#I LITERALLY WORKED IN A DENTIST OFFICE LIKE FUCK LISTEN TO ME

[tinylittlecubby]

I just don't trust her judgement. I feel like another person could've said the same thing and I would've agreed...

[mncxbe]

yk what's been on my mind lately?? dentist!dazai, literally fingerfucking your mouth WITH his gloves on even tho you protest and ask him to take them off + spitting into your mouth,,,,😵‍💫

no because why is this so hot😳 nonnie, your mind amazes me. anyway short drabble i guess cause this is too delicious.

it happens during your yearly checkup. technically, you try to avoid going to Dazai's when you need a consultation but no one else was available at that time so you ended up going to his office. big mistake, because this man doesn't waste any opportunity to tease you.

"open up, bella" he coos, checking your teeth with his little mouth mirror. you can feel the rubbery material of his glove against your skin as he gently tugs at your lips to check every inch of your mouth. "all good. looks like someone actually used the toothpaste i prescribed last time"

you can't help but roll your eyes at his words. he's so casual about it, as if he doesn't stock up on that weird tasting toothpaste himself. "yea, i always to listen to my doctor" you smile, attempting to slide off the chair but he motions you back up.

"i'm not done with you yet. i still gotta check something"

"'zai i gotta get back to work" you whine, but oblige him, opening your mouth as you lay back against the leather cushion. the next thing you know, your boyfriend's hand wraps around your jaw, forcing it open as he shoves two fingers down your throat. you gag, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you mumble "fuck– 'samu let go"

"now i can't take them off, darling. it'd be awfully unsanitary"

"nuh uh, bella. i gotta make sure your gag reflex is fine. what kind of doctor would i be if i didn't check that?" he smirks, pushing his gloved fingers deeper into your mouth. the silicone tastes awful and feels powdery on your tongue, making you shudder. you try to take the gloves off but dazai shushes you again.

though you could slap the shit eating grin off his face, his actions were starting to take a toll on you. it's strangely attractive, making you feel all hot and bothered. batting your lashes shut, you relax your jaw in his grip and he smiles, finally removing his fingers from your mouth. "keep it open" he commands and takes off his surgical mask, collecting a blob of spit into his mouth and letting it fall on your tongue."there you go, to rinse off the taste"

god, he was such an asshole sometimes.

[lifezvictory]

My New Dentist Almost Killed Me

I had to have a new one because my old one quit? Retired? Just wasn’t there. I’m not sure about the details. So anyway she makes this terrible first impression by asking me “So is there a reason you came to the or for fillings? Lady, a dentist didn’t numb me right and I’m traumatized from it. And she has the audacity to say I should get over it and do it normally in the office because, no kidding this is what she said, “I don’t like going to the or because office is so much easier for me.” Sorry my debilitating fear is such an inconvenience to you./s

But that’s not all. After that, she said I needed to cut down on my soda drinking habit. Which, fair. I probably should do that seeing as I needed fifteen fillings. But fucking hell, woman. You literally just said that I need to start getting dental work done in the office when I’m terrified of doing so, now you want to take away my comfort drink? Like hell I’m going to listen to someone who clearly could not care less about my feelings.

And this is the part where she almost kills me. The title of this post was no exaggeration, I really could have died.

So I get put out and she does all the fillings at once. I was out for over six hours and my body did not like that. My blood pressure dropped dangerously low and I was in serious danger for a while there. Had to stay in the hospital until eleven at night and didn’t get back home until one because they had to give me IV fluids so I would. Not. Die!

Oh, and where was that dentist lady during all this? Gone. She did my fillings and then just left. She was probably relaxing at home and having a grand old time while I was in serious mortal danger.

Ironic thing is that she said she wanted to build trust. Well, bitch, trying to get me so far out of my comfort zone and then almost killing me is not how you get trust. I don’t trust this woman at all anymore. I don’t even trust her to even look at my teeth now,or be in the same room. I am never going to let myself be treated by that dentist again.

Oh, and not only that. I realized that the dentist who didn’t numb me well and traumatized me made very similar statements before putting me in the worst pain I’ve ever experienced. Fuck both those dentists.

[ashc-from-ao3]

You don't know what you've got till it's gone Tony stark x reader

Based off an Avengers click and drag I got where Tony was my lover but he also killed me. Warning ANGST goes from just after the first Iron Man movie until Civil War.

The last sound I expected to be my last was the sound of a repulser beam firing and two screams, my own filled with agony and Tony's filled with aguish and pain.

I should probably fill in the blanks here. My name is (Y/n) and I'm just a normal regular human being, I meet my boyfriend of two years ,Tony Stark, at a convention and he had tried to get a one night stand, when I had refused I apparently had caught his attention. Two days later he had sent me one hundred gold and red roses. They didn't last long. A week after that it was sweets. I had a dentist appointment the next week and threw them out. Two weeks after it was a 6-foot tall teddy bear, I admired the fact that the man kept trying and I love teddies so I kept that. Then started the cute messages he would leave on my answering machine when I would be gone at work. Then came the rent being payed for me. At this point I figured it was less about sex and more about the fact I had turned down the great Tony Stark.

The day I finally agreed to a date was a late December evening, I was at work when a spam email was sent to literally every computer in the office, now I knew it was spam and probably contained a virus so I didn't click on it. But the newest employee was a stupid bint and didn't listen to anyone and hated me so when I warned her she just glared at me and opened.the.FUCKING.EMAIL! When the suspected virus took over the company's server and started draining funds into an over seas account my stupid co-worker decided to blame it on me. Resulting in me not having a job, honestly I wasn't too worried, with Tony.....Mr.Stark still trying to win me over by paying for my rent and my saving I had enough to tide me over until I got a new job. I was okay with this turn of events until I got him and instead of the one or two cuties messages from Stark I had three messages from my mother. My father had passed away, I broke down crying, my family was from Canada and while I was only in New York I didn't know if I had the money in my savings to leave, tide me over on crappy food for a while yeah but not get to Canada.

A knock on my door became my saviour. I was still crying when the first one sounded. The second and third where more demanding until finally the fourth and fifth sets where down right frantic.

"(Y/N)? ARE YOU IN THERE?" The banging continued along with the yells from Tony of my name. Finally a repulser beam sounded and my door was blown to smitherines. I barley had the air or energy to scream, I just cried. A half second later I was wrapped in a comforting embrace.

"Oh god, I'm sorry if I scared you. I wanted to surprise you so I went to your work.....I know it's weird that I know where you work, live and what your number is but when I saw you at the convention I just really wanted to get to know you, you seemed like such an interesting person. When you turned me down I realized you thought I just wanted sex.....it was an idea but only after I had properly won you over, and let me tell you that is something I have NEVER done. I tried everything and I'm rambling." Tony looked so dustrught at the thought he was the reason for my break down. I sniffled and patted his arm.

"It's okay, you're not the reason I'm crying, please continue your story, distract me from the real reason I'm crying" Tony nodded and took a breath.

"I went to your work with reservations to a fancy new place and a nice dress and I thought it was a nice way to actually ask you out, when you weren't there I asked your boss and he told me you had gotten fired. By the way this one lady tried to get me to take her out in OUR date....she looked like a fucking banshee. I came over to look In on you,my heard you crying and I got worried. Maybe blasting your door apart wasent the best way to do it but I panicked." I sniffled again and sat up.

"I wasn't worried about losing my job, with you so graciously paying my rent I had enough to tide me over on ramen noodles until I had a new job......but my mother called my father was in car acdedent and died, my family lives in Canada and I don't have enough money to go to the funeral." Tony scowled for a second.

"Babe, I'll take you to see your family, I'll pay for the door and I'll do what ever you need me to until you are feeling better." I smiled shakily and hugged him.

"You don't just want sex or to claim a conquest do you? You actually want a relationship?" Tony nodded and I smiled a little, looks like things might just work out for me.

"In that case I would love to go out tonight, if the reservations are still good, and if you want to send me to see my family I should take you with me, I want them to know who helped me get there." Tony smiled brilliantly and dragged me down the hall asking me where my bathroom was, I pointed it out and he pushed me in gently.

"Put on the dress then open the door" I shrugged but did what he asked, as soon as I opened the door he was practically attacking me with makeup brushes.

"Tada! You look beautiful.....not that you don't always but now you look just wow" Tony was right, somehow this billionaire knew more about makeup than half the women I knew. He had expertly blended and shaded the makeup and it gave me back my glow, you would never know just moments before I was balling my eyes out. With a small giggle I threw my arms around Tony and gave him a peck on the cheek. Half an hour later we had finished our meal and where out dancing, Tony had requested one of my favourites can't help falling in love the Andrea bocellie version. After we had taken a walk along the beach just chatting and telling each other about ourselves, I agreed to more dates he had walked me home. Half a week later Tony had taken me to my parent's....my mom's house, the look of surprise on her face was enough to make me laugh just a little, throughout the entire thing Tony was very supporting and caring.

After my fathers funeral we had gone on several more dates and I quickly fell in love with the billionaire. One day ,after about a year, Tony asked me something huge he had asked me to move in with him. I had agreed in half a heartbeat and moved in. Tony had introduced me to the avengers, Steve was always a gentleman and it seemed to irk Tony, I made sure to reassure him that I loved him and while Steve was hot, he had clenched his jaw at that, he was smokin', sexy, absolutely perfect. That had cheered him up immediately. After a while of living with him Tony had set up a romantic scene on the roof of what was now called Avenger's tower, there where candles everywhere and roses to. Tony was in the middle of it all in my favorite tuxedo, when I approached him he had taken my hand and sunk down to one knee.

"(Y/n) at first you where a pretty face in the crowd, then you became a smart mind and pretty face, then you became someone I wanted to have with me forever, then you became my girlfriend, and then the most important person in my life. Sweetheart I would die for you,I would kill for you. Anything you want is yours, the only thing I can't offer is my heart....but that's because you stole it. (Y/n) (Y/last/n). Would you do me the honour of being mine for ever and marrying me?" With tears in my eyes and a happy smile I nodded and choked in a sob, I fanned my eyes and bent down to Tony and gave him a very salty kiss. Tony wrapped his arms around me and lifted me in the air, I could hear the sound of fireworks and I opened my eyes only to pull away from Tony and smack him in the chest with a grin. Red and gold fireworks had been shot into the night sky to spell out

She said yes

Underneath the Mark 40 suit was holding hand with a similar suit that looked more femanine

Our wedding was scheduled for the spring, Tony was going to take everyone invited to a beautiful island he had bought for our honeymoon. I was frantically planning, I couldn't decided between Wanda or Natasha for my maid of honour so I decided both of them would be, the wedding wasn't going to be very tradional anyway. Three months before the big day and the government had to come and ruin it.

They had decided the Tony and every other superhero needed to be under supervision, Tony had agreed and Steve had rebelled, it probably also had something to do with his old friend from the 40's being back, while Steve hadn't trusted Tony to tell him about Bucky but I had accidentally stumbled on the information and confronted him about it. After he had explained everything I had agreed to keep it a secret. The government was now tearing my family apart, Tony the love of my life, and all of my friend. People I now concerned family where fighting.

I had to stop this. Tony had ordered F.R.I.D.A.Y to lock me down but in a flash I had used the repulser beams in my "Iron Woman" suit, when Tony proposed he had given it to me, he had insisted I be safe when he was on missions, this was the first time I needed to use it and it felt strange. I landed just a few hundred meters from where I could see a fight about to start, with a burst of adrenalin I started racing towards it. I had just arrive when Tony lifted his hand and shit a repulser beam at Steve, the supersoldier had lifted his shield to deflect it but it hadn't even reached him, instead I was thrown backwards with a scream. A half second later I was surrounded. Tony had my head in his lap and was crying, the tears dropped on my face and I gasped, the rest, of the avengers had surrounded me I could see horror in all their eyes, I grinned a little, at least my death would bring them back together, even if it was just to mourn me.

"(Y/nn) baby, look at me. Listen you can't leave okay? I still haven't seen you walk down the aisle I still have had a heart attack when you announced you're pregnant, I still haven't had my hand broken when you're bringing our son or daughter into this world. I still haven't woken up at three in the morning to take care of him or her, I still haven't cried at their first day at school, I still have to beat boys off my daughter or encourage my son to ask that girl out, I have a future planned out for us, almost down to the second.....and you know how bad I am at planning. I have almost every detail planned for us so you can't leave me.....okay?" I smiled and sniffed, the actions though small caused me immense pain.

"I'm sorry baby, but I don't I-I-" I paused for a cough that brought up a large quantity of blood.

"I don't think I'm making it, I'm s-so-sorry I'm so sorry"

"NO! YOU CANT LEAVE ME, I WONT LET YOU! IF YOU LEAVE YOU VANT STOP ME FROM FOLLOWING" Tony's voice became softer after his outburst, his tears started interfering with his ability to talk and he choked on a sob.

"(Y/n) pl-please don't leave me, you can't leave me, you make me a better human than I actually am, you can't leave. You have to stay strong for me. I'll do what eve you want just stay with me, I'll even say that the government can go screw themselves, I'll do what ever you want just stay with me." Tony went to brush away a tear and he turned sharply towards Wanda and Pietro, for a second I thought I saw a flash of red in his eyes but I was dying, what did I know.

"Maximoff! Get her to a hospital, please, don't let her die because I'm stupid."

"To-Tony, there is nothing you can do, I'm dying babe. I'm so- I'm so-orry p, I'm so-"

the world went black around me and the last sound I heard on this earth was the hear wrenching scream of my fiancée as I left him.

[badbatchsprincess]

I'm coming on to rant rn, I literally got tricked into x-rays without the freaking dentist checking if my insurance was valid at their office. I literally handed them the card and they acted all sweet and nice, giving it back to me, took me in the back (I believed my insurance was just fine (I'm also a dependent and thought my plan would work at this office)) took like twenty x-rays then walked my ass back to the front telling me I owed them $400 and my plan wasn't covered.... whaaaaat. I literally don't have money for that rn what the actual fuck. Someone, what the hell do I do??? Am I dumb, or was I just scammed lol. (I'm going to be living off ramen for the next month just to feed my cat)

Also, they were like you also have 7 (almost) cavities, we should fill those before they become a problem... BAM... they want 2k...... for fucking pre-cavities. I'm actually hollering. What is happening rn. I'm too broke for this. So I'm trying to find a new dentist to get s second opinion who hopefully takes my insurance but I'm not gonna lie y'all it's a janky affordable insurance so who fucking knows.

I need a sugar daddy who doesn't need sugar and just wants to help a broke girl out. God if you're listening please send me a rich person with a good heart. good lord.

anyways, I'm going to be working on finishing this chapter to distract myself please send me funny memes or something so I don't collapse lol

Are pay pigs actually real? (That seems like such a mean name to call them.) Not gonna kink shame on my page. But anyways, if someone who is stumbles across this page please help (I'm desperate) And scared my teeth are going to fall out)).

[bonesandthebees]

Ider if i told u but i got my wisdom teeth removed today and that shit was the worst experience of my life ohmygod

The actual procedure went okay, though like i took an anti anxiety med that was supposed to knock me out but i was Fully Conscious LMFAO AND SO I ASKED THEM TO GIVE ME THE OTHER ONE BUT THEY WERE LIKE "naur bro ur fine" BC I WSNT FREAKING OUT A TON DJFKGKF WHICH I WAS NOT PREPARED FOR (tho it turned out to be a good thing bc those meds ended up making me . Hashtag emetophobia tw ifykwim)

BUT YEAH THE RECOVERY PROCESS WAS SHITTTT THEY TOLD ME I COULD TAKE OUT THE GAUZE IN 2 HRS AND SLEEP BC I WAS VERY TIRED BUT NOOOO IT WOUKDNT HEALLL FOR A WHOLE SIX ASS HOURS

Ahem sorry for yelling i was just very . Upset bc i wanted to sleep or even just drink fucking water man

BUT I DIDDD EVENTUALLY I DIDD WE REJOICEEE i think there was still a little bit of blood but i couldnt taste it anymore and i was really thirsty so shfkfkf and food (literally just broth lmao) made me feel a lot better so that's good

But yeah . -1100000 experience i would literally never recommend it (unless u have to, also from who I've talked to almost everyone else has had a better experience than me so if u are scared, do not worry king it won't be that bad. And even if it is like me, im here!! And alive!! And the nausea wasnt that bad, it kinda just came and went. Much better than migraines bro fr, migraines suck BALLS)

Like everyone kept telling me to watch a movie but that was stressing me out so what i ended up doing wss putting on a podfic (passerine podcast on yt woot woot, i listened to change fate by sircantus) and man it's actually wild how much it helped me. It helped calm my anxiety AND distract me from the pain. Once i did that existing felt less like suffering and more like an annoyance ahahah

OUGH I DIDNT EVEN GET ANY SILLY GOOFY MOMENTS EITHER BC I WASNT LOOPY AT ALL JUST TIRED DHFJFK

Anyways ty for letting me get that out of my system LMAOO

oh man this sounds literally horrible I'm so sorry icy 😭 that sucks that you weren't able to knock out even a little bit but at least the procedure itself wasn't horrible

god that sounds terrible though just sitting there for 6 hours waiting to be able to take the gauze out. that's so strange that it took so long. but at least you were able to listen to passerine podcast that's nice!!

everyone I know whose gotten their wisdom teeth removed had a better experience than this I am so sorry you got so unlucky.

I'm very grateful that I'm never gonna have to get my wisdom teeth removed. I had soooo much horribly painful dental work done to my mouth throughout my entire teen years that I now genuinely get bad anxiety anytime I'm in a dentist office even if I'm not there for myself, I straight up was getting anxious when I took my grandma there for a cleaning the other day 😭 and I keep putting off a recommended (minor) procedure bc of this anxiety it's badddd

I hope you're feeling better now though!!

[echodrops]

The Promises I Made (2022)

...Aha ha ha...

Well, at least that’s over, I guess? I feel such a bone deep exhaustion I don’t even know what to say about this last year. Does anyone? One more year older, I suppose. Last year at this time I felt like I really needed to take it easy on myself going into 2022, but that just led to me drifting aimlessly through this last year as if stuck in a bad dream. Things really are still very rough...

2023 seems to be gearing up for another year of “Who knows?” Will it be better? Will another disaster strike? Let’s hope the former, and not the latter!

This year, like every year, there will be a new set of 50 promises to keep (or break), but in the mean time, here’s how I did on the promises from 2022!

Promises I Made (2022):

1) Get the Utah house chimney repaired before it falls down.

Status: Kept. It doesn’t look “brand new,” but it is properly sealed now and with new mortar between the bricks. Crisis averted.

2) Get both bedroom floors sanded in the Utah house upstairs.

Status: Broken. The Utah house needed a lot of improvements and unfortunately this wasn’t one of them that got done.

3) Get the Utah house sprinklers up and working ALL the way for this summer.

Status: Broken. I literally tried so hard to get someone out to work on these damn sprinklers and not a single person got back to me on this. Guess I’ll have to try again next May...

4) Actually get the back fence fixed up and the greenery back there trimmed and managed.

Status: Broken. I hate those goddamn vines so much. I HATE THEM.

4) Get an official exercise routine including walking/jogging, please.

Status: Somewhat kept. Most of the year I was pretty bad on this; however, I have a new puppy and she is learning to walk so I do got 4-5 miles a day now that she’s managed to work up to that.

5) Related to that, lose at least 20 pounds. 2020-2021 was not kind to me and the stress eating was real.

Status: Ugh, broken. See the above “sat around and did nothing but work for 3/4s of the year.”

6) Successfully set up and use the Roomba my family got for me to hopefully cut down on allergies.

Status: Broken. Okay listen. I was all ready to do this, then I got a P U P P Y. Who chews everything. The Roomba would not survive. It’s stationary until she gets a bit bigger and stops chewing.

7) Keep up with the specialist appointments that my doctor is making for me. No more getting confused on dates and missing…

Status: Kept. I actually managed to get in to see the RIGHT specialist this year who actually diagnosed my issues correctly. Too bad the recommended treatment is surgery that will be several thousand out of pocket...

8) Go see the dentist again because I think I broke/chipped one of my old fillings and it is not feeling good.

Status: Kept. The old filling was indeed broken, but it has been fixed!

9) Finish all the books I received as gifts from 2020 through 2021. It’s rude not to finish books people gave you out of love.

Status: ...Ahahaha. Broken. More books appeared, rather than disappeared, from the list.

10) Organize my documents (especially student papers)—my desktop and documents folders give me nightmares just looking at them.

Status: Damn, broken. I could have done this, but I didn’t think to do it before I left town for the holiday, and now I’m not on my home computer to do it. RIP.

11) Get my new SSD hard drive fully installed and working before going back to work.

Status: Kept.

12) Get a decent paper shredder to shred old mail.

Status: Broken. I completely forgot I made this promise. I do still need a shredder though. D;

13) Get the fucking post office to STOP delivering other people’s mail to my house. 90% of the mail that comes to the mailbox isn’t even for me and it is driving me C R A Z Y.

Status: Broken. Jesus fucking Christ. I am trying so hard. I talked to the postmaster TWICE and they still won’t stop delivering other people’s mail.

14) Get the Texas house dishwasher fixed… I’m so tired of washing dishes by hand… How do people do this, oof.

Status: Broken. I could have and I just didn’t.

15) Get a plumber to stop the dripping spare bathroom faucet and also check behind the wall in the side bathroom… This is gonna be expensive, ugh.

Status: Kept. It was fucking expensive.

16) Talk to an HR rep about my retirement savings so that I can consolidate my retirement accounts. I have been putting this off for like five years now.

Status: Broken. I completely forgot I made this promise. But damn I also still need to do this, lol.

17) Do at least one artwork to actually use that new paint program I bought.

Status: Broken. Oof.

18) Pay my credit debt down by at least $2000. I’m still paying off the hell year but I hope I can make progress on this.

Status: Broken. I was doing so good for a while there, then my car had a major issue that cost over $2000, my back fence blew down in a storm and cost $1700 to re-fence, and I had to pay over $800 for the above-mentioned plumbing fixes... Back in debt again. Fuck you, 2020s.

19) Be a super prepared boss and be ahead of the game on all major requirements for the semester, rather than feeling like I’m playing catch-up all the time.

Status: Broken. Spring 2021 was really good. I thought I did really well that semester. Fall 2021... was a nightmare. Just a complete disaster. I felt so far behind on everything from Day 1. I’m just praying I can do better this year.

20) See a groove-billed ani. This will be the year!

Status: DUDE, I kept this promise so hard that I no only saw a groove-billed ani, I ALSO saw a smooth-billed ani, which is like 100 times rarer. I saw some great birds this year!

21) Make it to 3500 followers on tumblr. You should follow me. I’m awesome. :D

Status: Broken. Despite the porn bots best efforts in November/December, I did not, in fact, make it to 3500. I would have had to POST something to get new followers, after all.

22) Update HaaH at least once. I will do this, no matter what.

Status: Broken. Jesus fucking Christ, I’m so bad at this.

23) Finish streaming all the new Marvel stuff with Kacchan.

Status: Broken. I was REALLY, REALLY close to caught up. Then Marvel released like 50 new movies and 500 new TV shows and I am very much giving up on this lmaooo.

24) Save up to finally buy one of those Ember heated tea mugs.

Status: Kept. My family bought me one for Christmas!

25) Do a better job of working with and representing the other disciplines in my department. I’m really good at advocating for English, but Communication and the foreign languages under my department need more support, and I need to step up for them.

Status: Kept, though mostly by necessity. All our full-time Spanish instructors retired so guess who had to help redo all the Spanish curriculum despite not speaking Spanish???

26) Use the sugar scrub Echo. Just use it. Pamperrrrrr yourself for once…

Status: Broken. It’s RIGHT THERE. Every day, I look right at it, and did I use it? Not even once.

27) Help my parents save money on their bills by consolidating their services and making some calls to retention of these companies for them.

Status: Somewhat kept? I honestly did try very hard on this one and was prevented from succeeding by my parents just being completely unwilling to change, even to save themselves money. Oof.

28) Bird watch in at least three brand new locations this year. I have a tendency to just go back to the places I know, and I’m probably missing some really great birding sites.

Status: Broken. I bird watched one brand new location this year, but alas, only one.

29) Keep up my medicine prescriptions successfully without letting them lapse.

Status: Kept. The new medicine is like the one thing standing between me and death, so I don’t usually forget it anymore lol.

30) Play with my dog and cat more often. They’re bored because I’m working too much, I know.

Status: Somewhat kept. I tried this year to cut down on the amount of work I brought home, but other situations made it really difficult to do so. My poor cat in particular definitely needs more attention.

31) Call an exterminator to finally get the ants that keep coming in from somewhere actually dealt with, instead of just spraying them with bug spray even other week and calling it good.

Status: Kept, in that the ants are gone? After I went away for the summer, there was no water running in the house, so the ants stopped coming in, and even after I came back at the end of summer, they just never came back? So I’m counting that as a promise kept?

32) This is super nerdy, but my bro got me the FFXIV cookbook and made me promise to actually use it, so I guess I’d better at least try to make something from it.

Status: Ooops. I forgot I made this promise. Broken.

33) Speaking of FFXIV: This year, I’ll obtain every in-game orchestrion roll. I’m already 80% of the way there.

Status: Broken. See, the issue with this promise is that they keep adding MORE orchestrion rolls... Not sure what I was thinking lol.

34) Get a new rose bush for the front of the Texas house and keep it alive.

Status: I did not do this. Broken.

35) Get King’s prescriptions moved to the closer vet so I don’t have to keep driving two hours away each month to get his medicine.

Status: Kept, in a sense. I was able to move his medicine over to the new vet, but unfortunately, there didn’t end up being any point to it. At the end of January in 2022, he was diagnosed with throat cancer. He lived until April 2022 and then passed away. My beloved boy...

36) Buy the Noragami volumes I am missing from my collection and do a full re-read of the series so that I can write meta about it again. Right now it just feels like there are so many things I can’t properly remember…

Status: Broken. I still greatly want to do this, but at this point, I’m kind of just waiting for the end of the manga so that I can officially catch up and re-read it from start to finish.

37) Go to Zion National Park with Derby.

Status: Kept. We hiked so much.

38) Go horseback riding on the island. I’ve never ridden on a beach before!

Status: Broken. I did not do this, RIP.

39) Eat healthier. Maybe cutting out snacks is too much to ask, but at least replace some average meals with salads, etc. and overall make an effort to actually eat better. Sometimes the fact that I feel garbage is my own fault.

Status: Mostly broken. The stress was so real this year.

40) Related to feeling like garbage: NO MORE WORKING AFTER 9PM. If it’s a real emergency, okay, but otherwise, it is time to set a boundary about working from home after hours.

Status: Broken. I must have been on crack when I made this promise, because honestly there is no way I could possibly have done the job I have without working to midnight many nights of the year... Someone save me...

41) Get a new office chair, an actual nice one, and some plastic to go under the chair to make it easier to move around.

Status: Broken. I... probably should have remembered to check in on the promises more than a few times this year because I also totally forgot this one.

42) Finish decorating the main office. I’ll feel better if my workplace reflects the level of professionalism and school spirit that I envisioned it having this year.

Status: Broken. I know exactly what I want to do with the rest of the office that isn’t decorated, I just never got around to it. T_T

43) Ensure our department successfully meets all its IEP goals this year.

Status: Kept! We were the first department to confirm completion of all goals!

44) Try to be more comprehensive with giving feedback to students. I’m always good at providing detailed comments on essays, but I’d like to spend more time commenting on smaller assignments too this year.

Status: Broken. I was trying in Spring 2022, but in fall, I was double over-loaded on courses on top of all the administrative work I had and could barely keep up grading at all, let alone give more feedback.

45) Write an FFXIV fic. Even if it’s just a one-shot, write something for this series. I need to express my love…

Status: Kept! I wrote a whole bunch for #FFXIVWrites and even received an art prize for participating! <3

46) Be more proactive about the cleaning. No more accidentally forgetting to take the trash can out to the curb. At least once a month do a full dust and vacuum of the house, not just the one room I spend the most time in (my office lol).

Status: Surprisingly, kept. I don’t really know why, but my house was somehow much cleaner in the latter half of this year. Did I unlock the secret stress cleaning routine?

47) Participate in NaNoWriMo. Even if I don’t finish, just participating again will feel great.

Status: Broken. There was zero chance I could have done this while overloaded on courses.

48) Get a screen door put on the side door of the Texas house. This really needs to happen and I can’t believe I just remembered.

Status: Broken, although not for lack of trying. I did actually have someone come to try to measure for a screen door, but it turns out the door is not a standard size and it would be way too much money to get a custom screen door made.

49) Don’t forget anyone’s birthday or any other holidays this year. (I forgot a close friend’s birthday last year due to being stressed with work and I’m still upset with myself over it.)

Status: Mostly kept. I did better this year--not perfect, but better!

50) I will keep my promises!

Status: OOF. Mostly broken promises this year. 2022 was another hard one. I’m on the struggle buss.

Kept: 16

Somewhat kept/somewhat broken: 3

Broken: 31

Good luck, 2023′s Echo!

[elizvbeths]

how 'bout a kiss?

A/N: while scoping through prompts, I fucking died when I saw this one from a personal experience at my job. thus this bad boy was born. Reader is a dental assistant at the only dental office in Hawkins. Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Talking Eddie into going to the dentist was something that Y/N thought would never happen. After all, when hearing about all his traumatic experiences that Eddie had as a child, even she wouldn’t have the guts to go in. But ever since landing her job, (as though a miracle or something), at Doctor Randall’s office, Y/N has learned a lot about the dental field. Like for instance, how important it was to floss, especially since when she was working with her doc, when she pulled all of the food out of Mr. Clarke’s teeth, which left a gaping hole, it woke Y/N up.

Since that day, Eddie has been a victim of Y/N going on and on about the importance of good dental hygiene. The horror stories that she would listen to would do enough to make him shiver and even rethink his own morning routines. “Really?” Eddie grimaced, holding off a gag, “someone had FUZZ on their teeth? Literal mold-like fuzz?”His girlfriend only nodded slowly, her face in a twist of disgust. “And babe the SMELL. Oh my god, Doc and I were going to pass out. It was fucking disgusting.” Y/N whined, shaking herself as a way to rid her of the thought. “I kid you not, Randall was going to pass out. She was literally walking around after we numbed him saying she should just take the damn teeth out.”

Staring at Y/N, after a huff, he caved. “Y/N just get me an appointment.”

“W-what?” 

“Get me my damn appointment, Jesus H. Christ!”

And there he was, in the same dental chair that fuzz tooth was. Y/N was quick with the x-rays that were needed, after somehow convincing Dr. Randall that she truly wouldn’t need them all, but only because she didn’t want Eddie to get too freaked out with how stupid they tended to be. Y/N was in and out of his room checking in on him and making sure he was okay. Of course, he got a little amused when she saw how out of breath she was, due to her busy morning of extractions and fillings. “I promise you, we will be right in here baby, I want Doc to give you all the attention she has left.” She assured before popping back out in action. It didn’t take long, after about 5 more minutes waiting, Y/N came in with a wide smile upon her face. In towing in behind her, a female shorter than her, red hair all up in a bun with baby hair sticking out. 

A busy morning indeed.

“Good morning Eddie, I’m Dr. Randall, it’s nice to meet you officially!” The greeting making Eddie scrunch his face in confusion. “It’s, uh, nice to meet you too Doc.” He replied, nerves making him mumble. Y/N was quick to step in behind him, sitting in the assistant chair as she gathered his x-rays for viewing, her hand fell onto his shoulder as she gave him a light squeeze. 

“Okay, so Y/N told me everything about your previous experience with your last dentist, so I’ve decided that to make your life a little easier, I’m just going to go over everything I see.” Doctor Randall said, earning a sharp nod from Eddie. “Everything is going to be okay, Eds, I promise.” The promise that Y/N gave caused him to exhale sharply and slump his shoulders in defeat. 

Everything is going to be okay, everything is going to be okay.

After a minute or two of Doctor Randall looking over his x-rays, and a quick examination of his mouth (that Eddie discreetly gripped Y/N’s hand for), a happy sigh escaped Doc's lips. “Welp, good news! Just one cavity! Your bone levels look great, and the cavity is actually really shallow. Y/N, can you chart down a shallow occlusal on 18?” Doc asked, removing gloves. Y/N gave a sharp, satisfied nod as she began to write down the findings. Eddie began to look around, wide eyed. “Does that mean I have to do it now? Y/N, I don’t wanna do it now.” He panicked, that flash of his childhood dentist's face flashed in his mind. Y/N, ever the mind reader, quickly came to his side. “Nope, baby. You can come in whenever I’m working, so you’ll have me by your side. Okay? Doctor Randall isn’t Doctor Stinson, I promise.” She assured, as the dentist backed out of the room to give them privacy. 

Eddie breathed in relief, closing his eyes for a moment to calm his racing heart. “You must think I’m a pussy.” He mumbled, earning a squeeze of his hand. Looking up, he saw Y/N’s face of disapproval. “Eddie, baby, I literally had someone sob because Doc just entered a room. Don’t be so hard on yourself, dental phobias and anxieties are completely normal.” She stated, running her fingers through his curly hair. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling. 

After Eddie calmed down, Y/N bit her lip. Should she? Shouldn’t she? Would she be an asshole? Remembering one of the stories that Eddie once told her about his former dentist, one that made them both laugh. Giving him a beat of peace, Y/N leaned forward, showcasing her cheek. “Now, how about a kiss?” She asked, tapping her finger on her cheek. A scoff was earned paired with an eye roll. He chuckled, placing a quick kiss upon her cheek before placing another one of her lips. 

“You’re lucky I love you, smartass. When’s my next appointment, dental lady?” 

Maybe the dentist won’t be so scary after all.

[vanillafrog]

Yes, Doctor

Pairing: Whiskey x Reader (AFAB Reader)

Summary: You have had a strong attraction to your dentist, Dr Jack Daniels, for years. Now is when finally make a move and what happens exceeds your expectations. 

Word Count: 2,673 

Warnings: smut!! unprotected sex, PinV, public?, doctor (dentist) kink, hat kink sort of, creampie, oral (f receiving), dentist!au, dirty talk

A/N: we were goofing off in the discord and dentist!Whiskey came out of it so of course I had to live write a whole fan fiction

Most hated going to the dentist. not that you could really blame them. The sterile environment and gleaming medical supplies were quite terrifying but yet here you were with another purposeful cavity. You just had to see him.

Dr Jack Daniels or as he is called by his peers, Whiskey

Whiskey was a cowboy who truly didn't know how to quit. He seemed to always wear a turtle neck under his lab coat and always smell of, well, whiskey and something else equally intoxicating.

He had been your dentist for a handful of years now even though you had moved a good distance away. There just wasn’t any other dentist who could ever make you feel as safe in their care as he did

Whether he was talking to you in his alluring country accent, moving his skilled hands over his tools or just looking at you with those deep eyes, he was safe. Even if he was older. Even if he probably wasn't as interested in you as you were him. He was it. He ruined every other man for you and you barely saw each other pass the yearly checkups and call backs.

This time, however, you had a plan. If it went wrong, that was fine, you would just pack up and go to another dentist closer to home. If it did work, well hopefully you were going to walk out the office with a limp and a cleaner smile.

You wore your most confident outfit. One that showed off your best assets but didn't make you feel like cowering under his intense stare. It was show time.

Walking in, the receptionist examined you and sighed. It was like she knew what your plan was before you even did. Then again, it wasn't like you were going to be the first person to try to seduce Whiskey. A man that attractive probably had clientele who came to him particularly for his looks.

The wait for your appointment was longer than usual but that was fine. Watching the news helped ease your nerves for the mean time. Let you pretend that you were just having a normal cavity fill in and that you definitely weren't planning on fucking your dentist in the dental chair.

A call of your name pulled you from your thoughts. In the entrance way to the back stood Whiskey. He filled up the door way with his board shoulders that flared inwards into his tight waist. His mustache was perfectly groomed as always.

He smiled at you as you made your way to him, eyes quickly roaming your figure. “It's always great to see you sugar," he said as he ushered you towards his work space. “Though, I have to say you might just be a little too sweet." he flashed a smirk with a wink over his shoulder to you. “So sweet you give yourself cavities."

His work space was the usual dentist set up, the desk by the entrance, the chair in the middle and the fluorescent lights that were bright enough to give the sun a run for its money. Yet, he had his own little knick knacks that made it his own.

A coat rack in the corner that held his leather jacket (that you have yet to actual see him wear but desperately need to) as well as his cowboy hat. there were some pictures on the wall from normal dentist mumbo jumbo to more western themed pictures. the man was definitely dedicated to his aesthetic.

“Okay honey, hold right on to that chair and i'll be right back.” Whiskey's eyes took in your appearance once more before walking out the door. the chair was as uncomfortable as another other. just a hard plastic thing with little to know cushioning but it would do what you needed it for.

With a deep breath, you sat back onto the chair, lifting your legs onto the edge but allowing them to be spread allowing the perfect view for Whiskey when he walked into the door.

Was the plan overly risky? Yes. Was there a possibility that someone else could see you? Most definitely. But there was no time to argue the logistics of your half assed plans when the throbbing in your cunt only intensified when you first laid eyes on the cowboy.

You moved to unbutton your jeans before your eyes moved back towards the corner. his hat. without a moment of thought you got up to get it, laying it on top your head before repositioning yourself on the chair.

With unbuttoned jeans, you shoved your hand into your jeans then underwear, slowly teasing your clit with your fingers while keeping your lust filled eyes on the doorway. Please don't let anyone else see this. You begged to whatever god was listening. Though if god were real, he wouldn't exactly approve of your actions right now.

The moments rolled by, the light pressure on your clit was driving you closer to release. Maybe it was how scandalous this all was that was making you all hot and bothered. Maybe it was Whiskey's hat on your head that smelled so strongly of him. Who knows? Didn't matter the moment he stepped into the doorway, file in hand.

Whiskey froze. Eyes widening as lips parted. His eyes danced back and forth between your hidden hand and his hat. It was like he didn't know which was more gorgeous to see. “Jack,” you whimpered pulling him out of his trance.

He threw the file on to his desk, slamming the door behind him and barely giving any thought into locking it. “Well aren't you just looking all pretty sitting there on my chair wearing my hat." His grin was downright feral making you whine.

“Jack please.”

“What do you want honey? You want to cum?" He stood as the edge of the chair, right out of reach. You nodded your head, increasing the pressure and speed on your clit. “Then make yourself cum. Be a good girl and I’ll lick that pretty pussy clean.” Shit, you didn't expect this exact scenario but damn was it hotter than what you originally thought of.

He tilted his head toward the side while he watched your chest increase speed as you got closer to orgasm. “Shit sugar if i had known you wanted my cock so badly I would've given it to your years ago." He kneeled onto the chair, pressing his hands on either sides of your hips so he wasn't touching you but your faces were close enough together that if you just moved an inch, you would get to kiss those lush lips that plagued your thoughts.

“Don't be shy baby, cum for me.” And sure enough, his deep drawl pushed you over the edge. A loud moan had started to make its way out of your mouth before his hand shot up to grab your throat and pull your mouth towards his, suppressing the noise. He devoured your lips like it was his last meal while on death row.

It was hard and pressing but so right that you didn’t want it to stop. You didn't even notice that you moved your hairs until you were tugging his hair to pull his body even closer towards yours. He growled, fucking growled. And if that sound alone didn't reignite the flame inside you then his next actions would've burned you alive.

He abruptly pulled around, grabbing your legs and forcing you to lay half on the chair while your body half was held up by him. “You want me, baby?" You nodded while trying to push your hips towards his making him slap your jean covered thigh. “Use your fucking words, baby."

“Yes yes please, need it so bad.” You barely sounded like yourself, voice high pitched and whiny but who gave a shit when this literal embodiment of walking sex practically ripped your pants and panties down your legs like they offended him. He didn't even bother acting kindly towards your shoes or socks, just throwing them to the side with your clothes before biting your bare ankle.

A low moan escaped your lips as he began to trail kisses up your calf while lowering himself to the ground. His mustache tickled the inside of your leg making you squirm. “Keep moving-" he mumbled in your leg, sucking a large hickey on the inside of your thigh. “And i won't tongue fuck your cunt." He bit down. “And i've been dreaming of how you taste for so long so don't break my fucking heart baby."

You stayed as still as you could as he got to your glistening folds. His dark eyes took in how wet you were for him and he groaned. “Shit.” He settled one leg onto his shoulder and the other pushed off to the side, giving him the prefect view. “This all for me?"

“Jack please." He smacked your thigh, his hand rubbing away the heat of it as though it was second nature to soothe. “It's fucking doctor to you, do you understand?" You nodded quickly

“Yes doctor." He nosed at your pubic bone, so close to where you need him.

“Tell your doctor what the problem is.” His warm breath hitting your cunt making your hips twitch.

“I need- I need you so bad,” you stammered.

“I’m already here, baby.” He moved towards the junction of your hip and thigh, sucking marks into it. Whiskey was going to make sure you walked out of here with a reminder of who owns you.

“Doctor please.” He bit down harshly, a warning. “Need your mouth, please.” He grinned into your skin before finally enveloping your heat with his mouth.

You bucked up into him, forcing him to lay one arm over you to keep you where he wanted. “You taste better than any of the finest nectar god could ever make.” His tongue circled your clit as a finger teased your entrance. You could barely hear anything pass the blood pumping in your ears as he pushed a thick finger into you.

You clenched around him trying to get used to the intrusion. It's been years since you've been with anyone. You weren't lying when you said Whiskey had ruined any other person for you. He pulled back to look at how your pussy looked wrapped around his finger. He couldn’t help but add another and groan.

“You’re so fucking tight and hot.” He curled upwards, finding your g-spot making your back arch and your breath to hitch. “Your’e gonna feel so damn good around me." He latched onto your clit again, sucking harshly while starting to pound you with his fingers.

“Need you to cum again.” He swirled his tongue. “Need you to cum again for me, pretty girl." It was like his life mission was to pull you apart. He worked you over bringing you right to the edge, just teetering there. “Cum for your doctor, sweet girl." And there were the magic words that pushed you over, screaming his name and some expletives. Whiskey didn't even bother trying to smother your noises this time.

Working you through your orgasm, he pulled away and looked at your hazy eyes. He couldn't help to smile. He was proud of being able to wreck you and he planned on doing it again and again, as many times as you would allow him.

Your mind cleared up as he moved to unbuckle his belt that you just realized was a flask. At any other time you would probably laugh at it but with his hands pushing down his jeans and boxers, allowing his cock to spring free, your mind was only able to produce one thought. You wanted him to fuck your mouth.

You reached out and caressed him. He moaned out loud, grabbing your wrist to pull you away. “Baby as much as I wanna see your pretty lips on me as I mark your throat, we'll have to do that next time." He placed a gentle kiss on your lips making your heart soar. Next time. “I still have to fill in your cavity after I fill up your pretty cunt." He pushed you to lay back down while stroking his hard cock.

“Shit baby I don't-" You cut off his worrying with a simple whiney "safe" while wrapping your legs around his hips to pull him towards you. The groan he let out as his dick rubbed your wet pussy was definitely what was sending you to hell but it was more than worth it to feel him run himself along your cunt, gathering your juices.

He pushed in and fuck fuck fuck. He was so thick. It felt as though he was splitting you in half. Whiskey waited a moment as he saw you struggling to take his length. He rubbed your stomach, helping your relax around him. Once he felt you loosen up around him, he pushed the rest of himself into you with a low "shit" that came out so deep you felt in vibrate in your chest.

He filled you to the brim. There was no one that would ever make you feel as whole as Whiskey did at this moment. He leaned over you, covering you half naked body with his fully clothed on. That's when he began to move. Slow at first, letting you feel every vein and ridge of him.

“Baby girl,” his eyes glued to yours. “You fit me so well.” He began to snap his hips harder, making your claw at his lab coat. “Fucking made to be filled by me, to be fucked by me."

His lips smashed onto yours, clacking teeth together as he owned your mouth the same way he was owning your pussy. “You like this huh?" He pulled back, forcing your legs onto his shoulders. “You like being fucked by your dentist while you wear his hat?" His hand moved between your thighs, finding your bundle of nerves with precision. “Shit when I-“ You tightened around him and he groaned.” When i walked in and you were were wearing my fucking hat and touching yourself," he pushed his hips in an upwards angle making him hit your g spot. You were chanting his names while clawing at his seat.

“I got so fucking hard for you. You feel how hard you made me. All. The. Fucking. Time." He pronounced each word with a harsh slap of his hips against yours. You whined. “Getting close, sugar?" You arched your back up, trying to move your hips as much as you could to help push him inside you. He chuckled. “Soak my cock baby, make me yours."

The power this man had was unbelievable. You came harder than the previous two times. It was like heaven's gates crashed down onto you. He continued to thrust into you, grabbing your hips with both of his large hands. “Can't wait to fill you up, can't wait to see you dripping with my cum." You gasped out a "please" making him still in you and throb. Ropes of his cum coated your walls as his hold on your hips was tight enough to bruise but none of that was as important as how beautiful he looked cumming.

His plush lips in an O shape as his eyebrows knitted together and his Adam's apple bobbed with the moan he let out before moving forward and leaning over you, still inside.

You both stayed like that for awhile, catching your breath. He moved his lips to brush yours. “If you wanted a free toothbrush, you could've just asked baby."

You laughed loudly as he nuzzled your neck. Whiskey pulled out making you both wince. His eyes glued to the apex of your thighs, watching as his cum dripped out of you.

“After this appointment, we're going back to my place for round two baby." You smiled at him as he tucked himself back into your pants and grabbed yours.

“Yes, doctor."

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

C A L L  M E  C A T, chapter nine

January 2017

We had time off near the holidays, space for all of us was good. The rush of our record deal and newfound fame was suffocating in moments, exhilarating in others. 

Niall journeyed back to Ireland and Miles back up north to Massachusetts. Jules’ parents were only in Connecticut, and Harry had already made the trip back to the UK to see his family. 

By the time the New Year came, I was sick of being in Florida with no friends and minimal interaction from my parents. Our last night together as a band was the night of my drunken exit, something that we all knew was awkward and tense but didn’t dare to mention the next morning. 

Being around my parents made me drink less just because I feared becoming them. Which was probably good for both my liver and my mind, but bad for my emotional state. It had been a few weeks since I’d spoken to Miles or Harry. Jules would check in just to make sure I hadn’t murdered my parents yet, Niall sent pictures of his nephew and the pints he was drinking back home. 

I sat on the back patio a few days into 2017, sunglasses on to block the sun and hoping to get a bit of a glow on the unseasonably warm day. My phone buzzed beside me and pulled my attention back to the pool in front of me, my parents were both at work and I finally had a minute without them to gather my thoughts. 

Nothing about the sunshine state made me want to stay, especially not the locked door down the hall that had been untouched since 2011. The bed was likely unmade and I was sure dust had collected on the trophies that lined his shelves. 

I picked up my phone and read the message that had just come through, one that made me want to abandon my home state more than I already did. 

Harry Styles (1:03pm): Random question, are you still in Florida?

I looked around the backyard, boats buzzed by on the water and the waves glimmered in the sun.

Cat Fonder (1:04pm): Unfortunately

Harry Styles (1:04pm): Me too.

I pulled up the phone and read it twice before I pressed the phone icon near his name. It rang once before he answered. 

“Hi!”

“What are you doing in Florida?”

“Well--bit of an airline issue, so I ended up on a flight here instead of New York. I’m stuck here overnight.”

“That sucks,” I admitted, turning on my side on the pool lounge chair. “What are you going to do?”

“Well,” he took a pause, but I could tell he’d already decided. “You’re going to come get me at the airport.”

“What makes you think that?”

He laughed on the other end of the phone. “I mean, you wouldn’t let me sleep overnight in the Miami airport would you?” I let out a groan for him to hear, laughed a little when he threw in: “I know you have enough bedrooms at your parents house.”

Marta, our longtime housekeeper and an adopted member of our family, slid open the door to the living room. “Do you want lunch?”

“In a few!” I called back to her. “Harry--you can Uber here if you want.”

“Oh just come pick me up--how far do you live from the airport?”

“From Miami? Like an hour and a half!”

“Which is exactly why I’m not paying for an Uber, Catherine.”

I exhaled through my nose, licked at my lips, already regretting the decision to take one of my dad’s cars into a Miami afternoon. The air was sticky and the climb in my heartbeat made me feel stupid and childish. Harry’s chastising on the other end didn’t help. 

“Did you hang up on me? Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“Cause I’m trying to think of a plan to be in a car with you and not kill you.”

He let out a belly laugh at this, noise from the busy airport terminal was seeping through the speaker and into my ears. “I’ll make sure we don’t lay any hands on each other.”

Goosebumps rose on my skin, his voice almost melodic when he said see you soon!

I grabbed the keys and took a sandwich for the road from Marta, prayed to some type of higher power that I didn’t rear end someone or fuck up my dad’s Mercedes. He drove the Tesla to work, which was good, honestly, because I wouldn’t even know how to turn that one on. 

It took me only an hour and fifteen, which didn’t seem like a result of my timid driving but more the lack of traffic and time of day. When I rolled up to the baggage claim and saw him standing on the curb with sunglasses pushed up and a hood over his head, I rolled the window down. 

“How’s the disguise working?”

He made a face at me, stuffed his suitcase in the backseat and climbed in front. “You joke, but there were girls who literally cried when they saw me. And a few photographers, I think--which is really weird.”

“Really?” I looked over my shoulder and put on my blinker, hoping to merge effortlessly over three lanes to get out of the hellhole that was Miami International. 

“Yeah--don’t know why but people apparently like our band in Florida. Hometown pride, maybe.”

He had a point--apparently my name had been one of the most searched google phrases in the state at the end of 2016. But we weren’t really paparazzi level yet, once or twice in New York or LA when we’d do shows, but they’d yet to really follow us around.

“Okay, well you might have to be silent the rest of the ride if you want to get to Palm Beach in one piece.”

He turned towards me with an amused look. “Do you suck at driving?”

“No,” I said, looking over at him quickly, a car merged in front of me and made me swerve to the side a little bit when I took my eyes off the road. 

“Jesus fuck!” He laughed, “oh god--you would be absolutely rubbish at driving. This is actually extremely on brand for you.”

“I’m not rubbish at driving,” I twisted my face. “I’m just out of practice.”

We made it four miles away from the airport before he demanded that I get out and let him drive, arguing that even if the steering wheel was on the other side and we drove on the wrong side of the road, he’d be a safer bet. 

He got a coffee at a gas station and took a picture of me with the girl behind the register, more pleasant than I’d ever seen him be. He put the windows down and played me the songs he’d been listening to over the holidays and laughed when he pointed at my hands. “You got a manicure!”

I hid my face, embarrassed at the sellout I’d become. Thirteen whole days in town and my mother had convinced me to sit beside her, watch daytime talk shows while the spa ladies buffed and snipped our cuticles. 

She made me, I laughed. You might end up with one too before you leave.

We rolled up to Island Drive right before my parents got home from work and Harry leaned towards the window to get a better view of the house. His mouth hung open when we turned into the shrub-lined driveway. “Jesus, Cat. What do your parents do again?”

“Work too much,” I told him. “Mom’s a dentist and my dad’s a financial advisor. They’re super obnoxious so please try to interact with them at a minimum like Marta and I do.”

“Marta?”

“Housekeeper, my old nanny--she’s part of the family.”

He nodded, still taking in the fountain and manicured lawn when I pulled his suitcase from the backseat. Harry had known that my parents were wealthy--mainly from the time that Miles made me sound like an obnoxious rich kid when we wrote at their apartment. But Harry was apparently surprised by the level of wealth that was held in Palm Beach. His lips parted when I brought him in the front door, views of the water over the crest of the lawn and the pool, eyes landing on mine after a few seconds. 

“And you moved to New York, why?”

I kept my voice quiet, didn’t want Marta to hear my bluntness from the other room. “To get out of here.”

But soon she smiled and rushed over, eager to take Harry’s suitcase and bring it to the guest room. She offered him tea and coffee and all of the snacks that he joked he would have held out for if he knew she was here and waiting.

I brought him upstairs to show him the room he could sleep in, around the corner from mine, a view of the side yard and the gardens that a landscaping company tended to every Saturday morning. I laid the ground rules: no mentioning our partying, no mentioning times when I’ve been too drunk. If he wanted a free place to sleep with good food and a king-sized bed, he needed to keep his mouth shut about that stuff. 

He saluted me and stifled a laugh. “Yes ma’am.”

“I’m serious,” I told him. “Just be quiet, don’t give them a reason to ask you any questions.”

“Alright--I mean, come on, they can’t be that bad.”

As if on cue--as if Harry showing up in Florida wasn’t enough bad karma for one day--the alarm beeped downstairs letting me know one of them was home. Lorna first, she came in with big sunglasses and greeted Harry with a smile, her hand outstretched for her afternoon glass of Chardonnay before Marta could even hang her keys up by the door. 

Frank strolled in a little after six pm, dinner was almost ready when Harry excused himself to the bathroom and I took it as my opportunity to corner my mother before she was too drunk to remember it. 

I knocked on her office door twice, waited for her to look up from her computer before I took a few steps inside. “Hi, dear,” she said, a small smile before she looked back to the papers on her desk. 

“Hi--I just wanted to uh, ask you a favor, actually.” I approached her with my hands on my hips, unsure if I’d get her full attention or if I’d have to snap my fingers to get her eyes back on me. I sat down in the chair across from her, a formal chess move to let her know I was serious.

“What’s that?” She leaned back in her chair and waited for me to spit it out. Her direct eye contact made me nervous, I stammered over my words and tried to sway her by bringing my dad into it. 

“I, uh, just asked dad the same thing--he said it was fine.”

“Just spit it out, Catherine.”

“Can we not talk about Cameron in front of Harry?”

She set down her glasses at this, watched me for a second before she tilted her head to the side. “Okay.”

“Like, at all. Okay? Not even once.”

She sighed, almost as if my request was painful for her to consider. “Okay, if that’s what you want.”

Maybe she’d tone it down with a stranger in the house. Maybe not talking about Cameron for someone else’s benefit would make her respect the limit more than she had in the past. 

I had hoped for so long that one day it’d stop, one day she’d forget his name or leave it out of conversation even if just for my sake. But my mother was too selfish for that--always forgetting that while she was grieving a son, I was grieving my other half. 

I should have known she couldn’t help herself--she had to relive the moment over and over, desperate to keep herself alive in the past as if it was safer than the present. His name slipped  out of her mouth like she didn’t even realize it, I nearly choked on my asparagus at the dinner table when she said it.

Harry was busy making small talk about our upcoming album, the studio sessions we’d be heading into once we flew back to the city. “Our manager said it’ll be good timing to release an album, makes us eligible for award season the following year.”

She pretended to be interested, pretended to care for a second about our careers, but then she did it. “Reminds me of the time Cameron won that award--”

“Mom,” I said it quick, my hands falling to the table with a thud, fork and knife in my grasp when I cut her off. “Don’t.”

The noise startled Harry, but the genuine smile on his face only faltered a little. “No, I’d love to hear the story,” he didn’t even have a clue to the fire he was igniting.

“We talked about it mom,” I gave her a death glare--which I could tell threw her off. She was frozen, torn between pleasing her dinner guest and pissing off her daughter, two of her favorite past times. 

She gestured at Harry. “Well I don’t want to be rude, Catherine.”

“Dad,” I looked over to see him on his phone, my voice pleading for him to intervene. 

“Lorna, leave it alone,” he said, disinterested, phone screen still lit up like he was begging for a distraction. 

“Oh,” she sighed, sarcasm threaded in her words. “Right--we don’t go there.”

Harry was across from me, mid-bite of his steak. He looked from me and to my mom, then back, while he chewed. He had no clue what was happening but he could tell he’d said the wrong thing. 

My mom picked up her wine glass, brought it to her lips and offered a sweet smile in Harry’s direction. “Nevermind, dear--don’t want to upset Catherine.” 

I rolled my eyes and stood from the table, “Harry, do you want to go for a walk?” 

He was caught off guard, still uncomfortably in the middle when he nodded quickly, stood from the table and thanked both of my parents for letting him stay the night as I headed for the front door. He hurried out behind me, his voice barely a whisper in the hallway. “Did I do that? Did I fuck up?”

“No,” I said, calling to Marta over my shoulder. “Dinner was delicious, Marta! We’ll be back!”

“What even happened in there?” He asked, still a few steps behind me once we walked out onto the moonlit driveway. 

I stopped short and turned around, the anger in my chest was threatening to spill out and onto the concrete. “Nothing--my mother is just fucking stupid and selfish.”

“So the intimidating level of rage coming off of you is not my fault?”

“What? No.”

I spun around again and headed for the street, a left turn towards the familiar route that I’d escape to when something like this happened. He walked beside me on the tree-line street, silent and steady until the neighborhood opened up. The same empty field at the end of the road that gave access to the lagoon, the same location I’d come to so many times after storming away from dinner as a kid. Doing it at 22 felt no different than at 15.

He shoved his hands in his pockets when we stepped onto the grass. “What is this place?”

“I don’t know--an empty field at the end of my street.”

“Is this your ponder spot?”

I looked over my shoulder, his face was lit up by the glow of the streetlights. “Ponder spot?”

He nodded and offered a shrug, “you know, the place you run off to when you need space.”

I bit back a laugh, embarrassed that his words couldn’t have been more accurate. He took my silence as confirmation, followed me over to a picnic table that sat close to the end of the water.

I threw a leg over the bench and let my head rest on top, a groan escaping my lips once I felt his weight shift the structure. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head but didn’t lift it, so he let me sit in silence for a little while. A breeze blew my hair around and after a few minutes, he sighed, like he already knew the answer but wanted to ask anyway. “Do you want to tell me who Cameron is?”

That got me to raise my head. “Definitely not.”

He smirked a little, a tiny nod as if to tell me he wouldn’t push it. He reached a hand over and patted my thigh, chin in his hand as he watched people cruise by on their boats. 

For the first time I felt comfortable with him--not pressured or panicked. He brought his eyes over to me and then fished into the pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a small joint, a dimple appeared on his cheek when he said: “I found this in the guest room.”

“Shut up,” I laughed, pulling it from him and sniffing it to inspect. “Did you really?”

He nodded, “which one of your parents is the stoner?”

“Well my mom is too high strung, so--must be Frank.”

He pulled out a lighter and held it up, watched when I placed it between my lips and then inhaled. I passed it over to him, thankful for a buffer between us now aside from the moon and the breeze. 

Smoke escaped my lips and floated towards the stars, he drummed his fingers on the table before I passed it to him. “Do you feel overwhelmed ever?”

“Ever?” He laughed at my question, licked his lips and then looked out over the water. 

“I mean by the music stuff lately.”

He shrugged. “Excited mostly. Why? Do you?”

I nodded, unafraid to admit that being home brought a different layer of complexity to life. “My parents will just never get it.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re not successful.”

I looked down at the faded wood and the fresh coat of polish on my nails. “It kind of feels that way, though--you know, if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, did it really happen?”

He stared at me for a second, sure that I was joking. “You’re mental,” he said. “The tree is down on the ground, of course it fell. Who fucking cares if they were around to hear it or not?”

I nodded, took the joint back from him and took another inhale, reminded of the first time we did this type of thing. 

He passed it to me, watched as I let smoke dance through the chilly air before he asked: “Why do you go by Cat?”

Another shrug, how I answered most questions these days. Do you have nightmares about it? Do you think about him all the time? Do you feel easily agitated? 

“Just don’t like Catherine. Too formal.”

I didn’t want to get into it. My mother calls me that, my brother called me that, all good reasons to pack up and leave behind in the childhood bedroom that held bad memories.

“I like Catherine,” he admitted. “S’pretty.”

I let my eyes sweep over to him, the moon reflected in his eyes, curls of hair poked out from the beanie on his head. “Just--don’t call me that, please.”

He laughed, completely unaware of the way it made my chest heave in the shower or the way it sent a shiver down my spine when my mom had to cut herself off--Catherine and Cameron--no, just Catherine. 

I had to correct her now too. Catherine felt like it needed to be followed by something, another name, the one that had been linked to mine since birth, born two minutes apart. 

“I think you’re pretty fucking successful, you know.”

I glanced over at him. “Yeah?”

A single nod. His short hair was still something to get used to, it bent in the wind and blocked his eyes when he turned to look at me. “I will never admit I said this, but, we’d be nothing without you.”

“Well, we only got big once you came along.”

He smirked, “so you’re aware of that?”

I gave him a shove, shaking my head at his stupid ego. His eyes lingered on mine for a second, his knee knocked against mine when he flicked the joint and then he let out a sigh. 

I wanted to lean in and kiss him, and I probably would have if it weren’t for Lila. As far as I knew she was home in New York, maybe in Jersey with her parents or siblings, but certainly an obstacle to whatever kind of intoxicated hook up could have happened between us.

I cleared my throat and looked up at the sky. “Do you want to go write a song?”

He smiled, a soft one, nodded a few times and patted me on the thigh again before he stood up and offered me a hand. “I’d love to.”

He followed me back to the house, up the stairs to my bedroom and stared at the ceiling while I plucked at the guitar. 

I don’t know where I wanna go,

But it’s far away from here

Don’t know what I’m running from

If it’s you or me, my dear

He watched, listened, nodded along while it poured out of me, more of a witness than a participant. 

It’s good, Cat, he said, keep going.

Everybody’s talking now

But no one seems to say  a thing

I do my best to drown them out

I just wish that I could be

Somewhere far away from here

Back to myself, back where I could see clear

Somewhere far away from here

Won’t somebody take me far away from here?

Sleep was heavy on my eyelids, Harry down the hall and a rough version already sent off in an email to Niall before I realized he’d said it. Four and a half years of begging him to say it, call me Cat, hoping one day he’d just give in and go along with it. All this time I thought fighting him and pushing him away would make it happen. 

It was fitting, I guess, that it was the exact opposite that finally got me what I wanted. 

**

Niall was excited that Harry had accidentally landed himself in Miami, and he was even more excited when he learned that I told him he could stay with me an extra few days before I was due to return to Manhattan and the responsibilities of work. 

He was eager to see my town, made me drive him by the high school and the parking lot where I learned--or failed, according to him--to parallel park. He swam in the pool and spit water in my face, completely deconstructing the wall I had managed to build over the last few years with a single glance in my direction. 

He promised he stayed because he was having fun, not just because flying home with me meant a first class seat.

It was rare, these days, too, that I found myself on a boat. A few times since the accident, maybe three or four. But his excitement and delight was contagious when he learned my parents still had one--the same one--and it was down on a dock off the backyard. 

I let the motor hum to life, pinks and purples splashed over the sky on our last night when he popped a bottle of champagne. I wondered if Lila knew he was here--he seemed undisturbed by his phone and altogether disconnected and unplugged. 

I drove us out to the middle of the lagoon, dropped anchor and told him about the time I learned to swim off the back. I was three or four, always in a life vest and completely unaware of the irony that my life was accumulating. 

Cam would jump off first, his floaties on his arms as he swam over to my dad who’d be in the water already. My mom would clap and snap pictures, throw us a noodle or two and then wrap us in towels back on board the boat. 

Harry was treading water beside me, though, hair dripping wet after he’d pulled off his shirt and shorts. 

I laughed when he dared me to jump in after him, said he hoped my swimming skills were better than they were back then. He splashed enough water at me on the boat before I gave in, promised he wouldn’t watch me undress and wouldn’t tell a soul that we’d been this cliché, swimming in our underwear and conversation laced with champagne giggles. So I tossed my shirt to the side and shimmied out of my shorts before I let myself sink under the surface. 

When I came up, he was watching me. 

“What?”

“Nothing--just--s’been nice to hang out with you.”

I twisted my face at his kindness, crinkled my nose at the friendship that had suddenly blossomed in the cool Florida weather.

The laughter from another boat floated over the waves, a big splash is what did it. 

I looked over, searched for the person only a hundred yards away, desperate for their head to emerge from the water, unlike his. My heartbeat was in my ears, throat tight and shoulders tense.

“Where are they?” I asked, my head turning frantically. “Do you see them? Did they come up?”

“What?” Harry followed my gaze and the smile faded from his lips. “What are you talking about?”

A man popped back up, a group of people on the boat cheered for him and sang along the music that hummed from their speakers. Harry could tell something was wrong, I tried my best to slow my breathing when I realized what was happening.

I swam over to the boat, hands clutching the ladder as I pulled myself up. My breathing was sporadic, the images flashing through my head with no option to pause. Allie’s voice, Will’s voice, the feeling in my chest when I knew he was dead and we couldn’t do anything about it. 

But I was acutely aware of the moment around me, Harry climbed up to the boat behind me and had a terrified look on his face, green eyes searching the floor for a towel before he draped it over my shoulders. 

“You’re alright--Cat, you’re alright, it’s okay,” his arms were around me when a sob slipped out, eyes stung from a mix of salt water and tears. I couldn’t do this, it couldn’t happen here and now. 

The waves from that day couldn’t show up, drag me under until I couldn’t breathe like he couldn’t. Not in front of Harry. 

“Hey,” he said, moving my shoulders to force me to sit down, his knees across from mine when he looked me in the eyes. “You’re alright, nothing’s happening.”

I nodded, licked at my lips and wiped at my eyes with the towel when I blinked a few times. Feet on the boat, hands around the towel, I could see blue and white and the keys in the ignition. “Okay,” I said, more grounded. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated, hands on my knees now to keep them from shaking. 

Silence for a minute when I looked back at the other boat. They were fine. No one was drowning. I wasn’t drowning. I was on the boat and Harry was on the boat. 

The sun had sunk lower now, almost meeting the horizon when I met his eyes again.

“When did he die?”

“What?”

“Your brother.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He plucked at his lower lip, he dropped my gaze for a second and then sighed. “It’s okay, Cat.”

I felt the water in my eyes at that, let my head swivel side to side to argue his claim. “No,” I said. “It’s not okay. This is why I don’t talk about it.”

“Maybe that’s why this is happening, then. Maybe you get like this because you refuse to talk about it.”

I pulled away from him, angry at his accusation and the way he sounded like he knew me better than he did. 

“Unless the two ten-year-olds in the frame above the guest bath are just random people,” he shrugged. “That’s Cameron, right?”

I was caught--unsure where to go and stuck on a boat with him. I didn’t look at him, kept my eyes on the floor and nodded slowly. 

He repeated his original question. “When did he die?”

“The summer before senior year of high school. He drowned.”

A breath of air escaped from his lips, like he’d expected a different answer. Cancer, maybe. A terminal illness or something less violent and avoidable. 

“Were you--with him when it happened?”

I wiped at my eyes, wishing the tears would stop and the memories would, too. “In the boat--we were drunk.”

He nodded, his focus solely on me when he leaned forward. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“You weren’t there,” I said quickly, defensively. “You have no clue what happened.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t. But I know it’s not your fault.”

I cried harder at that, vision blurred when I nodded. “It was, Harry--I didn’t realize how long he’d been underwater. I was too drunk.”

“It’s called an accident for a reason.”

“You’re not supposed to know any of this,” I reminded, eyeing him skeptically when I pulled the towel up to cover myself more. “Niall doesn’t know. Miles doesn’t know. No one knows.”

“Does Jules?”

I nodded. “Cause I’m a fucking moron and got too drunk one night.”

He laughed a little. “Why’ve you been hiding it?”

“Cause college was the first time I was just me. Not Catherine and Cameron, not one of two. I was just me for the first time and it was okay--it wasn’t sad or tragic that I was just me. I wanted it to be normal.”

He nodded in understanding, offered to drive us back to the dock if I showed him how. My parents were upstairs for the night, enough space for us to sit at the counter and heat up leftovers that Marta had made while we were out. He listened when I talked about the nightmares and the flashbacks, followed me up the stairs and nodded solemnly when I made him promise to not tell the others. 

He echoed his sentiment on the boat: it’s not your fault. He brushed a piece of hair behind my ear before he leaned in and kissed me outside my bedroom door, softer than before, and most importantly, sober. 

He followed me over to the bed, his touch gentle and warm when we slipped under the sheets. It was easy--slow and careful, not like the time before. He made me feel grounded, actually in the moment for the first time in a long time. He didn’t know it, but he made me feel seen.

Something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

It felt different to wake up beside him, knowing he knew and knowing he still thought I was a decent human. I looked over to see him, eyelids fluttered against his cheek when I stirred. 

A buzzing on the nightstand grabbed my attention, though, his phone vibrating with an incoming call when the morning sun crept in. A stomach dropping worse than ever, a shiver down my spine when I saw her name, a picture of the two of them side by side. 

Incoming call: Lila DiPretto

table of contents | join the tag list + talk to me | the playlist

author’s note: wowowowowowoooooww! A doozy of a chapter I hope none of you hate me too much for all of the emotion in this one! Things are heating up and now Harry knows Cat’s secret.....shit can only get weirder from here!

taglist: @mellamolayla @meganlikesfandoms @afterstylesmadeit @sing-me-a-song-harry @harryinsweatersandbandanas @stylesfics-xx @shawnsblue @avipshamitra @a-secretyoucankeep @groovybaybee @nearbyou @blueviiolence @kiwicherryharry @thurhomish @bopbopstyles @live-at-the-forum @ajayque @mleestiles @ashbabao @anssu-amry @odetostep @bemib @caritocp @ursogoldenshan @rainbowbutterflyboy @bubblegumstyles7 @1142590m @winter-soldier-007 @beingsolonely​ @sloanferg​ @ivanacats​ @mumplans​ @wastedsweetcreature​ @harryssugarhigh​ @wanderlustiing​ @sunflowers-styles​ @g0bl1nqueen​ @stepping-into-the-light​ @kara-246 @stilljosiegrossie​ @harrys-cherrry​

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #439

“all the other kids with the pumped up kicks, you better run, better run, outrun my gun”

Have you written a letter to a soldier? No. Ever been in a perfect relationship? I thought so. But no, those don't exist. The last song you listened to? "Broadcasting From Beyond" by Motionless In White. Have you ever wished you could hurt somebody as much as they hurt you? I... have, but I don't wish that at all anymore. Has a dentist ever screwed up on anything when working on you? No. Would you rather be a successful writer or artist? Artist. Who are you in love with? Nobody. Does someone’s view on homosexuality affect how you feel about them in any way? It sure as fuck does. How about someone’s view on religion? Nah. Well, usually. It depends on the beliefs themselves and to what extremity. What is something you wear that others might consider unfashionable? Flipflops, like... year-round, lmao. What kind of pill did you last take? It's called Lamictal, the catalyst for my primary mood stabilizer. Do you like wearing glasses? No. I'd wear contacts if I had the patience and non-shaky hands. What first comes to mind when thinking of 10th grade? Jason. -_- That's the year we started dating. What’s the scariest thing that’s happened to you? A traumatic breakup. Has an ambulance ever came to your house? Yes, for my mother. The person you’re thinking about - what are you thinking about them? Well, because you mentioned him, I'm thinking about Jason and just how I fucked shit up 'n stuff. How many different cars have you driven? Uhhhh I want to say two? But maybe just one? Was the last person you hung out with single? I guess that would be my mom, in which case yes. Have you ever attended a private school? My last college was a private school, yes. Have you ever been in an abusive relationship? No, and for that I am incredibly grateful. Have you ever cooked for anyone other than yourself? Yeah. I've made scrambled eggs for my family before as breakfast, and I did the same for Sara, too. Would you rather live in the city, the suburbs, or the rural area? Ugh, take me back to the middle of nowhere, please. :/ Do you know someone who is really ambidextrous? Sara! Are you adopted? No. Who was the last person that cried in your presence? Probably one of my nieces or nephew. Can you write your name in a foreign language? Uh, I think? In the German alphabet, "y" isn't actually a letter, and my name is Brittany, so I'm not entirely sure if it would be spelled that same way or not, but I think so. Who is the person you often go to for venting? My mom. Was the last person you kissed male or female? Female. Do you say “I love you” even when you don’t mean it? No. That shit can scar people (aka me) so goddamn deep when they don't mean it anymore. What’s the one thing you regret more than anything? Things I wrote to Jason in letters after the breakup. I would literally give a limb (no, I'm not exaggerating) to take it back. There are times I actually do wonder if we would've gotten back together if I wasn't just... a bitter and ridiculously hurt fuck that took it all out on him. Do you like vanilla? Yes. Do you own a bean bag chair? No. I actually do want one for my extra room/"office," though, to read on. Have you kissed any friends on your Facebook? Yeah. Do you get snow where you live? Occasionally, but it's very rarely a lot. What’s your favorite flavor of Doritos? Cool Ranch. Do you ever worry about what the world will be like when you have kids? Good thing I ain't havin' 'em. Have you ever seen a hippo in person? Yes. Do you like the band A Skylit Drive? I've actually only heard their "Love The Way You Lie" cover, which I do like. Have you ever been to any professional sports games? Yeah, with my dad. What’s the most boring sport to watch? Golf. But I don't particularly enjoy any. Do you like lip rings on the opposite sex? MHMMMMMMMMMMMMM. If you suddenly went deaf, what would be your most missed sound? Music. Would you rather have a poodle or a Rottweiler? If I actually wanted a dog, a Rottweiler. Which hurts the most, physical or emotional pain? Emotional, for sure. Would you rather visit a zoo or an art museum? Zoo. Would you ever consider getting back together with any of your exes? I know damn well I'd say yes to Jason in a heartbeat. Literally before even getting to know the current him. That's how emotionally attached I am to him, even with the trauma. I'd get back together with Sara if/when we both are more stable emotionally and with clear direction, which is mostly on my end now. I also don't think I'd be ready until one of us is able to move for the other. Is there a certain quote you live by? No. Do you have any tattoos? I have some, but not nearly enough. :( Are you friends with the last person you kissed? She's my bestie! :') Green or purple grapes? I don't really have much of a preference, so long as they're crisp. What is your ringtone? Just something that came with the phone. If someone gave you $1,000 to burn a butterfly over a candle, would you? Fuck no. What is something you wish you had more of? Adventure, for one. Have you ever trusted someone too much? JASON. HOLY FUCK. It was FACT to me that we would, could, never break up. It just... wasn't possible in my head. It was like breaking the laws of the world. When he told me he loved me and would never leave, I believed that shit as if it was God himself promising that. I've never and will never trust someone like that ever again, because it wasn't healthy in the slightest. Do you sleep with your window open? Noooo, that would freak me out. Have you ever kissed anyone with a lip ring? Yeah; Tyler had snakebites. Did you go to high school with your current best friend? No; we live in different states. Whose was the last funeral you attended? Ummm I'm actually not sure. Do you avoid using public restrooms? Yes. Do you like eggnog? Nooooo. Who is the person you dislike the most? It's so fucking stupid... I know it is STILL the girl Jason dated after me. I don't even think they're together anymore, so why the fuck does it matter? I know NOTHING about this poor girl that just found someone she really liked and got dumped FOR THE SAME REASON AS ME. It shouldn't fucking matter, at all, but it still does in my head. Do you take part in paying the bills for your household? No, because I don't have an income. What is your favourite way to eat rice? As pork fried rice. What is the longest relationship you’ve ever been in? Over 3 1/2 years with Jason. Do you currently have any alarms set? No. How many cars can fit in your driveway? Barely even two. What was the first television show you were obsessed with? Pokemon. Do you eat chili when you get a hotdog, or do you like it plain? I don't like chili. Would you ever tell your mom about the things you’ve done sexually? Not EVERYTHING, no. I wouldn't tell her anything at all unless she asked. I don't like talking about that stuff. Have you ever been in a car wreck? Yes. Has anyone ever told you that they think you have ADHD? Yes, which was absolutely, utterly ridiculous. Has anyone ever called you a sociopath before? No. Has anyone ever taken your own clothes off you before? Yes. Is there someone you want to kiss right now? Probably always will. -_- Have you ever had a real tea party? Or been to one? Ha ha no, but my little sister used to love to have little ones with her Disney princesses plastic tea set. She would always ask Mom or me to have one with her. Have you been called a tease? Only playfully. Did you kiss the last person you really wanted to kiss? Yes. Would you ever go to a protest or be involved in a protest? So long as it was peaceful, yes. When playing rock, paper, scissors, which do you usually pick? Scissors. Have you ever tried to write a book? Yes, when I was younger. Have you ever been hit by a chunk of hail? No. Is it true that if you don’t love yourself, you can’t love another? Absofuckinglutely not. I'm proof of that. That idea is such bullshit. Do you share a bed with anyone? Just my cat. Who is one very unique celebrity/musician/whatever that you love? MARKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK. Could you handle babysitting two small children at once, such as two children under three years old? OH FUCK NO. Would you say that people consider you a major flirt? Definitely not. Do any of your friends have children? Yes. Would you rather cry in public or make someone else cry in public? I would FAR rather cry myself. I would feel so, so bad for making someone else cry, not even just in public. Would you rather re-live today forever or not live? Not live. Would you rather be just rich or rich and famous? Just rich. Who was the last person of the opposite sex to be in your bedroom? My nephew, I believe. He and Aubree wanted to see the snake. What’s your favourite kind of Cap’N Crunch? The "All Berries" one. What is your favourite Pepsi product? Mountain Dew. Is the computer you’re using yours? Yes. Do you get upset when a dog jumps on you? Not at all. I got used to that, and besides, it's cute to see them so excited. Is there a video or computer game that you can get lost in for hours? World of Warcraft, sometimes. I usually play it daily, but there are some days where I just am not interested in it. What do you like on your pizza? Meats and/or jalapenos. Do you get breadsticks with your pizza? Mom usually gets 'em, yeah. Did you ever have a waterbed? Yeah. Not one anyone slept on regularly, but just like, a plastic one or whatever the material was to sleep in if someone was staying over. What toy from your childhood do you miss? I wish I didn't get rid of my big crocodile toy that I was obsessed with. :'( He was like the main character in the world I made up for him and his family. Have you ever been to a rock concert? Yeah. \m/ What is your religion? None. Do you like listening to love songs? Meh, I have to be in the mood, plus it depends on the song. A lot of them trigger me. What is one meal that you like to eat while sick? I'm nervous to eat when I'm sick, so I mostly just have saltine crackers and ginger ale. Have you ever fed bread to ducks or geese? Yeah, when I was a kid and didn't know it was bad for them and the water. I never would now. The name of the last board game that you played? I think it was "Sorry!" with the kids. Has anyone ever commented on your weight? I mean, doctors, but not in a judgmental, belittling way. Just in a way that expressed concern for my health. Have you ever thought about joining the military? NOOOOOOOOOO. Have you ever felt like you were going out of your mind? Yes. And I don't mean that as an exaggeration; I believe I've literally qualified as insane at a point after the breakup. I was so fucking delusional and desperate and just going in circles. Are you ever jealous of happy couples? Meh, sometimes. Lately, who has spent the most time on your mind? Take a guess. .-. It's been pretty bad lately. Do you ever feel like someone would be disappointed to see your body or are you comfortable with your body enough where you don’t think that? I have a HORRIBLE body image. My body fucking disgusts me. I don't even like my mother seeing me get changed or anything like that. I don't want ANYBODY seeing me naked. What is your favorite flavor of Monster? I don't like any that I've ever had a sip of. Have you ever ran from the police? No. That never goes well. Do you have any trophies? Yeah. Do you like screamo music? No. What does your wallet look like? It's a checkered Harley Quinn one. Is there something nobody knows about you (and what)? Yes. Why would I share that if I don't want anyone to know? Does your family have a secret? No. Do you do anything to help the environment? We recycle. Mom also cuts up those plastic things that come with soda bottles packed together, as well as some other plastic wrappings. We are both disgusted by people who litter, so we avoid that. I also try to conserve water where I can, like by turning the sink off when I brush my teeth. There are other little things, but I wish I did even more. Do you like to take pictures of yourself? FUCK NO. It is so rare I do that nowadays. When/where are you most likely to sing? The car. Would you ever wish to explore a cave? OH MY GOD, PLEEEEEAAAAASE <3 What is the most illegal thing you’ve done? Pirated an expensive editing software, oops. :x Have you ever seen somebody get shot? LKJ;ALSDJFA;JWELKRJLW;Q NOOOOOOOOO.

[horrorlad]

Horrorlad Reviews: The Dentist (1996)

Or at least, like, talks about it a bunch. 

Boy was I overthinking my first real Horror Lad post! It was going to be Grave Encounters, but that will have to wait, because I got insomnia and decided to rewatch a movie I hadn’t seen seen since I was 14, which wound up being the perfect opportunity to write out a post!

Let’s talk about The Dentist!

So, The Dentist is a 1996 movie starring Corbin Bernsen. It was directed by Brian Yuzna (one of the producers of Re-Animator, he also directed the 1989 body horror film Society which I haven’t seen, though a cursory image search tells me I need to add to my watch list immediately).

Anyway, The Dentist is about a teethsman who catches his wife giving some other guy a BJ and gets so grossed out about it that he has a nervous breakdown about, uh, how dirty mouths are, I guess? He loses his absolute shit (though he didn’t seem to have it all that together to begin with; this guy’s Jack Torrance is way more Kubrick than King), and we the audience get to tag along for all the wacky fun.

Full disclosure: I can’t give an unbiased review of this movie. I watched it several times in high school, then completely forgot about it for ten years, until tonight. There’s too much nostalgia wrapped up in it.

That said, upon rewatching it, I am in LOVE with the structure of it as a film. You know how, some movies, you can tell that the people behind the scenes are having a blast? This is one of those movies. The structure of the shots vary wildly, and I suspect that there was not one tripod or stabilizer on that set. The makeup and effects are fun, every actor has an opportunity to shine at least once, and the pacing is totally bonkers. I will note, however, that for a slasher movie the confirmed death count is pretty low, AND most of the murders are less dentistry-related than you might expect. Still, it’s a good time, and right now it’s available to watch for free (with commercials) on Tubi, which is pretty sweet!

Read on for the content warnings and spoilers. In the meantime, I give The Dentist 3.5 tanks of nitrous oxide (use with caution).

Content warnings and plot synopsis below the cut.

Content Warnings

Also, I don’t really know what to classify this one as, but there is a lot of “ick” factor to this movie — rotting teeth, sludge, etc. If you’re easily squicked out by that sort of stuff, I’d proceed with caution.

Dental torture (and how!) – it’s basically the whole movie, folks.

Sexual assault – multiple instances, including a character having their head forced down while giving oral sex (in a daydream), and another character being assaulted while on nitrous oxide.

Spousal abuse (physical and emotional) – again, there’s a lot of this.

Child abuse – A young child has their gums stabbed by the dentist.

Animal abuse – a dog is shot offscreen.

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

Okay, spoiler time!

Whoo boy, here we go!

I have no idea why I watched this movie so much as a teen. Probably because it was free on FearNet (remember FearNet?) and I would watch just about anything.

Watching it as an adult, my first thought is… man this is weirdly paced. My second thought is that there’s a lot more non-dental-related murders than I would have expected, but we’ll come back to that.

So, our hero(?) is a dentist, and we meet him at the beginning of a framing device, miming dentistry and offering to tell us about his story. The bulk of the movie is then a flashback about how he got to where he is, interspersed with his monologuing or whatever. We meet him and his wife (who are a straight couple in a movie and thus required to completely hate one another) on their anniversary, a fact which becomes clear while he’s in the middle of throwing a fit about his laundry.

Pictured: a totally hinged man. Nothing unhinged going on here, no sir.

At any rate, he gets all suspicious after an interaction with the pool guy, and catches his wife having an affair with the guy. He continues framing-device-monologuing about decay and the world being filthy and all that, daydreams about assaulting his wife and murdering the pool boy, etc. He follows the pool guy to the neighbor’s house, acts all weird, shoots a dog — your basic Tuesday.

Eventually, he winds up at the office, starts hallucinating, assaults a couple of patients, and finally calls an early end to the day (self care is important). We get this delightful (in a heavy-handed sort of way) scene that keeps cutting back and forth between him setting out spooky dental tools and his wife getting dressed for the big anniversary surprise he’s has planned, and that’s when things really start to go haywire.

Okay.

So like.

I get that he’s a dentist.

I get that he’s a dentist whose whole shtick is having the themed exam rooms (though why we have aaaalll these rooms for a bunch of hygienists and one dentist is a little beyond me).

But you mean to tell me that this dude’s special anniversary surprise for his wife was to show her his new, opera-themed dental exam room?

“Oh, honey… you really, really shouldn’t have…”

Like, I know he’s settled on a revenge plot by this point, but I still definitely believe that this guy was legitimately planning the entire time to show his wife his fancy new dental suite as an anniversary surprise. Not to be that guy, but no wonder she was having an affair.

Honestly though, I love this scene. I love the camera PoV shots as he shows off the dental suite, I love the excessive gesturing with his left hand. I love how the scene starts off with his point-of-view of her, and then transitions into her point-of-view of him, cut with those big beautiful teeth-yanking shots. It’s ridiculous.

And then, they get home, he has some monologuing about the pool, etc.

Next scene, it’s the next day, some cops come to ask questions about the murdered dog, his wife is out back on a pool chair with her giant sunhat covering her face (the way normal, totally-not-drugged people hang out by the pool) while the pool guy does his pool guy stuff. Eventually the cops leave, yadda yadda yadda, the pool guy scoops the wife’s tongue out of the pool, he sees how fucked up she is, the dentist murders the shit out of him. It’s beautiful.

Don’t you love it when you finish your to-do list first thing in the morning?

The end.

Wait, no, that’s not right.

Somehow, there’s still almost half a movie left.

This movie starts with this dude fighting with his wife, catching his wife cheating with the pool guy, hallucinating his wife’s nasty mouth on everyone, etc. You’d think that, with his wife tortured all to shit and the pool guy dead, the movie would have wrapped up.

I mentioned before that the pacing of the movie is weird, which it is. I mean, he has his “oop guess I’m evil now” scene on his way to work the next day, which basically means that just over half of this movie is the origin story. It could be longer, with the big climactic nonsense taking up the last quarter or so. It could be shorter, with him freaking out about his wife, losing his shit, and having a proper dental rampage. Instead, The Dentist flies in the face of conventional story structure.

But this man is a busy man. He’s a dentist, damn it.

He has to get back to work!

Things are happening fast now, let’s get condensed.

We go back to work, he pulls some malpractice shit on that lady whose dog he shot yesterday, then strangles Jessica-the-hygienist (I think that’s her job) when she calls him on it. Later, a man from the IRS comes in and uses the dentist’s shady tax junk to get free dental work which is, uh, inadvisable. IRS man, Marvin Goldblum, starts talking about our dentist’s wife (and about how unhinged shiksas are in bed, in case we somehow we didn’t piece together that he’s an awful Jewish caricature), and I’m sure the rest of his appointment goes totally normally.

Get a guy who looks at you like this.

Meanwhile, the cops are definitely onto him regarding the murder of that dog (after all, murdering dogs is THEIR turf). They go to his house, where he left the body of the pool guy he murdered just laying around outside for anyone to find (which they do). Then they go upstairs and find his wife, who is alive but so fucked up.

Back at the office, Karen-the-other-hygienist, looking for her coworker who got murdered earlier, stumbles upon the very fucked up IRS dude. We get to listen to the dentist give a little monologue about how grossed out he is that his wife put some dude’s “dirty, rotten… in her mouth!” before he injects air into a vein in Karen-the-other-hygienist’s neck to kill her.

Next up, this girl who has been waiting for two days to get her braces off gets called back. She’s adorable and chipper, so this, of course, can only go well. When’s the last time you had your dentist pull a gun on you?

Our scrappy youngster runs off, and he gives chase (we find that Mr. Goldblum’s jaw elongation procedure is going well by the way), before eventually letting her go after she promises to take very, very good care of her teeth.

After all, he’s got his next job to get to.

Let’s go teach dental students the importance of pulling out everyone’s teeth!

Yeeep, he’s a teacher! And after he shoots one of his students while hallucinating, the cops show up, resulting in the slowest chase scene any movie has ever had (I mean the dude is literally just briskly walking down the hall and he still gets away from them). Anyway, the dentist winds up in an auditorium where a woman is practicing her opera singing. The dentist is entranced by this (we know he loves opera from that scene with his wife earlier) and reaches out to the singer, but he hallucinates his wife’s hecked up face on her and drops to his knees, presumably to have the rest of his nervous breakdown. The cops… uh… well, they just kinda stand around looking disapprovingly at him while he sits on the floor. And that’s… that’s it, I guess?

“Nah, let him rest, he’s had a big day.” 

 In our final scene, we have some orderlies at his new mental institution drag him down for his regular appointment, where his wife (who I guess is a dentist now) starts drilling at his teeth. This may or may not be a hallucination. It probably doesn’t matter.

Wow. That certainly was a film.

Alright, so, I’ve been typing up my thoughts as I watch, and I think I’ve figured out what I like about this movie, that had me coming back to it over and over as a youngster. There are some movies that just look fun to film, and this is one of them. A number of the shots are really charming, for lack of a better word. There’s the anniversary scene with his wife I mentioned before, but so many others — this movie plays around with point of view, extreme close-ups, some very fun effects used to indicate the hallucinations… there’s even a sideways shot of one of the cops coming down the stairs. I seem to have a real fondness for that sort-of manic, anything-goes approach to filming. Related side note: is there a single steady shot on this whole film? I’m beginning to doubt it.

Corbin Bernsen does a great job. I mean, all the actors do, really, but he is something else. Like, I can’t think offhand of many actors who could successfully take the character “dentist in bad marriage has a nervous breakdown because his wife gives someone else a blow job and it grosses him out; goes on torturemurder spree” without overacting to the point of distraction. “What are you talking about, this dude’s hammier than Easter dinner,” you say. Now, I get the urge here, but I have to disagree; Bernsen plays a fantastic Emasculated White Guy Throwing A Fit.

That picture I posted up there, after the bit about the laundry argument? A dude who makes that face over the idea of wearing the wrong cuff links to work is at most twelve seconds away from completely losing his shit at any given moment. And the dude’s anniversary surprise for his wife was to show off his new, opera-themed dental exam room; none of this behavior seems too off the wall for that character. Granted, I haven’t seen the sequel yet, and the image searches do suggest that our dear dentist is about to use his well-cared-for teeth to chew the hell out of some scenery in The Dentist 2, but in this movie? I’m just saying it’s not an unbelievable portrayal.

Disgruntled white dudes aside, the rest of the cast seems to have a fun time too. Shout out to the receptionist literally sobbing over what a great dentist this guy is (stunning work). If nothing else, stop by for wee baby Mark Ruffalo before he was famous. It’s adorable.

LOOK AT HIM.

ALL THAT SAID, I have to state again how surprised I am by the sheer number of not-dental-related murders! Like, by my count, this guy commits a hefty amount of malpractice, but for a guy on a torturemurder spree, he sure does seem to keep his torture and his murder fairly separate. Let’s tally it:

I’m tired, let’s wrap this up. The Dentist is a fun movie about a dude who loses his shit, does some dental torture, does some murder, does ZERO dental torturemurders, and then just kinda tuckers himself out and sits down. It’s a big silly mess, and I love it.

Tortures: six

The kid at the beginning, the lady he sexually assaults (it counts), his wife (not dead), that lady whose dog he shot, Marvin the IRS guy (alive when last we see him), and the person at the dental school near the end.

Murders: three people, one dog.

The dog (shot), the pool guy (knifed), Jessica-the-hygienist (strangled), Karen-the-other-hygienist (air injected into artery), and that’s… it..? He does shoot that person at the dental school, but it doesn’t appear to be a fatal wound, and Marvin the IRS guy was alive when we saw him last.

Torturemurders: HECKIN’ ZERO.

Zero! None of the tortures are murdered, and nobody he murders is tortured! What the heck kind of slasher dentist doesn’t even kill people via dentistry? No wonder everyone looks down on him at the end.

Alright, first post written. I’m going to bed.

[loftec]

Hi i don't know if anyone haven't ask you about it or i'm the only one who wants to read it but CAN YOU PLEASE SHARE YOUR NOTES (ch.44) i don't know if you were serious about that but i really would love to read them cause i'm obsessed with everything what is ntw related 🖤 hope ur well

Hi friend! It’s possibly just you (or one other person, in case of separate anons) but that is enough! I was absolutely serious. 

Note on the notes! This is not all of it, because my notes for this chapter were often repetitive and very messy, and some older notes were from four years ago when I didn’t bother writing things out properly, so they barely make sense even to me. But! I’ve done my best to sort everything in some kind of linear order, and removed most of the repetition. And, well, you asked for it... sorry! 🖤

Ian shows up in the morning, Mickey digs out the magazine Iggy stole from Amelia’s dentist’s office the other day and confronts Ian about the big-ass article in Rolling Stone about IAN’S BAND, says he’s listened to some of their songs, takes out a paper where he’s written down some lyrics that sound strangely familiar.

You’re famous!

I’m in a band, people know about us right now, tomorrow they might not. I’m not famous.

You’re kinda famous.

Ian talks about Mickey recognizing him because of Frank. Hints that there might be several songs inspired by Mickey. It’s awkward as fuck, didn’t want you to know.

Were you ever gonna tell me?

Oh yeah, I had a plan. 3 dates, dinner and a movie, day out with Yev, dinner at my place turned vigorous love-making. Second prong; cohabitation, engagement, marriage, then on our wedding night I tell you about crushing on Justin Timberlake when I was 12,

then I tell you I’m semi-famous, if it still applies.

Mickey thinks his face might be on fire.

What the?

I’m fucking with you, Mick. Figured you already knew.

This again?

You angry?

No, I’m not fucking angry. Just-

Freaked out.

Kinda, yeah.

You shouldn’t be. Please.

It’s weird that I didn’t know, I feel like a schmuck. (And I’m pretty sure by your count we’ve already been on those first two dates.)

I’m sorry. I thought you knew and by some fucking miracle didn’t treat me different. I’d been gearing up to maybe have to have this conversation on our date, ‘cause it’s shit sometimes, you know? I don’t do interviews and I never talk about myself when I gotta do them, but there’s still a limelight and a lot of bullshit that complicates

I’ve been crushing on you since we met basically, and I thought I’d just… let it run its course, keep my mouth shut about it and deal until it went away and we could remain friends without me fucking it up.

Didn’t work, by the way.

Good.

Mickey is talking about it with Etch, who suggests that Ian’s been writing at the diner for a reason.

Etch looks up some lyrics and Mickey caps locks them to Ian

You might have inspired a few lately…

Fuck off. How many?

Since we met? Pretty much all of them.

Maybe one or two made it on to the album, but I wrote those before we really got to know each other so they’re just like… about moments, and how I would feel around you.

Didn’t think of it as creepy but it kinda sounds that way now.

No it’s fine

I won’t do it again.

Said it’s fine. Kinda like it.

Yeah?

You gonna tell me which ones are about me, or is that a secret too?

What are you doing tonight?

Thought you said you were going on tour?

We are, it starts tonight. It’s a small fan club gig here in Chicago.

You have a fan club?

Kinda. I’ll put you on the guest list if you want to come.

(Mickey calls Svetlana to make sure Yevgeny can stay with her over the weekend.)

It’s fine if you don’t want to, we’ll do something else when I get back.

Calm your tits Gallagher, course I wanna go. Needed to make sure I’ve got Yev covered.

Oh okay, good. You’re on the list. Doors at 7, gig starts at 8, no support.

You’ve got no chill.

(Ian doesn’t answer for a while)

I like it.

Good, that was torture. Never doing that again.

(Etch teases him about having his nose in his phone, and makes him aware of new guests arriving)

Gotta get back to work

Yeah, me too. See you tonight?

No chill at all.

Ian invites him to the concert and gives Mickey his phone number. Mickey makes sure Yevgeny stays with his mom on saturday, and after work he goes home and gets ready. Showers and cleans himself thoroughly, puts on cologne and a band t-shirt he hasn’t worn in ages, it’s gotten kinda tight on him since he got it. (He puts on a dress shirt first, tucks it into his pants and glares at his reflection).

He’s on the guest list when he gets there, the girl in the box office can’t find him at first but then Anne shows up and points him out, he’s on the VIP list and gets a pass that he’s told he needs to carry so it’s visible. He makes a point of shoving it in the admission guy’s face, but then shoves the ostentatious thing down the pocket of his jeans. Anne shows him in and tells him about the gig, about how the fan club got started. Anne says he can go backstage but he says he’ll pass, thank you. He gets a beer and finds a good spot, there’s a balcony halfway through the venue where he’s got a perfect view of the stage without having to stand in the front.

They text a little, Mickey says he’s there and Ian says he’ll make a sign when they play a song inspired by him.

run-through of the concert, Ian touches the side of his nose when the song is about Mickey. He’s sexy as fuck, and has some ridiculous stripper moves.

He takes off his hoodie at some point, and sweating through his tank he and Anne put on gloves and start hitting the barrels with crowbars.

Anne is the maestro, maybe Ian crowd surfs at some point? Warren Ellis that violin, man. He has little routines with Anne, and some with Jon too. One song, Anne gets one of his guitars and he does noisy stuff with his violin and plays on the oil barrels with Stran, completely in sync.  

They got some good stage banter going, and at some point Ian does a Tom Waits impression, and Anne groans and says he’ll sing the whole thing if they’re not careful. There’s a reason why he’s

For the encore, Ian touches the side of his nose and they start playing a song, Anne saying that this is a first. It looks like Ian is about to sing, but then it looks like he changes his mind and they start playing a song that Mickey sure as fuck hope isn’t about him. The insufferable man on a date right next to Mickey tells the woman he’s with that they were about to play the mysterious title track from their last album that never ended up on the record

“it’s derivative, but cute”

how can it be a title track if it’s not on the album

the guy talks about how he’s got a friend working as an engineer in the studio and he’s sent him an early demo version. It’s not their best song by far, but it’s cool that pretty much no one else has heard it.

Mickey asks the girl if she’s ok with this joker, and she says she’s fine. He offers to get her a cab or something, if she wants to get out of there.

She says she’s not interested

Lady, if I wanted to get with either of you, it wouldn’t be you. Just sayin, I ain’t picky, but that guy would’ve gotten the boot ten minutes into the date if he were here with me, no offense.

WHAT IF.

The concert is over, and crowd starts to let up. Then a fight breaks out at the front and Mickey makes his way towards it. It’s over before he gets there, and sees a guy in his 40s with a bleeding nose, and Lip shaking out his fist, a security guard between them.

Mickey talks to the guard and defuses the situation, putting the bleeding man in the position of a sad overzealous fan. It somehow warms Lip to him, absurdly, and he finds himself apologized to, Lip shaking his hand and wincing when Mickey grips his bruised knuckles a little too hard. Lip vaguely explains that that was an old ex of Ian’s, a real piece of work, and then offers Mickey to come backstage with them to see Ian. Mickey declines.

It’s Lip, Carl and Debbie (Liam is too young, and Fiona too pregnant).

“I was drunk, and wrong, and when I’m wrong I say I’m wrong. (IT’S FROM DIRTY DANCING YOU LITERALLY FORGET EVERY TIME AND HAVE TO GOOGLE IT WHENEVER READING THIS NOTE should I really be quoting Baby’s dad in this fic? Probably. If anyone can, it’s Lip.) And Ian tells me you’ve been there for him a lot lately

I wouldn’t say that

But he did, he doesn’t tell me a lot these days, but he told me that.

Mickey gets another beer at the bar as people mill towards the merch and exit, he sits on a stool with an eye on the backstage passage. He watches the band come out to talk to some of the lingering fans and sign shit. Ian comes out and is immediately surrounded by fans, he locks eyes with Mickey across the room and Mickey raises his beer in a silent cheers. Ian comes up to him after a few minutes, he looks damp and exhilarated and unexpectedly nervous,

How was it?

Not bad, Gallagher.

he asks Mickey over. He has to pack up his shit and do the rounds, but he’ll be done in half an hour, tops. Mickey says he’ll meet him outside.

Ian leaves and Mickey finishes his beer, watching Ian talk to some fans, signing shit and taking pictures. He goes for a piss and then goes out for a smoke.

Ian comes out after twenty minutes, carrying two guitar cases and a large wheelie-bag. Mickey takes one of the guitars off his hands and they walk together.

(maybe Ian has a banjo and he gives it to Mickey to carry and Mickey is all really? I wanna kick your ass so bad right now, country boy, but then carries it anyway.) (banjos are cool)

Walk from the club. Mickey mentions talking to Lip. They talk about Ian’s Tom Waits impression. You’re not musically illiterate at all! Talk about Mickey’s Radiohead tee that he stole from a hookup when he was sixteen, he’s grown into it now. Talk about Ian’s onstage dancing, used to be a stripper, well, not saying you can’t still do private performances (?? you know what I mean! this is not what they’re saying but you’ll remember it) (Note from 2020: I DID NOT REMEMBER IT.)

Talk about wanting to learn playing the trumpet. Don’t have trumpet playing lips.

”Sure you and your lips can do whatever you set your heart to, I believe in you.”

Looks at Mickey and smiles.

”What?”

”You’ve been flirting with me since we first met, haven’t you?”

”Maybe.”

”Huh”

“What?”

“Oh nothing.” “Just re-evaluating everything you’ve ever said to me.”

”Re-evaluate this;” gives Ian the finger.

”That an invitation?”

”Fuck you is what it is,”

“sounds like an invitation.”

Ian tells him a little about his different instruments, Mickey picks up the beat up guitar Gus first gave to Ian and strums it, Ian asks him to play him something but Mickey snorts and says he’s counting on getting laid tonight and him playing would be detrimental to that plan. Ian doesn’t think so, but accepts it when Mickey gives him the guitar.

”I’ve walked some thousand miles,” he starts softly, eyes on his left hand, moving over the strings, ”I have slept many hundred nights, and people’ve said hello and bye through the years since you were mine. But don’t think I’ll stop my mourning, don’t I know it’s overdue. Just because I’ve gotten older, none the wiser I cry for you.”

”Honey, cutie, sweetie-pie,” ”My darling boy, sweet old times, as long as I keep you in mind I will remember what love is like. So, don’t think I’ll stop my mourning, don’t I know it’s overdue.”

”Just because I’ve gotten older, none the wiser.”

”I cry for you.”

I’M THINKING OF WRITING MY OWN SONG BECAUSE I WAS THIS MOMENT TO BE MORE BEFORE SUNSET THAN ANYTHING, ALL SMILES AND DRAMA FREE. SO MAYBE A TEXT THAT IS A LITTLE MORE STRAIGHTFORWARD.

Ian plays the song and when he’s done, Mickey kisses him and they have really enthusiastic sex on the couch. Mickey is about to leave after when Ian invites him to stay,

How about some long-ass foreplay on the couch and then they move into the bedroom.

They start on the couch, they take it to the bedroom, they collapse on the bed after and Mickey is feeling too good to argue when Ian mumbles at him to “stay”.

(Sings the song, says it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a song, it’s one quick thought put under a spotlight. Feeling like he should have known Mickey his whole life already. It’s too much, isn’t it? In the kitchen.

”do you normally take guys home and serenade them?”

”nah, don’t think it’d be very effective with most.”

”But you figured I’d swoon?”

”Figured you’d want the truth.”

”which is?”)

??? Need to find a good mix of excitement and new and easy, balanced with ho shit wtf are we doing this isn’t going to end well i think i fucking love him shut the fuck up. needs to be sexy and a little rough, as well as painfully sincere against better knowledge. kissing will do that. they’re doing stuff the way they usually do stuff, but for some reason it feels completely different.

Important that Mickey kisses him.

They stand up and stand chest to chest, Ian says they don’t have to do anything, Mickey says shut up and get naked

he helps ian take his shirt off and kisses him the second his face comes back into view

They fucks on the couch.

OR ALT FADE CUT END and don’t go explicit. Just saying, it’s an option. A valid option.

They can go at it in one of the sequels? Like the roadtrip can be more explicit? If I want? But also not?

I mean, there is such a thing as a nice middle ground right.

I just don’t think I’m interested in going all out porn after 40+ chapters of whatever.

THEY KISS AND THEN THERE’S A MOTHERFUCKING FADE TO BLACK MY FRIEND, BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT I HAVE DECIDED. Soz

WHAT IF!!

Iggy comes in, is all: guess what I found at the dentist this morning?

M: again? Did Amelia break another tooth?

I: It’ll grow back, take a look at this

E: Did you steal that from the dentist’s office?

M: Rolling Stone, wtf?

E: your dentist’s got rolling stone?

Mickey reads the headlines out loud as a customer comes in and asks Etch about something they’ve lost the other day, and Etch starts rifling through boxes behind the counter as Mickey moves over to sit down in Ian’s booth, rifling through the magazine.

M: what am I looking for?

I: I marked the page

E: what’s this note?

Mickey starts reading the article, realizing that the blurred picture is of Ian, and the interview is with Ian, and holy shit. Ian is legit famous.

Etch starts reading the list of coffees, eventually turning the page over and pointing out that there’s a phone number.

Iggy comes to the diner in the morning, Etch is rifling through stuff behind the counter and Mickey is doing the rounds with the few guests still there after the morning rush.

Iggy shows him the magazine he found at the dentist’s and Etch is in the background like wtf is this, reading from Ian’s note with the coffee orders, Mickey only half listens, trying to take in the fact that Ian is fucking famous.

Etch says there’s a phone number too and Mickey brushes him off.

Then he’s like, hold the fuck up! And gets the note from the trash and tries the number, and Ian fucking answers. And they have the you’re famous conversation on the phone and voila, Mickey has his number and vice versa.

So Mickey calls Ian in the morning, then there’s text talk during the day.

From Ian

So, you’ve had my number for x days and you only now decided to use it?

That’s cold.

From Mickey

You wrote it on a piece of paper you then balled up and threw on the floor, asshole, it’s a miracle it didn’t end up in the trash. didn’t know I had it until this morning.

You suck at this. (This is a nice revelation that he likes, but Maybe that doesn’t come across in text.

Not a complaint btw, just gleeful observation.

From Ian

Are we still on?

From Mickey

Of course.

Dumbass.

Ian

I probably deserved that.

At some point Mickey starts capslocking and sending lyrics to Ian, who has to explain through text why he’s written songs about Mickey, saying that he’ll point them out tonight.

HERE’S A QUESTION

SHOULD I SKIP THE WHOLE “WRITING SONGS ABOUT MICKEY” BUSINESS??

Isn’t it enough that Ian is famous and kept this fact from Mickey? Isn’t the writing songs business a little creepy? and if he did write songs about Mickey, would he really publish them without Mickey’s consent? No. Maybe I’m deliriously tired and about to fall ill right now, but I actually think I should skip that part. It’s a little sad because it’s been part of this idea for three years, but if I’m uncertain about it now imagine how I’m going to feel about it later?

When I started writing this story, it was supposed to be a quick and silly thing, and now it’s something else. It’s not important or anything, but also it is. To me. And making a decision on the rating was a big deal for me, and I think this is another one of those things. I’ve been holding on to this idea for so long but when I really think about it, is it even romantic? It’s romantic in that kind of teenage dream way, maybe? It’s more romantic to me if they fall in love for reasons other than Ian writing songs. But he’s written NTW, and he still thinks about performing it live, but we skip the whole thing about songs being about Mickey.

So they talk on the phone in the morning, and then there’s a text coming in after a little while asking if Mickey wants to come to the show.

HEYHO IT’S A REVOLUTION AND I FEEL FREE

Mickey and Ian text after the show (after Mickey declines going backstage) Ian asks him to meet him round back in twenty minutes. When Mickey goes out there, he sees Ian talking to a couple of fans by the bus and Mickey hangs back to smoke while he waits. The fans leave and Ian looks around, checks his watch, he has a bunch of guitars with him.

I AM LEANING HEAVILY TOWARDS MICKEY KISSING IAN HERE. He’s like “Stop, hold this” giving Ian back the guitar, so he can grab on to him and kiss him, smiling against Ian lips as the guitar tips over and clatters against the asphalt.

They’re outside Ian’s house, Ian says he has to get up at an unholy hour tomorrow. Invites him in anyway.

They’re in the elevator, then they’re in Ian’s apartment. Ian plays him the song, Before sunset ending.

almost none of that rhymed, just letting you know. kinda embarrassing.

(almost none of that rhymed, just letting you know. kinda embarrassing.

yeah, it’s not a very good song. is why we cut it from the record

oh yeah? thought it was ‘cause of the like, intensely personal subject

that too)

They smile at each other like fools and Mickey feels like he is exactly where he’s supposed to be, and there’s no rush. Fade to black.

Etch finds the paper, says there’s a phone number on it. Mickey dials the number and goes out back as it rings out. When Ian answers, he reads a question from the interview and they talk.

He goes back into the diner and basically blows the whole thing off, it doesn’t make any difference to him and he has to go back to work. Yevgeny does his homework and Iggy leaves, and Ian invites Mickey to the gig via text. Etch invites Yevgeny to stay over at theirs for a movie night.

Does Mickey tell Yev about the gig?

Start with Mickey out back, smoking. The phone rings and he waits for Etch to take it, but it keeps ringing. He bangs the door and yells PHONE and then it stops ringing. He kills the cigarette and goes back inside. Etch is behind the counter talking on the phone and going through the lost and found, looking for whatever the caller has lost. Mickey clears a table. It’s afternoon. Etch hangs up but keeps going through stuff in the box, talking to Mickey, when Iggy comes in.

It’s maybe more like afternoon (?) when Iggy comes in and shows Mickey the magazine. He calls Ian and they have a quick conversation (he probably goes outside to have it, to escape his audience) and they establish that Ian is sorta famous. Then they text back and forth a little, until Ian invites him to the show.

Mickey calls Svet to arrange it so Yev can stay with her, and then accepts. He goes home after work to eat, have a shower and change out of his clothes. He wears the only band tee he owns, mostly because it’s funny and because it’s kinda tight and he doesn’t think he looks too bad in it (and a dress shirt is way too much for a concert not-date, not that he tried on a couple first. Then he does a little bit of cyberstalking only to find very little personal information and a lot of crazy fans. Maybe he watches a couple of music videos, but they’re all really weird cartoons so they give him nothing. They’re cool though, and guess the music’s alright, even though he doesn’t have a connection yet to it so it’s hard to tell if he likes it.

Yevgeny calls, because Mickey switched the days and he wants to know why. Mickey asks if he knows about the Broken Bells, and Yev’s like duh who doesn’t? And freaks out when Mickey tells him about Ian. He doesn’t tell him about the whole date situation though, just that he’s going to the concert. Maybe Yev asks for some merch.

Mickey takes an Uber to the venue, even though it’s not too far from the diner (but on the other side, so at least a 30 minute walk) and it seems like they’ve already started letting people in. He hangs back until the admissions office is clear and then tells the lady that he’s on some kinda guest list. She can’t find him, and he’s about to give up and go home when he sees a familiar figure in the background. He calls her Stay-puft first, but then also remembers that her name is Anne and calls her that too. She remembers him, and finds him on a different (VIP) list, the venue staff woman is embarrassed, but Anne is borderline flirting she’s so nice about the mistake. Mickey gets a pass that he’s supposed to keep around his neck, but he shows it to the guards and then tucks it down his back pocket. Anne shows him inside the venue and asks if he wants to come backstage and say hello, but he kindly declines.

He has a quick peruse of the merch table (he checks the CDs, and then sees a smaller table next to the merch with a guy handing out pins, Mickey talks to him and finds out that it’s “fan club” pins to commemorate the gig and Mickey asks if his VIP pass gets him one, it does, and then the guy asks if Mickey wants to sign up for the newsletter) and then gets a beer, before finding a good spot on the mezzanine floor. He’s got a balcony railing for support and beer holder, and he’s got an excellent view of the stage. The floor is filling up with people packing themselves against the front. He texts Ian saying he’s here and they text a little back and forth. He gets someone to watch his spot and goes to the restroom. There, he finds a kid getting cornered by a middle-aged man. The kid looks vaguely familiar and not older than sixteen. Mickey steps in and casually accuses the guy of creeping on a kid and the guy immediately backs off, the kid says thanks and that he’s eighteen (because it’s an 18+ gig) and Mickey says sure.

Getting back to his spot, There is a douchebag on a date behind him that he wants to move away from, but he doesn’t want to surrender his good spot. He decides to tune him out, he’ll hopefully shut up once the set starts. It’s just a couple of minutes after eight when the lights dim and a song comes on louder than before, and the band start coming out on the stage. Ian is wearing jeans and a hoodie, like he normally does, but he’s clean shaven and his normally smiling face is set in blank determination. Anne is the front person, and she commands the audience with the slightest gesture. It’s obvious that the venue is filled with old fans, they all know exactly what to do exactly when she asks them to do it. Ian’s got like four guitars and a whole lot of other shit around him, and he’s super focused on doing his stuff, but now and then he does little routines with Anne and Jon, and gets a big cheer for his occasional solos.

A few songs in, Ian gets up to stand on one of the oil barrels, and Anne starts banging on it with a crowbar. That’s when Mickey starts to really get into it. It’s cool, and it’s a lot harder than Ian made it out to be, but kind of theatrical at the same time. Ian is brilliant, even though he dances like an uncoordinated stripper.

There is banter between the songs, mainly between Anne and Stran (girl sure bangs those drums!) Anne starts banging one of the oil barrels again and Ian and Jon do a little step dance next to each other across the scene.

At some point Ian takes off his hoodie. He’s wearing a white tank and he’s already sweating through it. He gives his guitar to Anne and puts on gloves. Him and Stran do a little bant-y thing and then they start a new song by both banging the barrels in unison while Anne and Jon start playing (maybe Jon plays something else, like an electric piano or a marimba?). At the crescendo of the song, Ian takes out a baseball bat and goes to town on the barrel, sweat shining on his muscly arms and his wet hair flopping down his forehead.

They go off the stage, but come back when the crowd chants a song, stomping their feet and clapping their hands. Anne says they’ve got one more song for them, and they start playing. She moves away from the microphone and it looks for a second like Ian is going to step up and sing. Douchebag behind Mickey tells his date about an unreleased b-side to the last album. But then Ian steps back and says something to Stran, who nods and moves into a slightly different beat. Without blinking Anne, steps back up to the mic and sings the last song.

Some of the crowd lingers by the stage after the lights have gone back on, but most move towards the bar or the merch table. Mickey hangs back to watch the crew take down the stage, and the two oil barrels being handed over to someone in the audience, along with set lists and left-over picks. Walking down from the mezzanine floor to go look for the restrooms, a fight breaks out on the floor. Mickey immediately recognizes one of them as Lip and the other one as the creep from the bathroom, and intervenes by clearly positioning himself on Lip’s side and reminding the creep that he could get him in trouble, the creep backs off and agrees when Mickey tells the security guards it was an accident (in a way that isn’t obviously helpful, but in the end still makes sure that Lip isn’t hurt or arrested for punching a guy) (because he did, he punched a guy, who is thrown out by the guards after Mickey’s intervention). Lip, Carl, Debbie, and Liam is there, but it’s only Lip who knows who Mickey is. He hangs back to talk to Mickey while his siblings go backstage (and PROBABLY DOESN’T tell him a little bit about the guy being Ian’s ex, making it clear that Lip really doesn’t like him). He also apologizes to Mickey for last time. He asks if Mickey wants to go backstage, but Mickey declines. He’s decided earlier with Ian through text that he’ll wait for him and thinks it’s better to do it somewhere that isn’t backstage where he might get asked questions and have to talk to people who aren’t Ian.

He gets another beer and stands in the bar next to the merch, watching as Ian and the rest of the band come out to sign some stuff and shake hands. Ian still looks slightly damp from sweat, even though he’s obviously changed clothes and run a towel through his hair. Mickey wonders if his skin tastes like salt. He drinks his beer.

Ian comes up to him after a little while, asking well? (or texts him, which probably makes more sense? But I also want Mickey to see Ian post-show)

Not bad Gallagher, not bad at all.

Ian looks pleased and asks if Mickey wants to come over, even though Ian has an early morning. Mickey says yes and Ian asks him to wait until they’re done packing up.

Mickey finishes his beer, goes to the restroom (where he sees douchebag by the urinal) and then he goes outside to wait for Ian. (He talks to douchebag’s date and offers to get her a taxi before the guy comes out.) He smokes a cigarette, and before he knows it, Ian is by his side, carrying a fuck ton of guitars. They decide to walk, for some reason, talking on the way.

HEY

Ian says he’s got a car coming and they walk a little bit to where they’re getting picked up. They talk about trumpet lips and stuff and Mickey kisses him. They get interrupted by the car arriving, and Ian picks up his guitars and says “you coming?”

Fuck yes

They sit in silence in the car, but it’s a good one. Ian says

Lip told me what you did back there.

He didn’t tell you shit.

He did, told me you stepped in and stopped him from getting arrested

He was getting his ass kicked, someone had to help the guy

And Liam told me you got him out of a tough situation in the restroom

That was Liam? Some pedo’s creeping on a kid by the urinal, I’m not gonna stand by doing nothing.

You know that’s not what happened

Yeah, well, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

He isn’t a pedo, and Lip would’ve beat the shit outta him if you hadn’t stepped in.

You defending this guy?

No, trying to say thanks.

You’re shit at it.

Thank you, Mickey

Better.

So… friend of yours.

No. (Ian isn’t forthcoming with the info)

Alright, whatever.

And he’s definitely not someone I wanna talk about, tonight.

(Ian is smiling at him, all the promise in the world in his eyes)

Fucking fair enough.

They arrive.

OR Ian joins Mickey outside and they stand around and talk

They talk about Ian’s Tom Waits impression. You’re not musically illiterate at all! Talk about Mickey’s Radiohead tee that he stole from a hookup when he was sixteen, he’s grown into it now. Talk about Ian’s onstage dancing, used to be a stripper, well, not saying you can’t still do private performances (?? you know what I mean! this is not what they’re saying but you’ll remember it)

Talk about wanting to learn playing the trumpet. Don’t have trumpet playing lips.

”Sure you and your lips can do whatever you set your heart to, I believe in you.”

Looks at Mickey and smiles.

”What?”

”You’ve been flirting with me since we first met, haven’t you?”

”Maybe.”

”Huh”

“What?”

“Oh nothing.” “Just re-evaluating everything you’ve ever said to me.”

”Re-evaluate this;” gives Ian the finger.

”That an invitation?”

”Fuck you is what it is,”

“sounds like an invitation.”

That’s when a taxi pulls up and Ian walks toward it

Could use some help with these.

They ride in silence

They carry Ian’s instruments from the car, and Ian says something cute

Mickey’s like “Stop, hold this” giving Ian back the guitar, so he can grab on to him and kiss him, smiling against Ian lips as the guitar tips over and clatters on the asphalt.

They’re outside Ian’s house, Ian says he has to get up at an unholy hour tomorrow. Invites him in anyway.

There he asks Ian to play him something that other people don’t get to hear (mostly to be a cheeky monkey, but also because he wants it) and Ian plays him None the wiser.

I’ve walked a thousand miles to end up in your corner booth

Grinning idiot when you bitch, falling fool for your dirty mouth

Sitting on my busy hands when you swagger by and I say -

Hey waiter, pour some coffee in my cup and bring me my toast, before you fuck me up

I’ve been in some thousand fights and it’s clear that so have you, too

Faded threats and cigarettes, sharp glass polished by the sea

Wish you’d put your hands on me and make your feelings clear

Hey waiter

meet me ‘round the back door, tell me I’ve got it wrong and fuck me up some more

‘Cause I’ve fallen a thousand times but never felt this way before, like I should have met you long ago

Walked with you by my side and had your back through thick and thin

Sickness and health, come what may, and I say-

Hey waiter

pop the damn champagne

None the wiser

you fuck me up again

Hey waiter

tell me you’ll be mine

I’ll give you my life

and fuck you up in kind

I wish I was just a plain white shirt

then you could wear me off to work

and I’d be one of the things you keep close to your heart

soft white cotton wrapped around your heart

(Contrasts have faded now

but color still haunt my mind

And words ripped off from their lines

Make bitter tears flood my eyes

Don’t think I’ll stop my mourning

Don’t I know it’s overdue

Just because I’ve gotten older

None the wiser, I cry for you)

Honey, cutie, sweetie-pie

My darling boy, sweet old times

As long as I keep you in mind

I will remember what love is like

So, don’t think I’ll stop my mourning

Don’t I know it’s overdue

Just because I’ve gotten older

None the wiser, I cry for you

’Cause I always say ’I love you’

when I mean ’turn out the light’

And I say ’let’s run away’

when I just mean ’stay the night’

But the words you want to hear

you will never hear from me

I’ll never say ’happy anniversary’

Never stay to say ’happy anniversary’

Bom-chaka bom-chak 23 verses

And he climbed up a mountain

And he looked around

Some kind of forest

With all these dinosaurs

And he stripped his woman

He stripped her bare

But there was a pterodactyl

There!

[swingingliveaway]

Fuck me today was exhausting.

I had the first appointment at a new dentist’s office since my old one closed his practice and retired without telling everyone which honestly is a dick move when you mostly work with people who are scarred to go to the dentist, but oh well.

The new place was nice and everything but I had to wait like 45 minutes to get seen with, for me, is basically torture but I managed to stay kind of calm (or what I consider to be calm when I’m at the dentist’s) by listening to some calm music I usually use for meditating/dealing with anxiety.

Then I got called into the treatment room and boy was I not calm. It hasn’t been this bad in a long time, but I expected it. What I did not fucking expect was the doctor and nurse being absolutely fucking useless about the situation despite the office claiming they’re specialized in people with dentophobia. Obviously not. Obviously you mean people who don’t like to go to the dentist and not those who will fucking hyperventilate on your chair.

Because when I’m literally struggeling to breathe / not have a full on panic attack things like “you should try to breathe normally, “nothing bad is happening, try to calm down” and “ist it always that bad” DO NOT ACTUALLY FUCKING HELP FOR FUCKS SAKE.

SO yeah. That was ... not so great. I mean they both were nice and all, but they obviously didn’t have a clue how to react, even after I got out that I have severe dentophobia and anxiety and all that. and like, yeah nice that you like my teeth and that you wish you had more patients with teeth like mine, but that is ...not actually the problem here?

God, this was just so fucking frustating, they just seemed to be completely helpless. I mean a simple ‘it’s okay, take your time to calm down a little’ would have helped so much more than weirdly nervous laughter and trying to downplay things. I almost felt like I had to not only justify myself but also aleviate their worry or something which is not ... how it’s supposed to go when you need support.

Idk. On the one hand it was a nice place, even if quite big, and they seem to use some fancy new technique for inlays and shit that means you don’t have to go there again to get a permanent fix because it can be made right away. But on the other hand ... do I want to have that discussion again?

[let-it-raines]

Not Your (soul)Mate {4/?}

Killian Jones doesn’t like the idea of soulmates. He sees how happy his friends are with theirs, but he still doesn’t like the idea, not when he’s found love and lost it time and time again only to still not know his sign. He has no markings on his skin, no voices in his head, but then one day he meets Emma Swan and everything changes. Because, well, he may not have ink on his skin to tell him who to love, but the very first time that he hears Emma’s voice he knows that she’s the one for him. Then again, that could simply be his desire talking. After all, for every word she speaks, he becomes aroused. 

It’s not the worst thing in the world to be incredibly attracted to a beautiful woman, but things aren’t that simple when she doesn’t have any interest in being his soulmate. 

He’s screwed. And not in the good way.

Rating: Mature

A/N: As always, thank you to @captainsjedi for her art, her support, and her general kindness throughout all of the time that’s been spent working on this story! You’re the best 💛

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Tag list: @scientificapricot @lifeinahole27 @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl @galaxyzxstark @emmas-storybook @searchingwardrobes @spartanguard @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @dreameronarooftop15 @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @ultraluckycatnd @artistic-writer @cs-forlife @andiirivera @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @xellewoods @thejollyroger-writer @cssns

-/-

“Fuck,” she mutters under her breath before pulling her finger to her lips, trying to sooth the paper cut. She’s literally broken her arm before. How does a paper cut hurt so much worse? That just doesn’t seem right or something. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“For someone who works in an office, you swear like a sailor.”

She holds the middle finger of her free hand up to David while her legs begin to tap underneath her desk to try to make her focus on something else other than this pain. What did she do? Slice her entire finger open on a document about Leroy being drunk and disorderly at the Rabbit Hole last night?

They’ve got to switch to digital files.

And Leroy has to stop getting drunk and then serenading the people who live in the apartment building across from the Rabbit Hole at two in the morning.

And they really have to get another bar in this town, especially with how many tourists that they get in the summer months. Granny’s doesn’t count. She goes there more than anyone else, especially when she meets up with Ariel on their lunch breaks, but it is not a bar atmosphere even if she sells alcohol, most of which is stronger than the stuff at the Rabbit Hole. Granny knows how to pack a punch. Then again, Ruby has to get it from someone.

“Fuck off, David,” she bites, pulling her finger out of her mouth and looking at the miniscule damage that’s been caused there. How in the world does that cause this much pain? It’s probably extra because Leroy haunts the paper or something. She may have lost her mind. “This hurts.”

“Wash it and put a band-aid over it,” he shrugs, looking up at her over her coffee mug. Sometimes she hates that ever since Graham quit (apparently it was too hard to look at her face after they broke up even if he was the one off living with his soulmate) it’s only she and David in this department. Storybrooke is too small a town to need a lot of detectives, and even though most of the time she spends her time doing the work of a patrol officer, at least she gets paid like a detective.

There are perks.

And she loves David, but sometimes it’s too much to spend all day with him.

Today is one of those days.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

“Not a Captain quite yet.”

She rolls her eyes at his cheeky smile at the same time that she rolls her chair back and across the room to the area where they keep their coffee machine and their first aid kit, oddly enough. She’s pretty sure they also keep extra ink in this cabinet as well, but David is always the one who changes out the printer stuff anyways. If their printer doesn’t work, she always heads downstairs and uses the one in the bullpen.

It’s really not because she’s lazy. The printer is evil. Pure evil.

“We have got to switch to a digital filing system,” she tells David as she unpeels the band-aid and wraps it around her finger. “I know we don’t have the money for it, but we should do a fundraiser or something. I’m sure Mary Margaret would love to put on a bake sale.”

“How much money can a bake sale make?”

She shrugs her shoulders and twists her chair around before propping her feet up on Graham’s old desk, her boots banging against the wood. “I don’t know, but my other option was making a calendar with all of the hot male cops in it. Like, sixty percent of Storybrooke would buy that.”

David scoffs and pulls his head back, his face practically in his neck while his brows furrow together, all of those little old man wrinkles coming into play. He’s such an older brother type. If she’d ever had any family, she imagines he would be the type of sibling she’d want. She loves Mary Margaret, but she’d kill her if she had to spend all of her time listening to that never-ending optimism about every little aspect of life.

“Why only the male cops?”

“Because the equality here sucks, and I don’t think Ashley and I can fill up an entire calendar. Plus, you know, women have been objectified for thousands of years. You guys can have a turn. Also, it’s illegal for me to show my nipples in any kind of publication that’s not HBO. You can show yours even though our nipples look the same.”

“You’ve compared my nipples to yours then?”

“Gross,” she moans, tilting her head back in a laugh so that her hair falls over the back of her chair. It’s kind of hot in here, June really living up to its reputation, so while she’s still very unfortunately thinking about the similarity in her nipples (she’s thought the word nipples far too many times in two minutes) to David’s, she pulls her hair up into a ponytail, fluffing it out in the rubber band so that it’s no longer on her neck. “Let’s not have that conversation again. Like, ever.”

“Agreed.”

After messing around for a little while longer, she rolls back to her desk and goes back to her paperwork. She’s behind after missing half of work yesterday to go to the dentist, so she’s still got quite the dent to make in her stack. This town should not have this much paperwork, and she swears half of this stuff should be filed at city hall anyways. One day this town is going to make sense. She loves it, really. It’s the first place that’s ever felt like home for her, but it’s all kinds of weird.

Just as she’s made her way through half of her paperwork, there’s a knock on their open door, and she turns to see Ashley holding a large basket.

“Hey, Ems. This basket was dropped off for you at the front desk.”

“Are you sure?”

Ashley holds up a white card, the word “Swan” written across it in neat, scrawling script. If this were any other town, she’d be convinced that someone was trying to poison her or something, but this really only seems like some kind of creepy gift.

Not a murderous one.

“Well okay then,” she mumbles to herself before getting out of her chair, her legs aching a bit from how she’s had them crossed, and walking to take the basket from Ashley. “Did you see who dropped this off?”

“Mr. French did. It’s from his bakery. I’d recognize those blueberry muffins anywhere. If you don’t eat them, I’d be happy to take them off of your hands.”

She laughs and looks down into the basket. It’s full of bread. Like, a hell of a lot of bread. It’s mostly rolls and baguettes, but she sees the muffins and a few cinnamon rolls in there that she would recognize everywhere. Living with Belle means they always have books, but her dad always sends them baked goods and flowers too. She’s never quite gotten the full story of how Mr. French came to own a flower shop and a bakery, but he’s pretty much got the Valentine’s Day market down.

Smart man. People lost their minds over Valentine’s Day.

“You can have the rolls, but these muffins are all mine. I’m not going to refuse free food.”

“Smart lady. I’ll see you guys later!”

“Bye, Ash,” she says as Ashley walks away and she turns back into the office, placing the food down on her desk and pointedly ignoring the smirk that David’s got painted on his lips right now. She is not acknowledging that, especially since she already knows what he’s going to say. “You want a muffin?” she asks instead, picking a chocolate chip one out and unpeeling the wrapper before popping a bite in her mouth. “They’re really good.”

“I didn’t know you were dating someone,” David teases, reaching over and grabbing a roll. “And that he is very into bread.”

“I’m not dating anyone,” she murmurs under her breath, not caring that her mouth is full. David knows not to tease her about her love life, and here he is doing just that while eating her food. Traitor.

She guesses she did offer it to him, but that’s beside the point.

“Really?” he hums, and before she can stop him, he reaches over and grabs the envelope that she hasn’t opened yet, snatching it away from her grasp as she gets up and tries to take it from him, practically tripping over a filing cabinet and nearly stubbing her toe into David’s desk while he holds the card in the air (sometimes she hates how much taller he is than her) and reads it aloud. “Swan, since you said we couldn’t steal the bread from Belle at dinner, I figured you’d like some delicacies that still stem from the French family.”

It takes her less than a second to realize who sent her the bread basket, and it takes her approximately two seconds to figure out how she’s going to strangle him with a baguette.

Killian Jones.

Killian freaking Jones.

That’s not his middle name, but she feels like it might as well be. Or maybe something a little more crass. What the hell is he doing sending her a bread basket? She gets it. She does. It’s a clever callback to their dinner last week. The dinner that was so clearly a set up from their friends.

It doesn’t matter how many times she asks them to stop interfering with her love life, they never do. And there they were trying to set her up on a date with the one person who she doesn’t want to go on a date with. There they were setting her up with a man she can’t even speak to without getting aroused. She’s had months to let that settle in, and it’s still the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard in her life.

She’s heard a lot of ridiculous things too.

But Killian was nice, if not a little inappropriate sometimes with some of his jokes. She gets that though. She’s not a prude. She’s got a sailor’s mouth and likes to talk about sex and make innuendos as much as the next girl (if that girl is a mix between Ruby and Mary Margaret), so she’s used to it. She finds it funny. She finds him funny if she’s honest with herself, but liking Killian is not something she ever really plans on doing even if he’s hypothetically her soulmate.

(It’s easier to say hypothetically instead of admitting it to herself every single time she thinks about it.)

A part of her is still convinced that something else is going on, but she can’t figure any other explanation out. She’s spent weeks, literal weeks, thinking about it while trying to go to bed at night and is left alone with her thoughts and with the sounds of Belle and Will in Belle’s bedroom. Eventually they have got to move in together because Emma’s not sure how long she can live sharing a wall if Will is going to stay over.

It’s always the quiet ones who make the most noise.

But she gets it. Soulmates aside, they’re still human beings. They didn’t instantly fall in love, and not everything is perfect. They have issues and fights, and honestly, the tiny part of her that has faith in this whole thing is only reassured by that. She doesn’t want perfect. She’s never wanted perfect. Really, she hates the whole concept of perfect.

“You’re perfect, Ems.”

She shakes that thought of Neal away and looks back to David who is still smirking, looking for all the world like the cat who ate the canary, and accepts the fact that even though Killian Jones is not the worst person in the world, that doesn’t mean she has to run and leap into his arms and let him sweep her away with his accent and charm and…bread. She can still go about her business like usual. They’re not friends, and they don’t have to be.

Their text conversation that one night aside.

“Who sent you this food?” David asks again, sitting down in his desk chair and tossing her the card. She lets it fall to the ground, landing just below her desk. “And don’t lie to me. I can apparently ask Belle or her dad.”

“It’s nothing.”

“You’re blushing.”

“I’m not blushing.”

“Look at the red on your cheeks! That’s blush!”

“It’s June. It’s called a sunburn.”

“Blush.”

“I hate you.”

He rips off another piece of bread and takes a bite. “You love me, but alright, I won’t ask who your mystery man is just yet. I know you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

“That,” she chuckles, “is not ever happening.”

It takes until a little past six to get all of her paperwork finished, but she finally does, her hand only cramping the slightest bit. She’s serious about some kind of fundraiser for the department. She needs a computer system that’s better than the one they have now. And, yeah, maybe a bake sale won’t work, but that calendar will. Mary Margaret and Ruby alone will buy the place out.

(Mary Margaret because she’s supporting David; Ruby because she likes hot men.)

They’re most likely not doing a calendar, but she’ll come up with something. Maybe she can go to city hall and see if they can find a little room in the budget. She’s sure there has to be room somewhere. Hell, they haven’t been paying the extra detective’s salary since Graham left. It’s probably all sitting in a bank account somewhere.

Maybe they can get a better coffee machine while they’re at it.

She could go for some coffee right now as she walks past Granny’s on the way to her apartment, nodding her head at some of the families that pass by. It’s summer in Storybrooke, which means family after family is flooding into town to use their beach and stay at the few rental houses that line the dock area. It’s a nice place, she can admit that. It’s part of what drew her here from Boston in the first place. She needed out and away from a large city and wanted somewhere nice and quiet, at least for a little while.

She’s been here for seven years.

And maybe she doesn’t get out to the beach as often as she used to, but she’s usually always working. Plus, it’s crowded all summer long. She has to go early in the mornings to get any peace a quiet there, and mostly it’s too cold for that. This is Maine after all.

She’ll go running there in the morning, really work up a sweat before work, maybe even see the sunrise.

Who is she kidding? She’s not going to get up early enough to see the sunrise.

A little bit after, though.

Ten minutes later she gets to her apartment building, taking the stairs the three floors up with her basket of bread and walking inside to find Belle sitting on the couch drinking a glass of wine and watching an episode of the Bachelor. She has a lot of thoughts on that show, most of them probably pretty insulting, but if she’s drunk enough, she can find it entertaining enough.

Though, she’ll never understand why there’s a show on finding love when everyone already has that predestined partner.

Money. Publicity. Ratings. And the occasional time when someone very literally finds their soulmate on the show.

“Hey,” she tells Belle, dropping her keys onto their tray. There’s her chapstick too.

“Hi,” Belle greets her, twisting around before turning back to look at the television. “This guy just jumped over the fence on here, and they can’t find him.”

“How can they not find him? They live on a compound.”

(So maybe she knows more about the show than she’s willing to admit.)

(Maybe she can be a bit more into it than she’s willing to admit.)

(Maybe she watches with Belle because this is when they get to hang out and when Belle breaks out the good wine.)

“He jumped over the fence to get out of the compound because the girl he loves just broke up with him.”

“No,” she gasps, walking over to the couch and placing the basket on the table before plopping down on the couch and pulling Belle’s fuzzy white blanket over her legs. She doesn’t know what she’s going to do when Belle does finally move out because all of the nice stuff in the living room is hers. “Are you serious? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah, apparently he was – ” Belle stops talking while she watches the host chase after the fence jumping guy (she can’t remember his name). “Why do you have a giant gift basket of food from my dad’s bakery?”

Well shit.

“Oh, um,” she mumbles, messing with the tips of her hair, “someone dropped it off for me at the station today.”

She’s very pointedly not looking at Belle who she knows is looking at her. This Bachelor rerun is very exciting. How could she possibly look away? She can’t. It’s against the rules.

“Who?”

“Um, I don’t know,” she sighs as she reaches forward to grab another muffin, stuffing it in her mouth. She really does have to go running in the morning if she’s going to eat all of this. “There was no name. It was an anonymous donor or something. Probably just someone wanting to thank me for helping the town.”

Her eyes cut over to Belle, and she sees her readjusting her seat, sitting up on her knees while a grin slowly starts to form on her face.

Shit.

She’s about to get interrogated.

“Let me call my dad and ask who ordered this. He can tell us that way we know.”

“No, no, no. Let’s not do that.”

“Too late. I’m calling him.”

“Belle.”

“I’m doing it.”

She watches Belle pick up her phone, already dialing her dad, and in a move that she’s not proud of, she practically jumps over to Belle, grabbing her phone out of her hand and snatching it away unlike how she wasn’t able to grab the note out of David’s hand.

“Ha,” she laughs, standing up on the couch and backing away with the phone, “now you can’t.”

“Did you get drunk at work or something?” Belle chuckles, falling back against the couch cushions. “I mean, you can’t keep my phone forever, and also, I can just walk to go see my dad. So I’m thinking you know who sent you the basket, and you should definitely tell me. I’m going to find out no matter what.”

“If I tell you,” she begins cautiously, slowly settling down on the couch and taking a deep breath, “you have to promise to listen to the explanation and not make a big deal out of it. because I promise that it’s not a big deal.”

“You’re blushing. It’s a big deal.”

She rolls her eyes, throwing Belle’s phone back at her. “I hate you.”

“You do not.” She feels like she’s had this exact conversation before. Talk about Deja vu. “Now tell me. No one came into the library today, and I have been starved for entertainment.”

“Have you ever considered reading a book?”

“Ha ha,” she deadpans, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest. “So funny. Now tell me who this is from before I walk to my dad’s.”

There’s suddenly a very interesting piece of lint on her blouse, and she focuses on picking at it while she mumbles, “Killian Jones sent it.”

“You want to say that again?”

She groans and throws her head back, clenching her teeth before looking at Belle. “Killian sent it to me.” Belle’s eyes light up, her lips parting to say something, and Emma holds up a finger before she can finish. “No, we are not dating, and no, we did not hit it off with each other the other night. While you and Will were arguing over your vacation, he made a joke about taking the bread and making a run for it. I told him we weren’t doing that, and for some reason he decided to spend far too much money sending me the largest basket of bread I’ve ever seen.”

“That is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard,” Belle practically squeals, jumping up and down a little on the couch. “Oh my gosh, I have to tell Mary Margaret.”

“I will rip the pages of a chapter out of one of your favorite books if you tell Mary Margaret.”

“Traitor.”

Yep. Definitely a sense of deja vu here.

“You’re the one who’s about to make a big deal out of nothing and who’s only going to make it worse by telling Marg.”

“It’s cute. Killian likes you. He’s obviously trying to impress you.”

“I don’t want to be impressed,” she huffs, scooting down further on the couch and toeing her shoes off before she takes another bite of her muffin, the crumbs falling on her shirt. “I want to go to work and do my job and then come home and watch the History Channel without anyone interrupting me. I don’t need a guy trying to make me smile with baked goods.”

“Oh, hon,” Belle sighs, reaching over and placing her hand over Emma’s, the compassion in her eyes so different than the glint of teasing that was just there, “it’s okay to flirt and have fun every now and then. Killian is a nice guy. He’s not trying to hurt you.”

“Just hurt my waistline.”

“Yeah, maybe that. Look, I can tell this is bothering you, and since I know you, I know it’s probably some deep seeded fear that no one but you knows about that’s going to make you drive yourself crazy. Don’t overthink the gift. That’s all that it is. And I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you.”

She doesn’t say more because she doesn’t want to say more. Belle is right. This is about more than Killian being playful and teasing her. It’s about the fact that Neal did the same thing. So did Walsh. Graham did too, really, but she wouldn’t ever categorize him in the same douchebag category as Neal and Walsh. She probably wouldn’t categorize Walsh the same way that she does Neal, and he cheated on her. For months. And she didn’t even really care at the end of that even though she’ll never see the Fourth of July in the same way again. She was already checked out and resigned to herself never finding someone who she could trust.

And Neal…she doesn’t want to think about Neal. She can’t. It hurts too much.

That’s why Killian and his flirting and his bread basket terrify her. He can so easily charm her, is probably already on his way there, and if this whole magnetic thing between them really is their sign, that terrifies her all the more. Because what if he is her soulmate, and what if they still can’t make it work?

What if?

What if they’re the ones who can’t make it work?

But it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t know him, not really. She barely knows anything about him, and unless he keeps hounding her with random gifts that are going to make her go up a jean size, it’s not like she’s going to have to see him that much more.

So it’s all just fine.

When her alarm goes off the next morning, she almost turns it off and sleeps in, but something keeps her up and gets her going so that she’s lacing her sneakers and tugging on a sports bra and some leggings as she makes her way down to the beach, starting at the pier closest to her apartment and running until her legs burn and her chest aches while all of her other problems melt away. She runs and runs and runs until…

Well, until she sees Killian himself running toward her, his dark hair flopping up and down with his movements as his brother runs beside him, the two of them seemingly racing each other on the sand. She knows the moment he sees her because he falls behind Liam, his step faltering a bit before he speeds up again and moves toward her with this goofy grin on his face that almost makes her stop in her tracks, her feet sinking through all of the sand.

“Hey, Emma,” Liam yells to her, stopping his jog right in front of her. “I didn’t know you ran this early in the mornings. Elsa never mentioned that.”

“I usually don’t,” she gasps, reaching up to wipe the sweat from her brow and avoiding Killian’s gaze as a wave crashes behind her, sea mist reaching the skin on her ankles. Really, all that does is allow her to see the muscles on his stomach under his shirt, and she’s not sure how that helps. “I had a lot to eat yesterday and am trying not to be majorly bloated. Plus, I missed the beach.”

Killian coughs, and her eyes finally find his and notice the way his jaw is ticking. She almost forgot the effect she has on him, but she can tell that he’s squirming a bit, that he hasn’t spoken.

Why are the seagulls on this beach so damn loud?

“Don’t you just love the beach?” she continues, her lips pressing into a smile while she looks right at Killian. “It’s so beautiful, especially in the mornings before all of the crowds get here. I bet you guys spend a lot of time out on the water with your jobs.”

“Not as much as I’d like,” Liam admits, looking over to his brother. “Killian gets to a little more than me, though. He’s very hands on. Maybe one day we can take you out on one of our new boats that we’re test driving. I’m sure Elsa would love that.”

“I would love that too. We can make it a whole thing with some of our friends. Wouldn’t you love that, Killian?”

“Aye,” he grits, his fists clenching at his sides. “That’d be great.”

Her body tingles at his words, the beginnings of arousal pooling between her thighs, but as they continue to talk, she ignores it and makes sure that she gets more words in than him. It’s more fun than she thought it would be, and it only causes her a little pain. Maybe he doesn’t deserve her to torture him like this, but she did have to endure a lot of teasing from her friends yesterday like they’re all high schoolers. What’s fair is fair after all.

“Alright, lass,” Liam says a few minutes later, beginning to jog in place, “we best be going and let you finish your run.”

“Okay. I’ll text Elsa about that day out on the water, okay?”

“Sounds great.”

Liam begins to jog out of the way, and she thinks that Killian is going to join him, but instead he steps closer to her, his beard briefly scratching her ear as he leans in to whisper, his breath hot against her ear. “Two can play at this game, love.”

[amaranthinecanicular]

Jack of all trades. Enough people have called him that over the years, usually with intent to flatter. Maybe they don't know the other half of the phrase. Maybe they just choose to ignore it. Either way, Sero came to terms long ago with how well it fit, like a second skin, like a worn and comfortable uniform: jack of all trades, master of none.

----

“Sero has a crush on his dentist,” says Kaminari.

“Oh, really? Congrats, man!” says Kirishima. “What's his name?”

“Dentists make good money,” says Mina. “Is he cute?”

“Who the fuck cares?” says Bakugou. Then he says nothing else because he's tearing into his burger.

“I don't have a crush on my dentist,” says Sero, not that anyone listens. He tears into his burger too, with more dedication than he affords most burgers. It's just a really good burger. Honestly.

Kaminari elects to answer for him, because Kaminari is a terrible friend. “His name's Skye. He's American. And as for cute--” He digs his phone out of his pocket and opens a picture of Dr. Skye, mid-teeth cleaning. When the hell did he take that? How the hell did he take that?

“I did some reconnaissance,” says Kaminari, guessing at Sero’s question. “My gums bled all over the place but it was totally worth it.”

“Oh my god, I know him!” says Mina, snatching the phone. “He was on all those teeth whitening ads, with the catchy jingle!”

She tilts the screen toward Kirishima, who whistles. “Nice, Sero. He is cute,”

The phone vanishes from both their hands to detonate neatly in Bakugou’s fist.

“Who. The fuck. Cares?” he growls, and Sero has never been more grateful for his jealous streak. Kirishima likes it too, though for different reasons, which he makes known by sprawling backward into Bakugou’s lap and cooing, “Aw, babe, you're so cute when you're jealous!”

Kaminari is not as endeared. “That's the third one this month, Bakugou,” he says, his voice a pitiful mix of mournful and resigned. “At least I've got a warranty this time.”

Mina puts her chin in her hands and bats her eyelashes. It’s exactly as cute as she thinks it is, but Sero has had years to develop immunity. “Have you asked him out yet?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Probably because I don't have a crush on my dentist.” Except how he does. He totally does have a crush on his dentist.

“Dude.” Kaminari stops pouting long enough to level him a flat look. “You get a cleaning every three weeks. Your teeth are fabulous, your wallet is empty, and you have a crush on your dentist. Ask him out.”

There's a very special type of burn in Sero’s chest to hear Kaminari say that. Dry, crackling heat, like an electric fire. He puts his face in his hands and presses the burning back down, away from his eyes.

“I was drunk when I told you all that. It’s more complicated than you think.”

He hears Mina:  “How is it complicated? You’re a catch. Just ask him out next time you see him!”

And Kirishima: “Even if he says no--which he shouldn’t, because Mina’s right, you’re a total catch--but even if he does, he’ll appreciate your honesty. Nothing manlier than honesty and respect.”

And Bakugou: “Either way you’ll get to stop wasting your cash like a chump and I’ll get to stop hearing about this bullshit.”

And Kaminari: “So you do like him.”

That’s the one he looks up for. Through his fingers he imagines a strangeness to Kaminari’s expression. A smile, just a little too crooked. Electric-eyed and bright. His normal look, really. It only looks strange for the wearing itself--for the deliberate way he seems to pull it on, less natural, more affected, like a costume and mask. Sero might think Kaminari was displeased with his answer if only he weren’t imagining it all.

“It’s complicated,” Sero says again, because it is. Because he does have a crush on his dentist, sure, but a crush on a near-stranger for the past four months is nothing compared to a crush on one’s best friend. More than a crush. For over a decade.

Kaminari looks like he has something else to say--maybe Sero’s imagining that too--but it's interrupted by a brave gaggle of fans, the first of several to approach. Someone says, “The Ground Zero Agency, here, in our burger joint!” It's one of those days where everyone at the table but Sero is recognized, but hey, that's okay. He's used to it.

Sero finishes his burger.

----

His dentist calls him Jack.

He doesn't know why. He doesn't ask. Jack could mean a lot of things. He's heard that some people use it as a nickname for strangers in America. Or it could be that Dr. Skye honestly forgot his name. That wouldn't be so surprising--it's not like Sero’s very famous, or even particularly recognizable. Nothing like everyone else at the agency. Between plain and forgettable, it's anyone's guess which he's been called more often.

“Hey, Jack!” says Dr. Skye. His smile is something close to blinding, but Sero is self aware enough to know that it’s probably more to do with the man’s quirk than genuine joy at seeing him again. He’s got a ton of other patients and he probably smiles the same way at them.

“Hey there, Doc,” says Sero. One nickname for another. “Fancy meeting you here.”

It's a dumb joke, if it even counts as a joke at all, but Skye snickers the same way he always does. And the way he says, “I missed my favorite patient. How you been?” is the same too. Probably par for the course. Probably Dr. Skye makes everyone feels so special.

But, well. Not everyone makes Sero “Jack of All Trades” Hanta feel special. Just Kaminari and Skye, mostly.

“Fine,” says Sero, even though it hasn't really. He was on a late night talk show a few nights ago with Kaminari, the host of which has it out for him. But Skye doesn't need to know that. “Just fine. You?”

Skye peers into Sero’s mouth and pokes around and hums a little. “Pretty good! Filled in a cavity for Lemillion. Have I told you I'm Lemillion’s dentist?”

Sero’s answer is unintelligible, which is for the better because he doesn't want to tell Skye that he's told him that six times already. Lemillion was actually the one who referred Sero to Skye. Not that Skye knows this, either, and Sero would like to keep it that way.

“But his pearly whites have nothing on yours,” Skye continues. “Which are perfect as always, by the way. Best I've ever seen. Aside from mine, of course.” He likes that joke. Sero doesn't mind because it's objectively true.

On the TV posted in the back corner of the office an ad comes on for a popular late-night talk show. Clips of Kaminari’s face flicker over the screen, and then his own. Sero’s pulse picks up but the TV is muted and Skye has his back to it.

“So, got any plans this weekend?” Skye says, and the ad ends. If Sero is visibly relieved then Skye is too distracted by the inside of his mouth to notice.

“Nuh muh,” says Sero. The ad comes on again. That’s just not fair.

“I don’t either. Usually my schedule is jam packed but it’s nice to have some free time, right?”

Sero makes a croaky, squeaky sort of sound. Skye nods like this is an acceptable human answer, and Sero would be embarrassed if he weren’t kind of freaking out. Something terrible will happen if Skye finds out that he is Cellophane. He knows it. Skye will be disappointed that of all the heroes he works with it’s Sero that has a crush on him, or he’ll make some awful joke about how Jack is an even more fitting nickname than he thought, or he’ll bust out a villain costume and fry Sero in the overstuffed dentist chair. Maybe not that last one so much but he’s panicking and Skye is turning around to nab a paper cup for Sero to spit in and the ad is playing for a third time what the hell is the network that desperate for viewers—

“Do you want to go out with me on Saturday?” someone says. He says. He, Sero Hanta, just said that. Gargled, really.

Skye stops with his body half turned and the ad finally, finally gives way to a commercial for a revolutionary new vacuum cleaner. “Come again?”

“Uh.” Sero reaches past him and plucks the paper cup from his hand. He spits very suavely into it. Except for how that’s a filthy lie because no one on earth can do that. “Um. I was thinking, maybe. Since we’re both free. Maybe we could get dinner on Saturday? Together? Or something?”

He wishes Bakugou were here. Bakugou would put him out of his misery. But to his eternal surprise, Skye does not laugh him out of the office. He does not grimace or lose his temper, which was probably an unreasonable reaction to fear. Instead he says, “Yeah. Yes. That sounds great.”

“Seriously?” Wait. No. That’s. That can’t be right. “That worked? Like. Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider? That was the least smooth I’ve ever been.”

Skye takes a seat on his work stool and quirks one brow. “Well, maybe not now that you’re trying to talk me out of it.”

Maybe this isn’t as much of a disaster as Sero thought. “Maybe it was a test. Maybe I don’t want to go out with someone who would say yes to such a terrible proposition.”

“That’s too bad. I had the perfect place in mind, I’ve been wanting to take you for a while.”

Sero smiles, big and minty. “Really?”

Skye smiles too, and it is quite literally blinding. Sero doesn’t mind. “Yes.”

Sero has never been so happy to pay twenty two thousand yen. He’s happy. He is. He can’t wait for Saturday.

He can’t think of anything but Kaminari.

----

Listen, it’s not like Sero hasn’t tried to move on. He has. He’s tried. Ten years is longer than he planned to hold a candle for anyone. There was a cute paramedic eight years ago, and a police officer who tried to arrest him because she thought he was a vigilante seven years ago. A fellow hero five years ago. A talented chef three years ago. A museum curator two years ago.

With the exception of the one or two who were trying to use him to get to the rest of the agency, Sero torpedoed those relationships all on his own. He’d like to blame Kaminari, for always showing up at exactly the wrong moment and being charming and dumb and incorrigible and earnest and saying just the right thing to make Sero’s smile real, but when it comes down to it all those people deserved better than what Sero could give them.

He’s tried to move on. He has. That doesn’t mean he was successful.

----

“So you're really giving up on Kaminari?”

Mina is helping him pick an outfit. Her words. Sero would call it lounging on his bed and eating his food and reading his magazines. He never explicitly told her about his feelings for Kaminari, but Mina has always had a way with matters of the heart, and she sniffed it out by their second year at UA. Honestly he's lucky he managed to keep Skye from her for as long as he has.

He pulls out a yellow v-neck and says, “Nothing to give up on. It's not like I ever had a chance.”

“Didn't he kiss you in our third year?” She flips a page in the magazine too casually.

“Yeah, and then he started talking about Jirou.” He thinks about that kiss more often than he'd like to admit. The stuff after that—Jirou’s name in the mouth that had just been on his, Sero’s heart crumbling at the edges—not so much.

“Talk is cheap. A kiss is action.”

“Action from ten years ago. And dating Jirou right after that counts as action too, doesn’t it?”

Mina deigns to give him a flat look over her magazine. “One date, and they never even kissed. Not the same thing.”

“Yeah, well.” He leaves it at that and weighs the v-neck against a dark blue turtleneck. He’s always liked it, but it’s tough to get around his elbows so he doesn’t wear it often. Honestly it would probably look better on Todoroki, which is good because Todoroki isn’t the type to look down his nose at a hand me down gift. “Which one do you think?”

“Hm. Neither.”

“What? That wasn’t one of the options,”

“And you're sure Skye doesn't know you're a hero?”

He gives up on the idea of looking his best with a sigh. “Pretty sure.”

“How does that work? Does he just not care about your life?”

“Sure he does. He asked what I do, I told him that I deal with public safety.”

“And that's it? He never asked you more about it?”

No, he didn’t. Instead he said that he worked in public safety too, plaque can be dangerous, and did Sero know he was Lemillion’s dentist? “What's with the third degree? I thought you were rooting for him. Kaminari is.”

He manages to keep the bitterness from his voice because he isn’t bitter about it. It’s good that Kaminari is in his corner. Sure, it burns a little, but he’s not bitter. Why should he be? It’s for the better.

...He will admit, though, that he’d have preferred Kaminari not know about it at all. Sero hadn't even meant to tell him, is the thing. They were celebrating the interview with tacos and beer, and they were drunk and happy. Leaning on each other in Kaminari’s apartment. Whispering and giggling like teenagers. It was nice. It was so nice. And it could have stayed that way if Sero had just kept his mouth shut, but some stupid self-sabotaging corner of his mind blurted, “So I think I have a crush on my dentist,” and then his mouth blurted it too.

He still doesn't know what he expected to happen. His fool heart was probably hoping Kaminari would get jealous and swoop in for a kiss—they were close enough, could smell the alcohol and Sriracha on each other's breath—but instead Kaminari peeled himself from Sero’s side and said, “Congrats, man. Tell me all about it.”

He doesn’t feel bitter about it. Just stupid. Just sad.

Mina shuts her magazine. She bounces up and throws her arms around Sero’s middle, rests her chin on his shoulder and meets his eyes in the wardrobe mirror. She must be on her tiptoes. “Oh, honey, I just want someone who appreciates you for you.”

He almost says that's why he lied in the first place. It's probably what she thinks anyway. Plenty of heroes are romantically anonymous, trying to make sure they're loved for their personalities instead of their celebrity status. Mina doesn’t need to know that Sero isn’t out to pretend he’s less than Cellophane, professional Jack of All Trades. She doesn’t need to know he’s pretending he’s more.

But he doesn’t like to lie to Mina, so instead he says, “I think he does, really. Thank you, Mina.”

She doesn’t look entirely convinced, but she’s a good friend, and so she drops it. Plucks both shirts from his hands and pulls out a mossy green button down instead. The cuffs can be unbuttoned and rolled up with ease over his elbows. With one hand he takes the hangar and with the other he pulls Mina close.

“The incomparable Alien Queen, saving the day as always.”

“I hope he deserves you,” she sighs, and squeezes him tight. “The incomparable Cellophane.”

To keep from laughing at the absurdity of that statement Sero drops a kiss on her head and says nothing at all.

----

Sero thinks there are probably better ways to start a date than feeling supremely underdressed.

Skye had said nice but casual, Mina’s outfit seemed perfect. They agreed to meet at the restaurant, a comfortable plan that lets Sero work up his nerve as he makes the short tape swing over. But then he gets there, and Skye is already waiting in a sparkly tux that reminds him of Aoyama but classier, and Sero is struck by a sinking sense of foreboding. They head inside and sure enough there are chandeliers, and suit jackets, and long sweeping gowns. The lighting is low and the balconies are high and there's a beautiful woman crooning into a microphone, with shimmering clones of herself singing backup vocals. The waiters here are the kind that pull out Sero’s seat for him and never smile. Which is made more intimidating by the fact that their table is located on a private balcony, which apparently exists for the sole purpose of overlooking all the extravagance and basking in the knowledge that it's above even that.

Underdressed is. A word. For how he's feeling.

The waiter—is he a waiter? He looks more official than that, white suit instead of black, greeted Skye with groveling familiarity—starts reciting the wines without use of a menu and Sero tries to be positive. There are worse ways to start a date, too. Sure it's a little rich for his blood, but it's not like Skye looks embarrassed to be seen with him. In fact he'd smiled when they met, and told him he looked great. Never mind that no one else is wearing their sleeves rolled up, and his elbows feel clunkier than ever.

“So what do you think?” Skye is watching him expectantly. The maybe-not-a-waiter is watching him expectantly too. Sero can't remember any of the wines because he's pretty sure they were all in French (Aoyama would love it here, really) so he shrugs and says, “They all sound great. Why don't you pick?”

He has the feeling this was the right decision because Skye turns and starts making snappy orders in French that he definitely had prepared. He comes here a lot, is what this says. He's trying to impress.

Once the waiter(?) trots away Skye leans conspiratorially across the table. “It usually takes three months to get a reservation here, but I whiten the manager’s teeth.” The manager, of course, that's who he was. Some appetizers land on the table, evidently on the house. Skye raises his eyebrows and spreads out his hands. “Nice, right?”

Sero has no idea what the appetizer is. It's gray and goopy with one sprig of mint or maybe cilantro on top and it's probably the most expensive bite he's ever going to have in his life. Should that make it more appetizing? Nice right, Skye had said, and Sero has the opportunity to be honest, to lie, or to deflect with a joke.

“Yeah, it's nice, but I think you could have done better. I mean, they didn't even chew my food and feed me like a baby bird.”

Skye laughs, bright and genuine, head thrown back, and relief floods Sero’s insides. He remembers: Skye likes him. Really likes him. And he likes Skye. This is doable. This can work.

And it does, for a while. Sero tells heroic anecdotes (with some of the more heroic details fudged). “So the power’s out, and we need to see in order to… clean up the mess, right? My coworker’s static shock quirk can light things up for a second, but not enough. So he decides the best way, the only way to get the power going is to stick his tongue in an outlet.”

More or less how it happened. Static shock is close enough to electricity and the mess they were cleaning up was actually a villain that thrived in pitch darkness. The generated light from Bakugou and Kaminari’s quirks were enough to hold him back but not enough to beat him, so Kaminari went for it. Overloaded the power for the whole block. Put him in the hospital for two days and completely fried his tongue for two weeks. Later he slurred to Sero that it was worth it because he’d always wanted to do that.

To counter, Skye tells funny stories that might blur the line of patient confidentiality. “I took out Present Mic’s wisdom teeth a few years ago. Couldn’t hear for week after that,” he says, and Sero snorts on his wine. That sounds about right.

Over the main course they debate what materials Skye can bite through. Literally anything, according to Skye, and Sero is halfway to convincing Skye to bite through a fork when someone fancy and expensive looking comes over to rub elbows. With Skye, specifically. She ignores Sero. Which is fine, because it allows Sero to focus on his meal, and what he’s going to do after he finishes these seriously tiny portions. There’s no way he won’t still be hungry. Skye makes him a valiant but ultimately futile effort to include him in the conversation. Hey, it’s the thought that counts.

“I'm surprised she didn’t ask for your autograph,” Skye says, once the woman has given him her card and sauntered away. Sero laughs.

“One of the perks of dating me: you definitely don't have to worry about paparazzi.” He stops laughing. Blinks. “Wait, you know I'm a hero?”

Skye gives him a look that lands squarely between incredulous and amused. “Of course I do. You're kind of a celebrity.”

“Kind of,” Sero emphasizes, but he feels like he's glowing, like a secondary quirk has started up just behind his sternum. Skye knows. He’s known all along and he still wants to be with him. Skye warms too, maybe to see that his comment went over so well, and he continues.

“You're too modest. You're one of the top twenty heroes, and a member of the number one agency in the country. Honestly, I'm a little starstruck by you. Cellophane, Taping Hero, Jack of All Trades. Why do you think I call you Jack?”

That sweet, glowing warmth snuffs out.

“Ah, right,” Sero says. “Right. Thank you,”

Sero thinks of Kaminari. You hate it when they call you that, he'd said on the night of the talk show.

“And you do have the best smile,” Skye continues, oblivious. He winks. “After me, of course.”

“Thank you,” Sero says again. Kaminari once told him he had the best smile. No after me or except for. He was drunk and his cheeks were pink and his hands were sweaty. No matter how many times Sero told himself afterward that it was just sloppy drunken affection, he was never able to convince himself that Kaminari had been anything but sincere.

Sero tries his best to stay present through the rest of the meal, but it's hard. Now that Kaminari has smiled against the back of his eyelids it's more difficult to keep him out. When the waitstaff sweeps back in to check on them and refill their glasses, silent and efficient to the point of being cold, Sero thinks again of how very much he feels out of place. The difference is that now he imagines where Kaminari would have taken him. A local taco place, probably. Crowded and a little too loud. Casual, comfortable, warm.

Dinner winds down. They talk about other things. Sero sees some flaws in Skye’s personality now. Some stains in the white of his teeth. (Metaphorically. He doesn't think Skye’s teeth actually can stain.) He's a little bit arrogant, a little bit self-centered. He likes to flaunt his money. But these are just the natural flaws that come with being human--he's still kind, still funny and charming, and Sero is very suddenly, very starkly aware that he could fall in love with him. He's just not sure if he wants to.

They have coffee, share a dessert. If Sero starts to pull away, Skye doesn't seem to notice. When they leave the manager comes by to see them off and Skye leaves a generous tip. They walk to Skye’s house, which is bigger and fancier than Sero thought Tokyo had room for, and on the doorstep Skye kisses him.

There are sparks. He won't lie about that. The problem is that sparks only make him think of one person.

“Ah,” says Skye, and steps away. Sero opens his eyes.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing from my end.” Skye watches him. He takes another step back. “There's someone else, huh?”

What? “What? That's not--” What? “I don't--”

Skye lets him stutter, but Sero realizes as he does that his heart has been on his sleeve for the past few minutes--maybe for longer--and it's too late to tuck it away now. He falters, then stops. They stand there for a few seconds, both watching the ground.

“I'm sorry,” he says, finally. “I really like you, Skye, I just…”

“You seemed a little distant near the end there. Unfinished business with someone?” Sero hesitates, then nods. “Is it Chargebolt?”

Sero reels. Metaphorically, mostly, but maybe a little bit literally. He opens his mouth but Skye raises a hand, which is good, because he has no idea what he would have said.

“You don't have to answer that. It's just--I told you I've seen you on TV, you're kind of famous, and sometimes the way you look at him--” He shakes his head. “Sorry. It's not really my place.”

“You're really great, Skye,” Sero says, because he feels like garbage and he doesn't think apologizing again will help either of them. “I mean really, really great. I wouldn't have come out tonight if I didn't think so. You… you deserve someone just as great as you, who can appreciate you for how great you are.”

“Yeah. Sounds great.” Skye smiles, though it seems somewhat dampened. He opens the door and steps backward through it into a rectangle of light. “Hey, I hope you end up happy, Jack. You deserve someone great too. Don't forget to floss,”

It's such an unexpected parting shot that Sero can't help but laugh, and Skye laughs too, and the door closes, and Sero is still chuckling but really he just wants to call Kaminari and cry. He thinks about taping his way home, and decides to walk instead. He can’t imagine feeling more awful than he does in this moment.

Then the alert comes in.

----

Jack of all trades. Enough people have called him that over the years, usually with intent to flatter. Maybe they don't know the other half of the phrase. Maybe they just choose to ignore it. Either way, Sero came to terms long ago with how well it fit, like a second skin, like a worn and comfortable uniform: jack of all trades, master of none.

And he isn't. He knows he isn't. He's a solid pretty good at everything, which is usually enough. He's learned how to use Pretty Good at Everything to his advantage; he works at the top hero agency in the country (though depending on the day, the heroes in Midoriya’s agency beat them out) despite the fact that his individual stats are hands down the least impressive. But he's an excellent support hero, the best there is at backing up the star. He excels as a professional sidekick—the one thing he's best at. Most of the time he can think that without even a little bitterness. A brand's a brand, and he's more than lucky to have cultivated one at all.

This is what happened the night of the talk show:

It's not the first time he's been on this program. It's not even the second or third time. The showrunners have a good rapport with the Ground Zero Agency, so at least one member ends up in these very comfy interview chairs every few months. Even so, he can't bring himself to be surprised when the host asks him to introduce himself. “With us today we have pro heroes Chargebolt and…”

She pauses, tips her head. It's jealousy, he's pretty sure. Her quirk is kind of like his--prehensile hair that can whip out and grab things, she uses it to hold microphones for her guests--and she thinks she could do a better job at the Ground Zero Agency. She’s practically told him as much, though she was delirious with adrenaline and smoke at the time. Those were extenuating circumstances, and awkward as hell, just like this is shaping up to be. Oh well. He's good at smiling through awkward situations.

“Cellophane, the taping hero,” he says, to fill her expectant silence. He winks at the audience, shoots two goofy finger guns.

“Yes, and Cellophane.” Her voice flattens on his name. The applause reflects it, dialing down from enthusiastic to polite. But Kaminari whistles for him, which is silly and gratifying and makes Sero’s smile feel a little more real.

The host raises her eyebrows over her glasses. “And your quirk is…tape?”

“That's right.”  

“I see. Ladies and gentlemen, our local Jack of All Trades...”

Sero knows very suddenly that she's going to finish the phrase. He can already feel the eyes on him, the heavy beat of silence, the awkward little laugh bubbling in the back of his throat he'll use to fill it. It's going to be awful. He prepares himself to smile through it.

“Most valuable member of the team, right here,” says Kaminari, and the host is distracted.

“Is he?” She sounds dubious. Sero can understand that. Most valuable? He's valuable, sure, but most?

“Oh, far and away. He's the most versatile, the most rational. We'd be lost without him. But you know that already, huh? Remember that time he rescued you from that fire in the studio?”

A murmur ripples through the crowd. The host's face has gone startlingly pale. This was the incident that won the showrunners’ favor. It was also the incident that revealed the host’s resentment toward Sero. She'd asked them not to talk about it.

“You're selling yourself short, Chargebolt,” she says, evading his question all together. Her smile is tight and thin, lips barely moving. Kaminari’s smile dims. His eyes strike like flint in the light.

“I'm really not. I'm just showing Cellophane the respect he deserves.”

The host stares. Sero stares. Just like that Kaminari’s smile is back, a thousand watts beaming right at the audience.

“So let's show him some respect, huh?”

He starts clapping. The audience joins in, and so does the host, grudgingly. Sero is breathless with an emotion he can't name.

After the show is over and the autographs are signed and the host huffs past them, Sero catches Kaminari’s elbow. “Dude, what was all that?”

“I know, I know, it was petty. Aw man, Bakugou’s going to rip me a new one. Or maybe he’ll say it was about time.”

“It’s not like I don’t appreciate it, but you shouldn’t have done that,”

They exit the stage, leave the cameras and the oppressive heat of lights behind them. It takes Sero a moment to adjust but even in silhouette he can see the edge to Kaminari’s movements. The anxious flickering of his hands. Blue sparks at his fingertips. Agitation as he whips off the accessories of his costume, his glasses, his earpiece.

“I know, but she always does this, treats you like crap--”

“It's fine--”

“No, it's not fine. You hate it when they call you that.”

Sero stops walking. They're steps away from the changing room. Behind that door are their civilian clothes and their normal lives, and Kaminari’s hand is on the doorknob when he realizes that Sero is not with him. He turns. His face softens. His hand finds Sero’s hand, and for once he doesn't say a single thing as he opens the door and leads Sero through it.

----

The villain was robbing a bank with two accomplices. Technically Sero isn’t on call, but he’s made it a habit to tape his costume to an alley wall or rooftop when he’s out just in case. This was one of those cases--despite detouring back to the restaurant for his costume he’s still the first one on the scene by a long shot. Everyone else is busy or off duty or too far. Sometimes this happens. Sero’s dealt with worse.

Catching the first two was easy enough. There was a man with rubber limbs and another with mouths all over his body, neither of whom struck Sero as the brains of the operation. The last villain nearly got away in the chaos of the evacuation, but Sero caught up with her in the park across the street, trying to flee with a duffel bag full of money. She didn’t seem particularly unhappy that he found her.

She calls herself Amp, though her quirk seems to bear no similarity to Jirou’s. Not that Sero has a clear picture on what that quirk is. He's been holding her off on his own for fifteen minutes now, most of which has entailed them dancing around each other. Every time he tries to restrain her she fists her hands in his tape and a strange tingling sensation shivers up to him. He releases before the tingling turns into something worse, which he's certain it will, and then they’re back to square one.

“Remind me of your name, hero,” she says, bouncing back from a lunge. She unwinds another loose strip of tape from her wrists. “I told you mine, it's only fair.”

“Well, my mom told me not to talk to strangers, but since I really care about playing fair with villains--”

“No wait, don't tell me!” There's something wild in her eyes that makes him uneasy. They've been hopping around nonstop and she's barely winded. “I recognize you. Barely. Has anyone told you you're kind of plain? Don't worry, I'll get it,”

“Aw, you'll hurt my feelings.” He shoots low, yanks her ankles out from under her. Before she can get a hand in his tape he's released it, tries to pin her arms to her sides while she's freeing her legs--

Except she's not distracted. She catches the next string and tries to pull him off balance--pins and needles shoot up his arm, he detatches the tape--she springs for him as soon as she's loose, a hand reaching through his visor--

He tapes a lamppost and rips himself away. The air is sharp and too cold, on his face, in his lungs. Amp is laughing, tossing his helmet from hand to hand.

“I remember now!” she says. “You're from Ground Zero’s agency. You're not bad, but you're not great. Definitely not in the top ten. What do they call you again? Jack of all trades?”

“Got it in one.” Sero stands on the lamppost and he grins, and he catches his breath, and he considers his options. Not many. Kaminari and Mina are off duty. They might get an emergency alert, or see it on the news, but it’ll be a while. On the other hand Kirishima and Bakugou are busy with a villain across the city, though last he saw the HUD in his visor said they were on their way. Other heroes will assume they’ve got it handled, so no help there, but Red Riot and Ground Zero should be here any minute now. He should be relieved.

“There's more than that though, isn't there?” Amp taps her chin with one finger. Her smile is cruel. “Master of none, I think that's it. Figures I'd get the loser of the agency.”

“Pretty embarrassing that a loser’s kept you here for so long,  huh?”

Her eyes widen, her smile fixes on her face. She has an ego, he realizes, an exploitable one. He hops down and this time she leaps for him with less grace; he doesn’t manage to catch her as she stumbles past him but he snags the duffel bag. She cries out as he winds it up and sticks it to the top of the lamppost, out of her reach.

“You’re going to regret that,” she says. Her grin promises that much, and he has a sinking feeling she might be right, but he matches her smile tooth for tooth.

“That’s pretty unoriginal. I’m disappointed.”

“Fine. Then how about—”

Sero is spared whatever unsavory threat she was about to make by the explosive entrance of Bakugou and Kirishima. They barely look winded from their own fight; Sero is filled with relief and dread at the sight of them.

“Good job holding her on your own, Cellophane,” Kirishima says, and Bakugou says, “You had twenty minutes, Soy Sauce, why the fuck isn’t she down yet?”

Sero fills them in. “She calls herself Amp. I don't know what her quirk is but I think she needs direct touch to activate it.”

“Ooh, the number five hero and the number one hero, both here for little old me. How flattering!” Amp’s eyes flash. “Or was it number two today? I can never tell if you or Deku are on top.”

Bakugou growls, but Kirishima’s arm across his chest bars him from getting too close.

“Surrender,” Kirishima says. “You can't beat all three of us. Don't make this hard on yourself.”

“Hard on yourself, ha! That's a good one, Hardening Hero. I always liked you.” She winks. Bakugou growls louder. “I like you so much, in fact, that I'll listen to you. There's no way I can take on two top ten heroes.” A sharp little barb, but Sero’s used to the insult. “Take me in. I'll go peacefully.”

She pulls a pair of gloves from her pocket. Puts them on, holds out her hands, palms up.

The heroes share a few searching, suspicious looks; Amp waits patiently. Bakugou nods once in Sero’s direction, but when he lifts his arms and steps toward her--

“I was talking to Red Riot,” Amp snaps. Her hands are bare and facing him--he didn't even see her whip the gloves off. “Back off, Jack. I go peacefully with him or no deal.”

“She's bluffing and she's shitty at it,” says Bakugou. “Let's just knock her out and drag her ass to jail.”

She throws one hand in his direction. “That means you too, Number Two. It's Red Riot or I make your life hell and involve as many bystanders as possible.”

Bakugou looks more than willing to risk it, but Kirishima’s hand stops him again. Sero doesn't hear what he whispers but he can tell Bakugou doesn't like it. Still, he lowers his sparking hands to his sides, and Kirishima gives his shoulder a squeeze. He moves forward.

“Gloves on, Amp. Palms together, fingers folded.” To Sero he says, “Cellophane, some tape?”

Sero frowns between them--Amp’s smirk and Bakugou’s scowl and Kirishima’s private, reassuring smile. He doesn’t feel reassured. He’s not comfortable with this at all. He was fighting her for nearly half an hour and the sudden hairpin turn to docile screams trap. But he trusts Kirishima, and he trusts Bakugou who also trusts Kirishima, and he’s not a top ten hero like either of them, is he? So whose judgment matters more?

He slings Kirishima a long string of tape, who takes it and promptly winds it around Amp’s hands. She’s still smiling. Why won’t she stop smiling? Bakugou’s whole body is still with violent, uncut tension. Kirishima is tying off the tape, and it’s taking him too long, too long, Sero’s insides rattle when she leans forward to whisper something in his ear--

Bite, not whisper.

Kirishima screams, and he hardens, and he screams, and he goes Unbreakable, and he screams, and he--he hardens further, bulks out in geode fractals as he screams and screams and screams--

He's not the only one screaming. “I'll kill you!”

“Ground Zero, don’t--!”

It’s too late. Kirishima’s jagged body slices through the tape and gloves, and by then Bakugou has already exploded into Amp’s range. He's roaring, and she's laughing, and they're reaching for each other. Sero is reaching for them too, but he's not fast enough. He watches it happen in slow motion: Amp’s fingers brush Bakugou’s elbow, Bakugou’s hand detonates, Sero’s tape wraps around their waists, in that order. Bakugou’s hand sails past her ear and the explosion goes off behind her head and it grows, and grows, and grows until it engulfs the whole bank. Sero doesn’t have time to feel horror because the shockwave sends Bakugou and Amp flying. His arms burn to keep up with them, but just as he starts to reel them back in, the strange zing travels through the tape and shivers up all the bones in his right arm. He detatches from her before whatever happened to his teammates can happen to him. Amp hits the ground and lands in a roll, tape puddling around her ankles. Bakugou is a dead weight in Sero’s arms, the force of the explosion and the energy it zapped from him rendering him unconscious. Sero risks a glance over his shoulder: Kirishima is out too, blown back into another building, still monstrous.

But they’re both alive. That’s what Sero focuses on as Amp flashes bloody teeth in a ragged mouth. Hot fear fills up the hollow of his stomach, but they’re alive, and that’s all that matters.

“Looks like it’s just us again,” he says, biding time. The heat of the burning building buffets him, simmers away in his belly. He slings Bakugou a safe distance away; she tracks the motion with her eyes but doesn’t go after him. Good.

“Oh, yippee, just me and Mr. Average.” She rolls her eyes, but her smile turns indulgent. “Honestly, though, I was most impressed with you. Red Riot and Ground Zero were kind of a let down, huh?”

She’s trying to bait him, but he doesn’t have the luxury of being reckless right now. No one is coming to his rescue because no one has reason to believe all three of them couldn’t handle one bank robber. If he’s lucky someone will check out the explosion, but he can’t rely on that. For now it’s just him. Sero, Cellophane, Jack. Master of none.

He keeps his body firmly planted between her and his friends and grins as though his knees aren’t shaking.

“You are a brave one,” she says, sweetly. “For someone so much lower on the totem pole. After what I did to them, what do you think I can do to you?”

“I'll take my chances,” he says, and takes care to keep his tone light and dismissive. Without his helmet she can see all the teeth in his broad smile. “I mean, none of us have ever heard of you. So if I'm an average hero, relatively unknown, then I guess we make a good match.”

That does the trick: she barrels at him, full tilt. Reckless. Her focus is tunneled enough that when she deflects the tape going for her face, she doesn’t see the string going for her ankles. The tape only catches one foot but she’s down, winded and bloody. Both hands on the ground to steady her. This is his chance—if he can tape her hands up before she gets her bearings, he wins. He skids a few steps closer, aims and fires, with both arms.

They are a good match, really. He got her for being reckless. She gets him for being too eager.

Turns out she’s not very winded at all—bloody and wild-eyed, but not down for the count by any means. The tape circles her wrists but she twists one hand in it and tugs, sharply, stronger than he gave her credit for. Stupid. Amateur. He detaches too late. The momentum of her pull carries him through, drags him until they’re on their knees before one another. She snarls a hand in his hair and then—

Then Sero is unraveling. Unwinding. Unbecoming, entirely.

It's like his whole body wakes up and goes into overdrive. Like she just reached inside his chest and cranked some dial up to a thousand and blew a fuse, the machine in him smoking and spitting sparks and overheating and dying, dying, dying. Tape shoots from his arms until they burn, until his whole body burns, until he’s crying and vomiting and there’s nothing left to give. Then it keeps coming anyway.

He doesn’t know how long he’s suspended there, unspooling. His tape is everywhere, piled high around him, boxing him in. All he wants to do fall. Curl up on the floor in the billowing white nest of himself before there’s nothing left. She doesn’t let him--she’s standing now and her grip on his hair is the only thing holding him up. Sero gags, and then he chokes. For one horrific, blinding moment he knows that this is how he's going to die: on his knees, asphyxiating on his own bile, completely undone.

A weak jolt of electricity steals into his body, but for Amp it must be stronger. She yelps and lets go of his hair; he crumples in a heap of tape and bones. On the ground he convulses. He doesn't even have the energy to detatch.

“Cellophane!”

He knows that voice. He opens his eyes without realizing he closed them and the world is sideways now: Sero stares from a distant place at the two figures fast approaching, small but getting bigger. Mina, gliding across the rooftops with Kaminari held tight to her hip. He zaps them between buildings, and even from this distance Sero can read the horror on his face.

No. No, anyone but him. An amplification of Kaminari’s quirk--it would kill him and everyone in a five block radius. Either Amp doesn’t know or doesn’t care, because she’s running straight for him. Kaminari’s going to die. Mina’s going to die. Kirishima and Bakugou and all the civilians are going to die.

He twitches. The streamers of tape still attached to his body rustle just enough to catch the toe of Amp’s boot.

She goes down hard, sprawling, end over end and when she comes back up the blood on her face is bright and angry in the light of the fire. It's the first time he's seen her without a smile. That's a small victory on its own.

“You.” She growls it as he pushes himself to standing. It takes him three tries. “You just don't know when to quit, do you?”

That’s something he has going for him, he supposes. He may not be as determined as Midoriya, or as passionate as Bakugou, but he’s a hero. He’ll persevere all the same.

“You're not in the top ten,” she snarls. “You're barely even in the top twenty. Who do you think you are?”

“I'm Cellophane,” he rasps. “Jack of all trades and the hero who just beat you.”

He snaps all the tape tight tight tight, just once, and Amp shrieks as the avalanche buries her and pins her down. Her quirk is still in effect, Sero knows because tape keeps ribboning out of him like an open faucet, but at least he can't feel it. He can't really feel anything. And then the world is sideways again, because apparently he collapsed at some point when he wasn’t paying attention. From an echoey, greyscale place he watches smoke plume into the sky. Between one blink and the next Kaminari is there. His eyes are big and bright and amber in the glow of the fire, the only spot of color. He's holding Sero’s face in his hands. It might be romantic in a different context.

“Detatch your tape,” Kaminari says again--is it again? How many times has he said it? “Cellophane--Sero, please, you have to--”

“Move,” Mina shoulders him out of the way. Maybe she melts through the tape or maybe she doesn't. He can't tell. He can't tell much of anything anymore. The world winks out, and Sero thinks, finally.

----

Of course it’s disorienting at first, but it doesn’t take too long for Sero to piece together that he’s in a hospital. He’s been in enough of them to know. Everything hurts, but in a drug-dulled kind of way, so it could probably be worse. Tubes and needles everywhere. There’s a blob of yellow at his bedside, and a fuzzy warmth in his hand. He blinks. Kaminari. Kaminari, playing with his fingers. He can’t really feel it, but it does stupid things to his heart to see. Maybe he’s dreaming.

“Hey, dummy,” Kaminari says. His smile looks wobbly and his eyes look damp. Not a dream, but the emotion in Kaminari’s face is probably just Sero’s imagination. “We thought we lost you for a minute there. How are you feeling?”

Sero tries to ask how the others are, Kirishima and Bakugou and Mina, and did they catch Amp, and did they put out the fire, and are the civilians safe, but his throat is too dry and cracked from disuse. Kaminari seems to understand his feeble wheezing anyway, because the wobbly look turns exasperated.

“They’re fine, everyone’s fine. They're grabbing lunch now, but they all want to see you. Can you worry about yourself for once?”

Sero tries for a smile; that feels cracked too. Kaminari watches and something in his face turns fragile, or so it seems to Sero, but he squeezes Sero’s hand and smiles back.

Kaminari fills Sero in on the details: they did catch Amp, Sero’s been out for roughly two days, Bakugou and Kirishima woke up yesterday. Bakugou was furious that an amateur villain got the better of him. The flowers on the side table are a get well gift sent from the office of Dr. Skye, with a toothbrush and floss bundle included. They’re pretty flowers, yellow daubs of cheer in the otherwise drab white room. Kaminari frowns at them, but it's hard to tell what for. “Hey, I’m sorry if this thing with Amp ruined your date, man. At least it looks like he’s still into you. Maybe he’s a keeper.”

“It’s funny that you think I need Amp to ruin my love life,” Sero says. He blinks at the shape his words take in his ear; he imagines an animate cheese grater would sound the same. “Nah, I ruined it all by myself. He just sent those because he’s a nice guy.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Kaminari sounds as though he isn’t sure what else to say. Sero sighs, and remembers that he’s still very tired.

“Don’t be. It was my fault. He realized that I was still hung up on someone else.”

Kaminari’s eyes cut quick, lightning paths to him. Huh. He may have given too much away. Drugs might be stronger than he thought.

“Then,” Kaminari says, and hesitates, a complicated twist of emotions passing over his features. “Then I guess I’m not sorry.”

The moment becomes charged, suddenly. The air between them. Sero licks his lips.

“Thanks for being here,” he says. It's mostly air. Kaminari’s laugh is air too, airy and wet and surprised.

“Of course I'm here. Can't let my best friend wake up alone, can I?”

“Kirishima’s your best friend.” Oh. Oh no. Did he say that out loud? He didn't mean to say that out loud.

Kaminari’s whole body goes kind of slack, and then it tightens up again. He looks annoyed, but not before he looks very, very sad.

“You're an idiot,” he says, and Sero splutters.

“Wh--that's rich, coming from you!”

“Yeah, it is. Is that what this is about? Is that what this is all about? We're twenty seven years old, how was this not made abundantly clear in high school? Kirishima is my best friend, yeah. And so is Bakugou and so is Mina and so is Jirou. And so are you, dumbass.”

Sero blinks, once, sluggishly. “Huh?”

“Sero.” Kaminari looks right at him. The lighting isn’t as romantic as a fancy restaurant or a burning bank but his eyes are still beautiful, and damp and earnest, though Sero is imagining those last two, he has to be. “You’re incredible. We’re all strong on our own but the only reason our agency is the best is because of you, you know that, right? Didn’t I say that? You glue us all together.”

Oh. Oh, shit, Sero isn’t imagining it because if Kaminari weren’t being so earnest he would totally have said tape instead of glue. That can’t be. Can it?

“Stop,” he says.

“And it’s more than that. You’re funny, and you’re nice, and you’re always smiling, even when it’s for everyone else’s sake and not your own. You’re my best friend, Sero, you’re more than that, you’re--”

“Stop.”

Sero’s limbs are still fuzzy-numb but he presses his hands over Kaminari’s mouth as best he can. He ends up sort of mashing his hand over Kaminari’s whole face instead. Pretty good, he thinks. Pretty good at everything. “Listen, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’m not that great.” He clears his throat a time or three. “I'm no Ground Zero or Deku. I’m no Red Riot or Alien Queen.”

“I don’t want you to be any of them,” Kaminari says. Sero can feel his lips moving against his fingers and it’s killing him. “You’re perfect just being Sero.”

“Thank you. I’m lucky to have you as a friend.”

His hand flops back to the bed, and Kaminari—he looks surprised. Then he looks confused. Then he looks suspicious. Then he looks angrily suspicious.

“Do you,” he starts, narrows his eyes and starts again, “Do you not know how I feel about you?”

Sero considers giving up on trying to understand what’s happening. He shrugs a little helplessly. “Well, you just said I was your best friend, which is a hell of a surprise. Good kind, though.” Kaminari does not stop looking angrily suspicious. In fact it looks like anger might be winning out. “I mean. I mean, I think it’s the good kind? Are you okay?”

“Before this. Before all this—ten years ago. You didn’t know how I felt ten years ago?”

“Um. You definitely thought of me as a good friend. Just a friend.” Oh, huh. He hadn’t meant to put that stress on the just. Definitely stronger drugs than he thought, oh.

“Just a—” Suddenly the anger peaks. Sero’s sheets crackle with static and the lights and medical screens flicker. It gives out into something else before sparks start flying. Kaminari presses his forehead to Sero’s knuckles. He looks a little like he's praying. “Do you remember what happened after I kissed you ten years ago?”

Sero blinks once. He blinks a lot. “You started talking about Jirou.”

“No, you started talking about Jirou.”

“What?” says Sero, because what the fuck? “No. No, you kissed me and then you said that you wanted to ask out Jirou and you asked my advice and I said go for it.”

Kaminari sighs with his whole body. He turns his head to meet Sero’s eyes. His voice is patient and exasperated. “No. I kissed you, and then you got this dumb frozen look that you have now, and then you told me you’d had the bright idea that I should ask out Jirou. You said we’d make a good couple. We got along so well. You were rooting for us.”

Sero stares at him. Kaminari’s cheek on the flat of Sero’s hand, an annoyed twist to his mouth. His fringe in danger of falling into his eyes. He's beautiful. It hurts to look at him.

“Oh my god,” says Sero. “I said you should ask out Jirou.”

Kaminari explodes. So does one lightbulb. “You said I should ask out Jirou! The girl who's been in love with YaoMomo since our first year! After I kissed you!”

“Oh my god. I’m an idiot.” The whole world is flipping upside down and Sero has to fist the bed sheets to keep from tumbling ass over teakettle. He forgot that. How did he forget that? “Well—well, why did you do it, then?”

He gets a withering look for that, though Kaminari’s cheeks do seem to pinken a little. “Are you telling me you wouldn’t panic after you bear your soul to a guy and he tells you to date someone else?”

Okay, that’s grounding. Good to know Kaminari is still a lovable dummy. Sero relaxes by degrees. “You didn’t have to actually go on a date with her, though.”

“I panicked. You told me to so I said I would and I didn’t know where to go from there. Jirou is a good friend and she indulged me. And you lost the right to make fun of me when you stomped all over my heart and then forgot about it! I’ve been pining like a sap for ten fucking years, man, I thought you just pitied me!”

Kaminari throws himself across the bed, face down; Sero knows he should feel bad for being the architect of his own romantic angst, and he knows he should feel worse for reinforcing a decade long misunderstanding, and he does, and he will, but Kaminari is too melodramatic to play a very convincing injured party. Sero pets his hair, slides his fingers into it, and Kaminari lets him. It’s kind of tacky with sweat and old gel—he’s been here for a long time. Probably hasn’t even showered, which is gross. Sero loves him so desperately it hurts.

“I've liked you since I was fifteen,” Sero says. “You're my favorite person.”

“I like you a lot, Sero,” Kaminari says to the covers. His voice is muffled, but also it’s quiet, and small. “A lot a lot. Can I kiss you and you not tell me to kiss someone else this time?”

“Wow,” says Sero, because he can’t think of anything else to say. Kaminari peeks up at him; whatever he sees makes him look as vulnerable as Sero feels and then he’s—wow. Wow.

The EKG machine, previously silent and satisfied with Sero’s resting heart rate, starts to chirp in distress. Sero barely hears it. By the time a nurse bustles in the machine is wailing and Kaminari has Sero pressed into the mattress with his full weight, tongue in his mouth, hands in his hair, and Sero thinks, deliriously, helplessly, that if he died like this he could only be so lucky.

----

Three days after being discharged from the hospital and the guilt finally hits him.

“I’m sorry,” he says. He’s holding a button up shirt of dabbing Santas that Kaminari got him for Christmas five years ago. “I think I’m—I get kind of stupid, when it comes to you. It’s hard to imagine that you could really—for me—it’s just. It’s just that you deserve the best.”

Kaminari snorts a little. He plucks the shirt from Sero’s hands and folds it. “You are an idiot.”

Okay, he doesn’t really fold it. He mostly crumples it into a ball and stuffs it in the duffel bag next to the clothes Sero has actually folded. There are two more duffels just like this already waiting by the door. (He should probably invest in a real suitcase.) The picture frames and wall scrolls and floor lamps are in the car. They’ve already moved the big furniture. The place that was his home is disconcertingly bare, suddenly. Bigger and lonelier than it's ever been.

Kaminari singsongs, “Do you really think I’d accept anything less than the best?” and just like that any lingering traces of wistful nostalgia are whisked away.

Now it’s Sero’s turn to snort. “You would accept anything on two legs.”

“Lies and slander. I am a dignified superhero. Very respectable.”

Sero laughs. Guffaws. Hoots, because that’s hysterical. “You, respectable!”

“Shut up, man, I am! I have very high standards.” Kaminari starts to chuck socks at him.

“High standards!”

Once they’re done here they’ll transport the suitcases to Kaminari’s apartment, and then they’ll head for work. Grab some beers with the rest of the agency after that and share the big news. (Mina already knows, because she always knows these things.) Then they’ll go home, together. To their life: goofy posters and classic Japanese wall art. Take out boxes and healthy fruits and vegetables. Clothes folded and crumpled and side by side.

Kaminari abandons balled up clothing projectiles in favor of a direct attack. His hands are staticky and wedged in Sero’s sides and his armpits, but Sero has the advantage of long and wiggly fingers and he’s not about to lose so easily. They roll around. They spill the suitcase. Kaminari kisses him, which isn’t fair at all, and he says, “I have high standards. The highest standards. I only accept the absolute best. Get it?”

He’s not laughing anymore. Sero touches his face and his eyes flutter shut.

“I get it. Hey. I get it, it’s okay.”

“It’s such a—it’s so stupid, jack of all trades, you’re so much more, I wish I could just—”

“If we ever get invited back for another interview, you can rub our relationship in her face. How’s that sound?”

Kaminari’s eyes pop open. He clutches Sero’s hand on his cheek and static dances all over his skin. It feels sweet. That’s probably just in his head but he doesn’t care.

“Oh my god yes. I love you, yes, let’s do it. We’ll be so lovey dovey we’ll knock Kirishima and Bakugou right out of third place on JP’s Best Heroic Couple Billboard.”

“Hell, let's go for first. Eat your heart out, Midoriya.”

It seems this renders Kaminari speechless, because then he’s kissing him again. Sero can’t complain. For the first time in a long time he’s not satisfied with being average, not about this. He wants more. He is more.

Jack of all trades. Ha. Eat your heart out, Jack.

----

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[the dabbing santa shirt exists and it’s beautiful. i hope and pray that no one figures out the inspiration for skye]