticed that one of the local book stores was having a sale. She tried to ignore the voice in her head telling her that she had piles of unread books in her room, and all over the other communal areas of the apartment. She would just pop in after picking up the groceries. No big deal. She could restrain herself. Maybe.

~~~~    

Cassian woke up and made his way down the stairs towards the kitchen at 10am.

Hey sorry don’t be mad but here’s the shopping list. I had to go out.

~Azriel

“Unbelievable.” Cassian sighed and picked up the piece of paper attached to Azriel's little note and crumpled it up. Then he uncrumpled it because he remembered he needed to see what it said. Cassian walked up to his room and threw on a sweatshirt, some slip-on vans, and grabbed his keys. He couldn’t remember why they decided to share groceries. He wanted to in the beginning, but now that he woke up without any food in the house because his brothers had eaten all of it he was thinking or re-evaluating that decision. Cassian slid into his car and made his way to the store.

~~~~

When Nesta pulled up at the store she checked her phone and saw that Feyre had sent her a text while she was driving.

Feyby*: heyyyyyyyyy nes can you pleeeeeeeeeease get me some chocolate while you’re out :)?

Nestella*: k. anything else? im walking in now by the way

Feyby: nope! thank you love you! :)

Nestella: love you too

Nesta made her way towards the dairy aisle and picked up some 2% milk, a pack of four sticks of butter, and eggs. She quickly walked over to the candy aisle and began studying all her options, she took candy selecting very seriously.

“Nes?”

~~~~

Cassian walked into the store and quickly picked up all the stuff on the list. Once he got to the last few items written he realized he wanted ice-cream for a movie night with the boys. He walked over to the dairy aisle and picked up a tub of cookies n’ cream right when Nesta Archeron stormed past him towards the candy aisle. He followed her because, well, he wanted to talk to her. But he needed to act like he wasn't stalking her cause she might yell at him.

“Nes?”

“Mother Above, Cassian! You scared the shit out of me don’t you dare do that ever again!”

Oh well.

“How did you not hear me coming? Are you really that focused on chocolate?”

“I’m selecting some chocolate for Feyre, and she is very picky so I was focused on reading what the ingredients were in each bar.” She seemed to have recovered from the scare because she just grabbed a random chocolate bar and stormed past him.

“Obviously you don’t care that much if you’re willing to just grab a random bar and walk away!” Cassian yelled at Nesta. Some other shoppers began to stare at him so he quickly said “Don’t worry, we work together. I know her, I’m not some random creep haha.” That just got him more strange looks though so he just made his way towards self-checkout and paid for the items and skirted outta there.

~~~~

Nesta was so embarrassed while walking away from Cassian. People were staring at her! Ugh, Cassian needs to learn to not yell in public places. She walked over to her car after checking out and loaded her groceries into the boot. She needed a black iced coffee stat. Nesta began the quick drive to one of the local coffee shops and once she arrived she quickly sent the girls a text letting them know where she was.

Nestella: hey bitches im getting coffee you hoes want anything

Feyby: i want a mocha frappe pleeease              

Tiny Ancient One*: just get me a black americano girl

Mor Boobiez Plz*: i wanna iced coffee with whipped cream and caramel

Nestella: okay for everyone except Mor cause wtf that's not even an item on the menu

Mor Boobiez Plz: it is i swear! just ask them for it they did it when i asked!

Nestella: fine

“What can I get for you?” The guy working the register asked in a very monotone voice.

“One black iced coffee, one black americano, one mocha frappe, and one iced coffee with whipped cream and caramel sauce.”

“We don’t do that last one-” Nesta gave him a withering glare and he immediately changed his mind on what he was about to say.

“Those will be ready soon ma’am. Can I get a name for the order?”

“Nesta. Thank you.” Nesta walked over to the opposite side of the counter to wait while their coffee was being prepared.

“That was quite impressive the way you scared him into doing what you wanted him to, Sweetheart.”

“Cassian! Are you stalking me? Go away.”

“I’m not stalking you, I’m just here to get some coffee.” He smirked at her and picked up a latte that was set down beside him. He took a sip and looked Nesta up and down before smirking and saying “Hot.” he winked at her and left before she could yell at him. If he was being honest the coffee was actually the perfect temperature, but he just loved getting under Nesta Archerons skin.    

[pbgvparty]

Sometimes my mornings are chaotic

Yesterday morning, I took Rowan for our usual walk at 6AM (Approx. 1.5 miles). Usually we walk earlier, but I slept in a few minutes. As a result, there were kids waiting for the bus across the street.

As I'm walking, one of the kids yells "Hey, you like big booty bitches?!". Im sorry, what the fuck? Its 6AM dude. I hear a second boy laughing and egging the first one on, and the first repeats the question. I tell him to fuck off, he gets louder and starts saying more inappropriate crap. I tell him to cut the shit and that his parents must be so proud. Rowan goes into defense mode/scary dog bark, but remains by my side since we're across 4 lanes of road.

This morning, I'm walking and deciding how to handle the situation if it happens again. Its the same time of day, same route. Non-emergency police line to report harrassment? Certainly an option if needed.

So, as Rowan and I are walking, the same boy starts playing porno audio on his phone at full volume. So, I cross the street towards him and say good morning. He gets flustered, and I ask him if he was the one yelling yesterday morning. He goes "What?!". Dude, dont play stupid. I ask him again, and he says "Yeah but it was a joke".

Dude I literally heard that every day in middle and high school while being bullied.

So, I ask him what school he goes to "I dont want to tell you". Okay, can I talk to your parents? "Look, Im sorry, it was a joke!" Harrassment isn't a joke. I inform him and his buddy that Ill be waiting for the school bus with them, and we can go from there.

They both start freaking out. "Its a substitute bus driver! I wont do it again! Im sorry!" I tell them their apology is nothing, and that I'll be waiting for the bus.

Hoo boy, that bus driver was PISSED when I told him what happened. I didnt let the boys on until I told the driver what happened, and the expression on his face was both disappointment and anger. He thanked me for letting him know and told me he'd radio in to the school to let administration know.

Those boys were freaking out and rightfully so. They didnt think there'd be a consequence to their actions.

Welcome to the world boys. If they pull this crap again next week, Ill report it to the bus driver again and ask what school they attend so I can call it in myself. Beyond that, its the non-emergency police line.

After that, Rowan and I finished our walk uneventfully. I refuse to change my schedule or route because of some poorly behaved individuals.

[thedailychalkboard]

When The Bird Comes Home To Roost

Here we are again, another Thanksgiving of cooking, crowds and cleats. The last item on this list is a nod towards those readers who happen to be football fans- which, by the way, I am not. Call me un-American but I can find infinitely more on TV to shout at than a field full of muscle bound millionaires working diligently to give each other a concussion. I’d rather read a book or have a meaningful conversation with a mime than spend time entranced and        infuriated by a sport.  Although I do have to admit it has become much more interesting as the politics of it all recently became the national rage.

My type of sport, and what I find fun, is going bat shit rogue at freestyle riffing in a game called metaphor. There’s something about relating human traits for being outlandishly absurd to things found in nature that have absolutely no connection to one another. Okay I’ll admit, like fruitcake, this is an acquired taste. The ironic thing is we all do it all the time. We just don’t realize it, or if we do, just don’t give it much thought.

So armed with my weird, quirky, and somewhat obtuse sense of sarcastic humor, I'm here to ruin your Thanksgiving Day. No really.  Many of you aren't going to be happy or giving me any thanks once this word game ends. You may snicker a bit, but are more likely to be compelled to engage in some serious soul searching.

Please note that what you perceive in this parable will no doubt be translated through the filter of your own interests and experiences. No two people will agree on what analogy is being made or the subject being addressed. The intent is to encourage you to think, contemplate and consider, not agree with any specific point of view. So, put on your pads and helmet because this is going to be one helluva contact sport.

To begin allow me to set the stage for you, or more correctly, the playing        field. It’s early Thanksgiving Day. Like really early. Like when the rooster        crows at freakin’ 6am in the morning early. Everyone’s come home to        enjoy a big family roost for the holiday. As with most traditionally dysfunctional   families we’ve got a colorful gathering of personality types beginning to stir        here in the hen house. There are eagles, hawks, doves, vultures, chickens, ducks and of course a turkey or two to name a few. There’s even some dodo and gooney birds to complete our festive aviary. The pecking order is pretty well represented as we look around our fowl little gathering on this holiday morn and it's not long before some wingnut tweets out a comment to get the game      rolling and feathers begin to ruffle and fly.

The first group to start squawking about the twit who took a knee and tweeted are the hawks in the group. They  have an opinion about everything, because, and they’re not bashful about reminding everyone that, they’ve “been there and done that”. The harried hens begin to cackle among themselves in the middle of it all and soon some gooney bird, overhearing their conversation, tells one of them to go lay an egg. Soon all hell breaks loose.  As the doves in the group flit and flutter around trying to introduce a peaceful resolution a hawk makes an off color remark to some duck who happens to waddle in at the wrong moment. The dodo birds begin to gather in the far left corner as the hawks take up a defensive position in the right corner, vowing to never give quarter to such a motley bunch of never –never- landers. Silently, circling        overhead, the vultures maintain a watchful eye, while pooping on the whole party. They wait their turn knowing it all means a free meal for them in the end.

Once things have grown to a fevered bird flu pitch, the eagle of the family rises to the occasion. Always a bird of propriety and poise his mere presence demands the group grow quiet and so they do. All except for those damned dodo birds, and nothing seems to get them to shut up. Somebody forgot to tell them they're extinct. The regal eagle reminds this group of pin feathered poultry that there is one guest yet to arrive; the guest of honor actually. All eyes brighten at this reminder and are now glued to the chicken wire in anticipation of the arrival of the greatest bird in the barnyard; the mighty turkey.  For some reason everyone seems to admires the turkey and treats him like royalty. It's evidently his insatiable appetite for gobbling everything up that holds their admiration.          Each of the birds gathered in this melting pot of a hen house  worship the        turkey, not unlike the ancient Aztecs worshiped Quetzalcoatl at the Temple of the Feathered Serpent at Teotihuacan.  That‘s another story but not really.  Suffice it to say that once a bird has tasted the elixir of the holy grail of corn they will never go back to simple grubs and seeds. Instead, they will blindly follow those turkeys who promise to lead them to the mother of all corn caches without so much as a question of how come or why they should, in their little bird brains. They’ve even named this illusive cornucopia of a corn cache that comes but once a year. The turkeys call it Black Friday and have succeeded in endowing it with dazzling mythical powers. Woe be to the feathered fowl who ignore or treat this power with disdain for they shall be cast into the tar pits of hell and shunned for eternity from future fellowship with the rest of the flock.

No one remembers why it's called Black  Friday or really cares. All they can think about is lots more corn at bargain prices. It consumes them. Which is quite ironic if you really think about it. I mean who is devouring whom? The turkey always promises to lead the way to Black  Friday and is willing to go so far as to designate all the other birds honorary turkeys to mark this wondrous occasion. Secretly most of flock felt each of the other birds deserved this honorary turkey distinction though. Certainly not them.  

When the turkey showed up all the other birds rushed out of the relative chaotic safety of the hen house to greet him except for a few hawks and the eagle. These older, battle scared, and wiser birds sat back and watched,  all the while thinking, “been there done that”. The gaggle ecstatically greeted the feather god of Black Friday with twitter filled cheers as they clogged the barnyard and set out to join the growing lines of eager corn seeking birds from other hen houses waiting to storm the doors of the nearest Holy Shrine of the Incredible Deal. The crowd began moving as one, in unison, with the incessant drumbeat of the sacred feathered dragon dance of low priced ecstasy.

Just out of sight of this avian parade, a pack of hunger crazed bean counting foxes lay in wait. When all these turkeys were far enough from the safety of        the henhouse the foxes descended upon them creating a feathered feast        of the real and proxy poultry. Yes indeed, these turkeys were discovering the true meaning of Black Friday. Those that survived were to find out soon enough as well. As the next billing cycle on their all inclusive membership cards to this Black Friday club is completed, they will once again understand the true meaning of when the bird comes home to roost.

 As with all tales, short or tall, there's a moral in this one as well. Birds of a feather who flock together, are all susceptible  to being fleeced, even if they        don’t share much in common. So Don't let the foxes pull the wool over your eyes by acting like a turkey. You may actually be mistaken for one and end up getting gutted, roasted and devoured. - MDD

©2018 Michael D. Davis   All Rights Reserved Michael D. Davis is a communicator by vocation, a mentor by avocation and a social media maven by choice. His work can be found on popular channels on the web and on his blog at http://thedailychalkboard.tumblr.com/   Michael welcomes your comments and invites you to join him. Just Google #michaelddavis or #thedailychalkboard to find him and request to connect.

[singingunderthecurtain]

The Eve [I]

Pic not mine, found it on google.

Author: @loeyeolty and @julietsoddeye (smut) AU: Canon Genre: Crack | Smut | Angst Pairing: Chanyeol x OC x Kris  Trigger Warning: Some swearing, Angst, Smut and jokes. Word Count: 5,336

MINI MASTERLIST

Plot: Your best friend, Chanyeol, drunkenly confessed to you. What would you do? 

Another collaborative work!!! We used my OC Amano Hisako and Liu Yanmei from the Diamond universe, but this is a completely different universe lmfao. Diamond was CEO!AU, while this is Canon.

“Chan can you drive yourself home?” you handed over his car keys, which he took without any hesitation.

“Of course! I’m a fucking expert driver. Watch me!” Seeing Chanyeol get inside the Driver’s seat was a pain to watch, he almost tumbled down in several attempts.

While he successfully inserted the key and started the car, Chanyeol’s head fell face flat on the wheel. Squishing the horn, making a nonstop beep.

You pulled Chanyeol back, cupping his cheeks, “Chan, how many hours do you need to sober up?” Your best friend actually looks really cute with his face smushed up like that.

“Sobering up is easy, healing my heart is not,” he wailed.

“Hyung, when I saw them together I felt like my heart was being pounded into pieces.”

“Joy and who?” you released him, laying his head on the headrest.

“Joy who? I was over that heartless bitch ages ago. Hyung, Kris is dating Hisako. I thought she was my best friend. I, of all people, should know first. I should be her first!” He pounded his fists again on the horn.

It’s almost 5 am and your pre-work morning yoga is being interrupted by a flurry of missed calls from MQ.

“You’re awake? Good. Please come over asap, Chan doesn’t look too good.”

MQ's voice was not exactly the best thing to hear in the morning.

“Why what’s up?”

“So we drank last night, he wanting to get over some mumbling girl named Joy. I went out to pee, then I came back and he passed out all over our table.”

“So? Bring him home then?”

You scratched your head in annoyance. MQ disturbed your dead man’s pose.

“I would if I did not have to catch a flight in like 3 hours. See you here at Itaewon.”

he hung up.

As much as you hated MQ, he was your best friend’s best friend after all. And your best friend Chanyeol is needing your help. It's not as if he always asks for your help in drunken situations. Chanyeol was usually a responsible drinker. For him to be unconscious, that girl Joy must have wrecked his heart.

'Fine.' You mouthed to yourself, grabbed a huge coat over your work out tank and yoga pants, and booked an Uber to Itaewon.

“This is our situation.”

MQ greets you at the door of the samgyupsal grill. Pointing at a half-lidded Chanyeol who was groaning with his head glued to the table. He was pressing a lettuce on his ear, in a drunken stupor.

“Actually, this is YOUR situation.” With much emphasis on your,

“So do we hail a cab or what?” you remove the lettuce from his gigantic ears and try to pry him off the table.

“Uh no. Got to go! Here are his car keys.”

In a swift motion, MQ dropped Chanyeol’s Benz keys in front of you on the grill table and made a mad dash towards the exit. Ignoring your screams of 'MQ come back', 'MQ you asshole'. You were sure he didn’t see your flipped middle fingers as well.

“Shit. Chan, get up,”

You tried lifting the tall man from the table, whilst stuffing the keys in your coat. He was still half awake, so you grasp his arm and pull it over your shoulders, forcing him to stand up.

Despite the fact that he was way taller than you. His heavy brown curls rested on your head, putting half of his weight on you.

“MQ you look like a girl, you look pretty now,” he slurred with a smirk.

“It’s because MQ did a sex change for you,” you joked as you guided Chanyeol to the dark parking lot.

“I’m only saying this because I’m drunk and I will regret it but, if you looked like that Hyung, I'd fucking marry you.” Chanyeol slid himself off your grasp, upon reaching his SUV.

“Chan, that’s gay.” You continued to pretend to be MQ, and he doesn’t seem to get the clue.

“Chan can you drive yourself home?” you handed over his car keys, which he took without any hesitation.

“Of course! I’m a fucking expert driver. Watch me!” Seeing Chanyeol get inside the Driver’s seat was a pain to watch, he almost tumbled down in several attempts.

While he successfully inserted the key and started the car, Chanyeol’s head fell face flat on the wheel. Squishing the horn, making a nonstop beep.

You pulled Chanyeol back, cupping his cheeks, “Chan, how many hours do you need to sober up?” Your best friend actually looks really cute with his face smushed up like that.

“Sobering up is easy, healing my heart is not,” he wailed.

“Hyung, when I saw them together I felt like my heart was being pounded into pieces.”

“Joy and who?” you released him, laying his head on the headrest.

“Joy who? I was over that heartless bitch ages ago. Hyung, Kris is dating Hisako. I thought she was my best friend. I, of all people, should know first. I should be her first!” He pounded his fists again on the horn.

You felt frozen in your seat. How did he know? You and Kris have tried to keep things low key.

“I thought I had a chance with her, then I caught Kris leaving her apartment yesterday.” a tear rolled down his impeccably soft cheek.

It never really occurred to you that this guy may actually like you. He always just asked you for advice, of his new flavor of the month, recently Joy. You told him to stop being a fuckboy, and he actually got mad. Really? If bringing home a different girl every month is not the definition of a fuckboy, then what is?

You had thought that being the only constant go-to girl in this life. Albeit platonic, he would come to his senses one day. Until Kris came: he was loyal, sweet and caring. He assured you that you were the only girl in his life. Week after week, you were the only girl he was with. For the first time, you felt like a woman, he treated you like one.

“Hyung,” a lone tear rolled down Chanyeol’s cheeks, yet his nose was clogging up,

“I don’t know what to do with these flowers,” he points at some wrapped up items at the back of his car.

“They’re rotting, take them home. I can’t bring them to her.”

You take a glimpse of the foul-smelling, brown and faded roses, in a disordered array at the back. There was also a stuffed toy of a huge Neko Atsume, stained with the withering roses.

“Nice cat,” was all you could mouth. Your hands were shaking in guilt, confusion, and anger. You were too late Chanyeol, too late.

“I was planning to give that to her, but I can’t bear the fact that Kris is probably fucking her right now. And she’s begging him to take hi--” Chanyeol clenched his hands on his jeans, almost ripping up at the seam in the process.

“Stop.” you placed a gentle hand on his,

“I’m sorry Chan, I’m sorry for your pain.” Yet there was a pang in your heart, thinking of what could have been.

“I’ll drive you home,” you instructed him to switch seats. Like an obedient kid, Chanyeol climbed up to the passenger seat and wiped away his snot.

“Thanks, Hyung.”

You drove Chanyeol home. And upon arriving at his pad, the sun was starting to break, sky changing colors from black to orange and then blue.

“Thank you,” he murmured in his drunken state, his head resting on the window.

“Hisako and I used to go on drives, we would switch driving. I miss her.” he gathers a handful of his hair and tugs it.

Chanyeol’s words twist a knot in your heart. But you are already committed to Kris. Chanyeol has been stringing you along for years after all. Who knows when he will change? Out of friendship, you help him get inside his apartment studio. Wherein the giant swoops down on his couch.

6AM. You will be late, but you feel compelled to give him an explanation at the very least. You nudge Chanyeol, whose face is all reddened up, to his side, and calmly clasps his cold icy hands in your warm ones.

“Hisa--ko..?” He finally recognizes you, as daylight broke.

“Chan, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hide it from you, but I’m seeing a guy named Kris. He’s really kind. As my best friend, you should know.”

Chanyeol swallows a heavy gulp, you gaze at his eyes, seeing a glint of pain and betrayal.

“Also, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep fetching you whenever you’re drunk, or always available at your whim. It would be unfair to Kris, I’m sorry.” you felt that his hands were prying away from you, so you let him go.

“What does he have that I don’t?” Chanyeol sniffles, and tries to sit up, scrubbing his giant hands for heat and places them over his face. You lend your hands to his cold ears too, but he swats them off.

“Don’t touch me, just answer me!”

“He actually had the courage to tell me that he likes me, and me alone.”

The words that you have always been wanting to tell Chanyeol, over the past few years. Came hurling out like a snowball.

“He doesn’t sleep around, and he doesn’t beat around the bush.”

“I like you too Hisako.” his expression changed from flushed to stern and serious.

“But you didn’t give me a chance... if only that fucking giant didn’t beat me to it. I would have...” his eyes were begging with compassion.

“Careful, that fucking giant is my boyfriend.” you felt a bit defensive of Kris, yet at the back of your head, you have always wanted the boy in front of you, over these years.

He envelops you in a warm embrace,

 “I hate myself. I lost my best friend. I lost the love of my life. Please let me win her back.”

You hug him back,

“This isn’t goodbye. We are still friends Chanyeol. You could still talk to me about your latest, uhm, chick.” You pat his arm, asking for release.

Stab me right in the heart, don’t you?” he was still unwilling to let go.

“You know how to stab mine too. It used to hurt me a lot seeing you with a new chick every month. But now, I’m okay.” You push yourself away from him.

Standing up, you ruffle his hair.

“I wish you the best with, uhm, I really can’t remember the name of your latest one.”

“Neither do I. They don’t matter. Only you, matter.” Chanyeol looks up to you, laughing. but his eyes as if begging you not to go.

But you had already made up your mind,

“Why are you so cheesy? This is not the Chanyeol I know.” you giggle to shake your tension away.

As your heel prepared to leave, Chanyeol walked you to the door. With his towering height, he whispers in your ear,

“I’m going to win you back. Just you see.”

“I wish you happiness, my dear friend.” You gave him a sincere smile, as you shut the door behind you because finally, you were free from him.

Or are you?

------

“I’m going to win you back. Just you see.”

My ass. Chanyeol’s words hover over your head like Blanche. You weren’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse that Your Best Friend made zero contact with you over the past 6 months.

Not that you were expecting any action from him anyway. At least you know that you made the right choice: Kris. And you were able to spend uninterrupted time with your boyfriend.

He was exactly your type: tall, funny and sweet. The same points that made you attracted to Chanyeol, yet he was the committal type. If Kris didn’t have schedules that needed him going back and forth to China, he would have been the perfect one.

But what even bothers you is that even his asshole friend MQ stopped contacting you. It’s like Chanyeol has imposed a permanent ban on you perhaps. The most news you could get about him was through official news sites, just like a regular fan.

November-- the perfect weather. It wasn’t too hot, nor too cold, and you could catch a glimpse of the first snow. You enjoyed staying in bed with Kris, who just came home from China last night. Snuggling under the comforters.

You sneaked out of the bed in your tank top and underwear, made a simple breakfast of egg and toast for your lover. And tiptoed back to the room.

Expecting that you will still find his gorgeous form asleep. But you're surprised to find him awake, scrolling on his phone.

Setting down the breakfast tray on Kris’ lap, you join him on the bed. “What you doing Baby?” You trail kisses on his bare shoulder.

“Wow, Chanyeol seems to have hit the jackpot. Careerwise. Look,” Kris shows you his phone screen

“He now writes songs for Exo. And this song Heaven is said to have been staying longer in the charts, months even after its release.”

“Great for him,” you grab a piece of toast and offer Kris a bite.

“I’m curious. How come I never saw him? I’ve met Yanmei and the others. I kinda wanna see him since we last saw each other was in 2014..” Kris nibbles on the toast, while grabbing your waist with his free hand. Pulling you closer to him.

One of the things you loved about Kris was how you can rest your head on his shoulder and feel totally secure. But this time, talking about Chanyeol made you feel uncomfortable.

“I guess he’s just busy.”

“Invite him over. I wanna see him for old time’s sake. I wanted to throw a small advanced birthday party before I go back to China next week. Heck, he can even invite Baekhyun or Sehun.”

He nuzzles his chin on the top of your head. You know he meant to be romantic but his pointed chin hurt your scalp.

“I’m bad at organizing things Kris, I’ll just give you his number. Up to you.”

You didn’t want to go against his wishes. But you didn’t want to see Chanyeol as well. Not after that, he didn't live up to his promises..not that you were expecting.

---

Thankfully, days has passed and you didn’t hear from Kris of any positive reply from Chanyeol.

On Kris’ last day, November 3, you had decorated your living room with balloons. Prepared some Red Wine and bought a kinky cake with an outlandishly pink nipples design. Sexting the boyfriend, who was out meeting out with some old friends. 'I can’t wait to celebrate your birthday in advance tonight. I want your juice.' That sounded a bit, weird but whatever. You had hit send.

Disappointment crept up your face when he did not reply. Damn, time for Plan B. You took out the lingerie you had been reserving for special occasions. Red leather underwear and red nipple tassels. The weather was chilly so you wore a tan coat over it while waiting for Kris to come home.

Finally, your phone beeped, receiving a measly lame reply from Kris. 'Great. Bought some pineapple juice. Coming home in 5.'

You weren’t sure if he understood that you were wanting him tonight but at least he’s coming home.

A mere soft knock on the door made you jump in anticipation, still clad in your tan coat. But opening the door sent chills down your spine.

It was Kris.

But with an equally tall guy behind him.

His hair was red tinged with black roots and pushed back. And still in his perpetual black shorts and Adidas hoodie.

And here you were, almost naked beneath your tan coat.

Feigning warmness and friendliness,

“Babe!” You kissed Kris on the lips before giving Chanyeol a friendly hug. His body pressing onto you, making you feel the hardness of your tassels on your chest. You pray that he did not feel that.

But the smirk on his face after your release from the hug indicates otherwise.

“Oh, Hisako you prepared all this for me?” Kris covered his mouth, astounded with all the preparations. But one thing you did not expect was visitors, hence the boob cake laid out for both the tall guys to see.

“That cake is amazing but I don’t want the fake thing,” Kris comes towards you, giving you a squeeze on your waist. You blush, feeling hot at his words.

Chanyeol stood there, awkwardly watching the two of you, as he cleared his throat.

“I did not know you were coming,” you asked him to sit down on the couch.

“He accepted my invite, last minute,” Another knock on the door and Kris was quick on his toes to receive the guest.

A loud mouthed boy had entered your ruined sexy birthday party

“Hisako!!! Long time no see!!” He immediately takes you in a tight hug. And without any filter, he comments,

“Woah, I think you have some card boards on your chest--” to which he stops and stares at you.

“Oh sorry, for Kris right? Kris, you lucky son of a bitch!”

“What? Babe, it's hot, it's okay to take off your coat,” Kris genuinely, out of concern, asks you to.

“No, I’m okay.” Your body has weird ways of not cooperating. Instead of feeling embarrassed, your tits started feeling hard instead.

“I just, came home from work, I need to change..” you excused yourself to your room.

But in earshot you can hear Baekhyun “Hyung, she’s wearing lingerie. Nipple Tassels I think.” And breaks into solo laughter.

You quickly change into a floral dress, with a fairly decent neckline cut. Enough to show some skin, and enough to elicit inappropriate comments from Baekhyun.

“Kris Hyung, I knew you’d be the luckiest among us,” with him blatantly staring at your chest.

“I know. I am.” Kris sits beside you on the sofa, across Baekhyun and Chanyeol who were chugging on some soju shots.

“How about you Baekhyun, seeing anyone? Taeyeon?” Kris asks. You glance at him and he seems seriously happy to be reunited with his buddies.

“Ah. I learned my lesson.” He coyly answers.

“You should ask Chanyeollie he’s the player!” Baekhyun’s comment merited him a nudge to the rib by the man in the hoodie.

“Seeing anyone Chanyeol? Last time I left you were still dating that trainee Joy..” Kris innocently asks. There seems to be no trace of awkwardness or jealousy on his face. As Kris starts to not so subtly, trace his hand inside the hem of your skirt, rubbing your thighs.

“None. I have decided to focus on my career, producing songs, song writing.” He cockily answers, and Baekhyun nods in agreement.

“I don’t know what got over Chanyeollie. But he completely stopped fucking around earlier this year. I asked him how did you stop? Are you turning into a priest?” Baekhyun slaps his thighs in his own joke.

“But he just told me, sometimes the player thinks he’s just playing but he eventually loses the game. And I’m like, who the hell made you like this?” The smaller man continues to chatter.

“Yeah, I’m like who the hell made me like this?” Chanyeol retorts, raising a brow at you.

You try to slow down Kris’ aggressive hand up your thigh, and Chanyeol was clearly seeing what you two were doing.

“So who’s this girl who broke Chanyeol?” Kris put a pillow on your lap to hide his doings.

“It’s always the nice girls who play badly.” Chanyeol fixes his eyes on you.

“Yeah like Taeyeon,” Baekhyun adds.

“They lure you in then they suddenly crush you without warning.” Chanyeol continues.

“Amen. Hisako, maybe you have friends as nice as you we can introduce to them?” Kris’ rubbing on your knee intensifies, leaving you flushed.

“Male or Female?”

Your question triggers Baekhyun, standing up, putting both of his hands on his own waist.

“Ya. You’ve seen me and Chanyeol with a lot of girls and you still accuse me as gay?”

Kris snaps the garter of your panties, leaving you weak, your

“Noo..” was almost a moan.

“But of course, I like women, but I only have a specific type,” Chanyeol laughs, motioning Baekhyun to sit down.

“What type?” With Kris’ fingers inside your underwear you know you weren’t going to last long. You pinched Kris’ arm. But you still managed to ask Chanyeol that question.

“You know exactly my type, Hisako.” Chanyeol grins.

“Oh shit. My Chicken is burning.” You stood up, pillow falling to the ground.

“I’ll help.” Kris followed you.

But there was no chicken.

You did not cook anything up.

And the kitchen was on the other side.

But walked towards the bedroom.

Seeing Kris enter the room as well.

“Let’s be quick.” With hungry eyes, you closed the door and pinned Kris on the wall.

“Scream as much as you can, I want those fuckers to hear it.” He commanded.

As Kris starts peeling your dress off your body, he simultaneously turns you over. And your left cheek and chest hit the wooden door with a loud thud. You heard muffled sounds of two sets of feet shuffling from the other side.

“What was that? Are they having a fight or something?” Baekhyun asks loudly and Chanyeol hits him on the chest rather roughly.

“Shut the fuck up!” Chanyeol whispers loudly with a slight scowl on his face. He situates his big ear on the door to have a better heed of what’s happening inside. Baekhyun following suite of what his friend did.

“Mmm so wet and needy for me already.” Kris roars out as he rubs 2 fingers on your heat roughly, your back arches and you felt him already hard on your ass. Kris’ left hand is securely wrapped around your nape, pinning your head on the side to the door so you won’t get to move.

“Daddy please stop teasing and just fuck me already.” You gyrate your ass on his boner making your giant of a boyfriend growl with delight. And the razing of his fingers on your clit accelerated. Your legs wobbled when you felt the buzz drawing close. You held onto the towel rack that was flimsily nailed on the door directly above your head. Praying to the heavens above it won’t break and cause an injury to the both of you.

“Fuck! Daddy, please don’t stop! I’m very close!” Baekhyun slaps his mouth shut with his hands to stop himself from making any noise. When he heard you howl in pleasure. Chanyeol removes his ear on the door frame as he swallows the lump that formed in his throat. His cheeks flushed with anger, it should be him who is making you moan, not Kris, he thinks to himself.

“Be a good girl and don’t cum until I’m inside of you.” Kris snarls at your ear. His tight grip on your nape loosened and he pulls down your underwear just enough for him to take you from behind.

“This is so fucking awesome!” Baekhyun mouths as he snickers silently, fishing for his phone from his jean pocket.

“What are you doing?” Chanyeol’s eyes widen when he saw Baekhyun pressing his phone back to life.

“I’m gonna record this so the rest can hear.” Baekhyun tried tapping the audio recording app, but Chanyeol snatches his phone away.

“I will fuck up our bedroom and I will blame it on you so that Kyungsoo will finally kill you for real this time!” Chanyeol whispers fiercely through gritted teeth.

“Fine, fine! I won’t. Fuck Chanyeol, why are you so mad?” Baekhyun snatches his phone back and secures the device back inside his pocket.

“OH MY GOD DADDY YOU’RE TOO BIG!” You cry out when Kris suddenly ram his dick inside of you without any warning, whatsoever. He immediately starts thrusting in and out of you hard and fast, not even giving you time to adjust to his size.

“Are you hearing this right now?!” Baekhyun mouths silently to Chanyeol again, his eyes the size of the moon. Chanyeol wanted to kick the door down so he can stop the lecherous acts you’re doing with Kris. But he knows he doesn’t have the right to since he started ignoring you 6 months ago.

“Fuck… fuck… fuck.” Kris keeps cursing like a sailor when you clenched your walls around him. This is the only way you know that will make him cum faster, so you can both climax together.

“Oh God! I’m almost there Kris, don’t stop, please don’t stop!” You scream out loud, and with that Kris thrusts harder and faster. The banging of the door getting heavier and heavier on every single pounding. You’re sure your bedroom door will be trashed by the time you finish.

“Fuck! you’re so fucking tight Hisako.” Kris yowls even louder than you. Chanyeol’s fist balled up with anger. He doesn’t wanna hear this shit anymore but he literally can’t move away as his feet grew imaginary roots to the ground.

After a few more hard thrash, you finally came and fell apart. Kris didn’t stop his ravage, chasing his own release. With the overstimulation, your grip on the towel bars became flaccid. And Kris tightened his hold around your body before you can even let go of the handlebars completely.

“Oh, baby girl… Fuck....” And just like that, you felt his hot seed burst out and your head whirl as you are overfucked once again.

Kris pushes you up against the flat door with a bang, and finally sealing in the deed with a sloppy kiss to your mouth. “Happy birthday Baby..”

“Hisako, you’re the best birthday gift ever..” Kris lets go of you, leaving your legs numb in the euphoric state you were in. After zipping up his jeans, he graciously helps you get in your dress. He handed you a Kleenex, but before you could even wipe yourself. Nor find your discarded underwear, a loud thud outside was heard.

“Chanyeol!” A worried Baekhyun screams nearby.

“What’s happening?” Kris spontaneously opens your bedroom door. The sounds of crashing plates and series of thundering sounds ensues.

In a hurry, the both of you rush to a panic-stricken Baekhyun grappling a furious Chanyeol from behind.

“Cha-Chanyeol, lets go!” Baekhyun restrained Chanyeol’s hands. Yet he managed to throw the kinky cake off the table, stomping on it as it hits the floor. You scan your surroundings. Your favorite China plate has crashed on the floor as well some of the birthday decorations.

“Chanyeol I don’t know what’s wrong but you better stop before I call the cops.” Kris took a protective stance and hid you behind him.

“Chanyeol..” his raged composure was broken by your soft voice. He looks at you with much betrayal in his eyes. More anger built up on his chest as he saw Kris’ residual juice trickle visibly down your leg. He just could not look, it was killing him, and taking control. Jealousy turns saints into the sea. Clenching his fists, and his ears turning a deep shade of scarlet. Chanyeol knew he was not in the position to be mad at Kris, nor be mad at you.

You feel your insides twist with guilt. Could he still be harboring feelings for you despite even after ignoring you for long? It wasn’t your intention nor Kris’ intention to drive Chanyeol to jealousy. The two of you were merely caught in the heat of the moment between two normal lovers. Besides Kris was oblivious. Oblivious to the fact that the other taller man had confessed his feelings to you months ago.

With a deep sigh, Chanyeol flees the apartment, Baekhyun running after him.

Kris stops you from following your friends. Reasoning out that maybe Chanyeol is just upset over something. You just help Kris pack for his red-eye flight.

Picking up the remnants of the ravaged cake and plates, you thought to yourself, How did it end up like this?

[chasing-rabbits]

Looking through your blog I can’t find any pro vegan posts...

Uh? I am a vegan blog....I dont know what you mean by pro vegan I would argue most of my posts are pro vegan? What specific posts did you have in mind to classify as pro vegan?I am sorry am I getting attacked here for not being a big enough advocate on my own damn blog? Okay first off this blog was made whenever like a year or more ago and was left dormant for awhile if you go into my archive you’ll see I didnt post regularly recently I’ve started using it again. During that time I’d gotten a twitter I got into a lot of twitter discussion debates and outright arguments defending veganism and being ‘pro vegan’ as you put it.It drained the fuck out of me it made me angry and feel sad and disheartened at how people had no empathy so if you mean you can’t see me arguing with carnists on a daily basis on this blog then no you will not find any arguing on this blog or you’ll find minimal amounts of it.Honestly this blog is my nice place to talk to OTHER vegans okay. I dont particularly want to engage with trolls because a majority of people on here who want to scour the vegan tags that aren’t vegan are trolls who just wanna shit on us just like the dude on twitter mid january who posted a picture of a pig and then mhhm bacon underneath the image in the veganuary tags who I DID call out and so on bcos that pissed me the fuck off.I’m sorry that I am not vegan enough for you anon but you know that is life. Now if you want to see what I consider pro vegan then it’d be me reblogging posts about vegan foods vegan nutrition vegan statistics about stuff.I do not reblog gore or upsetting images no because MY mental health cannot handle that and tbh it doesn’t really do much online at least to shock someone into going vegan because unlike on the street you cant really have a heartfelt conversation about what they’ve just seen on the monitors behind them its more just someone scrolling along and getting angry and us just getting mostly ignored because people act online ruder and louder than they would in public so they react with that typical anger when their cognitive dissonance is broken they aren’t likely to do that in the street in front of everyone they’ll be more civil and listen and then hopefully see past the anger and change. Now do you mean that I myself do not make a lot of posts? Well yes you’d be right I don’t make a lot of text posts about much of anything if i am honest. I reblog or I upload pictures and things I find on weheartit. But I wasnt aware I had to make the text post for it to be my beliefs and be pro vegan pretty sure if I just reblog something pro vegan that is me also being pro vegan.Also again I really don’t know but this came off as hostile so I am being a bit defensive maybe you are genuinely curious I do not know I’ve just logged on its 6am and the first thing I see on my blog is this message. I don’t get what your issue is? I have reblogged plenty of things about veganism so...I mean most of this blog has vegan posts on it every day im on here posting im reblogging vegan related posts alongside other things like cute cats and mental health stuff. What do you actually expect from my blog then to be considered pro vegan? I was not aware there was a certain check list all vegans had to meet to be considered pro vegan....I mean you are literally talking to a vegan right now whose been one for 5 years 6 this september...So tell me this 5 year long vegan is me being vegan and reblogging vegan posts now not enough does every vegan have to be out on the streets shouting meat is murder to be considered a tru ‘pro vegan’ i dont know I dont quite get the use of your phrase pro vegan because surely me being a vegan is more than pro vegan I AM ONE...so...???I am totally and absolutely confused where this has come from what hornets nest have I angered over night for me to get this anon?Here is some posts on my blog:https://vegan-ism101.tumblr.com/post/181887909275/animals-are-sentient-living-beings-who-form-close

https://vegan-ism101.tumblr.com/post/180652539520/i-have-said-it-once-and-i-shall-say-it-til-i

https://vegan-ism101.tumblr.com/post/180103502360/shit-carnists-say

https://vegan-ism101.tumblr.com/post/179940285705/oh-my-god-people-in-the-comments-telling-me-its

https://vegan-ism101.tumblr.com/post/179941347680/their-pulling-out-all-the-stupidest-anti-vegan

https://vegan-ism101.tumblr.com/post/179361081260/vegan-logic-preaches-about-compassion-but-also

https://vegan-ism101.tumblr.com/post/181939488190/carnists-act-like-vegans-are-the-only-ones-eatinghttps://vegan-ism101.tumblr.com/post/188689013555https://vegan-ism101.tumblr.com/post/188788223839/acti-veg-it-is-often-said-that-if

https://vegan-ism101.tumblr.com/post/188810572135

This is just some I found....Enjoy...I feel like you didnt look very hard into my blog did you now.And in before you say these posts are from early last year and before that in 2018 well thats because for the past year I’ve been fighting with PALS and been very mentally unstable whilst being refused treatment stigmatised and even more ive had multiple doctors and specialist appointments because ive been physically sick so I’ve not exactly felt as up to making the posts you can see ive made on this blog prior because my real world life was falling apart and for the first time in 4 years i self harmed again by smashing my head against a brick wall and a fridge and so on so yeah my life irl wasnt great and i didnt want to come on here and also be dealing with idiots so in before you try and mention these posts arent within the last 6 months or so.

[thefatedthoughtofyou]

Bucky’s Type Is Sam

Prompt: Bucky start to date/have one night stand with dudes who all look like Sam so Steve starts to calls him out on this bullshit because Bucky SWEARS he sees no resemblance!

( @likeol Thank you so much for the prompt lovely i know it took me forever but i was just so out of it and my brain was not letting me write anything! but your prompt helped so yay! i hope you like it!!!!!! thank you again! I’ll get to the other prompts you sent in eventually too cuz i love them alllllll! <3 <3 <3 )

Bucky pushes the door closed gently and sighs, resting his aching head on the door as he takes a moment. He can hear… whatshisname walking down the sidewalk outside. He was nice. Bucky thinks. He can’t really remember, everything’s blurry and brightly lit. He thinks he remembers a blow job before the actual sex, but that could be from a different night. Things tended to blur together when he was drunk… or just… any day. Memory wasn’t his strong suit in the least.

“C’mon seriously!?” Steve shouts behind him. Bucky’s shoulders tense up to his ears and he groans as his head pounds.

“You don’t have to yell. It’s too early for yelling.” Bucky grumbles and turns to look at him. He’s standing there, looking refreshed, and like it’s not fucking 6am. Bucky narrowed his eyes at him, pretty sure he’d already been on his morning run and showered.

“What?” Bucky asked, rubbing at his head as he walked past Steve into the kitchen. He need some fucking water.

“Really? Another one? That’s like… the fifth guy this week Buck.” Steve said, sitting himself down on one of the bar stools and watching Bucky chug from a water bottle.

“So what?” he asked, sounding a little out of breath as he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Nothing, nothing, it’s just-“

“You said it was nothing.”

“Well I lied.”

“You’ve been doing that your whole life.”

“I have not, and hey this isn’t about me, this about you and your… plethora of men.” Steve said, sounding exasperated. Bucky stared at him.

“Really? Plethora?” he asked.

“Yes, stop changing the subject. They all have something very obvious in common and I think you need to at least admit it.” Steve said, his palms wide open on the counter facing the ceiling, his features pleading. Bucky sighed and shook his head.

“We’ve been through this Steve. I’m not talking about it again.” Bucky said, taking another drink of water and stepping toward the doorway.

“What if I could prove it?” Steve said hastily, Bucky stopped walking and looked at him.

“Well, that would be pretty magical since there’s nothing to prove.” Bucky said, crossing his arms, his eyes narrowing again as he looked at Steve.

Steve held up his finger and dug his phone out of his pocket, stepping off the stool and over to Bucky. Bucky side eyed him and then moved his eyes to the phone. Steve pulled up his photo gallery and started flipping through them. Bucky felt his palms starting to sweat as he looked at the pictures. The pictures of all the guys he’d been going home with lately. His heart was pounding in his chest as Steve swiped through picture after picture after picture. Bucky huffed and stepped away from him.

“Yeah so what? How’d you get all those pictures anyway?” Bucky asked defensively. Steve sighed and gave him his big pitiful puppy eyes.

“Nat took most of them.” He said dismissively.

“Do you really not see it?” Steve asked, he sounded a little defeated. And Bucky felt a little bad about it, but he sure as shit wasn’t going to say what Steve wanted him to say.

“See what?” Bucky asked, knowing he sounded like an idiot at this point, but he was too far in denial to stop now.

“They’re all pretty similar looking don’t you think?” Steve prompted, looking at Bucky like he was waiting for it to click.

“I can’t have a type?” Bucky asked, pulling his arms around himself tighter. Steve dropped his head back and threw his hands up.

“Yes! You have a type! Your type is Sam! Christ sake Buck you can’t honestly look at those pictures and then look me in the eyes and tell me you can’t see that!” Steve said, his voice was getting loud again and Bucky just wanted to be back in bed. Not talking about this, again. He looked at Steve for a long moment and then walked forward, motioning for Steve’s phone. Steve looked hopeful and handed it over. Bucky swiped back through the pictures, doing his best to pretend he was studying them really hard, it was harder than it should be to pretend he didn’t see what was right in front of his fucking face.

“Look Steve, I just… don’t see it, okay? Like this one, this guy doesn’t even look like Sam.” He said, turning the phone toward Steve. Steve looked from the phone, to Bucky, back to the phone, then back to Bucky.

“That is Sam.” He said, his voice so full of frustration now that it was shaking a little. Bucky frowned and looked at the picture. It sure as shit was Sam. Fuck. He shrugged and threw the phone back to Steve.

“That’s not the point okay, it doesn’t mean anything. All this.” He waved his hand at Steve’s phone and Steve bit his lip and growled. Then he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.

“Yeah, there ya go, find your center or chi or whatever, just calm down man, it’s not a big deal.” Bucky said, his arms wrapped around himself again, fingers digging into his ribs to stop himself from shaking. Steve’s eyes snapped open.

“Not a big deal? Really? Aside from the fact that you’re torturing yourself by going out with a bunch of guys you don’t even know, and I hate to break it to you, but most of them have been dickheads, complete assholes. But you wouldn’t know that cuz you’re always so drunk you don’t remember. But aside from that, have you even thought about what this might be doing to Sam?” Steve shouted, looking at Bucky like he was an idiot. Bucky frowned.

“What?” he asked, genuinely confused now. What did Sam care who he slept with? So yeah maybe they looked a little like him, and Bucky could get that that could be creepy. Sam could have just said it was creeping him out and Bucky wouldn’t have brought them back here. Bucky felt his chest aching at the thought of creeping Sam out.

“You didn’t even consider it, did you?” Steve asked.

“Consider what? That he’d be creeped out by me sleeping with guys that look like him? No Steve, I didn’t think about that, because as you’ve said, I’m usually too drunk at the time to think about anything.” Bucky said, his head and heart pounding, anger flowing through his blood.

“Creeped out?” Steve asked, looking at Bucky, his brows furrowed. A second later his features softened and that look of pity was back. Only it wasn’t the same look, it was different than the one from before. It was sad.

“You really don’t see it, do you?” Steve asked, tilting his head. Bucky made a strangled noise and shrugged, shaking his head.

“See what?” he asked, his voice a little scratchy.

“It’s not creeping him out Buck. It’s breaking his heart.” Steve said sadly, sighing again, and shoving his hands into his pockets.

Bucky felt like he’d been punched in the chest.

“Wait- what? It’s- Sam’s- is he- is Sam in love with me?” Bucky stammered, his mouth to slow to keep up with all the jumps his brain was making. Steve looked at him with sad eyes and shrugged. Bucky swallowed hard and then was running out of the kitchen.

He ran back to his room and put his hands on his knees, feeling lightheaded. He shook himself out and jumped in the shower. Standing under the cold water and hating himself. He dried off as best he could manage in his frantic state and threw on some clothes, his shirt sticking to the water on his skin that he had missed. He looked in the mirror at himself, his wet hair sticking to his skin in places, his cheeks red. He sighed and walked out of the bathroom. And then out of his room. And then down the hall until he was standing in front of Sam’s door. He moved his hand up to knock and then he froze. What the fuck was he supposed to say?

The door swung open and Sam jumped back a little, his hand going to his chest.

“Holy shit!” he said. He shook his head and took a step forward, moving to lean against the door as he looked at Bucky, who’s hand was still raised dumbly in the air. He dropped it quickly and tried to smile, it felt strained and he stopped.

“What’s up Buck, you okay? You look a little out of it.” Sam said, his head resting against his hand on the door.

“I’m a fucking idiot.” Bucky breathed, his hands fisting in his sweatpants. Sam nodded slowly and stepped away from the door, looking concerned.

“Buck are you-“

“I’m in love with you.” Bucky said. Sam’s mouth dropped open.

“I’m in love with you and I’ve been sleeping with guys who remind me of you to like, fill the void of not having you, and I didn’t even think, not for a second, that you might feel the same way. And I didn’t think I could be hurting you, and god Sam I’m such a fucking idiot I am so, so fucking sorry. I just… fuck.” Bucky rambled, and then grimaced as he looked at Sam looking at him. Sam just stared. For a long time. Bucky felt tears well up and then fall down his cheeks. Sam walked forward and pulled Bucky into a hug.

“Please don’t cry.” He whispered. Bucky pulled away from him gently and wiped his eyes.

“Sorry. I just, it’s a lot at once. I’m so sorry Sam. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He said, his voice sticking in his throat. Sam nodded again, smiling softly at him.

“I know you didn’t. How could you? I never said anything to you man. I guess I probably should have. Maybe saved us some unneeded pain?” Sam said with a shrug. Bucky sniffed and laughed. Sam smiled at him.

“Steve mostly. He was hurting bad man.” Sam said with a smirk. Bucky rolled his eyes and nodded.

“Yeah, he was having a conniption in the kitchen.” Bucky said, clearing his throat of tears. Sam chuckled and bit his lip.

“You uh, you wanna come in? It’s still early, we could lay in bed for a few hours? Talk about some stuff? Or just… be. Whichever you want.” Sam said, moving back into his room and holding the door open again.

“Just being with you sounds like the best dream I could ever have.” Bucky said, shuffling forward slowly. Sam smiled at him and took his hand.

“See now that’s the best part. It’s not a dream Buck.” Sam whispered as he pushed the door closed and pulled Bucky toward the bed. Bucky felt his cheeks heat up and looked at his feet. Sam scrunched up his nose at him and then pulled him down onto soft sheets to just exist for a few hours. To just be. Together.

[whimzea-blog]

Better than Sex 5/?

Title: Better than Sex

Author: whimzea

Pairing: Zane/Heath

Summary: Heath attempts to quit smoking cold turkey on a five-day camping trip with Zane in Sequoia National Park.

Also up on AO3 here.

For some reason, they were in the old house, by the pool. No one else was home- no Toddy, no Scotty, no Jason- no one.

It was ten pm, but it was August in LA and it was hot as balls. The ice cold Coronas had helped, but they had also made Zane restless, itching to do...he didn’t know what.

Heath was laid out on his stomach on a lounger, laughing at something stupid on his phone. All he had on was a pair of ragged basketball shorts, same as Zane. The curve of his ass was oddly mesmerizing. Dumb Coronas.

Feeling too jittery to sit, Zane stood and glanced at the pool. He thought about his bathing suit, still nasty from their recent trip to the beach. He glanced at Heath. A rush of adrenaline.

He tugged off his shorts and threw them at Heath’s head before jumping into the pool with a victorious roar.

When he surfaced, Heath was standing by the edge of the pool with his shorts. “What the fuck?”

Zane feigned ignorance. “What?”

“I hope you washed your dick before you put it all in our pool water,” Heath said, tossing the shorts onto the ground. Zane splashed water in his direction.

“Watch my phone, asshole!” Heath yelled, moving his lounger far from the edge of the pool as possible. Zane grabbed a sopping wet toy ball floating by him and threw it soundly in the back of Heath’s head.

“Okay, now I’m going to kick your ass,” Heath warned, hopping out of his shorts and jumping into the water. He grabbed another toy ball and threw it at Zane, who dove under the water to avoid it. Heath scrambled for another weapon, barely grasping onto a Frisbee before he was pulled underwater.

Zane had an iron grip on hips. When he tried to wriggle away, Zane wrapped his arm around his torso and pulled him deeper into the water. After ten seconds, Heath beat three times on Zane’s arm, signaling surrender.

They surfaced, and Heath took a large gulp of air. “Fuck, ten seconds? You gotta quit those cigs man,” Zane said, breathing heavily.

“Fuck- you-,” Heath panted. “You took me by surprise. I wasn’t ready, dickhead.”

“Oh, yeah? Wanna go again?” Zane challenged with an evil grin. Heath opened his mouth to respond, before snapping it shut. His eyes flicked to the house, and then back to Zane, up and down, lingering on his shoulders, his pecs, his lips. Zane felt arousal pool in his gut. Fuck, was his breathing heavy? From a look? Had he already lost?

Heath inched forward towards Zane, and Zane moved back on instinct, fixated on Heath’s predatory look. When Zane’s back hit the edge of the pool, Heath smirked.

“I have a new challenge,” Heath said, his voice low. He placed both palms on Zane’s pectorals before sliding them up to hang around Zane’s neck. Zane’s hands automatically went to Heath’s hips, pulling him closer so they were chest to chest.

“Do you want to know what the challenge is?” Heath asked, his eyebrow cocked. “Yeah,” Zane replied, proud of himself for managing to respond when something large and warm was rubbing against his dick.

“The first one to make a noise, loses.”

Zane almost lost immediately as Heath latched onto his neck, Heath’s breath causing goosebumps to pop up on his arms. He managed to stifle a groan, even as Heath put a knee between his legs and put some lovely pressure on his cock and balls.

He let Heath kiss him, let him suck on his tongue, let him gyrate against him. This he could handle. But when Heath’s hand slid down his waist and towards his dick, that’s when he had to go into defense. Because when the person you were sort of really, really into put their hand on your dick, you were bound to make some noise.

Zane grabbed Heath’s wrist and pulled his arm out of the water, wrapping it and Heath’s other arm around his own neck before spinning Heath so that his back was pressed against the pool’s edge. Heath nearly gasped at the rapid change of position, but pressed his lips together tight.

This wasn’t the first time they had kissed, or the second, but this was all still pretty new. Zane was a chicken shit when it came to initiating stuff- especially with Heath- put when he was in it, he was in it.

When he was sure Heath was wrapped around his neck, he let his hands drift down Heath’s sides to his waist. To his surprise, Heath wasn’t trying to change their position again. Zane tested his luck. He breathed softly on the damp skin behind Heath’s ear and felt him shiver. He suckled on an ear lobe before chasing a drop of sweat with his tongue down Heath’s neck, stopping to suck and bite on a few choice places that he knew Heath liked.

He felt Heath start to shift, so he pressed him more firmly against the pool’s edge. They were both hard as fuck, and every tiny movement made their cocks slide together. Zane itched to take both of them in his hand, but was determined to make Heath lose this challenge without touching his dick.

Worried about scraping all of the skin off Heath’s back against the concrete pool- and desperately wanting some more freedom of movement- Zane put three months of work-outs to the test and gripped under Heath’s ass, hoisting him up so he was sitting on the edge of the pool. Zane hopped out next to him and stood up, walking briskly to the house. He turned and gave Heath a look as if to say, “You coming?”

To his amazement, Heath scrambled after him, his dick bobbing between his legs as he rushed to follow.

Zane threw a towel down onto his bed before hopping on and sitting up against the headboard. This was a risky strategy, since this position gave Heath more control than he would like, but he hoped it would pay off.

He beckoned Heath towards him, pulling him on top of him and positioning his legs so they were straddling his thighs. Heath immediately went for his lips, and Zane let him suck on his tongue, lick all of the remaining Corona out of his mouth. When they parted, Heath was panting, his pupils blown out. Good.

Zane licked a path from Heath’s collarbone, pausing to suck on a pink, pierced nipple. Heath almost lost it there, but bit his lip just in time. Heath’s final death blow came when Zane broke another kiss to give Heath’s ass a hearty smack.

“Zane!”

“ZANE!” Zane’s eyes shot open. Something was punching him in the arm, and something was blaring right next to his ear.

“The fuckin’ alarm has been going off FOREVER, wake up you piece of shit!”

How Zane managed to find the alarm and turn it off in his semi-conscious state, he’d never know. When he could see, he looked at the clock. 6am. Fuck his life.

“Ugh,” Heath moaned. “My head is killing me.”

Zane sat up. He felt okay, so it must be the withdrawals, not a hang-over. He looked at the clock again. Why the fuck was he up this early?

Oh, yeah. To get the truck keys from Mr. Olivia’s Dad before they left on their morning hike. Fuckin hippies.

Zane groaned and tried to slide out of his sleeping bag, when the friction on his dick made him pause. He grabbed his dick. Fuck, he was still hard. Fuck you, naked wet Heath, and fuck you, alarm clock.

He finally got out of his sleeping bag and unzipped the tent, stepping out into the morning.

Fuck, it was cold.

He found his hoodie and threw it on along with his boots, and went off into the woods, his dick already retreating into itself at the cold. He couldn’t believe he didn’t piss on himself.

By the time he got back, he was presentable. Mr. Olivia’s Dad was the only one up at their camp, cooking bacon, by the smell of things.

The older man smiled at Zane as he approached. “Looks like we didn’t have any fugitives run off in the night.”

Zane glanced towards the truck. “Nope. We just have one non-fugitive in a tent with one hell of a withdrawal headache.”

The man chuckled. “Been there. Quitting sucks. Would have handed off my keys too if I’d been that guy back in the day.” The man pulled the truck keys out of his pocket and tossed them to Zane.

“You bring any Advil?”

Zane thought of his Wal-Mart supply haul, and the contents of the First Aid kit they had stolen from Todd.

“Shit, no,” Zane admitted. How could he have forgotten?

The man went into the bigger of the two tents before coming out with a black bag. He dug around in it for a bit before pulling out a bottle.

“Here. It’s about half-full, but should get him through the next day and a half or so.” The man offered the bottle to Zane.

“Ah, no, I couldn’t-“ Zane began.

“It’s no problem. We’re leaving tomorrow, anyways, and I think we have another half a bottle in the Range Rover somewhere. Take it. He needs it more than we do, trust me on that.”

Zane took the bottle. “Thanks. We owe you.”

Olivia’s dad shrugged it off. “No worries. You want some bacon?”

“Zane?” Zane turned to see Heath’s head poking out of the tent.

“Um, I better get back,” Zane replied, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “Smells great, though.”

Olivia’s dad smiled knowingly at Zane. “Take good care of him, now.”

Zane nodded awkwardly before heading back to the camp. He fished out a bottle of water from the cooler and toed off his boots before crawling back in the tent.

“You read my fucking mind,” Heath gasped, downing half the bottle of water in one gulp. Zane tossed him the Advil. “Compliments of Mr. Olivia’s Dad.”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Heath moaned, unscrewing the cap and popping an unspecified number of pills into his mouth.

“Fuck, slow down man.”

“I know my limits,” Heath replied, finishing off his water and tossing the bottle to the side. He wiggled back into his sleeping back, laying back before moaning and beginning to rub his temples.

“Fuck me up, Advil,” Heath sighed. “Please, fuck me up.”

Well, if this was any indication of how today was going to be, they were going to need a lot more in-tent entertainment. Zane grabbed his phone from where it was tossed between the sleeping bags. Dead.

“I’m going to go charge our phones, maybe go get some more meds to replace the one Mr. Olivia’s Dad gave us. Where’s your phone?”

Heath grumbled and reached into his jeans in the corner of the tent, managing to fish out his iPhone, before burrowing deeper into his sleeping bag.

“Alright, well...” Zane began before giving up and leaving Heath to wallow in misery.

He was halfway to the truck when he heard Heath moan in pain. He shook his head. “Some vacation.”

[askseaspider]

[AAAA POOR MIGUEL 🥺]

I'm sorry. I'm sorry that your life is at the whims of a universe that seems to be going off the whims of comic book writers who want nothing more than to torture their characters for money.

I'm sorry people treat you like a piece of meat on the Internet, to be used and abused for their gratification before being abandoned for the next hottest thing.

I'm sorry that people are dickheads who keep making terrible things happen to you.

We really don't deserve you, or any superhero.

[jawllines]

OKAY THIS IS WHAT  I HAVE OF THE FIC SO FAR

NOW YOU CAN SEE WHERE IM GOING WITH IT, IF THERE’S ANYWHERE SPECIFIC YOU’D LIKE ME TO TAKE IT, HE L  P ME IM IN A RUT

i.

Y/N didn't want to do this.

She blames her reluctant willingness on just being a damn good friend and an even better worker -- honest to goodness, she doesn't think Jeff pays her enough for all the mire he forces her to sludge through. Growing close to the Azoffs in the short time of knowing them hadn't seemed like the worst possible idea she's ever had, but after the first few sticky situations she probably should've weeded herself out before she became to entangled in the warm, cozy feeling of belonging that they bestow upon her (which was nice, especially since she was so far away from home). From having to soothe a very angry, very pregnant wife of a client with saltwater taffies she'd gotten as a gift (she was still very bitter), to running around the entirety of LA trying to find a replica of a gold trimmed, rose broach Jeff had accidentally broken of his wife's grandmother's.

Doing it all with minor complaint, Y/N must've lead him on to believe she loves terribly tricky tasks.

However, sailing across the sea last minute to find a replacement for the Swedish model that was meant to be apart of Jeff's upcoming projects wasn't particularly her idea of a great time. Neither was packing up and hitting a jet with a pop star still buzzing from interviews, album releases, and promos, but since the curly haired, green eyed prodigy was already headed that way, had a vision in mind for what Jeff was looking for, and happens to know quite a few people at the modelling agency she was meant to visit. Nor was the short notice of doing it tomorrow morning, catching a 6AM flight out to the UK.

Yet here she was, watching with a despondent slump of the shoulders as he booked two rooms for her and Harry Styles, who had agreed easily on the other line of the phone.

Jeff took a look back at her, before rolling his eyes, "Don't look so shattered, Babe. Really it's like m'sending you on a vacation while I leave the brunt work to myself."

Y/N huffs, sinking in her seat and her dress rides up a bit but she pays no mind to it, "Can't I just go to your sister's wedding as a stand in? Heard I'm great at impressions."

Snorting, he clicks the bright red BOOK NOW button to seal her fate, spinning back around in his chair, "Yeah, just reconstruct your face a bit and I'm sure that'll totally pass over well." He leans forward and straightens out a stack of papers, patting them down on the table in a heap, "You'll be fine. 'sides Harry'll be there, and he knows his way around London well, so you've nothing to worry about."

Y/N doesn't know how to tell Jeff that Harry going might actually be the  worst part.

Harry and Y/N have a -- well, a weird relationship. While they don't hate each other, Harry takes to teasing her relentlessly and Y/N fires back whenever he does. He seems to love getting her all grumpy and flustered and pokes at everything he can to just rustle her feathers, which is better dealt with in small doses, but a two week expenditure of constant jabs, was enough to make her shudder.

Believe it or not, Y/N had been a big fan of Harry before this. When she met him she was all jittery and wiggly and squeaky but somehow managed to place herself on his shit list, without doing  anything.  . .okay! Okay, maybe she accidentally spilled a tray of drinks on his lap and ruined his suit, but in her defense it was a heavy tray. Though she didn't think that warranted his tireless taunts for the rest of forever. Surely the loved by all, sweet guy could turn around and show her some of that soft side, right?

Wrong.

So the mere idea of more than 168 hours with Harry makes her want to scream a bit, especially when she has no time to mentally prepare.

"With how you're reacting, you'd think I'm sending you off to war." Jeff jokes with her, but Y/N pouts at him, beginning to gather up her things, "Just don't stress it."

"Stress it? What's stress? Why would I ever do that?" She rambles off, shoving papers into her large tote quickly and nearly crumbling them, "Just have to go home, cram two weeks of life into a suitcase, call someone to watch my cat and water my plants, have someone collect my mail, and now I definitely won't be able to take any meditative soaks in the comfort of my own home -- yeah, what does the worst stress even mean, Jeff-y Babes, why worry about anything ever at all!"

He's holding back his laughter, she can tell, but she's too disgruntled to think much of it, "God, who knew you could be such a frazzled lil thing? Don't worry about your cat or your plants or your mail, I'll be round to do that. As for the bath, the hotel I booked you has a nifty Jacuzzi tub and Harry's got stellar vanilla lavender bubbles, he'll probably let you use." He soothes her, "Now get home and pack up, you've got an early flight tomorrow! A car will be there at 4:30AM."

That was that, Y/N supposes, as she stands up and pivots on her heel with a small goodbye.

"Hey," Jeff calls just before she's out of the door, and for a glimmering moment she hopes he's about to say he was pranking her; an elaborate trick to mess with her. However, he merely says, "Play nice."

Y/N snorts -- she's not the one he should be worrying about.

                                                                            .                         .                       .

Y/N comes heave hoeing her luggage to Harry's private jet's terminal, at 5:40 AM, with sleep puffy eyes and hair mussed to a fair degree. Waking up at 3:50 for a shower really did her in, especially when she wasn't able to sleep the night before. So now she's sulking towards Harry Styles himself, who is waiting for her patiently at the stairs, leaning against them and scrolling through his phone. It takes him a minute to catch the sound of her baggage's wheels on the concrete, but once he does he looks up, a sly smile pulling at his mouth.

"G'morning Sunshine," Harry greets her, with voice clear of any rasp and looking as good as he always does, which is infuriating, "Ready for our romantic getaway?"

"Am I ever?" She answers grumbly, starting up the stairs. Y/N's been in a few private jets in her days thanks to Jeff, so the wonder of it has wilted some as she shoves her things in the overhead compartment before tugging her, soft, plushy comforter out of her duffel and throwing it around her body, a ball of yarn taking up the seat besides her as she settles and tries to suffocate pre-flight anxiety with the dream of making at east 3 pairs of socks in the time she has on the plane.

Harry snorts at her as he walks by, "Could you be more like my Nan?" He questions, plopping down in his seat across from her, sliding his phone from his pocket. He's got that smile that he only pulls for her -- like he knows that he's Jeff's favorite, and he knows how much he can get underneath her skin -- it's really annoying, "Jeff tol' me you were a bit reluctant on coming, 'cos you're scared of big cities by yourself --"

"I'm not scared." Y/N answers a little to quickly, frustration with Jeff making her miss the loop she was trying to crochet into, "I just don't like impromptu fly outs when I haven't had a chance to check the city out first."

Rolling his eyes, Harry continues, "--but I know this place like the back of me hand."

"Are you trying to comfort me?"

"No," Harry leans back and shuts his eyes, "I'm letting you know if you piss me off, I'll take you to the middle of the city and leave."

Y/N doesn't know if it's a bluff or not, as she digs into her duffel for her phone and sends Jeff an all capital message.

YOU ARE THE WORST!!!!!!!!

Harry is -- well Y/N has seen Harry be the nicest guy in a building with thousands of other people, and turn around to sneer at her. She's seen him hold the door open for Grimmy, and let it swing shut in her face (or, if he's feeling really passive aggressive, shoving it open with a fake smile and ushering her in). Y/N's had to sit and listen to him compliment each and every person up and down, left and right, then completely skip over her with a small passing glance.

So sure, she spilled her drink on him, but that'd never been vindictive in anyway. Y/N guesses Harry was just set on hating her from the moment he'd got a look at her -- their stars must not align, or something of the sort, because that'd be the only reasonable explanation.

While Jeff doesn't have an inkling of an idea of how terrible it could be (Harry is his pop star and long time friend, Y/N wasn't about to drag him into something, especially when she knew very well who's side he would pick), Cal has noticed. Told her not to worry about it, and that how he's teasing her seems to match up with how someone might taunt the person they like, but Y/N knows better than that. Has seen him with the girl's he's dated or pursuing, and none of them are greeted with a sly remark and a mischievous grin, nor does he manage to make them look like the bad guy for defending themselves.

Y/N's learned to just keep quiet and leave it be, however, because he's Harry Styles -- the world's sweetheart to everyone apart from her -- and she knows how to pick and choose her battles.

This is not the battle to pick.

About halfway into the flight, Y/N had pulled out her tablet to watch a movie -- and she had thought this would go unnoticed, but Harry clears his throat and when her eyes flicker up, his flicker down towards the ipad in her hands, nodding towards it, "Wha' movie, you got?"

"Robin Hood." Y/N answers, readily prepared to go back to the movie, but he keeps going.

"Oh, that crummy 2010 remake? Y'need better taste, Babe."

Y/N rolls her eyes, "What you're in one movie and now you're a modern day Hitchcock, is that it?" She shuffles in her seat, "'Sides, m'not even watching that one. Watching Robin Hood: Men in Tights."

With a grunt, Harry goes back to his phone, a hint of a smile playing at his lips.

She ignores this in favor of fantasizing about a young Cary Elwes.

                                                                       .                        .                         .

It's rainy, as expected from London weather, so Y/N had her head hidden beneath the hood of her coat as she tried warding away shivers from the chilly air. If not for the thick, faux feathered filled cloth, everyone within a miles radius would she was hardcore nipping, and the goosebumps only furthered the fact she got too lazy to shave her legs the night previous. She'd prepped for the chilly weathered though, which was good, though she can't say the same for Harry, who is casually strolling from the airport to the car waiting to take him to the hotel.

Absently had she wondered why he didn't just go stay at his London home, but she figured Jeff coaxed him into the hotel life so they'd be within close proximity of each other, which also might've been for her benefit. Y/N had never visited London before and she presumes Jeff doesn't trust her not to get lost, or to try and hitch a ride back home without the model in tow (which she can't fault him on, really, it's not that far of a stretch). This meant that Harry will either be his regular, moody self towards her, or he'll be even snippier that she's the reason he must live in a hotel for a while.

"Oi, would like a minute without paps on me tail, so stop shiverin' like that, you're making a spectacle of yourself. ."

"And you're not?" Y/N grumbles at him, "Your pants are brighter than the sun today, but m'shiverin' is really doing us in, innit?"

"We've been here for little over five minutes, and you've already garnered that London attitude." Harry slips around to the driver's side, taking the keys from the man adorned in black before nodding, smiling his thank you, "Hate to see what it must be after a week here, already a little firecracker."

"Bite me." She shoves her bags into the trunk, along with her folded up blanket.

Harry tosses his duffel into the backseat, "Don't tempt me, Sweetheart."

                                                                            .                        .                      .

Just as Y/N's luck would have it, upon arriving at the hotel, they find that Jeff didn't book two rooms, he booked one room with two beds, and there were no other rooms left where they could switch to due to several conventions (including a model scouting one they might become privy to) going on. This meant a week and a half of non-stop Harry, unless he went out, but he'd always have to come back -- whether it be drunk or hungover, neither she particularly wanted to deal with. This also meant she would have no peace nor time to collect her thoughts without something going on in the background, especially since this was strictly a bedroom with a TV -- no extension of living room like some might have.

"Well, this is shit." Harry mutters to himself, setting his duffel down at the bottom of the bed he'd chose and huffing as he collapsed back onto the bed.

"What? You're not stoked to spend day and night with me?" She says sardonically, sat on the edge of the bed as she kicks her shoes off. The room is nice enough, aside from the glaring problem with their situation, but at least the comforter felt soft enough and the carpets were pretty cozy on the toes. Maybe if she just keeps her eyes closed and music in her ears she'll be able to enjoy her stay here.

Harry, however, seems to be pretty peeved, "Was gon' go out, invite people back for a spell, do some wooing. . ." he trails off, "You're oddly quiet about this. With how uptight you are, I figured you would've blown up at that guy."

"M'not uptight." Y/N decides to say first, "And I'm tired, is all. Just want to eat and go to bed. 'Sides, maybe me being here will do you some good -- no use getting all rowdy with models at the bar, especially with this new solo stuff out."

"What does that matter to you?" He asks, propping himself on his elbow and turns to face her, head tilted, "So what if I get rowdy?"

"Rowdy equals media problems. Media problems are Jeff's problems. Jeff's problems are my problems."

Y/N knows he wouldn't -- despite his question, and a small kiss of his teeth, she knows he isn't stupid. Knows how to work his way around the media -- it's how he's ended up being America, England, France's, Spain's -- just about every country's damn Sweetheart, when he could be such a grade A jerk (if you ask her). Though it's realizations like these that irk her. What had she done to make the "sweetest boy alive" be so cruel to her?