#I think I was in like. 10th grade and one of my classes had a whole end of the year movie day..................

[iiboronii]

Me upon realizing that I can just have an AU instead of writing an entire fanfiction about an idea I had in my head once:

[pondslime]

she’s the moment

[weezerlvr228]

flippin boobahs!

[mihai-florescu]

there was someone who got on the tram that i had to double take because they looked like you it was wild

Whisper the secret password "wataei canon" and see if they ARE me...

[sturnalsm]

𝑰 𝑯𝑨𝑻𝑬 𝑯𝑶𝑾 𝑴𝑼𝑪𝑯 𝑰 𝑾𝑨𝑵𝑻 𝒀𝑶𝑼

(M.S)

ˢᵘᵐᵐᵃʳʳʸ: ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵃᵗᵗ ᵃʳᵉ ᵉⁿᵉᵐⁱᵉˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵉⁿˢⁱᵒⁿ ᵇᵉᵗʷᵉᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒᵒ ⁱˢ ᵇⁱᵍᵍᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵃᵗᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵉᵃᶜʰᵒᵗʰᵉʳ

!! WARNINGS !! : smut, choking, use of Y/N, pet names, swearing.

you loved hanging out with the triplets, thry are very good friends, except for... Matthew. you cant stand eachother. everytime you are around eachother you just wish you werent there, he was pissing you off its like he was doing it on purpose everytime, sometimes even his brothers had to make him shut up cause you were losing control.

but tonight they decided to invite you to their house to watch movies and just chat because you havent seen eachother the last month, they were in Boston because they wanted to spend a little more time with their family, that warmed your heart even more.

you were very excited to see them, but the thing was.. Matt was picking you up and the reason behing it? he's the only one who can drive. but even tho he was coming that didnt back you up you didn't care much

you were spending hours thinking on what to wear, but at the end you just decided to throw on a skirt and a crop top, you would've went with sweatpants and tshirt if the triplets' house wasnt always hot as fuck but oh well.

Matt was late once again, so you had to text him to make sure he is alive , even tho you didnt wanted to do that

you leaned against the front door waiting for him when you heard a knocking on your door, you opened the door "one second i need to get my charger" you ran to your room to get it and in a few seconds you were back eith Matt leaning against the door frame not saying a word. you looked up at him as you walked, he closed the door and you threw the keys at him so he locks it.

you walked over the car sitting on the front seat waiting for Matt. he sat in the care without saying a single word started driving to his house. you didnt said anything either he was already pissing you off by trying to act tough so you got your phone and started scrolling trough tik tok.

"okay Matt why are you trying to act tough now? whats up with you the last 2 years i really don't understand why and how could you have so much hate for me?" you finally speak looking at him. "you dont talk to me you barley listen when i talk? whats happening like what did i do to you?"

he looks at you "whats up with me Y/N? you are the one who told me to fuck off and left me for that jerk in 10th grade? you were the one who was ignoring me in the hallways of the school? and then you're asking whats up with me?!" he says with his anger in his voice growing bigger "Matt are you a kid? that was a long time ago, its been more than 3 years i already broke up with him whats your fucking deal?" "no Y/N because you have no idea how fucking stupid i felt after i confessed my feelings for you infront of the whole class just so you leave me for this fucking idiot."

you felt bad, you really did, but that was a long time ago and you had no idea that he still thinks about it, you also didn't knew that it broke his heart? "i dont even know why my brothers still hangout with you after that and why i always have to be in their plans with you when you literally..when you fucking broke my heart Y/N. he was litereally an idiot? he didnt treat you the way you deservedto be treated and all i wanted was you. and i hate how much i want you since then.." "okay Matt..look im sorry for what i did, i was in love with him okay? i didnt knew it was going to and that it did break your heart.." "it doesn't matter." he said focusing back on the road "what do you mean it doesn't matter you are the kne who bringed it up?!" if he didnt stopped talking now he would've started screaming so you wrre hlad he stopped.

the ride to the house was silent because of the talk you had before, nothing new tho. you didnt knew if you wanted to punch him or yourself. you were mad at your self of course but..you never knew he felt like that , he never speaks about his feelings unless yall are in argument, sometimes it feels like yall are a married couple from 2 years, fighting everytime they get the opportunity to. but in reality you couldn't stand eachother.

you were already infront of the house , Matt opened the door so he can get in he didnt even hold it for you, again nothing new. you came in and right when you got up the stairs you saw Nick. you were very good friends with him, he was amazing and you could always talk with him about anything you want, he is the bestest best friend you've ever had. "NICKKKK HIIII" you ran and hugged him. "HEY GIRLLL, what took you so long?" "oh well Matthew was latr once again" as you said that Matt rolls his eyes mocking you. "nothing new" Nick says laughing "Chris went to get snacks cause we forgot, he should be here soon"

"okay so what are we gonna watch, lets make it quick im tired" Matt says rolling his eyes once again. "oh and why are you so tried what have you been doing all day?" you ask jokingly. "none of you business" he smiles sarcastically. you roll your eyes sitting on the sofa. Matt sits next to you, you're surprised but you dont put so much attention to it. you give him a suspicious look. you open your phone so you can search for movies. "OHMYGOD" Nick yells from the kitchen causing you to jump from the loud noise. "I FOUND A MOVIE, LETS WATCH WHITE CHICKS?!" "never heard of it" Matt says with tought tone "well too bad Matt we are gonna watch this" you pat his head as you get ip to get a pepsi, he rolld eyes ONCE AGAIN.

as you open the fridge you hear footsteps "that must be Chris" Nick says and you look iver the door of the fridge seeing Chris with 2 bags in his hand. "hey Chrisss" you go and hug him. "heyyy Y/N, okay so i bought 3 bags of chips, 5 pepsis, 2 doctor pepers and 2 root bears is that good?" "its great" Nick says "give me the bags" Chris hands the bags to Nick and he opend everything. "so we decided we are going to watch White Chicks" you open your pepsi as you take your seat next to Matt "not WE, but Nick and Y/N." Matt says as you roll your eyes "okay tough guy"

Nick and Chris open their drinks and sit on the sofa next to you and Matt with the bowl of chips. Matt gazes at you , you feel him looking at you so you look back, he smirks and gives his attention back to the movie.

TIME SKIP!

the movie was very good and fun, you all laughed even Matt even tho he tried to hide it. it was like 11pm you were very tired so were the boys. you went upstairs to Nicks room because you have a toothbursh there and slippers too, in case you come to sleepover like tonight. you went to the bathroom to brush your teeth and take a shower.

you didnt went down stairs again you were too tired to think of anything else but to lay on Nicks bed and fall asleep. Nick came at the room not long after you layed down, he just looked at you and went on his side of the bed.

you were lost in thoughts, you still were thinking about the conversation you had with Matt earlier, it was driving you insane, you knew he hated you, but tonight there was something different about his behavior. "shit" you said to yourself as you buried your head in the pillow trying to fall asleep. it was hard to stop thinking about those things, was it your fault? maybe. but you never knew that it would and that id did break his heart, and the fact that you broke his heart breaks yours.

you didnt knew when you fell asleep but you woke up after a while , your phone was down stairs so you totally lost what time is it you had to go down get your phone and drink some water, you felt like your tounge was going to fall out. for the first time it was cold in thr house, probably because they left the windows open. you were already down stairs running the water when you hear footsteps behind you "Nick im sorry i woke you up i was ju-" you feel someone's hands wrapping around your waist behind you "its not Nick sweetheart" you recognize that voice. it was Matt. you gasped and tried to run away but he was too strong. "Matt what the fuck are you doing" you turn around now facing him. "im not doing anything" he smirks at you as he grabs your chin. "what-" you say as he cuts you off "remember our talk and how you apologized to me? well i dont think i accept that apologize..i think you should try another way.." he looks you dead in the eyes as he licks your lips "get on your knees. Now. i know youre all wet under this little skirt, why havent you changed it sweetheart? who sleeps with a skirt? its like you're asking for it.." he says. you stay in shock looking at him. "what if i dont want to hm?" you smirk at him looking dead in the eyes back. "i dont remember asking you if you want" he grabs your chin tighter "on your knees now. or do you want me to bend you over on the table and fuck you until you cant feel your legs anymore?"

you look up at him as you slowly go down on your knees holding onto his legs "good girl" he smirks licking his lips. you take off his belt unbuttoning his pants. ha takes off his boxers and you smirk "dont tease me doll.." you dont waste any second wrapping your lips around his cock making him moan. "oh fuck.." you go faster causing him to moan ever louder and uncontrollably. he starts moving his hips basically fucking your mouth, you gag on his cock but you dont stop. you feel he is close so thats why you stop. "oh you fucking whore.., get up." he says as he looks at you standing up. he turns you around bending you over on the table, taking off your pants and panties in one go. "already so wet for me, is that what i do to you, baby hm?" you nod and push your hips begging him to fuck you already "no no, not yet, you are a fucking tease" "Matt plea-" you cover your mouth as he starts eating you out from behind.

"oh shit Matt.." your legs are already shaking from feeling his tounge working down on you. you were close, your eyes blured everytime he sucked onto your clit, your legs were si weak you almost fell to the ground. you moan unstoppable. "shut up, doll, they are gonna gear us" he says as he spanks your ass. you were about to cum but then he removed his tounge. he knew what you wanted, and he was going to give it to you. he stroked himself a few times before slamming into you without any warning. you screamed. "shut the fuck up, you are not good for daddy right now and im gonna fuck you so hard you wont feel any part of your body princess" he says as he starts going deeper inside you. "fas- faste..r please matt" you needed his cock. you've been dreaming about this moment forever. "oh you think you can take me hm? take this then." he slams inside you that hard and deep you swear you felt him in your stomach.

he knows what he is doing, and he claims your body as his, if he wants something from you he will get it and nothing could stop him. he starts going with brutal force causing you to moan loud and scream his name. "matt im going to c-..matt.." "not yet princess. you are not going to cum until i tell you to" he drove you insane , he was litereally perfect every single thing about this man was perfect and you were here for it. he was going as fast as possible, everytime he pounded into you your vision blured. you couldn't even moan anymore he was using you as your personal fucktoy. "matt...pl please" "please what sweetheart, use your words?" he knew exactly what you wanted to, but he was going to make you beg for it. "i need to cum please matt.." he didnt say anything he just kept pounding into you. he toom your shirt off squeezing your boobs. kissing your skin, sucking on your neck. he started choking you. he wrapped his big hand around your neck driving you even more insane. "you want to cum huh? hmm.." with one last trust he cummed deep inside you. "go ahead make a mess on my cock baby" he says out of breath.

"you need to be cleaned tho.." he smirks as he turns your around to face him, he picks you up placing you on the table. he goes down to eat you out one more time, he cant get enough of you. "matt i ca- cant pleas-." his tounge slides slowly in and iut of you then he puts his fingers inside of you, hitting that perfect spot that made you go insane. "fuck you taste so good." he got out his fingers out of you licking them. he got up and started kissing you passionately sliding his tounge inside your mouth.. "you are amazing" he says as he smiles at you and kisses your forehead. "i love you Y/N" "i love you Matt.."

☆~~~~~~~☆

IM SORRY FOR BEING SO INACTIVE I HAD VERY IMPORTANT TESTS TO TAKE AT SCHOOL AND NOW SCHOOL IS FINISHED IM SUMMER BREAK AND IM GOING TO TRY TO POST MORE OFTEN ❤️‍🩹❤️

[incorrectbatfam]

I'm writing an AU where Damian grew up in Gotham and I need some names for the background classmates/people but I don't want to do the plain John/Jessica/etc. but I'm not American so idk what other names are popular for his age

Some things you can do assuming you're still working on this after 3 months of me not answering:

• Look through yearbooks

• Watch graduation footage

• Check websites like LinkedIn where people post their names

• Search up popular names by year

America is diverse enough that no one bats an eye. There are literally 0 rules (I'm looking at you, boy named Pistol from 2nd grade)

In canon Damian was born only 3 years after me so feel free to use some of these repeat names I went to school with that I recall off the top of my head

First names:

- Nicole. I knew 3 and they all got married straight out of high school for some reason

- Aiden. Had 2 in my 10th grade English class and they had the same last initial. We called one of them Fish

- Alex, Kai, and Elliot. If you're in any queer circles you know what I'm talking about

- Muhammad (and other spellings). It's the most common name in the world and the a lot of ones I knew went by their middle names precisely because of it

- Ethan. I knew like 4—two played on the same basketball team and one almost got arrested

- Hannah. In my experience she'll either be super chill or Catholic

- Will. I've met 2. Both weirdos

Last names:

- Zhang. There were like 6 Zhangs in my graduating class and I felt bad that they were always last since they're at the end of the alphabet

- Johnson. They're everywhere

- Nguyen. I think something like a third of Vietnamese people have that last name

- Prondzinski. It was because of a set of triplets but I'm gonna count it because why not

- Sharma. I knew 2 and they went a full year letting people think they were related

- Schaffer. Also knew 2. I think one works retail now last I checked

- Hernandez. I knew 2 Mexican and 1 Filipino kid with that name

[songmingisthighs]

Wanbelyn

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

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ch. xlv - pb&j

neurosurgeon!hongjoong × reader

buy me coffee ?

where love and peace is held, i never expected for this to happen. i planned and i planned, i expected, and i hoped, but it was never you. you held what i wanted hostage to make room for you, the thing that i needed but has no means of acceptance. deny me, live your best life.

Hongjoong is not one to be surprised easily. Well, by events or situations. He's a scaredy cat who had fallen victim to his son's pranks at least 20 times. In the past month.

But the sight of Kijoong's teacher, Mr Kang, lighting up as you produced a bag of sandwiches from your bag and handed it over to him almost made him choke on his own spit. Honestly, he didn't know why he was so surprised as he had seen (peeked) into your (private) conversation with Mr Kang the other day. Maybe he had been in denial (for some darn reason) about the exact identity of the Yeosang you talked with, thinking that it could be someone else with a similar name. That's possible, right? But seeing the way you adjusted the sleeve of his rolled-up shirt, Hongjoong was hesitant.

When you took Kijoong inside to settle in his cubby and spend some time before the classes started, Hongjoong found himself walking towards the guy he was eyeing.

"Ah, good morning! Mr Kim, right? Kim Kijoong's dad?" Yeosang asked politely with a warm smile. Even Hongjoong had to admit that his heart fluttered slightly so his "baseless" annoyance curiosity has decreased slightly. "Y-yes," clearing his throat, Hongjoong slipped his hands into his pants pockets, "How are you? How's your dad? I heard he was at the hospital?" "Yeah, yeah, he's fine! We went to the other KQ branch hospital so he was taken care of well. His recovery was even better when (y/n) sent him soup," he chuckled.

At the mention of the teacher's dad knowing you, Hongjoong couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that. "Oh, I didn't realize that you two were so close," he nodded casually. Yeosang shrugged, "I guess in a sense we are, but (y/n) just cares about people and she takes it upon herself to take care of those who know her from her roots. Another hint, you two had known each other for a long while. "(y/n) didn't mention that she knew you to me and she often tells me about the people she knows from her youth." Hongjoong cringed slightly, realizing how easy it could be for Yeosang to twist his words and make it seem like he was jealous. Which he kinda was but it's not like it's obvious. Thankfully, if he did realize, Yeosang didn't let it show. "That could be because I haven't seen her in a long while and it didn't even occurred to us that we knew each other until the second day I came back," well that made Hongjoong more curious and Yeosang could sense it based on the way Hongjoong nodded along and putting all of his focus on him which made him rather nervous. So this time, it was Yeosang who cleared his throat and mended his posture, "S-see, (y/n) and I knew each other from way back in high school. We met because we had entered the same debate competition and we were in opposition. She was formidable with her arguments and it actually made me fear her in a major way. I didn't even think I'd get to talk to her but as you can guess, I did," "How so?" Hongjoong asked, engaged in the story, "Well, she made my teammate cry and she just wanted to make sure that the know-it-all 12th grader had his mommy to wipe his snot. We were in 10th grade at the time." The revelation made Hongjoong let out a snort which caused some parents and their children nearby to jump in surprise, looking at him who had to turn around in shame.

"So, is that how you and (y/n) started dating?" Hongjoong asked after calming down, not really realizing the words that he used. Yeosang furrowed his eyebrows momentarily before chuckling, "Oh, no. We are not dating! We became close again after the realization of our connection and became even closer because I found out that my spotter at the gym is actually Kijoong's instructor so we just shared and bonded and got even closer because of that!" he explained.

Though he was not even supposed to feel that way, Hongjoong felt a sense of relief and his posture even relaxed considerably. Though, he tensed up again when Yeosang continued, "Although, between you and me, (y/n) seems to be interested in this other guy." "What other guy? Is it someone she's close with? How'd you know?" At that point, Hongjoong didn't even care that he was acting rather ridiculously, asking random, personal stuff to his son's homeroom teacher. How professional. "I think you'd know him too," Yeosang stated and for one moment, Mingi came to mind but considering how you still deny him ice cubes, that seemed irrational, impossible, and positively stupid. Yeosang turned around slightly and pointed to where you were inside. "There."

Slowly, almost dramatically, Hongjoong turned his head, following Yeosang's finger to see you talking to the guy he recognized as the other homeroom teacher in Kijoong's class, Choi Soobin. While you were kind and affectionate towards Yeosang, you were more... Flirty with Soobin. That was the only word that seemed suitable because your stance was more passive yet open while still maintaining some boundaries with Soobin. Very different from the way you were with Yeosang whom you treated in a more motherly manner, like how you would Kijoong. With Yeosang, it was tidying him and giving him what he needed but with Soobin, it was more playful what with the gentle pushes and allowing him to guide you so your head won't hit the shelve nearby. You both looked very comfortable with each other, being as close as you both could and remaining respectful at a kindergarten while Kijoong tried to climb up Soobin's legs. His eyes glazed over the way you gently chastised the boy and tried to pry him off but Soobin grabbed your hands away from Kijoong and made gestures that suggested he was telling you to just let Kijoong be.

It was then that Hongjoong realized that his gut feeling was correct but he had jumped to a conclusion.

A lot of thoughts ran through Hongjoong's head, trying to make sense of things as if correcting an assignment, marking parts that were wrong and putting notes on certain parts as if pointing out which information needed elaboration. Above all, one thought seemed more prominent compared to the other. The thought that questioned whether or not he was supposed to feel bitter, jealous, and, well, hurt. Knowing that he was questioning his action did nothing, however. He just kept staring at the two of you in the corner while he was there, at a distance. Because that's what he had made his persona towards you to be since the beginning, right?

Distant, unapproachable.

Like he always was.

Alone.

network :

@cultofdionysusnet @sandsofire @kflixnet

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[ramblingsfromthytruly]

my academic journey (warning: i ranted) -

so ever since i started school till about the end of 8th grade i was always a 90%+/straight A student. the kind of child my classmates & cousins would be compared too. not trying to glamorize comparison btw, i personally think that's really toxic & pressurizing. so yeah, i was a "good" quiet kid. i listened attentively in class and submitted all my homework on time. the only complain teachers had about me was that i was "too quiet" but that wasn't a real issue. i was just shy but talkative with my few friends yano. i spent the entirety of 7th grade & most of 8th grade in online classes so my habits of studying went to shit. still somehow managed 91% in my 8th grade finals. and then 9th began and it all went downhill. teachers kept saying 'next year is ur board exams, u need to study a lot, etc, etc.' so if u're not from india we basically have these major 'board exams' at the end of 10th & 12th grade. but 10th boards don't really matter all that much, teachers just make a big fuss about it. 12th boards matter, but that's also the time we give college entrance exams and that sorta matters more according to most ppl. n yeah, idk what happened but i got overwhelmed. i could no longer just do well in class and study before exams and get good marks. i felt dumb. my grades didn't see a single improvement. i honestly gave up in the middle of it all and got sick of school. and at one point, it became less burn out & more clinging to the familiarity of not doing anything. i became lazy. and i became a hypocrite. i'd always tell myself, this time i'm gonna study, this time i'm gonna score well. well that 'this time' never came. 10th grade got even worse and i scored 73% in my board exams because i barely studied at all. at the same time, my relationship with my parents has constantly been unraveling. and i saw just how much of their 'pride' was dependent on me being the kid they could show off and smile widely when others replied 'wow she's going places'. my father can't hold a single conversation with me now that doesn't go back to me being a disappointment. and now i'm the kid who has to listen to her parents compare her to others. 'be like her, your friend', they say. halfway though 11th rn and i guess what?? still no fucking improvement. but the thing is i know this is the last straw. i can feel it. i got around 64% in my first tests (pa-1) of 11th. haven't gotten mid term results yet but i'm estimating just above 50%. and the thing is it's not that i can't score well. i know my potential all too well. i know i can score such high marks. but the problem is i don't study. if i just studied a couple hours every day, i can easily manage above 80%. with constant improvement i can manage above 90% again. but i don't. and that's ending right this instant. i'm not gonna turn into an academic weapon overnight or smth ik that. but i'm gonna start slowly but surely working hard. i have big dreams, i know i can achieve them if i just put in the effort. plans have been made, all i need to do is execute them. execute my laziness. i'm gonna get better. i'm gonna prove everyone who thinks i'm never gonna do it wrong, and i'm gonna prove myself right. this comeback will be for me, my inner child. the little kid in me deserves to not wind up a washed-out failure.

academic goals! -

pa-2 - 75-80%

11th finals - 80-85%

12th pa-1 - above 90%

uni - iiser (college for pure science research, bs + ms integrated)

[itmeansiris]

The Solar System Legacy Challenge: Start With the Sad Stuff Gen 1 pt.73

TW: Mention of car accidents and death

Beckett stepped inside admiring Madison's house. She closed the door and stood in the small entryway.

Beckett: Hey.

Madison: Sorry about the mess.

Beckett waved off her comment.

Beckett: You call this a mess? You should have tried living with my college roommates. That was a mess.

She smiled but it didn't reach her eyes he realized.

Beckett: Your home is lovely. It reminds me of my childhood home in Tomarang. It has a certain warmth and charm to it, like you.

He wasn't trying to deliver some cheesy pickup line. He'd felt her warmhearted nature from the moment they'd met and her home outwardly expressed that. It was filled with soft hues of blue and grey while the bulk of the furniture was white. It was cozy and inviting with its crowded bookshelves and small kitchen.

Madison: Sorry for ruining the plans. You went to the trouble to plan... you didn't say where we were going.

Beckett laughed shyly scratching the back of his neck.

Beckett: It seems pretty lame now. Remember last week you mentioned that Moonwood Mills author, Vulfgang Mulder. Well, he was just nominated for an award for "Packs & Prejudice". When I read the article it said that a popup cat cafe planned to be in town this week and they booked him for the entire time to do a live reading. I figured cats, writers, and a little artsy shopping. The cafe was serving dinner, I promise. I didn't intend to make you eat croissants and caffeine every time we went out and now I'm likely rambling.

Beckett: Madison!

Madison was floored. What he'd planned sounded like a dream, but in that moment she realized just how little Paris had truly known about her in the last 20 years. When they spoke about the plans for that day, almost a week ago, Beckett had requested that he be allowed to plan the whole thing. She had been a little skeptical but he'd seemed so excited and she'd wanted to please him. At the time it had seemed like such a mundane thing to give up. Now she could see that it hadn't been a minor deal to him at all. Vulfgang Mulder wrote Romance novels. She'd been following his work for a few months. He'd recently released a new book "Wolf's Next Door" and Madison had told Beckett how she'd been meaning to pick up a copy but hadn't had time. She had only mentioned it once and briefly during one of their many conversations. Clearly, he'd been listening.

He soothed her as she sobbed, never leaving her side until she could manage to take slow even breaths. He helped her sit back on her heels.

Beckett: You want to tell me about it?

Madison: It's a mess..

Beckett: I planned to spend the whole day listening to you tell me about your life, no offense to Vulfgang. So what if we have to start with the sad stuff.

Madison sighed, she got to her feet with some assistance from Beckett. She took a seat on the couch inviting him to sit beside her before she told him everything.

Madison: I met Paris in the third grade. We were friends almost instantly. Her family is pretty wealthy and she had all the newest toys so she insisted we spend most afternoons at her house with the babysitter. Her parents were hardly around so we got away with a lot of stuff. Plus with a house that big it was pretty easy to stay out of the way.

As she recounted her childhood Beckett heard her stomach growl.

Beckett: I could whip up something if you didn't mind me using your kitchen.

Madison: Really? I could just order a pizza or something.

Beckett: I think you could use a home-cooked meal.

He rummaged through the cabinets and fridge gathering ingredients. As he expertly prepared a group serving of Chicken Stir-Fry she told him about high school and Paris's first romantic endeavor.

Jared Hollands was the 10th-grade English teacher at San Myshuno High. He was too young to be a teacher and all the girls in his class had a thing for him. But a schoolgirl crush and swooning over him during lunch hadn't been enough for Paris. Madison had noticed her flirting with him during class and finally towards the end of the first semester she'd admitted that she was sleeping with him.

Madison: I tried to talk her out of seeing him anymore but Paris does what Paris wants. She would ask me to cover for her in between classes or tell her parents she was at my house when she was really staying the night with Mr.Hollands. When his wife found out it got pretty bad. She started stalking Paris at school, parking her car outside in the student parking lot. Just, waiting. One day she confronted Paris when school let out.

She paused not wanting to speak of the incident but needing to.

Madison: I felt so bad for the woman. Paris just laughed at her. I pulled her away and we got in the car. Paris had robotics and I stayed for bookclub that afternoon so it was late. We didn't realize she was following us until we were halfway home. She rammed the car.

Closing her eyes as she pictured the cars on the road that night.

Madison: We veered off the road and crashed into a pole. Paris walked away with a few scraps and bruises. I spent 2 weeks in the hospital...Mrs.Hollands didn't make it off the road.

Beckett cleared the dishes while Madison poured cups of wine. They head to the back porch to enjoy the last of the daylight.

Madison: After High school, the plan was always to paint. San Myshuno seemed like the obvious choice with its huge art scene but the art style was a little too grudge for my taste. I wasn't sure what to do for a while and I stopped painting. Of course, Paris told me that I shouldn't have wasted my time with the "Stupid hobby" in the first place. I wasn't painting anymore but for a few months I started taking freelance work doing digital sketch art, good money but I'm a painter at heart. My mom landed some work in Brindelton Bay, She's an artist herself, so I tagged along figuring I could use the change of scenery. The moment we got off the train in Whiskerman's Wharf I fell in love. The ocean and all the boats, the lighthouse, and nature. I'd found my muse.

For the first time all night, she really smiled.

Madison: Suddenly I was painting again. I talked to my mom and during the 2 weeks we were here she helped me find an affordable place and I set my date to move.

But the smile faded just as quickly as it appeared.

Madison: When I got back I was so excited to tell Paris. I shouldn't have been. She threw a fit, Paris style of course. Said I was "abandoning her for some talentless tree huggers". She didn't talk to me the whole month I was preparing to move.

She looked down at her hands. While telling the story, she felt embarrassed about how she had allowed Paris to treat her over the tenure of their friendship.

Madison: She..she stopped by the day I was leaving just to drop off a painting I made for her. Said she didn't need it anymore. She dropped it in the street by my stuff and left. I was in Brindelton Bay for 2 weeks without hearing from her. On my third week here I found her on my doorstep with a suitcase.

She went into detail about Paris's drinking and partying habits. How she would bring different guys home nearly every night. She finally got to when Paris got the job at Bay's Robotic Engineers.

Madison: Paris was always good at building things. It kind of runs in the family seeing how her father builds rockets for a living. When she left home she came with no plan. Her mother was furious, but her father made a few phone calls and the next morning she landed the internship. I thought it was the best thing ever. A way to get her out of the house doing something other than drinking.

She explained how amazing the first 2 months were. Paris had seemed to be on track to securing the job and making a real life for herself in Brindelton Bay.

Madison: Or so I thought. At the end of summer, she came home after work rambling about some guy at work. Apparently, he was the head of the mechanical engineering department and was returning from leave. They assigned him to train her. She wouldn't stop talking about him. Every day got worse until they sent them on a business trip together.

Madison told Beckett about the trip based on what Paris had shared.

Beckett: Sounds like your friend is looking for trouble. If this guy is married and made it clear he was uninterested why go to all the trouble.

Madison shook her head.

Madison: I told her the same thing. You'd think she'd have learned her lesson from the first time. She's just used to getting what she wants.

She tells him about the airport and the phone call the night at the club.

Beckett: No offense but your friend sounds a little erratic.

She smirked and pushed back a stray lock of hair.

Madison: What does that make me? I was her best friend for years.

Beckett: A saint.

She turned away from his intense gaze feeling her face warm.

Madison: U..Until that point, I had never seen this guy. Then Pumpkin got sick and I didn't want to go to the clinic alone. By then Paris had moved into her own place. I called her and asked her to come with me. It was there that we ran into the guy. He didn't notice us so Paris told me to go over and say hi, and against my better judgment I did.

The shame started to creep in again. She started to wonder if maybe Kason was right to be mad at her for what Paris had done. She hadn't done anything to truly stop her. Had she been an accomplice?

Madison: Stupidly I didn't realize she had an ulterior motive. He turned out to be a really nice guy and you'd never believe me but he's also married to my favorite author.

Beckett: Well that was a nice turn of events.

Madison: It was. He was kind and when he found out I was a fan he offered to help me and my book club meet her. We got together to plan the whole thing. That was the day we met at the cafe.

Beckett: Sounds like a decent guy. It sucks he has to put up with Paris.

Madison: Yeah well, I didn't realize that she followed me to the meeting...

Beckett: Followed you?

Madison: No, nothing like that. I invited her to be polite, but I knew she would never come. Paris hates reading anything that isn't a wine label.

She scoffed sarcastically.

Beckett: You're funny.

He smiled trying to lighten the mood. She grinned back sadly.

Madison: What's not funny is she took pictures of me and Kason and posted the damned things online. Now his wife thinks we're sleeping together. Which we obviously are not. But because of that, he hates me, which I can't say I blame him for. It's not like I warned him or even told him I knew Paris. I kept telling myself I would tell him before it blew up in my face I just couldn't find the time. But I knew how much Paris hated Mercury, I should have seen this coming.

Finally, she stopped her rant to take a breath.

Beckett: Mercury?

But Madison hadn't heard him. She was off on another tangent

Madison: He's going to cancel the event. All the work they put into this and they won't even get to meet their favorite author because of me.

All the pieces fell into place, the puzzle becoming whole for Beckett.

Beckett: Are you talking about Mercury and Kason Gratz? Like Mercury the writer?

Madison: I never told you who my favorite author was did I.

Beckett: Show me the pictures.

She stared up at him her eyes filled with hurt and confusion.

Madison: Beckett I swear there's nothing to see.

Beckett soothed her unease, figuring she had misunderstood his reasons for asking to see the photos.

Beckett: I believe you. But please, I need to see the pictures.

Beckett: That's Kason and Comet.

Madison: How did you know the dog's name?

He hesitates for a second before answering

Beckett: Kason is my brother-in-law.

Madison: Your.. brother....in-law.

She shook her head with wide eyes.

Madison: There's no way...

Beckett: Mercury is my older sister.

Previous Next

Beginning

Sidebar: So I didn’t realize how important TW were. I apologize if I’ve been insensitive at any point and will be sure to add them from this point on. Next I want to give all the props in the world to any simmer that uses T.O.O.L. ( it kicked my a** for that car)

Poses: @rebouks table talks sad

@elen-shine letter poses & confidential conversation

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

North To The Future [Chapter 15: Drive] [Series Finale]

The year is now 2000. You are just beginning your veterinary practice in Juneau, Alaska. Aegon is a mysterious, troubled newcomer to town. You kind of hate him. You are also kind of obsessed with him. Falling for him might legitimately ruin your life…but can you help it? Oh, and there’s a serial killer on the loose known only as the Ice Fisher.

Chapter warnings: Language, alcoholism, addiction, murder, violence, character deaths.

Word count: 7.3k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @elsolario​ @ladylannisterxo​ @doingfondue​ @tclegane​ @quartzs-posts​ @liathelioness​ @aemcndtargaryen​ @thelittleswanao3​ @burningcoffeetimetravel​ @poohxlove​ @borikenlove​ @myspotofcraziness​ @travelingmypassion​ @graykageyama​ @skythighs​ @lauraneedstochill​ @darlingimafangirl​ @charenlie​ @thewew​ @eddies-bat-tattoos​ @minttea07​ @joliettes​ @trifoliumviridi​ @bornbetter​ @flowerpotmage​ @thewitch-lives​ @tempt-ress​ @padfooteyes​ @teenagecriminalmastermind​ @chelsey01​ @anditsmywholeheart​ @heliosscribbles​ @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen​ @narwhal-swimmingintheocean​ @tillyt04​ @cicaspair418​ @fan-goddess​ 

A/N: This is the fic I almost never wrote because I didn’t think anyone would be interested in some random, angsty, 1990s, Alaskan, crime-thriller AU. Thank you for proving me wrong. I hope you enjoy the ending. 💜

Almost everything about your existence is pure chance; it’s the most freeing and horrifying truth imaginable. There’s the genetic lottery and corporate downsizing, revolutions and hurricanes, plagues, asteroids, famines, faulty airplanes and malignant blooms of cells and drunk drivers. There are 100 billion planets in this galaxy and your atoms ended up on the one called Earth. After all that, do you really think what you want matters? So make all the choices you like, all the nail-biting deliberations and promises and vows, weigh costs and benefits, do research, roll dice, ask astrologers and palm readers, start over every New Year because that’s something we tell ourselves is possible. The fact that you exist at all is one big cosmic coin flip. If you think you’re the one driving, you’re dead fucking wrong. You’re the speck of dust on a windshield, the spin of a roulette wheel. You’re a flash of silver in the universe’s pinball machine.

I spend a lot of my time thinking about chance, okay? My family is one of the wealthiest in the Western Hemisphere, and I didn’t do anything to earn that. I was born first, and I definitely didn’t do anything to earn that, Jesus Christ, what a chromosomal fuckup. I inherited an affliction that others get to live without. I can’t imagine what it feels like to wake up and not be horrified by myself, my shortcomings, my failures: too small, too stupid, too wild, too weak. And the first time someone says something like that to you, you want to apologize, you want to drop to your knees and cling to them and beg for absolution, maybe even the first hundred times, the first thousand. And then it just starts to piss you off. Yeah, I know, I’ve heard it all before, why would you expect anything different? Isn’t this getting old, Mom? Maybe you’re the stupid one, Dad, if you think you could cut me and anything but disappointments would fall out. I’m not horrified by the fact that I’m an addict. The horror came first. The horror is what led to all the rest of it.

One day when I was in 10th Grade—I was slumped way down in my chair and drinking vodka out of an Evian water bottle—my American History teacher, purely by chance, assigned me to make a poster about Juneau, Alaska. Some other kid got Los Angeles (Hollywood! The Whisky a Go Go!) and another got Chicago (the Mob!) and another got Nashville (Johnny Cash!) and some jock moron I hated got Baltimore (um, crabs? the War of 1812…?), but I got fucking Juneau, Alaska. I thought this was so unjust that I never forgot it, the fact that I had to get up in front of the class with my pathetic Crayolas-and-magazine-cutouts poster and pretend that Juneau was a place that mattered, that microscopic cloud-covered relic of a late-1800s gold mining settlement on the shores of the Gastineau Channel. Juneau was never on my list of cities to run to. It just wasn’t. It didn’t have anything I wanted. But when I started thinking about places where I could really disappear, where no one would ever bother looking, where days are short and dark and incurious and irrelevant…well, that sounds like Juneau, right?

Let me tell you something about the night I left. I’ve been more messed up, yeah, and I’ve hurt people worse, and I’ve been closer to death, I’ve been one more powder-white gram on the scale away from oblivion; but I’ve never felt that fucking low. I can’t decide if I wish I’d never gone to Juneau at all. I can’t decide if it was a blessing or a curse.

My flight is a red-eye with a layover in Ketchikan, American Airlines, bound for Seattle. Sunfyre has the window seat. He’s wearing the bright red Service Dog vest that I once stole for him specifically for such occasions. My dog fly with the cargo? My dog?! Bill Clinton will be elected pope first. Sunfyre is chewing contently on Milk-Bones and watching the sun rise over the Pacific Ocean. He knows the drill. We’ll touchdown and deplane, and then…and then…

And then we’ll start over again somewhere new. I’ll find a flight board and pick a destination; Seattle is a hub, with spokes leading everywhere. I could go south, to Galveston, Lafayette, Biloxi, someplace where it gets hot, someplace where I can sweat her out of me, purge every cell that still remembers what she felt like. I could go west, fading into mountains or cornfields, vapid infinitesimal towns in Montana, Iowa, Idaho, Nebraska. I could go to New England or the Great Lakes or freaking Hawaii, sleep in hammocks, swim with sea turtles, drink my rum and Cokes out of coconut shells. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that nowhere really sounds good to me. My legs are suddenly tired of running. There’s an ache that rattles down to the bone.

I don’t have to tell you that I love her, right? It’s not so easy for me to say. But it’s true, and it’s beautiful, and it’s torture, and it’s a dream. It’s pain that flays you alive and then builds you back again, layers of fresh muscle and tendons and veins growing over ribs and vertebrae like a trellis thick with ivy. It’s not a high. It’s just the best life can get down here on earth. It’s the ocean, it’s the Northern Lights.

I’m swimming in a black hoodie that is three sizes too big; I haven’t slept and I’m pale and raccoon-eyed, looking like death, feeling worse. When the stewardess rolls by with her clattering cart just slim enough to fit through the aisle, I order a cup of water for Sunfyre and a double rum and Coke for myself. It arrives with two blood-red cherries bobbing in a caramel-dark carbonated sea. The guy in the next seat over gives me a judgmental little eyebrow raise.

“That doesn’t look like breakfast,” he says.

I bite off both cherries—juice dribbling down my chin, wiped away with a sleeve—and throw the stems over my shoulder. The lady sitting behind me yelps in disgust. “Because it’s dessert.”

The man smiles and shakes his head, one of those I shouldn’t find it funny but I do sort of looks. I inspire a lot of those. He’s maybe mid-thirties, long hair and ripped jeans, very punk rock, cool as hell. There is a constellation of pins on his denim jacket. One of them has a roman numeral 10 on it, a stark X nestled inside a triangle. Unity, Service, Recovery, the gold letters say. To Thine Own Self Be True. It’s an Alcoholics Anonymous pin. What are the chances?

He catches me staring, and I ask: “Does it really make you a better man?”

“It doesn’t make you better. It just makes you real.” He smiles again, patient and kind. “It makes your emotions and experiences real, your relationships real. And so you become whatever version of yourself you were always supposed to be. But you have to want it. Not your wife, not your parents or your kids, not your pastor, not your friends, not your parole officer. You.”

I speak without knowing what I’m going to say. “I want it.”

“Yes, I think you do.”

He sees a lot, I think, as the plane descends into the grey fogbank of Seattle. 20/20.

When we land, the man squeezes into a cab with me and Sunfyre—he sniffles into a Kleenex for a while before reluctantly admitting that he’s allergic to dogs—and pays the fare. The cab’s worn brakes squeal to a stop outside a residential treatment center on the banks of the Puget Sound. When we step out onto the sidewalk, I ask the man if he’s going to take me to get one last drink first. He laughs in my face. Fucking jerk.

He pulls out a black Sharpie and rummages through his pockets, his wallet. He can’t find a scrap of paper. He writes his phone number on the underside of my arm instead. “You call me, okay?” he says. “Call me when you get out. Call me before you get out, if you need to. I don’t care if it’s in five minutes, I don’t care if it’s at 2 a.m. You just make sure you call.”

“Why would you do this? I mean, you don’t even know me. You have no idea who I am.”

“Because once, years ago, someone did the same thing for me, and someone did it for her too. Maybe one day you’ll be able to pay it forward. I don’t care who you are or where you’ve been. It doesn’t matter to me. I’d like to think that we’re all more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.”

And then he waits for me to go inside. He doesn’t leave until he watches me check in at reception on the other side of the rain-flecked glass. Outside, a brand new day is beginning. A misty sun rises as pieces of the sky fall.

Sunfyre trots into the lobby alongside me, panting cheerfully, shaking the perpetual Seattle drizzle from his fur. There’s a girl at the front desk, just a girl, and that’s the other thing that’s different now. She’s not a maybe-future-one-of-my-girls. She’s just like anyone else. I already have a girl. I mean, I don’t anymore, not really. But I still do.

I throw my things onto the counter: my single suitcase, my tattered wallet, my bundle of cash held together with rubber bands, my scraped-up electric guitar.

“Checking in?” the girl asks.

“Yeah.”

“For how long?”

“As long as it takes, I guess.”

She opens my wallet, reads my license, blinks in bewilderment. “Aegon…?”

I sigh dramatically. “It’s Greek.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You dream of him; and when you do, he’s always smiling. He’s reading your palm in an empty Taco Bell, he’s kissing you under the Northern Lights, he’s regaling your parents with stories—of lobster fishing in Portland, of cattle ranching in Denver—all through Thanksgiving dinner, he’s undressing you in his moonlit apartment, he’s climbing into your bed. He’s not angry, he’s not ruined, he’s not running away. He’s exactly as you remember him in his best moments. He’s all chaotic white-blond hair and weightless light, sharp laughter and bright eyes. And each morning there’s a splinter-thin moment before you remember that he’s gone. That’s the worst part, really. You always knew it would be. You can’t even begin to forget him.

Your friends want to help you, but they don’t know how. Neither do your parents. Your dad gets an atlas from the study, throws it down on the dining room table, and opens it to a map of the world. “Pick anyplace and we’ll go there,” he says. “We’ll close the vet clinic for two weeks and we’ll all go.” But you can’t give him a single name: not Athens, or Paris, or Buenos Ares, or Cairo, or New York City, or Rome, or Tokyo, or anywhere else for that matter. It’s the strangest thing. All your life you’ve been waiting to get out of Juneau, but now nowhere sounds good to you. And maybe that’s a lesson you wish you’d never learned: sometimes freedom is less about places than it is about people.

The blood on the equipment recovered from Trent’s apartment matches DNA from the first three victims. He is charged with eight counts of first-degree murder and held awaiting trial in the Lemon Creek Correctional Center. His family visits him faithfully each week. His lawyer is exasperated that he won’t plead guilty and spare his parents the humiliation and expense of a protracted court battle. But Trent’s story never changes: he’s innocent, he’s never killed anybody, he doesn’t understand how the blood could have been found on his belongings. He wants to know exactly what items the police tested; he and his lawyer are still waiting for the prosecutor to turn over all the details during discovery. In the midst of the scandal, the upheaval, you fade into the backdrop like the stars behind fog. People talk around you and through you. They offer gaps that you don’t care enough to fill in. Drinks clink, whispers fly, conspiracies are exchanged between pool shots. You watch the days grow longer and wait for the future to arrive. You don’t know what it will look like, you can’t even begin to fathom it. But surely there must be a future. Life goes on. It did for your mom after Jesse. It will for you too.

A week after Aegon leaves, there is a knock at your parents’ front door. You open it to find Aemond standing there in the muted amber-pink afternoon light. His hair is long and loose, his Armani suit immaculately tailored, his BlackBerry nestled in his right hand. He glances up from it at you and his jaw falls open. And only then do you realize how awful you must look.

You tell Aemond, your voice hushed and heavy, ankles in quick-drying cement: “I don’t know where he is.”

“No, I can see that,” Aemond replies, dull horror in his blue eye. Then he turns around and strides halfway down the driveway towards the street, where a cab idles as it waits for him, engine exhaust pouring into the air like smoke from a firepit.

“How’s your dad?” you call after him when you get your bearings.

He pauses under the dwindling light. “Alive. For now.” And then Aemond considers you for a while. “I suppose if I ever want to find you again, I know where to look.”

You nod. “I’ll be here.”

I’ll always be here.

A month crawls by like a wounded animal, dead leaves snared in the fur of its belly. The flesh on your thigh knits back together. The things that Aegon ordered show up in Juneau, packages left on the front porch and stuffed into the moose-shaped mailbox like Christmas gifts in a stocking. You pack these remnants of him—Zoobooks and cooking accessories, knives and Chia Pets—into a cardboard box and tuck it away in a dusty, cobwebbed corner of the attic, and you’re aware the entire time that this has happened before, almost exactly twenty years ago. When your dad puts a Third Eye Blind or Red Hot Chili Peppers or Oasis album on his record player, you find some excuse to leave the room. When you tack magazine cutouts of beaches and cityscapes to your bedroom walls, all you can think about is where Aegon might be now. You wonder where he works during the day, a surf shop or a construction site or a farm or a fishing boat; you wonder who he spends his nights with.

I’ll always be here. Even if I leave, I’ll always be here.

~~~~~~~~~~

Twenty years ago to the day, almost to the hour, a man fell into the Gastineau Channel and drowned. They found water in his lungs, though the autopsy was only a formality, an afterthought; Jesse had a reputation in Juneau, and no one was particularly surprised to see how his story ended. There were abrasions on his back and shoulders, contusions on his wrists, but so what? He probably tripped half a dozen times before he tumbled over some guardrail and into the frigid black water. There was a bloody mess of an impact wound on the side of his face, but who cares? The blood alcohol concentration doesn’t lie. The man was wasted, and more than that he was a waste. If his premature demise hadn’t been then, it would have been later, in a week or a month or a year. And when someone like that goes, there’s a sigh of relief that accompanies the misery, isn’t there? There’s the sense of a weight being lifted from a scale.

You’re sitting in Ursa Minor at the usual booth, but the bar is practically empty. It’s Valentine’s Day. Joyce is with Rob, Kimmie is with Brad; Heather’s parents have spirited her away on a short vacation to Sitka to try to take their minds off Trent’s imminent lifelong incarceration. Your mom and dad’s February 14th tradition is cooking a homemade Italian dinner together—pasta, bread with herbs and olive oil, caprese salad, tiramisu—and then settling in for a romantic Blockbuster rental. This year, it’s Runaway Bride. Your mom loves Julia Roberts. They didn’t ask for privacy, but you gave it to them anyway. Kimmie offered to drop you off at Ursa Minor and then drive you home after her date with Brad so you could drink away your sorrows without having to worry about calling a ride. So now Kimmie is getting wined, dined, and plied with boxed chocolates at the Red Dog Saloon while you drain appletinis and flip through one of Jesse’s journals, not knowing what you’re looking for.

Dale is washing pint glasses in the sink behind the bar and humming cheerfully along to a Cake CD. It’s just you and him tonight; evidently, Dale doesn’t have a hot date either. It was nice of him to eschew the usual Shania Twain or Sheryl Crow soundtrack. He’s trying to spare you from any crooning love songs. He must have forgotten that Cake has its own little slice of relevance in your memories of Aegon, those memories that refuse to fade, ink in your skin as dark as night.

Your fingerprints trace Jesse’s scrawling, handwritten letters. It’s his very last journal, the last words he ever wrote. His final entry is unremarkable, a lucid recollection of his latest woodcarving project: it’s a family of tiny bears, three of them. He says he wants the cub to have the same slope of your cheeks, the shape of your eyes. And it’s just like your mom said. It really did seem like he was getting better.

You flip to the next page, blank. The heading reads: Thursday, February 14th, 1980.

You go back a few days. And your gaze catches on words that you’ve read before, months ago, back when the journals were a new discovery like striking oil. The entry is from Saturday the 9th. It ends with an unceremonious bullet point of a reminder: dinner w/ Dale on Thursday.

You leaf forward to Thursday, to the blank page that tells you nothing. Back to the 9th, forward to the 14th, again, again. Valentine’s Day 1980, before Dale had married his wife, after your mom had stopped trying to make plans with Jesse, maybe even rebelled against them; just two unromantic, discarded men with a vacant slot in their calendars and troubles to drink into submission. Except that Jesse never came home.

Dinner with Dale, you think dizzily. Dinner with Dale on the night he died.

The opening notes of The Distance shout from the stereo. Everything suddenly feels very loud.

Reluctantly crouched at the starting line,

Engines pumping and thumping in time…

What had Aegon said about that song before you sang it together, stomping and staggering across the hardwood floor? It’s not about NASCAR, it’s about a journey!

Outside, it’s a rare clear night in Juneau. The Northern Lights are a kaleidoscopic ribbon against indigo night, the sky a mausoleum of stars. And you remember when Aegon sang Everlong, when he grabbed your hand, led you upstairs to the roof, kissed you for the first time under the ethereal, shimmering curtain of green and purple and blue…before Heather had interrupted to tell you that Dale was closing the bar. He was irritable, he was tired; he wanted to go home.

The arena is empty except for one man,

Still driving and striving as fast as he can…

And then they found a body, didn’t they? Yes, you can remember being in Aegon’s apartment and hearing the police cars zoom by. You remember the red-and-blue flashes on his face. You remember thinking they looked like sapphires and rubies, the ocean and blood.

The sun has gone down and the moon has come up

And long ago somebody left with the cup,

But he’s driving and striving and hugging the turns

And thinking of someone for whom he still burns…

Icy claws glide down the length of your spine. Memories play back with a focused clarity that you didn’t have before: Dale groggy and yawning just before they found the fifth victim at Christmas, and again before they found the eighth the same night Trent dragged you—shrieking, bleeding, virtually naked—out of your Jeep. You remember Dale at your parents’ New Year’s Eve party talking about how maybe the killer was an athlete with brain damage from CTE. You remember him offering to give Trent a box of his old equipment from when he was a park ranger. You remember him watching as Trent towered over you here in Ursa Minor with a cue stick clenched in his fist, demanding to know where you had been the night before, Dale’s eyes gleaming with disapproval and fascination and…and…oh god, opportunity.

He’s going the distance,

He’s going for speed,

She’s all alone (all alone)

All alone in her time of need…

And now Aegon’s long gone, but you’re still here. And so is the Ice Fisher.

You’re staring at Dale, eyes huge and glossy with terror. He glances up, gives you a brief casual smile, looks down at the pint glasses again. And then his eyes come back to you. He sees you and you see him, really see him, and it’s the first time in your life that you can recall him being a centerpiece instead of an ornament for gazes to skate over like ice, wallpaper or taxidermy deer heads or a mirror. And you watch as the thing that lives inside Dale stirs awake. It is a shadow with fangs, talons, barbs down its spine, a weblike scribble of a brain loud with the echoes of screams; and it unfurls and fills him completely, all the way to his fingerprints. It possesses him, it eclipses him.

It’s Dale, you realize like a bullet slicing through an aorta, spilling an ocean of hot blood. It was him twenty years ago and it’s him now.

You gasp and fumble for the cannister of bear mace still clipped to your purse. Dale crosses the room with staggering swiftness, like a wolf, like a storm, one pint glass still gripped in his hand. He reaches you just as your thumb presses down on the cannister’s release tab. The rust-colored mist spews not directly into his face but into the room; Dale is hacking and rasping, you both are, but he isn’t in too much pain to haul you out of the booth and onto the floor. You’re screaming, you’re clawing at him, your eyes feel like they’re on fire, tiny pinpoint infernos that drill down to the bone. You can feel the ice-cold juice and schnapps and vodka of your appletini, knocked off the table when you fell, soaking through the back of your sweater. You can feel pebbles of glass as they burrow into your flesh. You are dimly aware of a barstool tumbling over as you struggle with Dale.

“No!” you cry into the monstrous hand that he clamps over your mouth. “No—!”

Dale brings the bottom of the pint glass down on your head. The Distance lyrics—she’s hoping in time that her memories will fade—swirl around inside your fractured skull.

Silence descends like a curtain, shadows in, lights out.

~~~~~~~~~~

I knock, and he opens the door. The house smells like fresh bread and alfredo sauce, rosemary and crushed garlic. My rental—a Toyota 4Runner, I remember what she said about the Nova being a bad idea in Alaska—is parked in the driveway behind her Jeep. Sunfyre is standing beside me, eyes sparkling, smiling with that unburdened-by-intellect innocence that dogs have. There’s a bouquet of blue-dyed roses in my left hand, cool melancholy blooms of life like seawater, like bruises.

“Hi,” I say to her dad as he stands in the doorway. “It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you too, Aegon.” He’s not just staring at me in the artificial front porch light; he’s gawking, he’s damn near speechless. “Wow. Wow. It’s really good to see you.”

Yeah, I know I look different. The dark rings around my eyes have vanished, my face is less puffy, my hair is trimmed and healthy and mostly out of my face, I stand taller. I’m wearing a white turtleneck sweater and a leather jacket, black skinny jeans, my combat boots. I have a red chip in my pocket that I can’t fucking wait to show her: 1 month sober. On the first day, you think you’re going to die, and on the second day you wish you would. But you don’t. You live, and that starts out as a grisly inconvenience, and then you get a taste for it. “You can probably guess who I’m looking for.”

“Yeah, I reckon I can,” her dad says. “But she’s not here right now. She went to Ursa Minor.”

I grin, a crooked little curl of the lips. “I think I remember how to get there.”

I hop back into the 4Runner with Sunfyre and pull out into the street, snow and ice chomping under the tires. I had missed driving, I realize now. I got so used to almost never being able to do it that I forgot how good it feels to turn the wheel yourself, to watch the speedometer ramp up when you decide you want to fly. Ten minutes later, I swerve into Ursa Minor’s deserted parking lot and screech to a stop across three separate spaces.

“Oh, what the fuck!” I choke out as I step into the bar, coughing into my sleeve. The blue roses tumble out of my hand. Ursa Minor is empty, but there’s something in the air, something invisible that drives scorching, stinging needles into my eyes and my sinuses. Tears stream down my face; my exposed skin prickles and burns. Sunfyre sneezes over and over again and lingers in the doorway, gulping in fresh night wind from outside. There’s shattered glass and green liquid on the hardwood floor. There’s an upturned barstool. The stereo is playing Cake’s cover of Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps.

What the hell happened here—?

And then I see it: the cannister of bear mace that had rolled under the booth, the same one she and her friends always sat in.

She used the bear mace. She finally used it. But why?

There’s blood on the floor. There’s blood on the table too. There’s a tattered, olive-green journal opened to a blank page. The pieces slide closer and closer and then link together, an explosion in my mind like fireworks.

I bolt outside and study the snow-covered parking lot. There are fresh tire tracks there under the murky luminescence of the streetlights; they lead out to the main road and then north towards the lakes.

“No,” I whisper to no one but the fierce wind, the sky threaded with the opalescent Northern Lights. “No, no, no…”

I sprint back inside Ursa Minor, get the phone Dale keeps behind the bar, and call the cops. “Stay where you are,” the 911 dispatcher instructs me sternly. “Wait for the police, do not attempt to investigate yourself, do not attempt to intervene—”

“Yeah, fuck that,” I say, and slam the receiver into the cradle. Then I swipe the black 8 ball off the pool table.

I load Sunfyre into the 4Runner and spin out of the parking lot, following the parallel lines of tire tracks like the etching of veins beneath skin.

~~~~~~~~~~

There’s a sound, rough and grating; and then you realize that it’s you being dragged across the ice. When your eyes flutter open, you see the uninterrupted sky: indigo night, distant stars, the Northern Lights. Your clothes are wet with snow; it’s so cold that the fabric is freezing, stiff and crackling when you try to move. Dale is lugging you over the frozen lake by the collar of your sweater. It’s choking you, but of course that doesn’t matter much. He’s about to kill you anyway.

“It’s not right,” Dale mutters, and you’re aware through the disorientation and the fog-like cloud of pain that he’s not really talking to you. “Your mom’s a nice lady. It’s not right that she had to lose two people this way, she doesn’t deserve that. Oh well. It can’t be helped now, can it?”

You whimper something, disjointed helpless words. Please, hurts, don’t, please.

“It’s not me,” Dale says, as if it’s perfectly logical. “I mean, not really. It’s this part of me that I can’t cut out. I can only feed it so it goes away for a while. It quiets down sometimes, it hibernates like a bear in the winter…but it always comes back. And my god, is it hungry.”

You smack clumsily, futilely at his hands as he hauls you over the ice. Dale doesn’t seem to notice.

“You have to make it look like an accident. That’s the ticket, if you don’t want anybody to know. You shove a hiker from a ledge, a drunk into the ocean. I did that for a long time, never raised suspicion. Never pinged on anyone’s radar. Jesse was the hardest, though. Good lord, did he fight. Had to pour a bottle of Everclear down his throat. Had to make it look like he was drinking that night. He wasn’t, which was unusual. Kept saying he wanted to turn things around. I think you had something to do with that. Now this? You were never supposed to be here, ladybug. What a shame. What a goddamn shame.”

Consciousness is a river that you dip in and out of; blackness crumbles around the edges of your vision, collapses in, recedes, swells again like a wave. You moan, you beg, you struggle as much as you can. It’s not much. It might as well be nothing.

“Things were easier after I got married,” Dale continues. He has a large hiking backpack slung over his broad shoulders, you see now. It jostles from side to side as he drags you. You know what’s in there: a chisel to break the ice, fishing line to strangle you. “Having someone else there all the time, it was a distraction. And it kept that thing inside me…not tame, no, I wouldn’t say that. But chained up down in the basement, maybe. Now I’m alone again. And when the chains start rattling, there’s nothing to stop me from hearing them.”

You get your feet under you, twist around, and slam your fists into Dale’s chest as hard as you can. He laughs in a baritone rumble and shoves you back down onto the ice; your head hits the ground, and you can feel yourself fading again, the last wisps of sunlight at dusk.

“Sometimes you want to hide,” Dale says. “And sometimes you don’t. I was ready to stop hiding. I can’t tell you what a high it was every time they found a body. The news, the ceaseless chattering around town, the name they gave me…incredible. Exhilarating. I couldn’t sleep for days after each kill. I’d toss and turn all night imagining what the headlines would be. Let me tell you, ladybug. I’ve never tried heroin, and I never need to. It can’t possibly be better than this.”

What will happen to my parents? you think, heartbreak gutting you, dull knifes rearranging your organs. What will happen to Heather and Kimmie and Joyce? What will happen when Aegon finds out he left too soon?

“I knew I needed someone to pin it on,” Dale informs you calmly. “Didn’t take anyone who went to the bar, didn’t take anyone who could be traced back to me. And still, I knew they’d figure it out eventually if I didn’t give them another suspect. At first, I was thinking I might use Aegon. He was a little small, sure, but he showed up around the right time and he was an outsider. Then I saw the way Trent was with you…aggressive, menacing…and I knew it had to be him. It was almost too easy. I planted the seeds, and good lord did they grow.”

“They’ll know,” you croak. “If you kill me, the police will find my body and they’ll know Trent’s not the Ice Fisher.”

Hideously, horribly, Dale smiles down at you. “Oh, ladybug, I don’t think they’ll ever find you. They found the others because I wanted them to. And no one is looking for victims anymore. Once you sink, I’ll cover up the hole with ice and snow. No blood, no signs. People will assume you’re a runaway. It was just too much, wasn’t it? Trent getting arrested, Aegon leaving town. Maybe you ran off after him. Maybe you threw yourself in the channel. Who could say? No, your bones will become silt, your name will slowly disappear from Juneau. And in ten or twenty years, your parents will have you declared dead in absentia. That’s my best guess. That’s how it will go.”

“No,” you sob, battling against the hands knotted into the collar of your sweater. “No—!”

His knuckles bash the side of your head, and a black silence rolls in like high tide, engulfs you, drowns you. When you swim back up into consciousness again, Dale is a few yards from you and drilling a hole in the ice with his chisel. You try to crawl away and promptly collapse, frail and boneless. He glances over at you, chuckles pleasantly, and then begins using a hatchet to widen the opening.

No, you think, hooking your fingers into the snow and dragging yourself towards the forest. No, no, no…

Dale’s ready for you. He walks over, grabs both of your ankles, tugs you with terrifying ease to the hole in the ice. Then he has a length of fishing line in his hands, and he’s looping it around your throat again and again, and he’s tightening it until the needle-thin nylon wire bites into your flesh, spilling tendrils of blood. You know you don’t have a chance, but you try; you owe it to your parents to try. You claw at the fishing line and you struggle and you cry out in hoarse, useless screams—

And then you hear something that doesn’t make any sense. Through the darkness, through the wind, there are the barks of a dog. Sunfyre rockets into your dimming field of vision and jumps on Dale, snarling and growling and snapping at his hands, his face. Dale flings the dog away, and as he’s distracted, Aegon arrives. He’s holding—ludicrously—a black 8 ball from a pool table, and he smashes it into Dale’s head. A sick, wet, crushing sound ricochets, cracked bone cushioned by flesh, and Dale howls as he rolls onto his side and covers his head with his hands.

He peers up at Aegon, furious and pained and stunned. “You?!”

“Me.” Aegon’s voice is dark and low like thunder, like the iron gale of storms over the ocean. “And I’m a killer.”

He lunges at Dale, still wielding the 8 ball. Dale’s massive hand juts out and closes around Aegon’s wrist, and then he yanks him to the ground. They’re grappling on the snow and ice, they’re striking out with knuckles and elbows, they’re ripping at each other with their bare hands. You’re trying to unravel the fishing line still coiled around your throat, panting in deep, frantic breaths so you can see and think clearly, so you can scramble to your feet, so you can help Aegon. And then Dale gets away from him just long enough to grab you again, to wrap the ends of the fishing line around his fingers. He delivers one last macerating blow to your skull, pulls you by your throat to the gaping hole in the ice, and shoves you through.

The water is so cold it’s paralyzing. There is a thought that seizes you—so overwhelming, so strangely rational—that says all you have to do is stay where you are, to wait a little longer, and then you’ll never hurt again, you’ll never be disappointed or caged, you’ll never be anything. And you think of all the lives you could have lived, all the places you could have gone: cities and beaches and deserts and valleys, gardens and rivers, ruins and glass. You were always so afraid of really going after them. What the hell were you so afraid of? Everything worth fearing is right here in Juneau.

I can still do those things. I can still live. And I can still help Aegon.

You jolt out of your inertia and clamber madly for the surface. But you don’t hit frigid open air; you hit ice, ice too thick to break through, ice too thick for more than a murmur of light to penetrate. Your palms press against the semitransparent wall; bubbles of carbon dioxide spurt from your nose and mouth. You feel for the opening that Dale made, but you don’t know where it is. You are lost beneath the ice, running out of air, fading rapidly. Then you hear Jesse—and you aren’t sure how you know what his voice sounds like, but you do—speaking softly and kindly to you, comforting you, telling you which way to go.

I’m sorry that no one knows the truth, you say without speaking. I’m sorry we thought you destroyed yourself. I’m sorry you never got the chance to truly live.

You were all better off without me anyway, he answers, without any bitterness at all. And that’s true, isn’t it?

There is a great disruption that rocks through the water. New currents stir into existence, fresh waves spring out of the darkness. And then someone takes your hand and draws you towards a noise, muffled through the ice and water: a dog barking, you realize. Then your palms find the opening and you inhale brutally cold air into your aching lungs, the best you’ve ever tasted. Aegon helps pull you through the hole and out of the lake, out of the jaws of oblivion.

You lie together on the ice, breathing in gasps that turn to mist in the night wind. Dale’s body is sprawled several yards away. The hatchet he’d used to break up the ice is buried in his neck, spine severed, eyes slick and vacant. You can see reflections of the Northern Lights flickering in them.

“You came back,” you whisper to Aegon as whirling police sirens approach, the lights dancing on his face: blue like the ocean, red like fire and blood.

“Of course I came back, Appletini,” he says, laughing with frenzied relief, kissing your cheeks and forehead over and over again, lake water dripping from his hair. Sunfyre jumps around you both, yapping ecstatically, his tail wagging. “I couldn’t leave without my Juneau girl.”

~~~~~~~~~~

There’s wind, but it isn’t sharp like a blade. There’s a sky, but it isn’t cloaked in cloud cover or fog. The boats that bob in the surf are sailboats and cruisers, not fishing vessels. Dolphins crest out of the sun-speckled waves like someone coming up from a dream.

It’s June 9th, and you’re soaring down the Pacific Coast Highway in the red Ford Mustang convertible you rented after the plane touched down in Seattle. Aegon is in the driver’s seat, black sunglasses and white T-shirt, his hair whipping in the breeze. He has one hand on the wheel and the other behind your headrest. Sunfyre is in the backseat, grinning like only dogs can. You turn up the song on the radio: Drive by Incubus.

You and Aegon had stayed in Juneau long enough for your skull to heal, and for your parents to find someone else to take over the vet clinic. They settled on a 32-year-old from Detroit: Justin McNair, a former Marine like your dad, and he either has no family or a bad one because he never wants to talk about them. Perhaps it doesn’t really matter which it is; perhaps sometimes they’re just about the same thing. Your parents have already basically adopted him. He eats dinner with them three times a week and calls your dad when he needs help with house maintenance or scaring a moose away from his truck. And just before you went south, Aegon showed him how to make the world’s best hot chocolate.

You send postcards back to Juneau from each town you stop in. Heather’s bon voyage gift to you had been an indecently revealing swimsuit. Joyce appeared with—what else?—a stack of books fit for leisurely beach reading. And Kimmie gave you, however bizarrely, a compass. So you don’t get lost, she had said with an innocuous little smile. You honestly couldn’t tell if she was joking.

During his one month in jail, Trent learned how to meditate and do yoga. He’s still kind of a dumbass, but he’s also a supposedly devout vegan Buddhist, and he had the decency to leave you alone aside from an apology letter that he slid into the moose-shaped mailbox: handwritten, six pages, lots of spelling and grammatical errors. Oh, and he finally got that job with the Forest Service, probably mostly due to his high-profile wrongful detainment. Now hikers get to swoon over his muscles and hair flips.

You’ll go back to Juneau, of course. Maybe just for visits, maybe for more than that someday. But it will never feel like a cage again.

Aegon calls Aemond every two or three days, a habit he started when he was in rehab. At first it was by necessity—he needed someone to pay the $30,000 bill—but now you think he secretly looks forward to it. He updates Aemond about how the road trip is going and reassures him that the plan hasn’t changed: south to San Diego, and then cutting east across the country to Miami. You don’t know what exactly life will look like there, and neither does Aegon. That’s not the important thing about going. Part of AA is making amends, and Aegon has a lot of work to do in that respect. He wants to go back to Miami, he says. He’s ready to go back.

San Diego is exactly like Aegon once told you it would be. You weave through the rust-colored peaks of the Laguna Mountains and there’s the Pacific Ocean, glittering and sapphire-blue, peppered with surfers and sea lions. It’s hot and it’s beautiful beyond words and everything grows there: ivy, cactuses, palm trees, calla lilies, roses. And for the first time that you can remember, the world feels breathtakingly, impossibly big. You get carryout from an unassuming restaurant called The Taco Stand, and then Aegon parks the convertible in La Jolla. You walk down the steps carved into the cliffside, paper bags in your hands full of tacos and churros, Aegon carrying Sunfyre so the dog won’t slip.

You sit together on the golden sand and watch the 8:00 p.m. sun sink into the waves, Aegon’s arm around your waist, your fingers tucking his lock of silvery hair behind his ear. And then he takes your hand, kneads it until it’s sinuous and relaxed, and reads the lines of your palm in the amber dusk like firelight.

“It says you’re happy,” he tells you. “And that you’re free.”

“I am,” you reply, smiling as the ocean stretches out like the arm of a galaxy: the ancient past, the infinite future.

[thebisexualdogdad]

Just simple dating Peter headcanons with some inclusion of how first times would be

Peter Parker x Male!reader

● the first time Peter saw you was on the first day of 10th grade

● he was standing at his locker watching you talk to the principal who was showing you around

● Ned broke him out of his trance "happy first day of school Pete"

● "yeah, yeah you two Ned. Who is that?" He asks pointing to you

● "Oh I think his name is Y/N? He just transferred here from some school in Brooklyn"

● the first time you talk to him is a few days later in Chem class when the teacher told you to partner up for a lab assignment

● your seat was in front of him and he hadn't been paying much attention to what was happening

● you turned around and he was looking longingly at you which he quickly stopped doing as soon as you locked eyes

● "Hey you're Peter right?"

● "yep that's me, Peter Parker"

● "did you want to work together?"

● "absolutely! Uh work on what exactly?"

● he had been crushing on you for an entire year when he finally told you he had feelings for you

● your first date was to a little Italian place that May recommended

● Peter nervously spilled marinara sauce all over his pants

● you thought it was hilarious, the waiter however was quite annoyed

● your first kiss was the same night when you walked him home and stood outside his door saying goodnight

● you leaned in and kissed him when May opened the front door

● "How was the date Peter? Oops looks like I'm interrupting"

● "May!!"

● the first time Peter called you his boyfriend he was talking to Happy

● "So you're turning down an invitation to work with the avengers… over a boy?"

● "not just any boy Happy, my boyfriend! … holy crap I've never called Y/N my boyfriend before"

● the first time he tells you he loves you is 6 months into your relationship

● he had a really close call on a mission and snuck in through your window to see you

● "Peter are you okay? Did you get mugged?"

● "yeah I uh, got mugged and it was super scary and I just needed to tell you that I love you because I really didn't think I'd be making it home tonight"

● "I love you too Peter"

● his entire demeanor changes when you say it back and he just smiles and kisses you

● "as much as I want to keep kissing you babe we should really get you cleaned up, i think May would freak out if you came home covered in blood"

● your first time isn't too long after that

● May was out for the night so you had the apartment all to yourselves

● Peter wanted it to be as romantic as possible

● so he cooked you dinner, lit candles (which he may or may not have almost caught the curtains on fire with) and dressed up in his nicest clothes after showering three times

● it was soft and gentle, a lot of asking if what either one of you was doing felt good and where it was okay to touch each other

● there was a lot of fumbling around and giggling

● you guys were laying in his bed still naked, the biggest smiles on your faces when you hear the front door open

● "Oh crap May's home where are my pants?"

● "Peter? You home? Why are there candles everywhere? And what have I told you about leaving dirty dishes in the sink?" You hear from the living room

● that was also the first time you had to sneak out of Peter's room through the fire escape after having sex

[boag]

I just remembered one time I was in my 10th grade drama class… idk how the conversation came up but this girl said she had never once in her life had thoughts of killing herself and I was like “are you serious? You’ve never even thought about it a little??!” and she was like “of course not!! Why would a person think about something like that?” And it blew my mind that there are people in this world who are just like… fine and don’t hate being alive

[imintoomanyfandomscuzihaveadhd]

Avatar Modern au | High School edition (Sully kids + Spider)

A/N: The ages and grades are just based off me. Also all these head cannons are either based off of common high school experiences, my high school experience, or things that happened at my high school. This is my first time tryna write like actual Headcanons. If these are received well I’ll make more. I’ll a tag list too if needed.

Lo’ak

He’s 14 so he would be a freshman(9th grade)

Had a xxxtention Bart simpson phase In 6th grade

Thinks he’s on that popular loner shit

Hangs out with the sophomores and juniors because of Neteyam and spider

Yk his lanky ass on the basketball team

B student cuz he gotta keep them grades up to play sports

His dramatic ass is definitely in theater

Tried skipping with aonung once and neytiri beat his ass

You can’t tell me him and tsireya ain’t the power couple of the school

He always getting caught with that damn phone

Vaped once and nearly chocked to death

Annoys the hell out of kiri

“Ay ain’t you teyam’s lil brother”

Neteyam

15 so he’s a sophomore(10th grade)

Actually on that popular loner shit

Man’s the school heartthrob

All them girls want him

And he’s oblivious TO ALL OF IT

Always having to deal with lo’aks bull shit

Effortlessly has all A’s

Probably in ROTC to make Jake happy

All the teachers love him

Takes honors science and math like a psycho

Probably dose track and archery

Voted class best boy

Somehow ending up carrying all his siblings snacks

Kiri

14 so she’s a freshman

Pretends her family (especially lo’ak) doesn’t exist

Always has her AirPods in

She be listening to them unsolved mystery YouTubers on her chromebook while she works

Skips with spider and never gets caught

A, B student

She sells homemade shit and crystal to the other girlies

Will ignore tf out of you

In fundamentals of health science and psychology

Dose not and will not take the time out of her day to mess with no boy

Everyone thinks she dating spider

Spider

16 so he’s a junior (11th grade)

People thinks he a stoner, he’s just tired

Grades all over the place one minute he’s a straight A student next he’s failing

Probably did wrestling one year

Rebound popularity from hanging with with spider

He got norm to hack his chrome book so everything’s unblocked

He’s the only one who can drive so he has to drive everyone around

Never gets caught skipping

Dose Percussion in band but plays guitar as a hobby

Probably accidentally called his favorite teacher mom once

He cried

Can’t tell me he hasn’t had a mental breakdown over some kind of school work

Surprisingly good at science

Like he’s in AP Chemistry

The girls at school like his mommy issues, daddy issues, and long hair

@hyperfixatedfandomer sorry I keep tagging you in shit 😭

[alimaybankkk]

hii :)) can u do some sort of school fluff with jj?

𝐢’𝐦 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠

a/n: hiii!! this honestly gave me the perfect idea for the title and the title is honestly so cute

summary: tutoring jj leads to much more

warnings: nothing !

pairing: jj maybank x smart!reader

mr. sunn walked up to my desk and leaned down, whispering, “can you come see me after class?”

a hole formed in the pit of my stomach, but i just nodded.

when class was over, the ring of the bell trapped itself in my ears as i stood up, gathering my things and walking to the front of the class where mr. sunn was stood.

“did i do somethin’, mr. sunn?” i asked.

“no,” he chuckled. “have a seat.”

i cleared my throat and sat down at a nearby desk reluctantly.

“you’re one of my best students,” he said, and i mumbled a ‘thank you’ before he continued, “and then there’s my worst students. and i was wondering..”

he sat down at his desk and clicked his pen, parting his lips. “i was wondering if you would tutor one of those students.”

i nodded immediately, thinking of how perfect it would look on my college application.

“that’s great. i have a student i would like you to primarily focus on…” his voice trailed off as he rummaged through the papers on his desk.

“who’s that?”

he looked up. “i don’t know if you’ve met him before. he’s not in your class. he goes by jj.“

“maybank?” i asked, clicking my tongue as he nodded.

“you know him?”

“i’ve seen him around.”

it was true. i’d never talked to jj before, but i did know that he’d broken my best friend’s heart back in 10th grade, growing a hatred in me for him.

he was a known player, and i knew it would be hard to tutor him as he smoked weed, did underage drinking, and just overall was a criminal.

“but you’ll tutor him?” mr. sunn asked hopefully.

i almost said no, but i just took a deep breath and thought about my college career again. “sure.”

“here. check out this schedule and let me know if you can do it all.” he handed me a paper that i took and scanned briefly.

“sounds good.”

he sat back in his chair, pleased. “great. first session’s tomorrow. let me know how it goes, alright?”

“mhm.” i said as i stood, the tardy bell now ringing in my ears. i pulled my lips into a tight line. “can i get a pass?”

i had to stay after school the next day, sat in the library as i clicked my pen nervously.

i checked my watch. it was 3:00, the time we agreed to meet.

but jj was perfectly on time, arriving only a few seconds after it ticked to be time.

“hi,” he said, pulling out a chair and sitting down next to me.

“hey,” i replied awkwardly, flipping through the notes that were sprawled across the table to keep me from looking him in the eyes.

“look, i know sunn told you you would be tutoring me, but… he said he’d up my grade just for coming… so i was wondering if i could leave, and you could cover for me.”

i gritted my teeth together. “sorry, maybank, but that isn’t happening.”

he scoffed. “so you’re exactly like i expected you to be.”

“and what’s that?” i asked, tilting my head.

“a stuck up nerd…”

“either way, jj, you’re just like i expected you to be…” i dished back.

“oh yeah, ‘what’s that?’” he mocked.

“a boy who just doesn’t try hard enough…”

he rolled his eyes and clicked the pen in his hand. “you could just leave and not talk to me, then you wouldn’t have to deal with me.”

i shrugged. “i would, but i don’t settle for marginal work.”

“whatever the fuck that means…” jj mumbled, starting to spin the pen, causing it to dance around his fingers.

i’d heard him, so i clicked my tongue. “damn, maybank, do i have to tutor you in vocabulary, too?”

“maybe you do, princess,” he said jokingly, but a lump scraped at my throat at the nickname.

my eyes flickered down to my watch. “come on, can we just start? we only have thirty minutes left.”

“whatever…” he grumbled, leaning back in his seat.

“okay,” i whispered. i rummage through the papers, starting to speak, “mr. sunn tells me you’re learning about the legislative branch, right?”

“i guess.”

i rolled my eyes. “super marginal.”

“shut your damn mouth before i have to shut it for you.”

“how do you expect to do that, huh?” i asked, leaning forward.

he mocked my movement, getting all up in my face. “exactly how i do with all girls. charm ‘em.”

after that, he winked and i rolled my eyes, leaning back. “focus. let’s begin.”

~ “well then. i guess we’re done,” i said, checking my watch.

he grinned, looked down at his own and hopped up. “see you tomorrow, princess?”

“bye.”

~ jj was not on time today. he was already twenty minutes late when he texted me, sorry. gonna be a lil late. give me 20.

i already did, i thought.

but it was whatever, because jj came 20 minutes later. and he was a sight for sore eyes.

messy hair, unbuttoned shirt, hickeys trailing down his neck and his chest, disappearing to where his buttons did meet.

he had a bit of a lipstick stain on his cheek. it took everything in me not to wipe it off. i just stared at him.

we’d met at my house since the school library was now under renovation and we weren’t allowed to go there after school now, so it was the best to go to my house.

“what the hell, jj?” i said once he froze.

“‘m sorry, i..”

“no, don’t even. i had plans, maybank. you ruined them. just like you ruin everything.” i rolled my eyes.

“come on,” he scoffed. “you hardly know me.”

“i know you enough to remember you ruined my best friend’s life a few years ago,” i snapped.

“that was a while ago.”

“jj, the whole session is ten minutes over! might as well just cancel…”

“‘m really sorry, princess. i got held up with… something.” he grinned as he said the last words, mind wandering back to what happened earlier.

“jj, stop. just stop. if you want to go back to fucking that girl, go right ahead.”

he looked down. “i could care less about her.”

“same old jj,” i whispered.

“look. i have a test next week that i can’t fail. i promise today that if you just give me a little bit of your time, i’ll study. no bullshit.” he begged. “please.”

i bit my lip and sighed, walking over to the table and planting my bookbag down.

~ “jj, you still with me?” i asked, tapping his elbow he was draping his sleeping head over.

“what?” he asked, picking his head up.

“you’re sleeping, j,” i said, and as i said his name, i regretted it. “i mean, jj.”

“nah, it’s cool. call me j, princess. i like it.” he patted my arm and i blushed.

“okay,” i looked down at my lap, fidgeting with the rings on my hands as he hummed.

“i’m getting tired. can we maybe take a break?” he asked.

i looked him in the eyes, clenching my brows together. “we just started?”

“i didn’t get any sleep last night. please,” he begged.

“you said no bullshit. this is bullshit,” i clarified.

he grinned. “it’s been over thirty minutes. that’s the whole study session. now, i want to hang out with you…”

“you want to hang out with me?” i repeated.

jj tilted his head. “isn’t that what i just said?”

i groaned. “jj, we’re not friends.”

“i know. but all my friends are gone today, so you have to be one for the day,” he said.

i shook my head. “no. never.”

“please, sweetheart, just for today?” he grabbed my hand.

there was no need for him to be so flirtatious, but it definitely changed my mind when i sighed and gave him.

“just for a little bit.”

he grinned and patted me on the back, rushing over to the living room and flopping onto the couch. “let’s watch a movie.”

“what movie?” i asked, sitting next to him. we were pretty far apart.

“scary movie.. um, i don’t really know,” jj muttered, handing me the remote.

i just took it and runes on a random film i’d heard about, curling into a ball and leaning away from jj so i could lay down.

i felt his eyes on he as he placed a warm hand on my back. “you don’t have to be so far.”

“j…”

he pulled me closer to him, positioning me so that i was laying my head on his lap. “that’s better.”

“jj, we shouldn’t—”

“sh, baby. just watch the damn movie.”

around two hours later, when the movie was over, jj woke me up as i’d fallen asleep in his arms.

“wake up. i gotta go soon,” jj told me.

i groaned, a feeling of regret in my stomach as i sat up. i don’t know why i got so close to him. shit, i was even cuddling him.

“then let’s just finish off the night by studying.”

he sighed, following me to the table and listening to me rant about history.

"..and mr. sunn gave me your test grades, and boy, i almost fainted." i laughed, teasing ij as his face went red.

look, not everyone is smart and pretty like you are, princess." he crossed his arms.

for a moment, my eyes met his, but i just looked back down at the papers. "shut up."

“'m being honest. if you shut that pretty mouth of yours, i'd probably kiss it."

my mouth fell open.

“you should leave,” i told him. “it’s been way past our scheduled time anyway.”

“what?” he asked, standing.

“just go, okay?”

and he did.

~ two days later was our next scheduled session.

it actually went really smoothly. i had kept it strictly professional. i hadn’t even had an actual conversation with him.

“okay. then that’s all. i’ll see you wednesday,” i said, standing and gathering my notebooks and such.

“wait…” he said suddenly.

“what? you have to leave, jj.”

“two days ago you were cuddling with me, now you don’t even make small talk.”

i rolled my eyes. “we said friends for a day. you had your day, now you can leave.”

“well what if i don’t want to be enemies for the rest of the days?”

“what does that even mean?” i scoffed.

“i want to be yours…” he whispered, grabbing my wrist.

“jj…”

“you’re gonna let me talk, princess.” he cupped my face in his hands. “no one has ever helped me. in my entire life. but you agreed. sure, you definitely didn’t want to, but you did. i’ve hardly known you for a long time, but i already know you haven’t just helped me with school.”

i blinked. “i don’t know what to say.”

“you don’t have to say anything. just kiss me.”

and i did.

[charmingsoa]

✶ Where the Wild Things Are: Prequel ✶ ■ 1960s Sons of Anarchy story ■

⌃ Jax Teller/ OC x Thomas Teller/OC ⌃

Warning: Please read with caution. This story will include: drug use, physical, verbal, and sexual abuse. miscarriages, sexual content, alcohol use, homicide, cursing, etc. ★ If You would like to be tagged in future updates, simply leave your username in the comments.

When I look back on my life – I often wonder if I made the right choices when I was younger. I obviously got to my place in life because of what happened all those years ago in California. Hell, there were times when I didn’t even think I would make it out alive. Growing up, my parents were very strict – almost authoritarian. My father had fought for his country in WWII and my mother was your typical housewife. The picture-perfect look was what they strived for – putting my brothers and I in whatever activities they could. There were structured rules that were drilled into our heads from day one.

No elbows on the table Respect your parents and your elders Girls and woman are to bow down to menfolk and do what they’re told. Women are forbidden to wear pants or short skirts. Girls can attend secondary school but will not be allowed to attend college. Marriage, motherhood, and the act of obeying your husband is the most important role in a woman’s life.

I distinctly remember my father telling me that if I wanted to dress like a whore, I can plant myself on the side of the highway and start making a living for myself. I spent most of my childhood bowing down to everything my father said. He instilled that fear in me as a young girl – always being on the back end of his belt or switch if I was “bad” enough. I was the only daughter – I needed to be picture perfect and like a doll. My mother would stand idly by as he inflicted his abuse on me – only doing so because he loved and cared about me.

Total bullshit if you ask me.

I guess you can say with all the structure and ruling that fell at the hand of my father – you wouldn’t be surprised to hear that I rebelled. Starting at the early age of 13, I snuck out of the house to meet the boys from the wrong sides of the tracks. We would listen to the devil’s music as my father called it – getting high as kites.  My flower-patterned dress would be hiked up above my waist – my legs wrapped tightly around the guy’s hips – as they pounded into me. My mother always preached that a girl should stay pure until the night of their wedding -giving the gift of virginity to their awaiting husband.

 I lost that gift behind the First Methodist Church to a kid three grades ahead of me. It was meaningless and hurt like hell, but after that I couldn’t get enough.

By the time I hit 16, I had fucked half the senior class. I gained a reputation as the 10th grade slut – willing to do anything and anyone. Now, was this true – partially. I didn’t care if you were the ugliest guy in class – if you had a dick then I was ready and willing. I was never one to seek the guys out first. They would come to me and a couple minutes later they would be making me cum. There were rumors that I was a child prostitute – my parents were less than thrilled to hear that be brought up during a meeting with the principal.

At that point, I was pulled out of the school and sent to an all-girls catholic school about 45 minutes from home. My father made sure to drive me every day and would stay on the premises until school was over. Even if I wanted to ditch class and run away, Roy Landry was watching like a fucking hawk. I managed to mellow out a little once I graduated high school – I guess being locked up like Rapunzel will do that to people. I wasn’t allowed to go to prom – parties thrown by the other girls - I was isolated in my room. While my brothers were living their lives, I was stuck watching Walter Cronkite on the CBS Evening News with Brenda and Roy ever night.

I’m sure you’re trying to figure out where I’m going with all this information – I swear it’s important given the truth you’re about to hear.

A girl who hitchhiked all the way to California- fell in love with two brothers who despised each other – watching as they both fell into the pits of hell by creating the most dangerous motorcycle gang in Northern Cali – my story has to start somewhere, right?

[sturnstvs]

finding out

warnings: talks of sex, teen pregnancy, use of y/n, toxic friends, mentions of periods

a/n: I hope you guys will enjoy this series! what I should add and shit should be added to the comments if you deam necessary

DISCLAIMER: IF YOU DO NOT LIKE THESE KIND OF THINGS DO NOT INTERACT

third person POV

y/n and the sturniolos were childhood bestfriends. matt, nick and chris became friends with y/n shortly after kindergarten. they found each other on the play ground one by one. nick was the first one to say hi to y/n and introduce himself to the girl.

chirs was the next to introduce himself when nick said he had a new friend. then it was matt.

y/n was good friends with all of the triplets however her and Chris had a different bond.

they where attached to the hip as some might describe it. they were best friends. all of them were.

when they got to jr high however the friend group got a bit complicated.

you see chris and y/n had made some friends on the first day of 7th grade. they were a little bit older being 9th graders. however at the time cahris nor y/n knew that. (big mistake) they introduced the older kids to matt and nick. the other boys thought that they seemed a little wired and they seemed older.

chris and y/n brushed it off as a 'their just overreacting' turns out they weren't

in 8th grade the now 10th graders invited the whole group to a party. matt and nick said no. nick was hanging out with this girl alahna they he had met recently and matt, well he was just matt. so chirs and y/n decided they would go by themsleves

long story short chris and y/n ended up having sex that night. they where pressured into it mainly. but the two fully decided to carry it out. and its not like they were drunk or anything they were 13 for god sake. the next morning they both decided that what they did the night before was a mistake and should never happen again.

which brings us to here right now, in present time.

y/n had been feeling under the weather recently. it was the colder months of the year so she didn't think anything of it. of course as a 13 year old your not going to automatically think the worst. so she didn't. she didn't think it was a problem. until her friend sophie started saying something about it.

"I saw in this movie that these could be the symptoms of pregnancy" sophie told her as they where walking into the school.

"no way! I mean I know I'm not stupid but there is no way I'm pregnant" y/n shrugged off

"well...you do have the symptoms that my older sister had before she told everyone that she was expecting" shopie said

"are you sure I mean I dont even think its possible, I mean yeah me and chris had sex during winter break but there's no way" y/n told her

"well I'm pretty sure as long as you have your period and you didn't use a condom, its a huge possibility" sophie shrugged as she and y/n walked to class after they put their books in their lockers.

"whatever I'll take a test just to put your mind at rest after school if you promise to come with me" y/n told sophie as they sat down in their first period.

latter that day after school chris came up to y/n after a long day just ready to go hang out with his favorite girl.

"hey! y/n! wait, slow down your going to fast" chris yelled running after the two girls walking out of the school

"what chris?" truth be told y/n didn't want to deal with his hyperactive ass today

"where are you going? aren't we supposed to hang today? my moms waiting in the car" he spoke

"oh, actually change of plans, I have to do something, sorry we'll hang out later" y/n said apologetically as her and sophie walked to the nearest convenience store.

matt and nick who had watched the whole interaction cringed when they saw y/n walk away leaving chris with a frown on his face.

"that was rough" matt comented

"why do you think she ran away so quickly?" chris asked his brothers

"I don't know but I think it might have to do with sophie I mean she has been hanging with y/n way more often" nick said

"yeah" was all chris said as the three walked over to his moms car. he couldn't help but think this was about something much bigger.

it was about a half hour later when sophie and y/n got to the convenience store.

"come on" sophie dragged y/n over towards the aisle trying to find the pregnancy tests.

once both of the girls found the aisle they decided to get the one that was somewhat cheep but also worked.

"I don't have any money" y/n pointed out

"its okay. I have some just pay me back later. this is important" sophie said

"okay" y/n said hesitantly

sophie grabbed the one that seemed like It was the most accurate and cheep.

"should we get two just in case?" sophie asked the girl

"i don't know? should we" this was all very overwhelming for y/n and she didnt want to do any of this.

sophie looked at y/n sympateticly and sighed grabbing another test.

both the girls got in line at the checkout. there wasnt many people in front of them so they got to the coaunter pretty quickly.

the older lady that was at the counter looked at the two girls suspisousely

"hope these are for an older sister" she said scanning the items

the girls just nodded not wanting to say anything.

sophie kindly payed and got handed the tests. she then started walking out of the store while y/n was still standing there.

"I cant go back home and take those" y/n panicked.

her parents werent the most supportive so she knew this was going to freak them out.

sophie nodded while y/n walked over towards the lady behind the counter. as if she knew what she was going to ask, the lady pointed towards the back of the store

"thanks" y/n whispered

as she walked to where the lady pointed thoughts began rummaging through her brain. what if she was actually pregnant? what about Chris? there both only 13, there's no way they would be able to keep it. and their parents. what are they going to say? once she got to the bathroom she let out a shaky breath.

theres no way this was happening.

y/n did everything that she had to once she had read the instructions. then waited.

while she was waiting sophie kocked on the door.

"you good in there y/n"

y/n opened the door and sophie immediately wrapped her arms in a hug. in the time of waiting the was tears streaming down her face.

after a little longer the timer had went off. with shaky hands y/n flipped over the test to revel two very prominat pink lines. y/n immediately broke down. what was she going to do

after a good few hours of crying and trying to adjust the reality of the situation sophie had convinced her to tell chris.

she invited him to her house later that night. chris with a happy face, strolled into her house not knowing his life was about to change.

y/n told him what had happened and obviously he was shocked. they both just cried into each others arms not knowing what they where going to do.

"I guess it sucks that I got my period only a couple weeks before that huh" y/n sniffled a laugh trying to cheer both of them up.

if they had each other they were going to get through this.

note: I want to point out that i feel like this isnt very realistic but that's okay it was a fun idea and it kinda came to me at night? I hope you guys liked it anyway. no hate please.

also give me requests of what if should do make sure you click the info page for more details!