#I will fucking sneak into your house and scalp you if you steal this

[syven-siren]

On Thin Ice

Summary: Michael, Finn and Isaiah think skating would be the perfect activity for the day. Unfortunately, you don’t know how, but Michael convinced you he’d be the perfect teacher. You should have known given your group’s history of mishaps that it may not have been the best idea to trust them. 

Warnings: mentions of injury // fluff Word Count: ~700

Requested by Anon: “...Can I request something with the younger peaky boys like Finn and Isiah and maybe Michael where they are all at Tommy’s hours with reader and her friends trying to teach them how to skate? And may the reader falls and knocks her head so one of the boys carries her up to Tommy’s house to make sure she’s ok. And then after checking in her they all have hot coco?” A/N: Happy Holidays Everyone! 🎁 Also, I know his name is spelled different but I’m so used to seeing ‘Isaiah’. Apologies if anyone prefers the proper spelling of his name.

“Are you sure it’s safe?” 

Like a fawn new to the world, your first step onto the ice is cautious. The frozen pond beneath your feet crackles in response to the added weight and your muscles and joints lock in terror of some expected catastrophe. To stabilize yourself and your confidence, your fingers dig into the coat sleeve of your closest companion.

“Of course.” Michael’s statement of reassurance does little to quell your rising dread, especially when Finn and Isaiah nearly fall as they collide together. 

“Listen to the farm boy! He knows what he’s talkin’ ‘bout.” 

“See, even Isaiah knows. Have I ever led you wrong, love?”

“There was that time you had us sneak in to see that picture. You said we wouldn’t get caught, but we did.”

Skating past, Finn pipes in his own anecdotal evidence, “There was that time you thought it’d be funny to steal from Polly’s liquor cabinet. And she chased us for three blocks.” 

“Yeah, mate. And what about when you made us be lookouts when you went to see that London girl and her father nearly—”

Michael interrupts Isaiah, not wanting you to back out based on previous history, “Alright. Alright. So maybe I have once or twice, but you can trust me on this!” 

You follow his instruction, taking a few marching steps and then allowing yourself to glide over the ice. Your body adjusts to the slippery surface, and you find it much easier to balance as your posture becomes less rigid. Confident enough with the combination of directions and Michael's support, you finally release him from your grasp and begin to skate on your own.

You circle the pond slowly while the boys rough house and rush by in competition. While you enjoy the spectacle of Isaiah and Michael tumbling to the icy surface in a tangle of limbs, you fail to notice the Shelby boy who creeps up behind you. Finn captures you by the waist and twirls with you on the ice before releasing you and sprinting away as you squeal in fear. He roars in laughter as you give chase. But much like every scenario you seem to find yourself in with your boys, it goes to shit. The blade of your skate slips, and your leg buckles under the unbalanced weight of your body and dashing your hopes for retaliation.

Rather than falling onto your butt, your body pitches forward. The skin of your palms is seared with the sting of the ice’s first touch. Forced into a starfish pose, your head harshly smacks against the ice, and the next few minutes are a blur of pain and frantic questions from the boys. 

“Fucking hell!” Isaiah skids to a stop beside you, aiding you in righting yourself, “You alright, love? Took a real good spill.” 

“Don’t cry. Just please, don’t cry.”

“Finn, I’m not crying but you look like you're 'bout to,” You tease before squeaking in pain as Michael inspects your scalp, “Ow. Ow. Stop touching it!”

It takes them several long minutes of debate for them to conclude that you should not walk back to the house on your own. And it is quite a few more as they argue on who gets to carry you. The journey through the snow consists of the trio distracting you from the pain by telling tales of their comedic failures while on errands for Tommy as Finn carries you on his back.  

Set by the fireplace, you soak up the much needed heat; feeling your fingers and toes thaw. The boys putter about you, inspecting your head again and cleaning the raw red scrapes on your palms. 

“You were wrong,” Your bottom lip pokes out in a pout, and you glare at Michael as he offers you ice to soothe the aching knot that is growing on the side of your head, “Again.”

“Okay. Okay. No more skating for a while. How about I make it up to you, hmm?”

“How?”

“There’s some cocoa in the kitchen.”  

“I could forgive you but…”

Finn presses for you to continue, “But?”

“I want extra marshmallows.”

Feedback, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated! 

Peaky Blinders Masterlist Coming Soon!

[doubleleoenergy]

ii. Serial Killer, Lolita Series

Sneak up on you really quiet. Whisper, "Am I what your heart desires?" I can be your ingenue.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: bestfriendsdad!Andy Barber x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, mentions of erection and male masturbation, lewd thoughts, drinking, mentions of domestic violence, murder, and divorce

Words: 2893

Summary: Andy spends an evening with y/n and learns about her hopes, dreams, and sexual relations

Andy Barber was straightening his tie against his grey button down when he walked into the hallway from his bedroom, the smell of bacon wafting through his nostrils as he followed the scent to the kitchen.

“Good morning, Andy.” Y/N’s voice held that sickening sweet seduction he had gotten used to over the past few days. It was seven o’clock in the morning, and the fact that she sounded so chipper had Andy amused. His son was not a morning person, neither were any of the other boys staying with them.

He turns the corner towards the kitchen counter and takes in the sight of her. She’s ready for her first day as an intern for him, though her outfit doesn’t seem to be the most conservative for an attorney’s office. Her tight black skirt with white lines is barely covering her ass, and there’s a small slit up the right side that is showing more skin, if that’s even possible. She’s paired it with a simple black tank top that is cropped to reveal just the tiniest bit of skin on her abdomen, his eyes trailing down her toned legs to her black strappy stilettos that finish off the look. Andy has to look away and busy himself with his briefcase in order to stop himself from coming in his trousers.

“Morning, y/n.” He chokes out, reorganizing the files in a folder he had pulled out. Y/N slides a plate beside him, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor as she walks directly to his side, holding out a freshly brewed cup of coffee.

He takes the cup in his hand appreciatively, eyeing the plate of bacon, eggs, and toast that she had slid over to him. “Thank you, but you didn’t have to do any of this.” Andy takes a sip of coffee before setting his mug down beside the plate, picking up the fork and knife before diving into the meal.

“I know I didn’t have to, but we can’t let you go to the office on an empty stomach, right boss?” She teased, her manicured nails tapping gently on the counter next to him. God how he wished to feel those nails scratching against his scalp.

“Well thank you.” He responds, trying not to think about how she had just called him boss and how it made it incredibly wrong to be thinking about her like he had. The past few days had been rough, watching y/n saunter around the house in her sinful outfits, teasing the other boys and stealing glances in Andy’s direction. He had fucked into his fist every night since he saw her in that damn bikini.

As Andy finished eating y/n cleaned up the dishes, drying them and putting them away where they belonged in the appropriate cabinets and drawers. She was eager for her first day in the office, and honestly happy to be working somewhere where she was already familiar with the boss. 

“That was great, y/n, thank you again.” He wiped his mouth off on a napkin before pulling his briefcase shut, y/n taking his plate and mug and cleaning them in the sink before drying her hands.

“Anytime, I appreciate the carpooling to work as well.” Her fingers reached for her purse on the edge of the counter, following Andy out into the garage and sliding into the passenger seat of his pristine Audi. It was much flashier than her ten-years-too-old Ford Focus. She could get used to this lifestyle for the rest of the summer.

Andy and y/n spent the entire drive to the office making small talk, while Andy tried his hardest not to glance at her supple thighs in her thin skirt. Soon enough they arrived at the office, Andy gesturing for y/n to follow him inside the large office building.

Passing through the doors, Andy says a quick hello to the colleagues he passed, waving them over to gather inside their large conference room.

“Alright everyone, I’ll make this quick. This is y/n, she’s our new intern for the summer so please, be kind and help her to get the most out of her time here.” Andy’s eyes scanned the crowd of people, noticing the way the men in the office all lusted over her, their eyes dark with attraction.

As Andy dismissed everyone, Neal fucking Loguidice strides forward with confidence, extending his hand out to y/n’s. “Neal Loguidice, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Y/N seems to be enjoying the attention, standing up straighter as she takes his hand in hers. “Thank you, Neal. The pleasure is all mine.”

“How about I show you around the office? You know, as an assistant district attorney I can answer any questions you have about this place.” Before Andy can protest, Neal puts a hand on the small of y/n’s back, guiding her out of the conference room and walking her down the hall. Andy hates the way he grits his teeth, the hand not holding his briefcase forming into a tight fist by his side. Why was he even jealous? He had no reason to be, didn’t he?

Andy spent the rest of the morning answering phone calls and meeting with clients, though he couldn’t help but keep his eyes trained on y/n anytime he left his office. She had picked up lunch for the entire department, created copies for a staff meeting, and was unfortunately still being followed around by that slithering snake Neal. Who did he think he was?

He tried not to let it get to him, but as he walked past y/n’s makeshift desk after a coffee break, he watched as Neal leaned over her. He was teaching her how to scan documents to their respective folders, his eyes staring directly down y/n’s shirt to catch a glimpse of her perky tits. That was it, he had had enough.

“Neal.” Andy clenched his jaw as he spoke, watching as the man’s eyes lingered briefly still on y/n’s tits before meeting his gaze. “A word in my office. Now.” He barked.

Neil walked with confidence into Andy’s office, shutting the door behind him before slumping into the chair in front of Andy’s desk, a smug smile plastered on his face. “What can I do for you, Andrew?” Neal challenged, crossing his left leg over his right.

“You need to keep your eyes and your hands to yourself with y/n, it’s disgusting and she’s one of my son’s best friends. I’m not going to let you disrespect her like that, and neither would HR if they found out.” He growled, his eyes growing dark. Neal puts his hands up in protest before he stands, backing towards the door.

“Whoa, those are some big accusations without any evidence, Barber. I was just showing our intern around.” He’s still got that smug look on his face that Andy wishes to smack off him, though he knows he can’t. Neal opens the office door, walking out and heading back to his own office, leaving y/n to work by herself at her desk.

It was fucked up that he was lecturing Neal about the way he looked at y/n while knowing he’d jerked off into his hand every night fantasizing about her. But he wasn’t acting on anything, it was just some harmless fantasies, he was newly divorced after all. This was just lust, wasn’t it?

The rest of the day went by fast, Andy moving from meeting to meeting with clients and y/n working diligently on getting acquainted with their latest cases and filing the paperwork into the appropriate folders on their server.

Andy shut his office door a little after six o’clock, locking it behind him before strolling over to where y/n sat at her desk, texting on her phone.

“Are you ready to head out for the evening?” He asked, watching as she stood up beside him, only a couple of inches shorter than him in her heels.

“Yes, Jacob just texted me. Him and the guys are out bar hopping with some, as he put it, ‘absolute tens’ and won’t be home until late.” She follows him out of the office building, watching as he locks the front doors behind them before sauntering over to the passenger side of his car.

“That’s fine, why don’t I order us some takeout, I know a little place by the house that serves the best pad thai.” Andy and y/n get into the car as he starts it up, the vehicle roaring to life under them. “I would love that, thank you.” 

It’s a quiet ride back to the office, y/n scrolling through Instagram as the radio plays softly, the car filled with the lyrics to a Lady Gaga song. Andy parks the car back in its usual spot in the garage before walking inside and dropping his briefcase on the counter.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower, I’ll order the food when I get out and then we can relax, I’m sure today was a lot for you to take in.” Andy assured, loosening the tie around his neck.

“That sounds great, thank you Andy.” Y/N bounds up the stairs as well, letting her body muscles relax under the heat of the shower. Downstairs, Andy is doing the same, except he’s got a cold shower running to rid him of his thoughts from the day. How y/n’s skirt would ride up as she bent down to pull a copy from the copier, the way her lips pursed, and brows furrowed perfectly as she focused on her computer screen. How did her little actions send his brain into such a tizzy?

It wasn’t long before he had calmed his thoughts and pulled on a pair of grey sweats and a navy-blue t-shirt, calling the restaurant and placing a delivery order for two pad thai dinners. As Andy waited for the food to arrive he sat down on the couch, fumbling with his phone until he heard footsteps from the stairs, his eyes trailing over the silky baby blue short shorts and front-tied top that barely covered her breasts, her nipples hard through the fabric.

“Is the food here yet?” She asked, plopping down beside Andy on the couch, her leg just barely grazing him as she sat. Just as Andy went to reply the doorbell rang, immediately standing up and grabbing his wallet from the counter. He pulled the heavy front door open, greeting the gentleman and handing over the money, including a generous tip, in exchange for the bag of food. 

As he walked back into the living room, he noticed y/n had gotten up and placed two bottles of beer on the coffee table, careful to include the thick grey coasters below them.

“Thanks.” He mumbled, emptying the contents of the bag onto the table before handing over one of the takeout boxes to her. She opened it delicately, her fork twisting into the container before pulling out some of the contents and chewing it thoughtfully.

They both sat in silence for a few minutes, the only sounds being the scraping of their silverware and the occasional movement of a beer bottle on and off the coasters. “So…” Andy started, swallowing a bite of his dish. “What made you want to be an attorney? S’not very often that I see someone interested in the profession.” Or someone like her, he meant, though he tried not to come off as if a woman like her couldn’t do the job.

There was an expression that flashed across y/n’s face, something he hadn’t seen yet, a twinge of sadness? “Life circumstances. I actually want to be a defense attorney, specifically.” Andy finished taking a swig from his beer, setting it back down.

“Interesting, are you from the area? Or, at least, close to Columbia?” He questioned.

“No, I’m from Ohio actually. It’s a shit place, only really good for driving through to get to your destination.” Y/N set her half-eaten container on the table, sitting back against the couch.

“Your family must miss you, with you all the way at Columbia.”

“My aunt and I talk every day, s’not much to miss.” Y/N responded; brows knitted into a frown.

“That’s not true, I’m sure she misses you. What about your parents? I’m sure they miss you when you’re gone too.”

That struck a nerve with y/n, she didn’t talk about her family to anyone, she hadn’t even told Jacob or the other guys about her family life. Something about Andy made her feel comfortable, though, her eyes focused on her lap while she picked at a loose hangnail.

“Well, that’s kinda why I wanted to become a defense attorney. My uh-my dad used to beat the shit out of my mom when I was younger.” Her face flashes a few different emotions, pain, anger, guilt, as she swallows a lump in her throat. “Don’t really know why he would’ve been with her in the first place, what’s the point of wanting to be with someone if you just want to pummel their face every day?” Andy listened intently; his food abandoned on the coffee table as well.

Y/N isn’t sure whether to continue with the story or not, deciding she’d already gotten through the first part, might as well finish. “I went to my aunt’s one day, I was nine at the time, and my aunt got a call and she was…beside herself.” She pauses, lips pressed in a grim line. “I guess my mom wanted to leave my dad and he went ballistic, loaded his pistol and emptied a few shots into her. She didn’t survive, of course, and my dad got life without parole.” Y/N cleared her throat.

“Anyhow, I went to live with my aunt, excelled in school, got nearly a full ride to Columbia and have dreamed of becoming a defense attorney for domestic violence and sexual assault victims ever since. I think I’d make a damn good attorney. I’d love to see the look on the guilty faces as I get justice for their victims.” Her voice regained its confidence, her body relaxing back as she finally took a sip from her beer, trying to look unphased.

“I…” Andy started, y/n waving her hand in dismissal. “It’s all good, I’ve moved past it, mostly. You don’t have to say the whole ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ shit. I’ve heard it all before.” Y/N took another long swig from her beer, swallowing it before pointing in his direction.

“What about you, what made you divorce Mrs. Barber? Jacob doesn’t mention her at all, only that you divorced last December.” Andy lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding during her entire story.

“Just wasn’t meant to be. We’d been together our whole lives practically and I woke up one day and realized I didn’t love her anymore. We were always fighting, and it wasn’t worth it to try and make it work.” Why he was explaining this to a twenty-two-year-old friend of his son, he didn’t know, but she had just shared something so intimate with him that he felt it was only fair.

“Well, it’s her loss.” The usual sensuality in her tone is back, her lips curling into a smile around her beer bottle. “You’re still young enough and fit, I’m sure you’ll find a pretty woman to meet your every need.” The words made his cock twitch, a chuckle leaving his lips to ease the sexual tension in the air.

“Well thank you. What about you? I see how my son and the other boys eye you.” And himself, but he’d leave that out. “They said your off limits and not the relationship type.” Andy didn’t know if it was appropriate to mention the conversation he had with Rashad and Collin the other day, but it seemed from y/n’s smile she was well aware of how they viewed her.

“Oh, I’ve had my fair share of boys. Watching them fall one by one.” She teased, running a hand through her hair. “I’m kinda like a sweet serial killer on the warpath, I like to have boys wrapped around my finger, but I am fully in control of who gets to move past a few stolen kisses. And frankly, there aren’t many that do” Her tone is honest, Andy licking his lips. I bet a man like me could change that. Before Andy can open his mouth to respond the front door opens, Jacob, Collin, and Rashad bounding in.

“The party’s here!” Rashad cried out, clearly tipsy. The boys stopped in the living room when they saw y/n and Andy, Collin eyeing the takeout on the table.

“Dude can I have some? I’m starving.” Collin announced before picking up y/n’s takeout box, plowing into it with the fork.

“Help yourself, I was actually going to get to bed. Gotta get up early for the internship again.” Y/N slinked seductively off the couch, her eyes meeting Andy’s. “Goodnight, Andy. Thanks for the talk.” He manages to give her a quick goodnight before she’s walking up the stairs, tits bouncing with each step.

Was he slowly being wrapped around her finger like the other boys she mentioned? He didn’t think so, but what he did know is he had yet another outfit of hers to picture her in when he jerked off tonight.

Tagging those who may be interested. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list: @midnightf @my-divine-death @saamwilsonn @fierylibraa @fuckandfluff​ @rattlemyb0nes​ @rootcrop @goldenboysteve​  @turtoix​  @jeremyrennermakesmesmile​  @ccmarvelxx

[little-diable]

Kids again - Dean Winchester (smut)

Inspired by Sam Smiths new song “kids again”. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Dean and the reader have been friends since they were toddlers, but as she leaves for college, Dean cuts all ties with her, but fate doesn’t work that way, now does it? 

Can’t believe I still avoid the East side Even though I know that you don't live there now

“Dean, stop,“ her giggles echoed through the house, running away from Dean, careful not to tumble over his toys, stumbling straight into her mom’s arms. “There you are, you little monster,“ her mom picked her up, tugging her five year old daughter against her chest, hand placed on the back of her scalp, inhaling the sweet scent of (y/n)s shampoo.

He pouted, arms hanging loosely by his side, holding onto the wooden car. „Does she already have to leave?” His wide eyes made (y/n)s mother chuckle, crouching down, grasping his little hand. “She’ll be back before you notice,“ he’d hate seeing her leave for the night, but the excitement of driving to school with (y/n) and her mom in the early morning hours filled the little boy with joy.

Lately you're the only thing on my mind And I can't stop myself on drivin' by your house

(Y/n) clung onto his arms, desperately trying to sober herself up, they had been celebrating his sixteenth birthday together, sneaking off with some booze, sitting on his roof as they kept talking about their past, their future, their hopes and dreams. “Happy Birthday Dean,“ (y/n) giggled, eyes focused on him, blinking a few times, barely noticing how he creeped closer.

Before she could move away from him, Dean had pressed his lips against hers, stealing (y/n)s first kiss. She wanted to push him away, to scold him, for taking away something so special from her, but the butterflies in her belly were enough to shut her up. “Happy Birthday indeed,“ he nibbled on her swollen lower lip, hands exploring her sides, pulling her onto his lap.

The way he sucked on her neck coaxed a moan out of her, unconsciously grinding herself against the centre of his trousers. It seemed like Dean wouldn’t only steal her first kiss that night, no, he’d also be the first to explore her body, to show her what it meant to be appreciated and loved, something he would never be able to say out loud.

Every time I hear our song it kind of hurts me still Even after all this time, I kinda miss you still I'm wondering

“Shut up,“ Dean chuckled, grasping her wrist, pulling her against his chest, swaying to Ricky Nelson’s “lonesome town”, the song they called their own. “Can’t believe that you’re truly leaving for college,“ he rasped out, chin placed on top of her head, tightly holding onto her, as if she’d vanish from his sight any moment. They were surrounded by moving boxes, standing in the middle of her room, the room they had spent too many nights to count in together, from the first day they had met, almost twelve years ago.

She hummed against his chest. „You will visit me, won’t you?” Her heart was clenching, wondering if she should truly leave him and Sammy behind. “Of course I will.“

And don't it make you sad That we'll never be kids again?

But no, Dean hadn’t visited her, seeing her leave had hurted him too much, so the older Winchester brother decided to cut all ties with her, trying to forget about the girl he had fallen in love with years ago. And as much as it did hurt, (y/n) had to accept the sober truth, not once would she mention his name, not once would she listen to her mother talk about the two Winchester boys she hadn’t seen in years. 

Somehow along the way it got easier, her heart wouldn’t break in two as she’d think about him, a small smile would tug on her lips every time she’d think about their time together, all the memories they had made. Deep down she knew that their paths would cross again, one day, perhaps rather sooner than later.

“(Y/l/n)?” She had the phone placed between her ear and her shoulder, working around in her kitchen, preparing herself some dinner. “(Y/n)?” The voice made her freeze, eyebrows furrowed together, wetting her lips ere she cleared her throat.

„Sammy?” God, how much she had missed his voice, the younger Winchester brother and her always had shared a special bond. “I need your help, (y/n).“

It took him a while to explain their profession to (y/n), the problem of Dean returning as a demon and finally finding back to his true self, confused and shaken up. “He needs you (y/n),“ Sam exhaled, praying that she’d give in and make her way towards the bunker, finally reunited with the boys she hadn’t seen in years.

On the drive there she kept wondering, if she was doing the right thing, if she should truly go there, most likely getting her heart broken once again. But the slight chance of seeing him again, after years of waiting, seemed too good to be true, she had to do it, either way.

Really wish I didn't know you so well Wouldn't be so hard to leave the past behind

Sam was waiting in front of the bunker, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, wrapping his arms around her as she walked up to him. “I missed you,“ (y/n) mumbled against his skin, tightly holding onto his shirt, admiring how much he had changed, he looked so grown up, a somber feeling washed upon her.

“You haven’t changed one bit,“ the deep voice made her shiver, letting go of Sam as she crashed into Dean’s arms. „Don‘t be an ass Winchester.“ His chuckle rumbled through him, he picked her up, twirling her around, eyes finding hers. Sam awkwardly stared at them, clearing his throat. „Uhm, I’ll leave you guys alone.“ Making his way down the road, to the nearest bar.

She followed Dean inside, shrugging off her coat, trying to find the right words, she desperately wanted to ask him, why he had vanished just like that, leaving their friendship behind, almost like it had never existed. But all her thoughts seemed to leave her as Dean pressed his lips against hers, kissing her for the first time in years. “I’m sorry,“ he mumbled against her lips, towering above her, hands placed on her hips, thumb wandering underneath her shirt, tracing her skin.

It took her a few moments to catch her breath, hands placed on his chest. „There’s a lot we should talk about.“ The words made him groan, his typical smirk tugged on his lips. „We‘ll have enough time to talk.“ ean nibbled on her neck, pulling (y/n) into his lap as he sat down on one of the kitchen chairs, he wouldn’t miss this opportunity, not after years of dreaming about and aching for her.

He had ripped her shirt over her head, lips instantly attached to her cleavage, hands undoing her trousers, fingertips teasing the outlines of her panties. “Fuck, I missed this,“ Dean rasped out, she rose from his lap, shrugging off her jeans, dropping to her knees, unzipping Deans trousers, grasping his hard lenght.

Tell me how you live without it Did somebody change your world And now you don't look back?

Dean had almost forgotten how perfectly her hands would fit around him, stroking him like she had been doing on different occasions, just before she’d leave him and Sammy behind. His head rolled back, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted, hands grasping her hair. She couldn’t take her eyes off the gorgeous man in front of her, pressed one last kiss to his tip before she moved away from him.

She found her way back onto his lap, wet folds pressed against his length. „You sure?” He groaned, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself, if he’d give in and fuck her right there and then. (Y/n) nodded her head, placing her hands on his shoulders, sinking down on his length.

(Y/n) pressed her forehead against the crook of his neck, balancing her weight on her toes, moaning his name, she had almost forgotten how big he was, deliciously stretching her. No other man had ever managed to bring that heavenly feeling upon her, every time somebody else would touch her, her mind would wander back to Dean.

“God, you’re still so tight,“ Dean growled, hips meeting hers, thrusting deeper into her heat. „Missed you,“ she whimpered, tightening her hold on his shoulders. Dean pulled her in for a kiss, tugging on her roots. „I missed you too.“

And now you don't look back Cause we'll never be kids again No, we'll never be kids again

He kept holding her gaze, lips parted, moans spilling from his lips, getting pulled back into the emotions he had kept hidden away for years. He wouldn’t be one to voice out his love for her, Dean wasn’t one for sappy shit, but oh, he’d do his best to prove his love to her for the rest of his life, not letting go of her ever again.

[kurt-nightcrawler]

Decay

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Request 1: Omg I just read the I have a boyfriend and the opposites attract and I'm aksjksjeje. Idk if ur taking requests, but in case u are I need more on that mother nature reader and Warren pleaaaaseee!!! Maybe something with angst, like some conflict in their relationship, but with a happy would be greatttttt I absolutely love ur writing x

Request 2: I have a idea for mother nature x warren: how about an angsty fic about their first fight? And for the first time mother nature feels heartbreak and is really hurt. Her eyes are pitch black and empty. Usually, when she relaxes, she grows pumpkins etc. But this time all the vegatables are rotten or too small. Maybe you feel inspired by this :) (would be great if it has a happy ending though haha) Thank you, you're great!

Warnings: Language, mentions of sex, underage drinking, panic attack, and assault

Word Count: 8k

A/N: This took a long time but I hope you guys enjoy it! This builds more into Warren and Mother Nature’s relationship, probably set before fairytale

 Everything had been perfect. Halloween was coming up, and (Y/N) asked Jubilee if she’d do a group costume with her and another girl. 

Jubilee said yes, trusting (Y/N)’s opinion on people, for she always saw the good in them.

Jubilee took her, and the other girl, Jessie Rowe, to one of those pop up Halloween shops to look for costumes. 

“We can just get inspired if we don’t see anything perfect, you know?” Jubilee said. “We can always make our costumes.” (Y/N) nodded while looking at the different colored crayon costumes. 

“But it would be so much easier just to get one now. We could all go as like— sexy angels or something. In honor of Warren!” Jessie suggested. 

(Y/N) grimaced a little at the outfit Jessie held up. She didn’t feel comfortable wearing something so thin and tight at some house party on a cold October night. 

Jubilee laughed, “That’d be cute.” 

“Come on,” Jessie nudged her. “(Y/N), I bet your boyfriend would go nuts seeing you in this.”

“Mmm, I think he might find it kind of offensive or something…” She didn’t want to go as a sexy anything for Halloween. No offense to anyone who did dress sexy on Halloween, but that just wasn’t (Y/N)’s vibe. “Not my thing anyway…”

“Oh, come on! He wouldn’t be offended; Warren’s such an angel. I bet he’d fuck you if you wore this.” 

(Y/N)’s eyes went wide with shock. She’d never had someone be so blunt and explicit with her— Well, she had, but it wasn’t directed at her. 

“Um, we’re going to a party, Jess…” (Y/N) awkwardly reminded her. 

“I know, but you guys could sneak off somewhere or leave early. People do it all the time.” 

“What about vampires?!” Jubilee interrupted, holding packages of fake fangs in her hands. 

“Oh, that’d be fun! And we could get fake blood too!” Jessie put the angel outfit back on the rack and went to a different area with Jubilee. 

(Y/N) followed behind, thankful for the interruption, but still thinking about Jessie’s comment. 

“If you two do decide to fuck at the party, I want all the details…”

Why did she care so much if Warren and I are having sex?

She tried to focus on other things as Jubilee attempted to change the subject. 

“Fruits? Personally, I’d like to be a strawberry.” 

Jessie laughed, “We’re not in elementary.” Jubilee shrugged before holding up a banana costume and made a suggestive joke. Jessie and (Y/N) laughed at her. 

“I think we should be pink ladies.” Jessie morphed her voice to sound like Olivia Newton-John. 

“From Grease? But that’s so overdone,” Jubilee didn’t like the idea, but it was the first decent one Jessie had all day. 

“I mean, if someone else shows up in the same costume, we’re technically not matching…” (Y/N) said. 

“See?” Jessie smiled. “(Y/N)‘s smart!” 

“Alright, alright, give me some time. I’ll think about it,” Jubilee stated. 

“Trust me; you’ll come around.” 

-

Warren was lying in bed, fast asleep. He’d just showered after training with Mystique and got his ass kicked. Even when he thought he was getting better, he still wasn't as good as her. 

(Y/N) entered the room, excited to tell Warren about her Halloween costume plans. 

Sure, she could have just texted him, but she hadn’t seen him all day. 

“Warren, Angel baby—“ She quickly shut her mouth when she saw him sprawled over his bed, fast asleep. 

She cooed over his sleeping figure, tempted to leave him as he was. 

What if he’s been asleep for hours? Or all morning? It’s still light out, though. I better wake him up anyway.

(Y/N) tapped his shoulder and said his name a few times, trying to get a response from him. 

He slowly stirred in his slumber, waking up from (Y/N)‘s interruption. “Hmm?...”

“Hey, War,” 

“Mmm… what time is it?” 

“3:48.” 

“Join me.” (Y/N) sat on his bed, sitting next to him as he shifted, snuggling next to her, and slowly woke up. “How’d shopping go with Jubilee?” 

“It was alright.” (Y/N) massaged his scalp as she retold her day. “Jessie kept shooting down our ideas and the ones she had Jubilee never really liked, so we didn’t exactly settle on anything…” 

Warren looked up at her. “I thought you guys were going as crayons?” 

“Jessie said no.”

“Why?”

(Y/N) shrugged, “She suggested we go as sexy angels.” 

Warren’s facial expression was piqued with interest, despite him trying not to show it. 

“I said that would be offensive to you, and we’d freeze to death anyway.” 

Warren chuckled, “I’ll be there to keep you warm.”

“Aren’t you gonna be shirtless?” 

“Maybe. I said I might— Roger Taylor didn’t wear a shirt most of the time.” 

Warren was teaming up with Kurt, Scott, and Peter to dress up as Queen, the rock band, for Halloween. 

“You could get sick! It might even rain on Halloween, which will make you even colder!”

“I’ll be fine.” Warren wasn’t too worried. 

“Wear a jacket, please.” 

“I will. I will…”

(Y/N) huffed, “Good… Cause if you don’t, I’ll bring you one, and it will be tacky and ugly and totally ruin your costume.  So you better bring one…” She jokingly threatened. 

Warren chuckled, “Yes, Mom.” (Y/N) laughed at his demeanor. 

Warren looked up at her, lifting his head up, lips puckered. A way of silently asking for a kiss. 

(Y/N) complied, and gave him a peck on the lips. 

“Wanna get some food? I’m kind of hungry.” 

Warren nodded. He finally, and officially, got out of bed since his nap, (Y/N) next to him. 

As they were about to leave his room, a leaf fell from (Y/N)‘s head. 

“You dropped a leaf.” 

She frowned, eyes purple with embarrassment, “That’s the fifth one this week.” 

Warren bent down to pick it up. “It’s fall. I’m surprised you still have a few left.” 

“I’ve still got about a month.” 

The vines wrapped around (Y/N)’s legs and the leaves in her hair were shedding— Just like the trees outside, as the weather dropped and plants prepared for winter. 

Warren took the leaf and set it in a book. He liked to press any of (Y/N)‘s leaves he could get his hands on. 

She thought it was silly, they were just leaves, but Warren liked them. 

(Y/N) rummaged through the fridge for something to eat. 

“I think there’s leftover Chinese from last night,” Warren told her. 

“Yeah, but I don’t want to take those. They aren’t mine.” 

“You can say I ate them. Ororo and Kurt took my pizza after we went to East Village Pizza.” 

“Didn’t you label the box?” 

Warren nodded, “Yeah, but it’s Kurt and Ororo. They ignored it.” 

(Y/N) stifled a laugh as she took out some milk, deciding to make mac and cheese. 

“They’re the only ones who don’t fear me.” He joked. 

“Hey! I’m right here… and besides—“ She turned the stovetop on. “—No one here “fears” you. Not even the little kids. Jamie Donaldson told me he wanted to be you for Halloween.” 

Warren tilted his head slightly in confusion.

The water in the pot had reached a boil and (Y/N) poured the dried noodles into it. “He said you were his hero. That he wanted to be like you when he got older.” 

Warren dismissed it, “His friends are gonna tease him.” 

“I’m sure they already do… he has gills… Deny it all you want, Worthington, but you’re not tough as nails. Underneath the metal, you’re a big softie who cries during The Notebook, and helps Alex teach the second graders.” 

“Babe, everyone cries during the notebook, and I had a free period, and Alex needed help.” 

(Y/N) nodded, “Mmhmm… well, you can’t let Jamie down. It would crush him.” 

“I’m no—“ Warren stopped. 

“You’re no what?” (Y/N) teased nonchalantly. She knew what he was going to say. 

“You’ve trapped me.” 

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

“I’m not gonna say it.” 

(Y/N) mixed the milk, butter, and cheese powder in a separate bowl. “Say what?” 

“Oh, so that’s how we’re gonna play it?”

“You’re too hard on yourself! Be honest and caring for once.” (Y/N) pouted. 

“I’m not saying it. It’s dumb and cheesy.” 

“Fine. Then you don’t get any of my mac and cheese.”

“I’ll steal some when you’re not looking.” 

(Y/N) widened her eyes for comical intimidation. “I’m always looking.” 

Warren crossed his arms, “I’m still not going to say it.” 

“Please…” 

“I’m a bad person, (Y/N), I’ve done bad things…”

(Y/N) chuckled lightly, “Isn’t your therapist Brenda helping you not sound like Batman so much?” 

“Yeah.” 

(Y/N) kissed his nose. “Okay, Angel.” 

“(Y/N), I’m not—“

“Yes, you are! Say it.” 

“Fine,” He caved. “I’m an angel.” 

“Say it like you mean it. A positive tone of voice and affirmations improve a plant’s lifestyle and growth.” 

Warren couldn’t deny the small smile on his face, “I’m an angel.” 

(Y/N) squealed and kissed Warren’s lips. His cheeks were red, for he was flustered. 

“Can you get some bowls? Mac and cheese is done.”

“Yeah, sure.” Warren got two bowls and forks for them both and set them on the counter. 

(Y/N) scooped some macaroni into both bowls, then she and Warren sat on the barstools on the other side of the counter and chowed down. 

Jessie entered the kitchen as they ate their food. 

“Hey, (Y/N). Hey, Warren.” 

“Hey, Jessie! I just made some Mac and cheese if you’re hungry.” 

“I’m good, thanks. I don’t really eat carbs.”

“Oh… Okay…” (Y/N) looked down nervously at her bowl, trying to hide her purple eyes.

“Yeah, they just don’t agree with me, ya know?”

(Y/N) nodded, “Yeah, yeah, I don’t really like hot Cheetos.”

“See? We’re practically one and the same.” Jessie smirked.

Warren’s gaze kept shifting between the girls. He was confused at the tone of the conversation. 

“Anyway, I came down here looking for you.” She said to (Y/N). 

“Really? What’s up?” 

“I convinced Jubilee that we should go as pink ladies.” 

“That’s great!” 

Jessie nodded, “We’re gonna get the stuff we need for our costumes tomorrow.” 

“Sounds good to me.” (Y/N) said. 

“Uh, huh… what are you going as for Halloween?” Jessie asked Warren. 

“A few other guys and I are going as Queen.” 

“Ooooo! I love their music.” 

Warren nodded, “Scott’s going as John Deacon, Peter’s going as Brian May, I’m going as Roger Taylor, and Kurt’s going as Freddie Mercury.” 

Her voice shifted to a flawless British accent, “Well, I’m sure you’ll look amazing, darling.”

Warren laughed, “Thanks.” 

“Of course… (Y/N) I’ll talk to you later about Halloween stuff.” 

“Okay. See you later.”

As Jessie sauntered away, Warren was a bit unsettled by Jessie’s attitude but was more worried about his girlfriend.

“You need to eat some carbs…” (Y/N) mumbled. 

“She’s probably just doing some fad diet,” Warren reassured her. 

“I dunno…” 

Warren shrugged and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, “There’s no harm in eating macaroni… and no matter what you do, you’ll always be healthier than Peter.”

“Oh god, yeah,” (Y/N) jokingly grimaced. No offense to Pete’s lifestyle, but consuming only twinkies and Diet Pepsi would not go down well for Mother Nature, or anyone else. 

“I’m gonna save the rest for later.” (Y/N) went through a cabinet looking for some Tupperware. 

“Alright. Want me to put what we didn’t touch in another container?” 

“Sure.” 

—

The girls all grabbed pink ladies jackets and paid for them. 

“I was thinking we wear all black— heels, shirt, and leggings or maybe like a skirt or something.” 

“Heels?!” Jubilee shrieked. “You’re crazy if you think I’m gonna wear heels all night on Halloween.” 

“It’s just for pictures,” Jessie reassured her. “And besides, you’ll kick them off at the door anyway.” 

“Why would I wanna roam around barefoot at a party?” 

“(Y/N)‘s barefoot all the time. To feel one with nature.” 

(Y/N) furrowed her brows, eyes orange. “No, I’m not. I rarely ever do that…” 

Jessie held up her hands in surrender, “Well, I heard it from Nancy Robinson…”

“She’s wrong… I told her I connect easily with plants.” 

“She must have misunderstood.” 

(Y/N) nodded, unsettled. 

“Do you guys wanna go to the mall? There’s this cute little black dress at Forever 21 I wanna get for Halloween.” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“I need to get some more foundation at Sephora,” Jessie stated. 

“Good, cause we were going anyway.” Jubilee joked threateningly. Jessie and (Y/N) laughed. 

As they walked around the Sephora, Jubilee scanned the isles for blue eyeshadows in different shades. 

“Kurt asked me to do his makeup for Halloween. He wanted some 70s glam rock.” 

“You’re gonna do a great job!” (Y/N) told her. 

“For sure— I’m also doing Warren’s and Peter’s too.” 

“They’re all going to look great. I hope we can get a group photo of them before they get all sweaty and tired out.” 

Jubilee nodded, smiling, while she placed all her items on the counter to be rung up. 

“Why didn’t Warren ask you to do his makeup?” Jessie asked. 

“Oh, uh… I dunno.” (Y/N) shrugged. “I’m not very good at super dramatic glittery looks.” 

“I’m just surprised he didn’t ask you, is all. I thought he would’ve, considering you’re dating.” 

“I mean, he’ll probably ask to borrow my mascara or something... It’s not a big deal.”

Jessie raised her eyebrows in questioning before paying for her foundation. “If Scott was going to wear makeup, I’m sure he’d ask Jean to do it for him.” 

“Scott would just want an excuse for his face to be inches away from Jean’s face, and for her to constantly be gazing into his eyes and glancing at his lips. Until they finally break the tension and spend the whole time making out, and Scott’s still not even wearing any makeup by the end.” Jubilee states. 

“That’s very specific… Also, don’t they kind of do that already, anyway?” (Y/N) asked. 

“Yeah,” Jubilee chuckled. 

“Still, I don’t know why Warren didn’t ask you.” Jessie interrupted. “Maybe you should ask him.” 

(Y/N) nodded, “Yeah, uh, I— I might.” 

—

Warren was lounged on (Y/N)’s bed, focusing on a textbook assignment. 

“Why didn’t you ask me to do your makeup?” 

Warren looked up. “Hmm?”

“Jubilee said you asked her to do your makeup for Halloween… I could’ve done it.” 

“Oh, uh, I mean Kurt asked her to do his, and then Peter asked her, and we both figured why not do mine too? She’s just going to do some eyeliner and highlighter. It’s no big deal.” 

“Oh…” (Y/N)’s eyes flashed purple. 

“Do you want to do my makeup?” 

(Y/N) shook her head, her eyes slightly red and orange. “Never mind… It was stupid… I’m not even that good at makeup…” 

Warren blinked, no longer focused on his homework. “Are you okay?” 

“What? Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” 

“I mean, if you wanna do my makeup, go ahead. I don’t care. If it’s that big of an issue—“

“It’s not an issue. I was just wondering why you didn’t ask me.” 

“I didn’t think you’d want to do my makeup.” 

(Y/N) pursed her lips. He was kind of right. She really couldn’t have cared less— Halloween was proving to be so stressful already. 

“Yeah…” She mumbled. 

“See, problem solved.” 

A weird feeling of tension filled the air. 

Warren and (Y/N) never fought, and they rarely argued or bickered over things that weren’t Warren’s low self-esteem. 

Despite him saying, “Problem solved.” It didn’t feel that way. 

—

Warren barged into Peter and Scott’s room. Inside were Scott, Kurt, and another kid. 

“(Y/N) and I had an argument—“ Warren glanced at the short blonde guy sitting on Scott’s bed. “Who is he?”

“Warren, this is Bobby. Bobby, this is Warren,” Scott introduced. “Bobby’s new, he’s a freshman, and we’re kind of the only guys his age, so he’s just hanging out with us.” 

“Hi,” Bobby awkwardly waved at Warren. 

He waved back, “Hey.” 

“Anyway— what happened with you and (Y/N)?”

Warren sat down on Peter’s bed. “We got into an argument about the dumbest thing…”

Kurt squinted his eyes in confusion, “That’s not— you guys don’t do that… Or is that a normal thing for most American couples? All the fighting and yelling.”

“Okay, first off Blue, you need to stop watching sit-coms with Jean and Jubilee where the middle-aged suburban couple’s hate each other’s guts. Second, we weren’t yelling, and it wasn’t really a fight fight, but there was uncomfortable tension.”

The other three boys were focused solely on Warren, waiting for him to explain more. 

“She like got mad I didn’t ask her to do my makeup for Halloween, but then she wasn’t mad and said she didn’t even want to do my makeup. And like we settled it, but I still felt weird afterward. Almost like we didn’t settle it.” 

Kurt was baffled, unsure of what to say. Scott was taking a moment to formulate a good response, but before he could even open his mouth, Bobby spewed some words of… wisdom.

“(Y/N)— I’m assuming you guys are dating, right?” Warren nodded. 

“Okay… (Y/N) doesn’t care about who’s doing your makeup. She’s upset over something else but is using the makeup as a cover-up. She doesn’t want to admit she’s upset over… whatever she’s upset over, but she’s upset, so little things like, you not asking her if she’d do your makeup, are going to make her like, really mad, even if it seems like they shouldn’t or ordinarily wouldn’t.

You have to get her to talk, or find out from one of her girlfriends, what’s really upsetting her.” 

The other boys left their mouths gaping, blinking in shock. 

“You’re like, fourteen, why’d you give such good advice?” 

Bobby shrugged, “My parents fight a lot. They need a divorce, but they’ll never get one.” 

“I was gonna tell you to apologize…” Scott sheepishly admitted.

“Apologize for what?” 

“I— I don’t know…” 

“She said she was stressed out about Halloween…” Warren confessed. 

“There you go—“ Bobby exclaimed. “—She’ll be fine. Don’t even worry about the little lovers’ quarrel you guys had.” 

Warren nodded, feeling a little bit better about the situation.

He still wanted to talk to (Y/N), though. 

—

“Hey, Jubes!” 

“Oh, hey, Jessie. I was just headed to Bio, what’s up?”

“I heard, a few freshmen girls are going as Pink Ladies for Halloween—“

“And?” Jubilee hugged her binder tight in her arms. 

Jessie huffed, “We just can’t go as the same thing as some freshmen girls!” 

“Why not? Halloween is in two days! We can’t just change our costumes at the last minute.” 

“Jubes, we’ll look like freshmen. We can’t have that!” Jubilee opened her mouth to object, but Jessie didn’t let her. 

“(Y/N), and I already agreed we should switch. We’re going to go as the plastics from Mean Girls.” Jessie’s voice had shifted to sound like Rachel McAdams. “I’m gonna be Regina, and (Y/N) will be Karen.” 

“Okay, that’s fine. I can go return my jacket.” 

“Yeah!” Jessie grinned. “Plus you can wear your shirt that says “On Wednesdays we wear pink! Perfect!” 

Jubilee smiled, “Yeah… Well, uh, I gotta go—“ She motioned to the door. 

“Right! Don’t wanna make you tardy. I’ll see you later!” 

“See ya.” 

Weird, Jubilee thought to herself as she took a seat in Dr. McCoy’s classroom. But not unusual for Jessie, always changing her mind… She’s so wishy-washy on things… Oh well.

—

(Y/N) was quickly trying to finish her makeup and get dressed so she could help the little kids trick or treat. 

Older students could volunteer to take the younger one’s trick or treating until 9, and then if they wanted, they could go to whatever house party the locals from the public school in the area were hosting. 

Luckily for the X-Men, Jubilee was extremely popular with the public schoolers, and they were invited to most house parties.

Ororo had already left, for she had just worn a unicorn onesie she borrowed from Peter. 

“I think this is his sister’s, but hey! It’s comfy.” 

“You look great!” (Y/N) only glanced at Ororo, for she was worried about her own look for the night.

“Thanks, I’m sure you’re going to look great too. Don’t sweat it… you have a half-hour left.”

“I’ll meet you downstairs with the others!” 

“Sounds good to me.” 

The others being Scott, Jean, Kurt, and Warren. Jubilee, Peter, and Jessie had decided to skip the trick-or-treat assist and go straight to partying. 

Warren knocked on (Y/N)’s door, asking if she was ready. 

She opened it and stepped out. 

Warren glanced up and down, checking her out. She looked good. Then again, she always looked good. 

(Y/N) did the same, checking her boyfriend out. Maybe I should have gone as a slutty angel to compensate… Warren looks… hot.

Tight leather pants, a sparkly fringed vest with nothing underneath— showing off his toned abs— his classic, worn-out combat boots, and his makeup. Jubilee did an excellent job with it. 

Her eyes were magenta. 

Warren kissed her cheek. “You look great, babe!” 

“Uh… thanks… um… you— you…”

Warren chuckled, “I look stupid, don’t I?”

“No! No— you look, whatever the opposite of stupid is… Stupidly hot, maybe…” (Y/N) felt like a pile of mush. 

And for what? Warren in tight pants, no shirt, and black lines on his face? That was a regular Tuesday look for him. 

“Maybe?” He teased. (Y/N) avoided eye contact, her eyes a vibrant purple.

Warren intertwined one of his hands with her and kissed her cheek again. “You’re adorable.” 

“Thanks…” 

—

The gang made their way to the party a little after 9. It was in full swing by then, with loud music vibrating the outdoors. It just got amplified as they walked in. 

“I’m gonna look for Peter,” Warren told (Y/N). 

“I’m gonna try to find Jubilee and Jessie, get some group photos.” They parted ways, agreeing to meet up again later. 

(Y/N) got distracted along the way— she danced to the Monster Mash with Jean and Kurt, helped with any trick or treaters that came to the door, (despite it not being her house), and she took a few photos with a group of freshmen also dressed up as pink ladies. 

“Where are they?” 

She spotted Jubilee’s big mop of black curls and quickly made her way over.

“Oh my gosh! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” 

Jubilee and (Y/N) stared at each other, both extremely puzzled.

“Um…”

“Uh…” 

“I thought we were going as pink ladies?”

“I thought we switched to The Plastics.” 

“What?” (Y/N) asked.

Jubilee took a sip from her cup, “Jessie told me you guys agreed on us switching to the plastics cause a bunch of freshmen were going as pink ladies.” 

“She never said anything to me bout going as the plastics. I haven’t seen her in like, two days.”

“What?” Jubilee was beyond confused. 

“Yeah, I thought we were still all going as pink ladies. I even saw the freshmen you’re talking about, and they took photos with me!”

“That’s nice…” 

“Why didn’t you clear this up with me, Jubes?” (Y/N) asked, her eyes slowly turning grey. 

“I thought Jessie did. I was busy trying to scope out a good place to crash and party at.”

(Y/N) crossed her arms, “Where is Jessie, anyway?” 

“I think she’s in the kitchen.” 

—

Warren was trying to have fun at the party. He didn’t drink as he did in Germany, so everything just seemed less exciting… but with his friends, they never failed to disappoint. 

He wanted to find Peter so they could get group pictures before a group of girls swarmed Kurt, fawning over his accent, soft blue fur, and gymnast body. Before Scott gave a little pep talk on safety to whichever friends would listen and then run off to make out with Jean in the nearest bathroom. And then he wanted to spend time with his girlfriend. 

He found Kurt, no problem— but finding their Brian and John was proving much more difficult. 

“Maybe Peter shouldn’t have worn a wig. We usually spot him due to his grey hair.”

“Then it wouldn’t go with the costume,” Kurt pointed out. “And the whole group would look out of place.” 

“I guess so…” Warren spotted Scott as they walked into the kitchen. He was talking to the new kid— Bobby— with Jean next to him. “Let’s get Scott.” 

Kurt waved at the group, and they motioned him over. 

“Hey, guys! This is Bobby,” Jean introduced.

“We already met,” Warren explained. “Have you seen Peter?” 

Jean shook her head. 

“I think I saw him—“ Bobby spoke up while filling up a cup from the “monster mix” punch bowl. “He had on a big curly brown wig…?” 

Kurt nodded, “Ja, that’s him!” 

Bobby handed Kurt and Warren cups. Warren sighed quietly to himself. He didn’t want a drink of some mystery liquid. He knew there was probably alcohol— Bobby probably didn’t, though— the kid was a freshman. Warren didn’t have time to refuse it though, for Bobby told Kurt where he last saw Peter, and then— bamf!

Kurt teleported him and Warren to that same place. The backyard. 

Warren felt a little nauseated— he hadn’t eaten anything all night except for a few pieces of candy, and the smell of sulfur was disgusting. 

Peter ran up to them and quickly noticed Warren’s turmoil. 

“Oh, dude! Here— drink up—“ He quickly put Warren’s cup in his mouth and almost forced him to drink up the “monster mix.” 

“Peter—“ Kurt scolded. “That’s not water!”

Peter’s face paled. “Oh shit. Shit! Dude, I’m sorry— I thought— cause you don’t drink—“

“Bobby gave it to me… He doesn’t know any better. I can handle myself. It’s one drink.” 

Peter almost scoffed at the mention of Bobby. “Who invited him?”

“Probably, Scott.” 

“Why?”

“I dunno… Make him feel included, I guess…”

“You good?” Kurt asked Warren. 

He nodded, “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Let’s get Scott… Come on…”

They decided to walk back to the kitchen, like ordinary people.

Bobby was gone, but Scott was still there, along with Jean, and Ororo was there too this time. 

“Did Bobby give you the monster mix?” Peter asked.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, dude— I had like three cups of it, and I feel a little tipsy— I think— but dude! I’m so sorry—“

“Peter, it’s fine. It just burned a little going down. It was only one drink— I’ll be fine. Stop worrying.” 

“Okay…” 

“Hey! You found him.” Jean smiled. “Photo time!” 

Everyone smiled and got into various poses and huddled little groups to take many silly pictures— many of them not even ending up on the group’s Instagrams— but still fun nonetheless. Jean telekinetically held up her phone so that everyone could be included in the pictures. 

Warren could feel himself getting a little tipsy as they kept taking photos, but he ignored it. 

“Oh my god! Warren!” It was Jessie. Not in a pink ladies costume. 

Weird… 

“(Y/N)’s been looking for you— come on, I’ll take you to her.” She grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the kitchen. 

He squinted his eyes, puzzled as to what was going on. 

They were walking upstairs. 

“Where are we going?” 

“Upstairs.”

It was dark. 

Warren couldn’t see the figure in front of him too well anymore.

The highly spiked drink he had was starting to get to him.

The voice sounded like (Y/N)’s. 

“You— You sounded like, (Y/N).” 

She giggled lightly, “I am (Y/N), silly.” 

“Oh.” 

She led him upstairs into an empty room. The lights were off. He still couldn’t see her very well. 

“Angel, baby,” She cooed. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too.” He went to go and turn on a light, but she stopped him. 

“Leave them off… I wanna have fun tonight…” 

“Oh?” Is she talking about earlier, before we left the mansion? Has she been drinking? I would like to do stuff but—

“Mmhmm…” She kissed his neck and kept kissing him, leading up to his lips. He kissed her back, hands on her until they got near her neck— he wanted to tug on her hair a little, but upon touching it, he realized something was wrong.

He didn’t have time to figure it out, though, for someone opened the door. 

Warren and the other person turned to see who it was. 

It was Jubilee and (Y/N). 

—

“Have you seen Jessie?” (Y/N) asked. 

Her friends in the kitchen eyed her and Jubilee up, confused— weren’t they supposed to go as the same thing for Halloween? 

“Um, she was just here. She said you were looking for Warren, and then they went upstairs.”

Jubilee glanced at (Y/N) nervously. That wasn’t a good sign. 

“Thanks.” (Y/N) and Jubilee headed upstairs to find the two. 

Once they got to the top of the stairs, they walked around, trying to open every door they could to no prevail. 

“Wait— Shh!” Jubilee whispered. She motioned to a door they hadn’t opened yet. 

(Y/N) didn’t waste any time opening the door. 

She wished she did, though.

Because she saw them.

Warren and Jessie, so close together. It looked like they had been kissing moments ago. 

When Warren’s eyes met (Y/N)’s, she felt sick to her stomach. He looked lost, confused even. 

He looked almost terrified. 

—

Warren looked over at the girl who he thought was (Y/N). The light from the open door revealed it was Jessie. 

Warren started internally panicking. He kissed Jessie thinking it was (Y/N)! 

She can change her voice to sound like whoever she wants! How could I think— So stupid of me! 

He looked over at (Y/N), trying to form words to say. Her eyes— they’d turned completely black. He couldn’t tell her iris and pupil apart. They’d never been pitch black before. 

“(Y/N)! Jubilee! Thank goodness! I was looking for you guys—“ 

“No, you weren’t… What’s going on?” 

“Warren’s drunk he thought I was you and he tried to come onto me—“

“No, I didn’t!” (Y/N) glared at Warren meticulously, making him shut up.

“He kissed me! Can you believe it?! He couldn’t tell his own girlfriend apart from me, and he was forceful!” Jessie stepped away from him in “fear.” 

“You’re lying— I would never—“

(Y/N) wasn’t even paying attention anymore. Everyone could see that. 

“I’m going home.” 

“What? (Y/N)—“ 

She glared at Jessie, “Fuck off. I don’t want to talk to you anymore. And you—“ She looked at Warren. She felt her heart breaking, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. She didn’t know what to think, and she was so tired. “We’ll talk about this later. I’m leaving.” 

“(Y/N)—“ 

—

She took a ride home with the freshmen girls. They didn’t ask why she needed one or why her eyes were all black. 

(Y/N) wasn’t in the mood to answer them anyway. 

How could he do this? It doesn’t feel right! But Jessie— Jessie wouldn’t lie to me. Would she?

She was snapped out of her thought when one of the girls gasped. 

“Look! Look at all the plants! They’re all dead! Even the carved pumpkins are rotting.” 

“Yeah, Lily, that’s what plants do—“

“No, look!” Everyone looked through the car window, shocked by what they saw. 

(Y/N) took one look at the dead plants and started shaking. She didn’t have the strength to bring them back to good health. 

It worried her, but her mind kept focusing on Warren…

—

Jubilee dragged her friends outside to the front yard. She had Jean use her powers to keep them from running off anywhere. 

A few people were watching, but she couldn’t have cared less.

“Okay! What the hell happened? And none of the bullshit you told (Y/N) earlier! I know you took Warren upstairs, Jess. I know you didn’t tell (Y/N) we changed our group costume at the last minute, and I usually don’t say this kind of stuff, and I've held it back for (Y/N)’s sake, especially since she felt bad for you! And asked if you could do a group costume with us.” Jubilee was practically fuming, sparks almost igniting in her hands. 

“You’re kind of a bitch.” 

“Jubilee! Warren tried to fuck me! He was drunk and not acting right, and he started kissing me and stuff!”

“Warren doesn’t drink!” 

Kurt glanced at Peter and Scott before speaking up, “Warren had one drink…”

“Okay? That’s not going to get him shitfaced enough to fuck you!” Jubilee stared at Warren, trying to see if he’d finally speak.    

“I was a little tipsy, and Jessie said you and (Y/N) were upstairs. It got dark, and I thought I heard (Y/N) talking to me, but I think it was just Jess. She started kissing me, and it took me a minute, but I realized it wasn’t (Y/N). Then you guys came in.”

Everyone was in shock about Warren’s side of the story. 

“Isn’t it illegal to lie about this kind of stuff… and to kiss someone without consent?” Kurt whispered to Scott.

“Probably.” 

“He’s lying!” Jessie exclaimed. 

“Jean, read my mind. Read Jessie’s. I’m not lying!”

“He’s a monster! Why should you believe him?!” Jessie spat.

Warren was disgusted by her words. “You tried to fuck me!” 

“And with all your weird questions and comments about their sex life, I’m not surprised you kissed Warren,” Jubilee stated angrily.

“He kissed me back!” 

“He thought you were someone else!” 

“Guys! Shut up!” Jean told them. “I’m trying to focus!” 

She dove into Warren’s mind to see the events play out before her. She did the same when in Jessie’s mind. 

“Warren was telling the truth.”

—

As (Y/N) walked into her room, every plant in there withered and died. 

Typically, she’d fall to the ground and sob for accidentally killing what she practically considered her children, but she felt too numb. She kicked off her shoes and flopped onto her bed. The vines around her bed didn’t even move out of her way. They were lifeless and still, just like her.

(Y/N) was restless trying to sleep. She only slept for about fifteen minutes, and when she awoke, she was covered in ivy… poison ivy. 

Most of the time, when she was restless, she’d grow a watermelon or a pumpkin in her sleep, but this was new. She didn’t want to spread it to Ororo or let her see that she killed all the plants in the room. 

She grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, scribbling down a note for Ororo, telling her what happened and for her to not come in until the ivy went away, and it was safe. 

She quickly tapped the note to the door and locked herself inside. 

The rest of the gang quickly headed home. They didn’t notice all the decaying plants outside. 

Scott parked in the garage. 

“Hey, Kurt…”

“Ja, Ororo?”

“I need to check on some of the plants in the attic. I didn’t have enough time to water them all before we went out. Can you take me up there?” 

Kurt nodded, “Yeah, of course.” 

They were gone in the blink of an eye. 

Everyone else was lingering around, deciding on what to do. 

“I’m going to go talk to (Y/N)—“

A blood piercing scream interrupted Warren’s words. 

“Oh my god! Is that Ororo?” 

“I think so!” 

Jean used her telepathic powers to see what was wrong. 

“All the plants… they’re dead!” 

“Jean, check the fridge. See if the fruits and vegetables are alright,” Xavier instructed.

She opened the fridge, and to her horror, the produce rotted.

“But— I went with Sean and Raven to the grocery store two days ago! It shouldn’t have all gone bad.” Peter was puzzled.

“Do you think it was (Y/N)?” Jubilee asked. 

“I’m gonna go talk to her.” Warren head off to her dorm room. 

He felt so guilty and heartbroken. Even though it technically wasn’t his fault, he felt pathetic for not being able to tell his girlfriend apart from a stranger in the dark. 

He kissed Jessie! Nothing was going to undo that. 

Warren stopped at (Y/N)’s door, about to knock, but he was distracted by the note on it. He removed it off the door and read it. 

“I’m not feeling great right now, and I accidentally grew some poison ivy when I took a nap. I’m trying to get it to go away, but for now, people shouldn’t come in. I don’t want it to spread around. Also, I killed all the plants in our room. They’re going to be fine, but for now, I can’t help them.”

Warren knocked on the door, holding the note in his hand. “(Y/N)?” 

“You can’t come in here.” 

“Can you open the door?” He pleaded. 

“No, you can’t get close to me. The ivy came from me. I don’t want it to spread.”

“I won’t come in.” 

“Warren,” She cried. “Can’t you just wait?!” 

“I want— I need you to know what actually happened.”

It was silent from (Y/N)’s side of the door.

“(Y/N)?...” 

She didn’t respond, but Warren heard her unlocking and opening the door. He took a few steps back to respect her boundaries and commands. 

He took in her appearance. She switched from her pink ladies outfit to some pajamas. She didn’t wash her makeup off makeup, so it smeared all over her face.

Her hair was messy and her eyes… her eyes were pitch black. 

“I went to go look for Peter. I looked in the kitchen and didn’t see him. The new kid— Bobby— he gave me a drink, and I didn’t know how to explain I didn’t want it. Kurt teleported me to the back porch when we got word Peter was outside. I hadn’t eaten anything since lunch, so I felt a little sick. Peter came over to us and noticed I looked bad and had me force down whatever was in my cup. He assumed it was water or something else non-alcoholic, cause I don’t drink.”

“I was like, ‘this is fine. It’s one drink of vodka, cranberry sprite, some hooch, and like whatever else was in the monster mix.’ Then we took photos in our Queen costumes and goofed around for an hour. I was getting a little tipsy, but I didn’t think it was that bad. Jessie came in, saying you were looking for me. And she just dragged me upstairs. It was extremely dark, and my brain was getting a little fuzzy, and Jessie shifted her voice to sound like yours… She led me into a dark room and said she wanted to like, hook up, or do stuff. I tried to explain to her I’d been drinking, but she started kissing me before I could.” 

(Y/N) stood on the other side of the door, listening inventively to Warren. 

“I kissed her back. Then I realized it wasn’t you— it didn’t feel right— and then you walked in.” 

(Y/N) sighed. She was sure he was telling the truth. Their friends wouldn’t let him come up and see her otherwise. 

“I am so sorry…” 

“Yeah, um… Jessie’s kind of… kind of mean. But like— I just— I got so upset because of a lot of different things. Um, Jessie had been asking and saying stuff about our relationship— saying like, we should have sex after the party, I should hoe it up more, or trying to get me to accuse you of not trusting me cause you didn’t ask me to do your makeup… and I just thought she was being weird or whatever, cause like, those were the vibes she’d given me almost all the time. I never thought she simply wouldn’t like me. Especially since I asked if she wanted to do a group costume with Jubilee and me… and I just—“ (Y/N) scrunched her nose. “I don’t let stuff like that get to me, but… but I’m so inexperienced, and you’re not. I don’t really care if people talk about whatever they do behind closed doors. I don’t care about that… I just don’t want people interpreting that I’m like the Virgin Mary, or there’s a problem in our relationship, cause there’s not. There’s not!” 

(Y/N) started crying. She was crying and shivering, and poison ivy started growing and wrapping itself around her body. 

“I’m not mad at you. I just…” She sighed. 

“...Am I not enough?”

“What?” Warren was confused.

“Would you leave me for her? Or anyone else?”

“No. Never— I should have done more, I shouldn’t have followed her or let myself believe it was you— I’m so fucking stupid.” 

Her voice was stern. “No. You’re not stupid. I just… I just need some time to think and be alone right now.”

“Whatever you want,” Warren nodded timidly. “I’ll tell Ororo she needs to sleep with Jean and Jubilee for the night… Although I doubt she’ll leave the attic.” 

“What happened in the attic?”

“All the plants in the attic died… She’s extremely torn up about it… (Y/N)?”

(Y/N) zoned out a little, her heart was pounding heavily in her chest, she was sweating, quivering, and all she could focus on was how she killed everything. Everything she loved and touched, she destroyed it. She couldn’t control herself, and she was hurting the world around her. She heard Warren yelling her name, but she couldn’t find herself to respond. Her breath was quick and eradicating. 

Warren was trying his best to respect her wishes by not coming to close, but he had to help her. 

“(Y/N)— (Y/N), baby, look at me, look at me,” Warren stepped closer to her. “Sit down, sit down, okay?” He helped her sit down on the ground. She leaned against the right side of the doorframe. 

“Um, I need you to— I need you to focus on my voice. Focus on me, okay?” 

“I just— my entire life—“ She broke into a sob. 

“Hey, hey, hey, you’re okay. The plants are going to be okay. We’re going to get through this. I need you to breathe. Focus on my breathing, okay?” 

“I can’t!” The ivy from her body was overgrowing rapidly, clinging onto Warren. 

“Yes, you can. Just focus, you’re going to be okay.” He put one of his hands on her arm to stop her from shaking. Her muscles tensed at first, but they slowly relaxed under his touch.

“You’re doing good, just breathe in slowly, okay? Copy me—“ Warren slowly inhaled air. (Y/N) tried to copy him, but it didn’t help her out. The ivy kept growing around the two of them, getting tight as it tangled between them. 

Warren had to move closer to (Y/N), to try and make more space. He wrapped his arms around her body. The out of control vines caused his grip to tighten on her. 

The feelings of his arms pressing against her helped (Y/N) focus in on something.  

“(Y/N)? Hey, it’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay. Close your eyes and just focus on my voice, okay? Can you do that for me?”  

“I…” (Y/N) felt dizzy and nauseous like it was just piling up inside her. 

Warren coaxed her into slowing her breathing down, but her heart was pounding. Every breath she took felt shaky. 

Yet, the ivy slowed down, wrapping itself around Warren and (Y/N) like old stone walls. 

She was slightly shaking still, but her mind wasn’t getting as overwhelmed anymore.

“Hey, hey… Sweetheart, it’s okay. You’re going to be okay… the ivy stopped. It’s okay.” 

“It— it did?” 

Warren nodded, “Uh, huh. Everything’s going to be alright.” (Y/N) slowly stopped shaking and buried herself into Warren’s chest. 

“Do you want to get some water or maybe take a shower?” 

“Um, yeah, but I can’t— I can’t get rid of the poison ivy… Like I can’t—“

“That’s okay. We can just leave it.”

“Oh, okay…” 

“Let’s go shower in my room, okay?” 

She nodded. 

“Can you walk, okay?” He asked her. 

“Um, I think— I don’t know— I’m sorry.” 

“Hey, no, no, no. It’s okay. I can carry you.” 

Warren carefully scooped her up in his arms. He looked at her once over before heading to his room. 

He set her down on the edge of his bed. “Do you want me to help you get undressed?” 

“I can do it.” She answered in a small voice. 

Warren nodded, “Okay, I’m gonna get undressed too.” 

Warren didn’t face her as he stripped off what little clothing he had on and threw it in a small pile. 

“Is it okay if I take my underwear off?” (Y/N) nervously asked. 

“Yeah, we’re going to shower. It’s okay.” 

(Y/N) left her clothes on Warren’s bed. She slowly got up, and Warren quickly rushed to her aide. She used him for support as they walked into his bathroom. 

He turned the shower on and let it heat up for a minute before stepping in. 

(Y/N) leaned against Warren’s chest as the water rained on them both. 

“Is the water warm enough? Is it too hot?” 

“It’s fine,” She mumbled. 

Warren nodded, understanding she didn’t really want to talk. 

He grabbed his shampoo from the edge of the tub and poured some into his hands. Warren rubbed his hands together before massaging the shampoo into (Y/N)’s hair. It was hard to rake through, her hair was thick and tangled, but he tried his best. 

He applied a little conditioner to her ends. (Y/N) hummed against his chest. 

He chuckled to himself, “You asleep?”

“Mhmm…” She half-heartedly replied.  

“Wanna go to bed?” He asked. (Y/N) nodded, and Warren felt it against his chest.

He washed the conditioner out of her hair and turned the water off. 

He grabbed a towel and helped (Y/N) dry off. When he finished, (Y/N) sat on the edge of the tub and watched Warren dry off. 

His eyes caught (Y/N)’s in the mirror. She looked better than before, a bit more relaxed, but still nervous. 

“I’m really sorry for what happened at the party…”

“I’m sorry about… you know…” 

Warren nodded, “Yeah, um, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. And, and I’m here for you— always. If you want to talk about it, or not.”

“Same goes for you.” 

Warren nodded, “Yeah, yeah, um, let me get us some clothes.” Warren stepped out of the bathroom for a moment. 

He gave (Y/N) one of his much larger sweatshirts without holes in the back and a pair of boxers. “Is this okay?” He asked. 

“Yeah, um, these are fine. Thanks.”

Warren nodded and stepped out of the bathroom again, so (Y/N) could get dressed in private. 

Warren was planning to sleep on the floor for (Y/N)’s sake, as not to make her uncomfortable, but she objected to it.

“I… I don’t want to be alone.” 

“I’m right here,” Warren was quick to wrap (Y/N) up in his arms, having them both get under the blankets on his bed. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? You’re safe…” 

“Promise?” She asked, looking up at him. Her eyes weren’t entirely black anymore, but they were very gray. He could have sworn they were pink for a moment, but they were just grey. 

“I promise.” 

(Y/N) was reassured by his words and snuggled into Warren’s chest. His wings wrapped around them, almost like a cocoon. 

“Can… Can you kiss me, please?” (Y/N) asked. “Just like, my forehead or something…” 

“Of course.” Warren laid a small kiss on the top of her head before whispering, “Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight, Angel.”

[peaceoutofthepieces]

chapter 22.5

The Stars Look Very Different

Social Media AU

chapter 22

tag list: @yellowballoon @cleocc @skaming-myself @boldlydeepestcupcake @pduwd @notallthereyall @gingerhead007 @groeneweiden @nyttvera @painfully-oblivious @zoenneforever @curiouskopf @engelkeijsers @xiaomailab @honeyandsinn @lauren-bk @saraben00 @tailsbeth @boysrunaway @howlingsaturn @menamesniall

again this isn’t proofread so, sorry for any mistakes!

~^~

Sander was apprehensive as he answered Robbe’s call, and when, after some incoherent mumbles and background music, it wasn’t Robbe’s voice on the other line, he realised he was right to worry.

“Sander?” Lucas asked.

“Luc?”

“I don’t have time to question this. Robbe’s asking for you. He’s drunk and we need to take him home and he won’t budge. Listen, can you just come here? You know I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was necessary.”

Sander was already pulling on a hoodie to go with his sweats. “Yeah, I’m coming, but is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’s just,” Lucas paused, and Sander could hear his muffled voice along with what sounded like Jens, and then Robbe—saying his name. Calling it towards the phone. There was more fumbling, and then Lucas was back. “Fuck, he’s just an annoying drunk. Why’d I never know he was this clingy?”

“Send me the address, I’ll be there soon.”

He only took a few seconds to wait for Lucas’s affirmative response before hanging up. He was sure if he let the conversation go beyond the apparent urgent need to get him there, Lucas would have moved on to a much more unwanted subject.

Plus, he was in a hurry.

It took time to slip out of his room and shut the door quietly behind him, and then longer to creep over the creaks in the hallway. The keys jingled too loud when he picked them up and he froze, waiting a moment in the silence, before continuing on and collecting his shoes and jacket from the hallway. He stepped outside before putting any of them on, and he had to quickly stuff his arms into the sleeves and pull the jacket tight around his chest against the bite of the night air. He stuffed his feet into his shoes—sneakers instead of his Docs—and checked his phone to find Lucas had sent him their location, this time on his own mobile.

Nerves quickened his step as the realisation set in that Robbe had been looking for him, to the extent he’d asked Lucas and then tried to call. To the extent that he’d forgotten no one was supposed to know that he even knew Sander.

He wasn’t ready for the earful he was sure to get from Lucas, but he needed to get to Robbe.

Thankfully, the club wasn’t far from his own house. Well within walking distance and through main streets, bright enough under the standing lights that Sander didn’t worry so much about what might be hiding around corners. He was glad, because he wasn’t paying quite as much attention as he probably should have. His mind was already a few streets ahead, waiting for him with Robbe.

He realised about a block away that he didn’t even know how to get inside, and then he caught sight of a raven-haired head already outside and almost sighed in relief. Jens. Beyond him was Lucas, and then…

Robbe noticed Sander before Sander could even see him, and he’d already barreled into his arms by the time Lucas and Jens saw him.

Sander wrapped his arms around Robbe automatically, heart clenching at how uncharacteristic it was. Robbe was clingy, but Sander had never seen him be openly emotional. It seemed that’s how he was, now, as he clung tightly to Sander’s shoulders and breathed out a relieved sigh against his neck.

“Hey,” Sander started softly. “Hey, Robbe, you okay?”

Robbe took a while to respond, and even then it was simply, “You came.”

“Of course.”

Sander looked up to find Lucas and Jens hadn’t moved, but they were watching them. Jens seemed surprised, but not disapproving. Lucas...it was impossible to decipher how Lucas was feeling. His face was carefully blank, and he did nothing in response to Sander’s gaze other than nod at Robbe pointedly and mouth ‘home’.

“Hey,” Sander prodded Robbe’s side, making him jerk. “Will you let me take you home?”

“You’re coming?”

“Yeah, I’m taking you. Me and Jens and Lucas are all going to be with you. Okay?”

Robbe made a soft whine of protest. “Just take me back with you.”

“I can’t, Robbe. My parents are there, and they don’t even know I’m here.”

That only worked to perk Robbe up, and he tilted his head back to grin up at Sander. “So you snuck out. You can sneak us back in.”

“Don’t you want to sleep in your own bed though? Then you won’t have to worry about slipping out tomorrow either.”

Robbe still didn’t look convinced.

Sander pouted at him while simultaneously softening his gaze, and then he added a small, “Please?”

It didn’t even take a second for Sander to know he got him. Robbe’s stern expression melted and he was tilting forward on his toes to smile drunkenly at him. Sander could smell the alcohol on his breath. It left him torn between wanting to cringe away and wanting to kiss him into further oblivion.

“Okay,” Robbe said simply, swaying forward and pressing a chaste kiss to Sander’s lips. It wouldn’t have been chaste, however, if Sander hadn’t carefully pushed him away, disguising the move by tucking Robbe under his arm immediately after. Robbe, thankfully, made no protest, cuddling closely into Sander’s side and leaving Sander to deal with their friends.

Sander drew him forward and carefully avoided looking at Lucas, choosing to watch Jens instead. He still didn’t seem angry, or anything like that, but there was something more calculating about his gaze as he ran his eyes over his friend before settling them on Sander. “I’m not going to question it,” Jens said simply. “Because we don’t have time right now. But I have a lot of questions.”

It was worrying that Robbe didn’t react in the slightest to what should have been the most familiar voice of the three. He just tucked his arm around Sander’s waist and nuzzled his face into his shoulder and let himself be guided along.

Sander chanced asking, “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Lucas muttered. “Are you sure you can manage him the whole way?”

“I can walk,” Robbe grumbled, and Sander was glad that he was right. He was leaning on Sander, of course, but he wasn’t giving him all of his weight. Sander mostly offered him some extra balance.

“Why is he so drunk, though?” Sander tried again.

“It’s Robbe,” Jens shrugged. “He knows his limits. He hasn’t thrown up or fallen flat on his face or passed out.”

“And as long as you can say that, he meets your standard of acceptable, right?” Lucas said. There was an undertone of scorn in his voice that Sander had heard before, his certain level of sarcasm, though he’d never imagined it would be directed at Jens.

Jens shook his head and passed an arm around his shoulders. “That’s not what I meant. I’m just saying, he could be worse. But I agree he usually...still has some level of control.”

Robbe lifted his head to mumble, “Can you stop fucking talking about me like I’m not here? Jesus, this is why I didn’t want to go home with you in the first place.”

“Hey,” Sander soothed. “Sorry. Are you gonna tell me what’s going on, then?”

Robbe dropped his head back down on his shoulder. “No.”

Jens snorted, unsurprised, and Sander bit back a sigh. He could see Lucas stealing glances at him from the corner of his eye as they walked. Sander didn’t look at him, but kept Robbe close to his side, leaning down occasionally to kiss the top of his head or whisper a short reassurance. Robbe seemed to melt back into himself with every step, easing up under Sander’s touch as Lucas seemed to be with Jens. Despite the irritation he’d appeared to harbour at the beginning of the night, he was smiling now as Jens grinned down at him, mumbling something, bumping their heads together until Lucas was huffing a small laugh.

Then he would steal another glance at Sander over Robbe’s head, and his smile would slip.

Lucas let them into the apartment after a slightly more difficult trudge up the stairs, and Sander escaped easily with the excuse of taking Robbe to his room.

Robbe had tensed up as they returned, but his shoulders drooped the instant the door shut behind them. Sander helped him slip out of his coat, and then averted his eyes as Robbe carelessly stripped out of his jeans and crawled into his bed.

Sander watched him, half-expecting him to shut his eyes instantly and go to sleep. But he stared at Sander instead, eyes half-lidded, and then held out a hand. Sander couldn’t help but smile as he moved to sit next to him, one leg tucked up and the other over the edge of the bed, foot just brushing the floor. Robbe continued watching him, pupils dilated and worried, and Sander passed a hand through his hair in comfort.

“What’s wrong, Robbe?” Sander asked gently.

Robbe licked his lips, looking up at him through fluttering lashes. He let out a whispered, “Are you mad?”

“No? I was worried when you stopped messaging me. I’m still worried. But I’m not mad.”

“But they weren’t supposed to know.”

Sander gave his hair a light tug. “No. But we were going to tell them tomorrow anyway. It’s okay. But Robbe, what happened? Why did you stop replying to me?”

Robbe dragged himself closer by curling an arm around Sander’s waist. He pressed his face to Sander’s hip before offering an answer. “You weren’t going to come. So I went to ask Lucas to ask you.”

Sander closed his eyes and dragged a hand down his face, sighing in relief. That wasn’t ideal—none of this was—but it was better than what he’d expected. Robbe was known for his less-than-safe ‘party tricks’. Sander was glad he’d just spent the missing half an hour arguing with Lucas and giving them away.

He was glad that, instead of turning to his usual thrills, Robbe had gone looking for him.

“I’m sorry. I should have known when you were asking so much that something was wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Robbe mumbled.

Sander twirled his hair around his fingers and scratched lightly at his scalp and didn’t sigh. “Okay.”

“Can you stay? Please, Sander.”

Sander gazed down at him for a moment. His skin was flushed from the alcohol, cheeks a rosy red, but he was still pressing close and stealing into Sander’s warmth. His breaths came heavier than usual, but still easy, still even, and his lashes fluttered with each one, spread delicately even as he squeezed his eyes shut. Sander slipped away from him and heard his sharp inhale before ducking down to pull off his shoes. Then he lay down next to Robbe and pulled him towards his chest, where the older boy settled with a shaky sigh.

“I’ll have to go home before my parents notice I’m gone. But I can stay until you go to sleep.”

Robbe curled his fingers tightly into the fabric of his hoodie and nodded. Sander moved a hand back into his hair, letting it drift absentmindedly through the curls as Robbe’s warmth seeped through him. Even with the thick duvet separating them, Sander could feel the length of the boy pressed up against him, knees pressing into his thigh and then toes poking his ankles as Robbe stretched himself out and cuddled closer.

Sander had known Robbe was fairly free with his affection when it came to touch, that he could be clingy, but this seemed different. Robbe was holding onto him tightly, but he was quiet. Reserved. He appeared at once more vulnerable and more inaccessible than Sander had seen him before.

“I’d always come if you called, Robbe.” Sander released the words into the dark as he trailed his fingers down Robbe’s neck. “I’d follow you anywhere.”

Robbe swallowed and snuggled closer and didn’t respond. Sander didn’t mind. He was content to hold him to his heart and reassure himself that he was safe. He’d been scared, genuinely worried, when Robbe had gone radio silent on him. He’d been seconds away from calling Lucas himself, to order him to find the boy and make sure he was safe.

“You’re like my star,” Robbe mumbled, after Sander had thought he’d already fallen asleep, startling him into more silence. “Do you know that? You’re the brightest person I’ve ever met.”

Sander stared at the ceiling and searched for a response. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. There was nothing but darkness surrounding Sander. Swallowing him, consuming him from the inside out. Sander had been worried nothing could break through it, until Robbe had touched him. Robbe was the bright one. Not him.

“You’re an actual good star,” Robbe continued.

At that, Sander finally looked down at him. “Like you?”

Robbe made a sound of protest. “No. You know like, when you go camping, and the sky is really dark but really clear and all the stars are extra bright. You’re one of those stars. You’re not polluted.”

Oh, Robbe.

If only he knew.

“You’re not polluted, Robbe,” Sander argued. “Well, you might not be the cleanest right now, what with the alcohol and sweat and weed…”

Robbe huffed, and it was close enough to a laugh for Sander to relax, to exhale in relief. “You’re too good for me, Sander. Everything’s too good for me. I don’t want to pollute you.”

Sander shifted around, ignoring Robbe’s protest as he had to move from his chest. He lay on his side and cupped Robbe’s cheek, forcing him to face him, waiting patiently for him to meet his eye. “Robbe. Nothing is too good for you. You’re the best thing in my life. I swear.”

Robbe’s gaze immediately dropped, and his cheeks flushed further. He leaned closer, until his forehead pressed to the bridge of Sander’s nose, and then he slowly dragged his face up once more. Sander breathed out as their noses brushed together and Robbe leaned in to kiss him softly, hand moving to his cheek. Sander allowed it, this time, under the privacy of the dark, but pulled away as Robbe parted his lips and attempted to get closer.

“You’re still super drunk,” Sander reminded him. But it was nothing more than a whisper, not enough to pop the intimate bubble they’d created.

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” Robbe protested, and Sander huffed, but allowed himself to be kissed again, close-lipped and slow. Robbe was the one to move away this time, just enough to tuck his face into Sander’s neck and press a kiss to the skin there. “I don’t want to wake up without you.”

Sander kissed his forehead and hugged him closer. “Someday you won’t have to. Soon. I promise.”

Robbe nodded, and didn’t argue, and Sander lay and held him until his breath evened out and he was sound asleep.

Even then, he waited a few moments, making sure Robbe wouldn’t wake up the instant he moved. He extracted himself carefully, slipping his arm out from under him and sitting up to stuff his feet back into his shoes. He turned back to watch him for another minute, but he hadn’t twitched. His chest rose and fell in an easy rhythm, and his expression was one of peace. It only made Sander’s chest ache more. There was nothing he wanted more than to stay.

He found a small pad of sticky notes on Robbe’s desk and scribbled a note on the top one.

I wish I could stay, too. You look beautiful when you sleep.

He peeled the note off and stuck it to the top of Robbe’s locker.

He’d forgotten all about Lucas until he found him waiting in the kitchen.

He looked up at Sander as he stepped through the door, and stared at him for a moment.

“You’re sleeping with him.”

It wasn’t a question. Lucas said it almost as if he was rhyming off a fact.

“No,” Sander denied immediately. “We’ve never even done anything more than kiss. We’re dating.”

“Robbe doesn’t date, Sander.”

“Okay, well is it so hard to believe I might be different?”

Lucas tilted his head disbelieving. Disapprovingly.

“I thought you liked Robbe,” Sander said. “You know him even better than some of the others, don’t you? You know he’s not a bad person.”

Lucas softened. “Of course I know that. I love Robbe. But that doesn’t mean he’s a good person for you.”

Sander closed his eyes, curling his hands into fists at his sides. He knew this would be Lucas’s stance, and he’d told himself over and over that he wouldn’t jump to defense in the face of it. It would only work to make Lucas more sure he was right. The best way for Sander to go about it was to slip through the gaps in Lucas’s defensive armour and appeal to the heart underneath.

“Even you said the other day,” he said lowly. “You said I’ve seemed better, lately. I’ve been with Robbe. That’s what’s making me better. That’s what’s making me happy. And I knew that you would feel this way. I’ve had the doubts myself, okay? That’s why I didn’t want to tell you right away. Until I was sure.”

It seemed to work, slightly. A wider gap appeared in the armour. “And that’s now?”

“Well, it was going to be tomorrow when we were supposed to meet up. Or….later today I guess. I wasn’t going to keep it from you much longer.”

“How long have you even known him?”

Sander thought, mind shifting back. “He first messaged me about three weeks ago?”

“You’ve only known him three weeks? And you’re dating?”

“I know, okay? I know what you’re thinking. But why is it any different to you and Jens and all the ‘love at first sight’ you preached about? We’ve known of each other for longer. We just only started getting to know each other a few weeks ago.”

Lucas considered him, then sighed. “I trust you. I do. And I even trust Robbe. But it worries me. Sander, does he even know? About any of it?”

Sander looked down.

“That’s what I thought,” Lucas sighed again. “You know you’re going to have to tell him. If it’s really going to be a serious thing, he has to know, Sander. It won’t be like finding out he doesn’t know your favourite colour a few months down the line.”

“You think I like feeling like I’m lying to him? I hate this, Lucas. I’ve hated all of it for months. Robbe is the only thing that’s made me feel normal in months. Please, Luc, just try to understand it from my perspective.”

Lucas stood up and came towards him, setting two soothing hands on his shoulders. “I do understand. Okay? I get it. I didn’t mean to push.”

Sander ducked his head, then nodded, and Lucas pulled him into a tight hug.

“I told you I’m always here and I meant it. I’m proud of you, Sander. And I am happy for you. I’m really happy you’re happy.”

Sander wound his arms around his waist and clung to him for a moment. “Thank you.”

“Always.”

Lucas gave him another squeeze before letting him go and then letting out a sigh, retrieving his glass of water from the table and nodding towards the door. “Okay. Are you okay to get home? I can give you some money for a taxi.”

Sander shook his head. “I can’t take that.”

Lucas rolled his eyes, mumbling a soft ‘wait’ before moving towards the counter and pulling a cookie jar towards the edge. He opened it and retrieved a twenty-euro note before returning to press it into Sander’s hand.

“It won’t be that much,” Sander protested.

“Just in case,” Lucas waved him away. “It’s late, and I want to believe I’m not failing you completely.”

Sander rolled his eyes, but he lurched forward to squeeze him into a hug again, and Lucas responded easily, and Sander finally felt at ease.

~^~

chapter 23

[kiribaku-queen]

Home [9/10]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader, Kirishima x reader

Fluff, angst, werewolf!au

TRIGGER WARNINGS: mentions of mental health, mentions of suicide and self harm, depressive episode (might make you feel really sad because it made me depressed af), might break your heart and cry your eyes out

Word count: 4.3k

A/N: Please read the trigger warnings! I originally created this series for this chapter specifically. So I apologize in advanced if this made you uncomfortable, didn’t go with the flow of the story or made you feel really sad. This scenario originally popped up in my head because I was feeling down and decided to write it down. I’ve toned it down a lot because I was afraid and am still afraid it’s too much for some people to handle. But nonetheless, I hope you enjoy the chapter and let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist!

Summary: Being called the beauty of the clan isn’t as nice as it sounds. The beauty of the clan is supposed to exude confidence, power, and well, beauty. You were quite the opposite, only possessing one of those traits. Yet, the older you got, the more you fit into the role you were given. After your brother and all the boys of age come back from their training period, it was time to find a mate. But who will steal your heart? Is it Bakugou, the rising leader of the pack, or is it Kirishima, the personal guard and the strongest in the pack?

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]

“Where did you go?” you questioned Kirishima with sleepy eyes as he was quietly entering the house. It was well past midnight and you could have sworn he went to bed a long time ago. Yet here he was, wide awake and coming back from somewhere. Kirishima was frozen in his steps. He needed to make up an excuse and fast. He was usually very careful to not make any noise when he sneaks out, so naturally, he was panicking and thinking of anything to say.

“I was… just getting some fresh air. I had a lot on my mind,” Kirishima lied. He slowly walked up to you and ruffled your hair a bit. “Let’s go back to sleep.” He turned you around and led you back to your room. But as soon as he walked up to you, you smelled it. He smelled like Bakugou and… someone else. It couldn’t be. There was no way. Uraraka?  Why did he smell like both of them? You tried to push it away, thinking that you were just imagining things because you were so exhausted. But that didn’t stop the sharp pain that you felt in your chest.

You really wanted it to not be true and that you were hallucinating, but that was getting really hard to believe when you started seeing that he would sneak out weekly. You purposely stayed up to see if he would leave, and he always did. And every time he would come back, he would be smelling like her. It left a bad taste in your mouth. You didn’t want to believe that he was seeing her. You didn’t want to believe that Uraraka was taking another person away from you. You didn’t want to feel unwanted again.

Instead of dwelling on your feelings and activating your quirk, you decided to put all your feelings into baking. You searched the cabinets and find out that you were only missing a few ingredients to your sugary treat. You were putting your shoes on and ready to head out the door when Kirishima came up behind you.

“Heading out?” he asks. You hum in response, not really happy to see him. Even though he doesn’t know that you know that he’s been sneaking out, you still felt upset and betrayed. So you were acting indifferent towards him. “Let me join you.” Kirishima starts to put his shoes on to head out with you. But you stop him.

“It’s okay. I only need a get a few items anyway,” you tried to convince him to stay but he denied your request.

“How could I let you go alone? Not very manly,” he says and beats you out the door. You sigh. Kirishima was so head strong that no matter how hard you would try, he would never listen because his heart was already set on something. So you had no choice but to let him join so for a quick errand.

You both headed into the market which was already busy with people. Alright, you were going to head it, get what you need and head right back home. No time for dilly-dallying. Sugar, sugar, sugar. All you needed was sugar but why couldn’t you find any sugar? Your eyes scanned the different stands present and was unable to find any sugar. Until one white packet caught your eye. You sighed in relief. One packet of sugar left. You quickly jogged over there before anyone else could get their hands on it and right when you put your hands on the bag, another hand was already on top of yours. Both you and the stranger retracted your hands, flustered.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized and looked up at the stranger who was grabbing at the same bag. Or so you thought it was a stranger. Soft, crimson eyes met yours as you both stared at each other in shock. How was it that you kept seeing him? Bakugou took the bag of sugar and extended his hand to give it to you. You looked at the bag and back at him. He was already looking away, waiting for you to take the bag from him. Feeling guilty for taking the last bag of sugar, you reluctantly took it and then it was just you two standing there awkwardly.

“Did you find the sugar, honey bear?” Uraraka’s high pitched voice echoed through your ears. Honey bear? Give me a break. You rolled your eyes as Uraraka clung onto Bakugou’s arm from behind.

“(y/n), there you are. Don’t run off like that,” Kirishima jogged up to you with concerned eyes. He spots the other two that you were with and frowns. Shit, he thought to himself. He tried so hard last time to try to get you guys to avoid them but how was it that they were always showing up? He glances at Uraraka and she was already eyeing him. She squinted at him, letting him know that he needed to concentrate on the mission. Although it was small exchange of communication, you caught them staring at each other. And another sharp pain stabbed at you.

Uraraka glances at the white bag in your hands and tugs harder on Bakugou’s arm.

“Was that the last sugar?” she asks Bakugou who was looking at you with sad eyes. His silence gave her the answer. “(y/n) dear, do you mind giving us the last bag of sugar? We probably need it more than you do anyway,” Uraraka gave you a fake smile and extends her hand to grab the sugar away from you. Before you could say a snarky remark back, Bakugou was forcing her hand down and turning her away from you guys.

“We can find another bag,” he comments and drags her away.

“But we’ve been looking forever!” she complains and is eventually dragged to another stall to look for their bag of sugar. But not before Uraraka gives Kirishima another look and signals for him to wrap it up. You see her signaling to Kirishima but take that as a secret message between them two only. You clenched your jaw because you were so angry. You turned around to head home, steam running out your ears. Kirishima was quick to follow, sensing anger coming from you.

You slammed your groceries down on the counter and continued to gather your ingredients in silence. Kirishima was standing to the side, watching and observing your every move. He noticed that you were avoiding him and acting different around him lately but he didn’t know why. And after that encounter with Uraraka and Bakugou at the market, your mood turned sour and now you were taking your feelings out on the baking you were doing. Kirishima was deciding on what was the best way to approach you. He wanted to ask you what was wrong, but he didn’t want to bark up the wrong tree. He could let you be, but would that make you even more angry that he was ignoring you? He wanted to comfort you but if you were mad at him, did you even want him near you? He didn’t want to act normal and pretend that he didn’t know what was wrong. Fuck it…

Kirishima slowly walked up to you as you were prepping at your wet and dry ingredients together. He wraps his arms around your waist cautiously and rests his head on top of yours. You sigh and put whatever you were doing down and rested your hands on the counter.

“Why are you mad at me,” he asks softly against your scalp so that only you could hear.

“How could you not know?” you whispered back, close to being in tears. Talking about your problems was one thing, but talking about it while you were still emotional? Automatic waterfalls. But you were going to do your best so that you didn’t cry. You turned around to face him. His grip on you loosened but his hands still rested on your hips. “Honestly, I’m more than angry with you. I feel hurt and betrayed,” you confessed. Kirishima furrowed his eyebrows with concern and he could feel his heart squeeze. You felt that way because of him? That wasn’t a good feeling.

“Tell me what I did wrong. Let me fix it,” he says, determined as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. But you push his hand away, which makes Kirishima frown.

“Can you really fix your relationship with Uraraka?” that question catches him off guard. He was confused by your question but it also made him anxious. Did you figure him out?

“Uraraka? I don’t even know her,” Kirishima lied straight through his teeth. And you could tell. Judging from your expression, you were deeply hurt by his response.

“Now you’re lying to me?” you asked in disbelief. Before he got a chance to respond, you were pushing his hands off you and started walking away.

“(y/n),” Kirishima tried to grab your hand but you stopped him.

“No! You’re lying to me, Kirishima. I already know about you guys. I know you’ve been sneaking out to see her. I saw you two looking at each other earlier and I saw her giving you signs. I may not know what it means but it’s already enough that you come home smelling like her. You know what she did to me yet you… you still,” tears streamed down your face and you bit your lip out of frustration. You were beyond hurt. You couldn’t continue speaking but there was just so much to say. You were sobbing and letting it all out at this point. Kirishima could cry from seeing you break down. The sight of seeing you being completely vulnerable in front of him broke his heart but also knowing that this was all because of him made him feel an asshole. He didn’t know how it got this far, but he never intended to see you hurt from his actions.

“(y/n), me and her are nothing. There is nothing going on between us, so,” Kirishima tried to approach you again with open arms but being so emotional, you pushed him away from you by his chest, rejecting him.

“NO! I can’t trust you! You’ve been lying to me this whole time. Was I just a play thing for you? Did you just use me as a past time so that you could be with her? Was that it? Or were you just jealous that Bakugou had everything? He had everything you didn’t,” you started yelling and spitting insults like they were water. All you saw was red and didn’t even know what you were saying. But it flipped a switch in Kirishima. He was becoming impatient and his eye twitched at the mention of Bakugou. “Uraraka is his now so you decided to throw me away so that you can have her? You never liked me. You were just using me to get back at Bakugou. God, you’re such an ass!” you screamed and started punching him multiple times in the chest. He stopped your hands midair as you just continued to be hysteric. He waited until you calmed down. Heavy breathing and sobs were the only sound occupying their ears.

“Call me all the names you want. Accuse me all you want, but maybe you should also be truthful about your feelings,” Kirishima suddenly says. Upon hearing that, you stop crying momentarily to look at him, confused, shocked and in disbelief. Suddenly, his eyes were cold and didn’t convey any feelings whatsoever. His eyes were dead and stared at you with cold eyes. “We’ve been flirting all this time. You even kissed me. But you still have feelings for Bakugou, right?” he suddenly accuses you.

“Are you serious right now?” you pry your hands away from his grip and cross your arms across your chest. He just shoves his hands in his pockets.

“You say I’m using you. But are you not doing the same to me? You’re just using me to get over your feelings for him. I see how you look at him. Deep down, I know how badly you want to go back to him. Well guess what princess? There’s another woman in his life and that’s not you. So you should just give up on your fantasy of being with someone who you can never reach,” Kirishima’s voice was getting lower and lower with each word, deep enough that it could be considered a growl. As you were saying hurtful things to him, he was saying it right back. That earned him a painful smack on his left cheek. You paused. You were so angry that your body just moved on its own. You didn’t mean to smack Kirishima but it was already too late. He stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him. You stood in place, taking in everything that just happened. All the words exchanged, the actions, the emotions. Tears started pouring from your eyes once again. You retreated to your room and locked it so that no one could get in.

You couldn’t sleep that night. Your fight with Kirishima was replaying over and over in your head. Each time, making your heart hurt and fresh tears would stream down your face. It was too much energy to keep Black Ghost in, so you let her manifest next to you.

Poor (y/n). First Bakugou didn’t want you, know the second lead doesn’t want you either. You rolled your eyes and covered your ears to try to block her out.

Maybe there’s a reason why they are both going after Uraraka. She’s rich and she’s got all the looks. She puts you to shame. A new beauty enters the clan and now you’re a nobody. Fuck, that hurt. The more and more negative comments Black Ghost makes, the more you started to believe in her and everything that she was saying. It made sense. Maybe there was a reason why both Bakugou and Kirishima are infatuated with her. Maybe you really couldn’t compete with her.

 Another day, another morning patrol with Bakugou. But that’s another day to give (y/n) a rose. He couldn’t bare to face you at the market. Not after confessing his feelings for you and getting rejected. It’s more comfortable looking at you from afar and giving you roses was the best way to do it.

He removed himself from the regular morning patrol once again to head to your place, not failing to pick up a rose on the way. With ease, he pulled himself up to reach your windowsill and gently placed the rose in a place where you can easily see it from your bed.

“Bakugou?” you called out, curiously.

“Shit,” he curses. He jumps at the sound of his name which causes him to lose his grip and fell down a few feet to the ground below him.

“Oh,” you jumped just as much as him from his fall and ran to see if he was okay. Bakugou groaned as he got up and rubbed his head. You stood at your window and leaned as much as you could to see him. “Are you okay?” you called out to him and he just waves to you, indicating that he was fine. “What are you doing here?” you asked him. He climbs back up to meet you at your window. He picks up the rose with a shy smile.

“To give you this,” he confesses. You took the rose with a blush peeking on your cheeks.

“You’re the one who has been giving me roses every day?” you look at the rose and back at him. All this time, you thought it was Kirishima who was doing it. To think it was Bakugou… “But, why?”

“You like flowers. And seeing your expression every morning is worth it,” he says with sincerity, staring at your eyes. Following them wherever you looked.

“You shouldn’t be doing this, you know. What if your fiancée finds out?” you continued to stare at the rose, fiddling with the stem. You couldn’t believe Bakugou was leaving flowers for you this whole time. Despite telling him to that he should stop giving roses to you every day, your eyes were soft upon looking at the flower.

“You like them.” was his answer.

“No…” you lied quietly. Bakugou scoffed at your response.

“Liar. Actions speak louder than words,” he says. You clear your throat and adjust your position. Looking at the rose again, you looked back up at Bakugou.

“I’d like them even more if you brought them to me in person instead of hiding,” you said and gently smiled at him. He smiled back.

“Noted,” and you two just continued to stare at each other without exchanging words. Until he broke the silence by announcing that he had to get back to the group. He’s about to jump off your window when he looks back. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he declares and with a final wink, is off to join his group. You giggle as you watch him leave, butterflies entering your stomach. You were shocked at this feeling because you hadn’t felt like that in so long.

You left your room and entered the kitchen. Sero and Kirishima were seated at the table, eating their breakfast. Sero greeted you a good morning. Kirishima just looked up, glanced at you and continued eating. He was ignoring you. Fine, then you would do the same. You passed him to get a glass of water and walked straight back to your room. When Kirishima heard the door slam shut, he let out a frustrated sigh and leaned back in his seat, his mouth full of food. Sero just looked at Kirishima and back at your door, quietly observing.

Every day for the past couple of days were like that. Every time you passed each other, no words were said to each other. You guys were living in silence and it was suffocating everyone who was living there.

One morning, you were chilling on your bed when you heard a knock on the door. You glanced up and Kirishima’s head was popping out.

“Can we talk?” he asks. You sit up on your bed and he fully enters your room. He walks over to your bed and sits next to you. There was a few moments of silence between you two.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out. You secretly glance at him and he just looked like a sad puppy. “I said a lot of hurtful stuff the other day. I shouldn’t have said any of that. I just got angry that I couldn’t control myself and I just-” he tried to continue but you stopped him.

“No, don’t apologize. I should be the one apologizing. I don’t know what came over me. I got so angry and upset that I let that get the best of me. God, I feel so embarrassed. I must have looked crazy to you,” you buried your face in your hands out of embarrassment. You heard him chuckle.

“A little bit,” he tried making a joke but you just looked at him with an unamused expression.

“Eijirou…” you whined. He put his hands up in defense.

“Okay okay, too soon.” He looks at you again, this time with more passion. He moves your hair behind your ear and moves to cup your face.

“Wait, Eijirou,” you put your hand on top of his to stop him. But you were interrupted when a rustling noise coming from your window.

“You said you’d like them in person, so I came in person to bring your flowers,” Bakugou appeared outside your window with a bouquet of roses in hand. He freezes when he sees you and Kirishima. He was in your bed, a hand cupping your cheek. He sees you have a hand on top of his. Even though you two weren’t together, a shot of pain hit his chest.

“Bakugou wait,” you push Kirishima’s hand away, earning an annoyed look from him. But it was too late. Bakugou had dropped the bouquet of flowers, jumped down and started walking away from your house. You got up from your bed to call out for him but turned around to Kirishima also standing.

“Unbelievable,” he breathed out, shaking his head as if he was disappointed. Before you could have a say, he was storming out on you once again. You were left alone, completely baffled. A hand went to grab a fistful of hair, messing up your already messy hair.

“What the fuck just happened,” you talked to yourself, now grabbing your head on each side and clenching hard. This whole situation was giving you a headache. Your breathe was getting faster, your heart beat was picking up the pace and a rising nervousness was fast approaching. You didn’t have anyone by your side. But that wasn’t entirely true.

You rushed to find your brother and find comfort in his arms. He was in his room, listening to music with headphones in. When he saw you entering his room with a red nose and tears running down your face, he was quick to embrace you. You cried in his arms for a while before telling him what was wrong. When you had calmed down enough to not gasp while talking, you told him everything to every single detail. Sero continued to cradle you in his arms while he listened intensely.

You finished your story and waited to hear what your brother had to say. Only, it never came. You looked up to see if he was still paying attention, and he just had a look on his face. A look that screamed disappointment. You got up from his embrace and stared at him in disbelief.

“Why do you have that look on your face?” you asked. No answer. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” your voice cracked from crying so much. Sero sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“(y/n), I don’t know how to say this. They have a right to be mad at you,” he says. And you just stare at him. Did you hear that right? Was your brother against you right now? He sees the look in your eyes and how you were going to cry again so he firmly grabs your arms. “I know you’re upset right now, but try to see it from their side. You still have feelings for Bakugou but are starting a relationship with Kirishima. Both of those guys are just as confused because you don’t know what you want. And your feelings got you into this mess,” a single tear dropped, feeling soulless.

“That’s not what I wanted to hear,” you whispered, barely audible to even you.

“I know. I know… but you need to hear the truth even if it hurts,” he said just as softly. You knew that. But even if you knew that, all you wanted was to be comforted at the moment. And your brother failed to do that. You got up from his embrace and without a word, started walking back to your room. “(y/n), I’m trying to help you!” he called out.

“Yeah, well you didn’t help!” You screamed at him, and slammed your door shut. You dove face first into your pillow and released all the emotions that were built up.

Morning turned into noon. Noon turned into evening. And evening during into night. You watched as a whole day went by passing you like it was nothing. You saw the rising sun set and now it was dark outside. You didn’t get up from your bed. Not to eat. Not to drink or even go to the bathroom. The bed was your safe space. There, no one could criticize you. No one could tell you that what you did was wrong. No one could judge you for being confused. As night time rolled in, Black Ghost appeared next to you once again, but more intense this time.

They all abandoned you.

You have no one.

That must mean that they don’t love you.

She’s right. They all left. Bakugou left you for Uraraka and now stormed off, mad at you. Kirishima was the same. You thought he really liked you. You thought he really cared for you. And you found comfort in him after your breakup. But he is some sort of relationship with Uraraka now and he’s mad at you too. Sero was supposed to be your rock till the very end. But he isn’t on your side. No one was on your side.

You’re not worth loving. See? Everyone you ever loved and trusted abandoned you. You’re just a pretty face with nothing to offer.

“That’s a lie.”

Is it? If you had anything to offer, then why did they leave?

“Because…”

Because you were meant to be alone. It’s not fun being lonely, is it?

“No, it’s not…”

Then join me.

Eh? Your eyes had glossed over and Black Ghost was starting to have full control over you. The more and more vulnerable you were getting, the easier it was for your quirk to control you. And it was easy. All she had to do was whisper pretty lies and you were gone.

What’s the point in living if you can’t enjoy the world with anyone?

Everyone is mad at you. You can’t come back from this.

Join me, and you will never be lonely again.

Follow me to the window.

As if on command, your body was moving by itself and you were standing, slowly walking to the window. When you got in front of it, you stopped.

That’s it. Living is no fun anymore. Let someone else live a life that you failed at.

Open the window.

Your arms lifted up and pushed open the window, a rush of the cold night breeze hit your skin. But you couldn’t feel it.

Good. Step onto the ledge.

And you did so. Black Ghost came dangerously close to your ear and whispered.

Jump.

A/N: If you or anyone you know is suicidal, please reach out for help. You can talk to me or seek professional help. You are not alone.

National Suicide Prevention lifeline: 800-273-8255

Tagged: @goodpop9 @superblyspeedydragon @tspice283 @marvelobsessedteen @rosetheshapeshifter @cabbagesquadfam @bnha-iamhere @theartsydoodler @taehyungbbe

[slashiest-slasher]

Could we get a part two for Polly Billy and brahams please

anon

you made me write *checks watch* 3.6K holy shit (( ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ )) this is fine everything’s fine

readmore, for obvious reasons, warnings for getting nsfw between billy and s/o, and brahms and [REDACTED], and mildly dubious consent (brahms agrees after someone cops a feel, but isn’t comfortable with what happens after agreeing)

Brahms was very much, entirely, and completely not happy with the current situation occurring at Heelshire manor, his God damn home.

Before, it was just him and his lovely, handsome nanny who seldomly raised their voice at him, cuddled him whenever he wanted, made him his favorite foods for dinner when he was good, constantly babied him, and most importantly of all, loved him wholly and without restriction.

But if there was one thing Brahms loathed more than anything, it was sharing his things. And yes, you might hate it when he calls you one of his things, but it’s the truth, right?

Ever since you insisted on that Billy creep stays here in his fucking house, the amount of attention he was getting plummeted. And that smug Billy knew and relished in it.

He was always watching you, or demanding your attention, and curled up in your lap. That was Brahms’ place! That was supposed to be him laying his head in your lap and getting his hair soothed and played with. Brahms had to settle with sitting on the floor so you could rest a hand on his head and give his scalp scritches. Which wasn’t awful, but Billy was stealing all your attention away.

Billy’s actions bore a striking resemblance to his own, but at least he had the common decency to not make those unbearable noises! Billy was always snorting, giggling, or muttering to himself, and when he talked with you, his voice was rarely calm. Always shrill or ear piercing, saying such disgusting things to you. Always propositioning you and grabbing you in lewd ways that you shrugged off like it was nothing. It always made Brahms’ blood rush to his head.

He would punch Billy for it, but the last time he had attacked that scrawny freak and gave him a split lit, you withheld all affection for an entire month! No goodnight kisses, no hugs, no cuddling, no handling. Nothing! All the while, that Billy got everything!

Brahms could, of course, always kill Billy and tie you up to your bed, but his heart ached and his gut twisted whenever he did something that made you cry. And that would certainly make you hate him forever.

And then there was Billy’s insistence on teasing Brahms! He would say the same disgusting things to him that he would to you, and when he was especially spastic, would paw at Brahms’ chest and thighs when he tried to extend his cuddling and hugging to include him.

You would it endlessly entertaining of course, and that was the only reason he didn’t snap Billy’s neck. Yeah, Billy made his skin crawl, but you lit up whenever you saw them hugging. And maybe there was something about holding Billy, fragile, moments from fracturing Billy, in his arms that made his heart thump.

You called him and Billy “your boys” and that made Brahms’ heart thump a certain way he couldn’t explain.

But all of that, Brahms could deal with. What really got him going was whenever Billy starting switching between his voices and muttering about Agnes or a baby, or naughty Billy. It doesn’t matter what you were doing, you would always drop whatever you were doing to rush to his side.

The worst part was that Brahms couldn’t even be mad at you or Billy for that. He knew there was something serious messed up with Billy, something that happened to him, something you wanted to figure out. And it was in those fits when he was at his worst and you needed to hold him to stop the tears and the tantrums he would throw through them.

If it were any other scenario, Brahms would have found and odd kind of kinship with Billy. Bad parents, living in hidden parts of a house, clinging to anything that gave them a moment of happiness.

But Billy was stealing you away, and Brahms couldn’t let that happen.

So he tried everything he could think of. When you wouldn’t even look at him because you were so wrapped up in whatever Billy was doing, he broke vases and plates and potted plants. He stole your clothes, your /underwear/, he let his rats play in your bed. But all that got him was ban on goodnight kisses and an angry lecture that made the bad feeling in his stomach worse.

Then he tried being an extra good boy. He showered every night, did the dishes without you asking, made his bed (and even yours and Billy’s!), dusted, and surprised you in bed with breakfast. Which got him the sweetest and warmest hugs and kisses that made the lust he felt for you grow exponentially. There were some nights he could hardly control it, and would have to sneak away to take care of himself before you tucked him into bed, or certainly he would do something unsavory that would make you extremely angry.

So, while there was no downside to being an extra good boy, it didn’t take any of your attention away from Billy.

The final straw was when you were late to tucking him. Five minutes to be precise. You were never late, ever. Even with Billy moving in, you always came in at the same time every night to tuck him him, run your fingers through his hair, and give him a goodnight kiss. On his lips too, not his mask anymore!

Brahms gets up from where he was sitting on his bed, and pads down the hall to your room. There’s a chance you could’ve dozed off (and in that case he could tuck you in!), or, and Brahms shudders at the thought, you were talking with Billy again. That creep rarely slept, so at night he was entirely yours. The mere thought made his skin itch.

He could clearly hear the moment he stepped out of his bedroom what exactly was holding you up. He could hear the disgusting, wet noises Billy was making, and you desperately trying to muffle yourself, but still moaning his name. He knew what was happening, and it made the rage inside him rise, but he needed to know for certain.

The moment he peered into your room, he immediately jerked back and pressed himself to the wall, eye shut tightly. It does nothing to settle his heart, which feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest.

Billy didn’t have his shirt on, and in the lamplight each and every scar was visible. His head was between your thighs - your bare thighs - and Brahms couldn’t exactly see what he was doing, but whatever it was, it was making your back arch, legs tremble, and your face to be twisted in pleasure as you watched Billy intently.

You were absolutely gorgeous, warped in ecstacy and making some of the most beautiful noises Brahms had ever heard. If it weren’t for the cold dread settling in his stomach like a weight from Billy, the entire situation would have been a page out of one his wet dreams.

“Fuck!” you muffle the moan into the crook of your arm. “Oh Christ! Oh, Billy, Billy, Billy! Please!” you whine, thrusting towards his mouth. As you get louder, you clasp your hands over your mouth, letting your body rock against the erratic, but brutal, rhythm Billy set for you.

There’s a part of Brahms that wants to storm in there, throw Billy off, and have it be his name that you were moaning. Another part that wanted to throw a fit, and another that wanted to kill Billy where he stood. But he followed the impulsive tug in his chest to lead him back to his room, and start throwing clothes into a bag.

Fine, you wanted Billy instead? That’s what you were going to get. Who cares that this is his own fucking house, he’s going to leave, and you’re going to miss him and realize how bad you fucked up. How you should be showering Brahms with all this attention, instead of Billy.

How you should have just let him love you how he wanted, and if you had then Brahms would still be here.

He changes out of his pajamas into some, as you called them, “normal people clothes”: a t-shirt, jeans that were a bit to clingy than what Brahms was used to, a hoodie, and a sturdy pair of sneakers. You had wanted to go take him walking into town one day, once he was comfortable, but that was long out the window with Billy around.

He throws what he can think of into his bag; another change of normal people clothes, his normal lounging and sleeping clothes, multiple changes of underwear and socks, a tiny stuffed rabbit he absolutely could not live without, some polaroids you had taken of the two of you (he shoved those in bitterly), and a wallet with about £400 of various bills and change in it. That was what he needed to sustain himself, right?

As he starts crawling out of the window, backpack slung on his back, he decides to leave his mask on his bed, and scribble a note out on a piece of paper saying he was leaving and never, ever coming back.

Climbing down the walls of the house was pretty, and scaling the front gate wasn’t too difficult, but Brahms understood why exactly you insisted on a decent pair of sneakers. The nearest town was about a four hour walk. Which would have been fine if it hadn’t started downpouring 20 minutes after he left the manor.

The long, winding road that lead to the manor eventually connected up to a busier road after an hour after it started raining. He had seen it in some of the movies you had watched with Brahms - curled up around each other, petting his hair and feeding him popcorn - and stuck out his thumb and waited until a beat up car pulled up beside him.

“Where you need to go mate?” asked the man driving the car when he climbed in, eyeing him up.

“Nearest-” when his baby voice came out, Brahms cleared his throat. “Nearest bus stop, thanks.” He looks down at the water dripping off of him and onto the seat, and forming puddles on the floor. Being kind and polite will get you anything you need, says a distinctly you sounding voice in the back of his head. “I’m sorry- about the mess.”

The man driving the car shrugged, and kept his eyes on the road. “Not a problem. I would be out of my mind if I didn’t stop to help someone out in this storm.” Brahms eyed him up from his peripherals. He looked kindly and neat, like the kind of man that wouldn’t look out of place in the archives section of a library. His hair was tidy, and there were spectacles that he consistently kept pushing up.

The man is quiet for a long while before he pipes up. “So why exactly was a heart throb like you hitchhiking on a deserted road?”

Brahms bites the inside of his mouth when his heart skips a beat. In a poor attempt to be inconspicuous, Brahms runs his fingers along the heavy burn scars on the side of his face. “Issues at home, don’t really want to talk about it that much.”

The man nod, and smiles. “No problem, I understand.” He doesn’t say anything for a bit, before speaking up again. “You a fan of early literature?” he asks, only taking his eyes off the road for a moment to glance over at Brahms, who nods.

“Mother insisted on having me read classical.” Brahms settles into his seat, the high strung tension seemingly having melted. “Except Oedipus Rex, of course.”

The man chuckles, and pushes his glasses up again. “Oh it was the same with my teachers when we were younger. Something we should really be reading once we were older.

And it’s all something so comforting and alien to Brahms that he can’t ever really recall. Just a casual conversing with someone he barely knows and will likely never see again.

They continue chatting amicably for a a while before it teeters off into a comfortable silence.

"What about you, why are you out here in weather like this?” Brahms asks, the question having been rolling around in his head since the man had asked.

He thrums his fingers against the steering wheel. “Oh, out to clear my head. I’m sort of in the same boat as you, issues at home I need to escape.”

Brahms waits a few moments before retorting. “Bit of shit weather to be doing that, isn’t it?” It makes the man chuckle.

A few minutes later, there’s a hand on Brahm’s thigh, heavy and warm like being under the covers for too long. He jumps at the contact, but keeps his breathing under control.

“I think the company more than makes up for it.” His voice is low and deep. He glances over at Brahms, searching his eyes. “Just another lonely soul, adrift and looking for any port in the storm.” He only lets his hand drift up further and press firmly when Brahms gives him a nod.

Well, you wouldn’t give him this. You were seeking out other people to get off. Why couldn’t he?

When his hand creeps up his thigh, and massages his crotch, a similar, but colder, dream sinks in his stomach. The man continues to watch the road and smile as if nothing was amiss. The same tense, barely there trembling comes back.

He bites his bottom lip and lets his head fall back against the headrest when the man undoes his jeans and pulls his boxer just down enough to free his dick and stroke it. Brahms’ nerves rattle in a way that makes him nauseous. He couldn’t help but buck into the warm hand wrapped around him, and let out a deep whine at the friction.

This felt so, so much better than his own hand. He hadn’t even realized how sensitive he was until now. Short, panting breaths come from his mouth, and he moans for more, please, you-

It hit him like a punch to the chest that he didn’t even know this guys name. That he had only known him for less than an hour. Brahms hand snapped from his side and gripped his wrist tight enough to grind his bones.

“Actually, could you pull over. I’ll walk,” he tells him.

The man thankfully retracts his hand while Brahms fixes his boxers and jeans. “Sorry, I must’ve misread the situation. Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you the rest of the way? It’s a long walk.”

Brahms pulls his backpack into his lap, and nods, hugging it close. He’s not a fan of the biting cold and rain when he steps out of the warm, dry cab, but he couldn’t stay in there for another minute. The man gives him a curt nod before the door is shut and he’s driving away.

Brahms waits until the lights of the car are no longer visible before he sets off in the same direction.

By the time he makes it to the bus shelter, the sky is just only being lit up, and the rain is still coming down in sheets. He plops down on the swollen bench, and rests his head against the wall. All the muscles in his body ache, and he dozes off thinking he could be home right now, in bed, certainly angry, but he wouldn’t be shivering like a wet cat.

But if this teaches you a lesson that you need to appreciate him more, then so be it.

Brahms is awaken by the slam of a car door, and someone familiar yelling his name. The sun isn’t any higher in the sky, and it’s still coming down hard. But he sees you, desperately trying to shield yourself from the rain with a jacket.

“Brahms, what the hell!” you yell over the rain pattering against the bus shelter. You grip his upper arm tight enough to bruise when you sit down next to him.

He doesn’t even dignify looking you in the eyes.

You grab him by his face, and force him to look at him, shushing him and rubbing your thumbs across his cheekbones when he tries to jerk away. “Brahmsy, do you have any idea how worried you made me?” you ask gently, scooting closer to him. He tries to look anywhere but at your face. “You can’t run away like that, don’t you know how much it would hurt me?”

Billy crawls out of an open car window and sits at Brahms’ feet, resting a cheek against his knee. “Pretty Brahms, you sc-scared us,” he shift his voice slightly, slightly off but still close enough to his. “Where’s Brahmsy? Billy what did you do with Brahmsy?” He clutches Brahms’ calves tightly, digging his fingers into his wet jeans. “Brahms, where the hell are you! Brahmsy!” he yells.

When you go to run a hand though Billy’s hair to calm him down, Brahms intercepts it and laces your fingers. Always taking everything away from him.

Your eyes go wide when you put two and two together. “Is that what this is about?” you almost have the gall to giggle if Brahms hadn’t been looking down at Billy with such vehemence.

“But you let him do things to you,” Brahms grumbles, closing his eyes. “You won’t let me do those things. And he get all your good cuddles. And it always holding your hand.”

Your cheeks turn pink when he brings it up. “Well, I’ve known Billy for longer, since before I knew you.” You stumble across your words, trying to get them out. “But Brahms, you know I have two hands right? Both you and Billy can hold my hand.”

“But you’re mine!” Brahms whines, slipping into his childish voice. “I don’t want to share you!”

“I do,” says Billy quietly. He leers his gaze over to you. “Can we share pretty Brahmsy? Please? So sweet and I want him, we can both share.” He asks so sweetly that Brahms doesn’t know what to say.

You smile, and free your hand to lean down and grab Billy’s. You place it in Brahms’ palm, and Billy seems quite content. His hand is bony and only slightly warmer than Brahms’, who has been in the cold rain for the better part of the night. But it feels oddly right.

“It’s not sharing, it’s the three of us, together. Billy’s quite taken with you, and you know I adore you. Will you give it a chance? Letting both of us love you.”

Brahms can only nod as tears well in his eyes. He hides his face in your chest. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to scare you,” he cries into your shirt.

Both you and Billy wrap your arms around him, Billy seating himself in his lap. “C'mon Brahms, let’s get you home and get us into a nice bath, then we can all get some sleep.”

Brahms nods shyly, and lets himself be led by Billy into the back seat while you climb into the driver’s seat. Billy wastes no time getting Brahms out of his wet clothes. It was a struggle normally with you, but Billy’s odd noises, lewd comments, and groping certainly don’t help. Brahms puts up a fight at first, until Billy starts nuzzling each inch of exposed cold, damp skin.

His heart flutters a bit when Billy grabs a fluffy towel from the boot of the car and rubs Brahms’ hair wildly. Brahms, naturally, swats at him, wrangling the towel away to dry himself off, but Billy simply grabs another and contributes, and tries to shimmy Brahms’ wet jeans and boxers off.

“Hmmm, mmm, pretty Brahmsy, all mine, wrap my lips around you pretty pink coh- huh, hmmmm…” Billy devolves into more humming as he moves down to dry Brahms’ legs. He leaves the towel draped across his lap, letting Brahms finish drying himself off while he rummages around in the boot for something.

Through the rearview mirror, Brahms can see your squinty eyes, and though he can’t see your mouth, he knows you’re smiling. So he puts up with it when Billy drags out a heavy quilt and bundles Brahms up in it, and pulls him to lean against his chest.

Billy twitches entirely too much for it to be comfortable, but having a pair of arms wrapped around him is more than soothing. And the fingers that run through his tangled, damp hair are rough, but the massage to his scalp is worth it.

Something white is flashed in front of him, and Brahms can just make it out in the dim light.

“Pretty Brahmsy want it? I’ll give it to you if you fuuuh- kiss my m-mouth.” Billy doesn’t wait for an answer, and leans down for a quick, burning kiss, certain to press his tongue up against Brahms’ lips before pulling away and placing Brahms’ mask in its rightful place.

Billy’s maniacal laughter makes him grumble, but he simply fixes his mask, and nuzzles his head against Billy’s chest.

It may not be what Brahms wanted, but he supposes it fine enough. Better than being being alone.

You turn the radio on low to a classical station, looking back on them fondly, and Billy makes quiet shushing noises and pets Brahms’ hair when he grumbles too much at his fingers pulling against the tangles.

Yeah, way better than being alone.

[hardyimagines]

Scarred

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Hi there can I get anything to do with season 5 alfie feeling insecure about his face and thinking his s/o would no longer love him😫can be fluffy or nsfw or both🌚it’s honestly up to you, thanks! xx

( not my gif, credit to the rightful owner )

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“I thought the doctor said the bullet wasn’t even close to your brain?” You murmured from your knelt position on the tattered sofa. Hunched over your boyfriend, you sat on your knees with your fingertips lazily tracing the length of his soft skin. You were caressing the parts of his face that weren’t injured, careful not to get too close to the tissue that was still healing. Alfie was speechless now, merely furrowing his brows in a cute expression of pure confusion. He pressed his lips together, beard poking out just a little further than normal because of the action. When you made no movement to speak any further though, the man adjusted himself on the sofa beneath you, grumbling incoherently before he spoke up audibly.

“You fucking what? Bullet, yeah went through my cheek, here, didn’t it, yeah, so..” Alfie lifted his hand. Placing his palm over the scarred part of his face, he set his elbow on the arm of the furniture and pretended to be leaning instead of merely hiding. His want to finish his sentence was cut short when you parted your lips and began to talk over him.

“Well you’re asking foolish questions so I’m just trying to make sure a little piece of that bullet didn’t somehow hit your brain.” Lifting your hand to the side of his head, you brushed your thin fingertips through his soft locks, lazily stroking his scalp before you grabbed ahold of his wide palm and removed it from his face.

“Pet,” Alfie’s voice deepened considerably. “I made a fucking statement, right?”

“Then you asked for my opinion.” You pointed out. Shaking your head because the man was actually beginning to frustrate you, you laid your hands back on his cheeks and turned his head toward you fully. “I don’t think you’re ugly in the slightest.”

Prior to this, Alfie had been shying away, poorly attempting to hide the scar on his face because he knew what he looked like — he knew he was hideous. He wasn’t sure why you were pretending to still find him attractive or why you were sitting at his side, knelt so close to him with that doe-eyed look.

“You wouldn’t fucking tell me the truth, right, why on earth would you agree to that. See, yeah, because you’re fucking dating me, I can’t hear you agreeing to me saying I look fucking disgusting. Right, and I wasn’t exactly the most handsome beforehand so this fucking scar has really gone and fucked me over hasn’t it?”

It was almost impossible to swallow down the amusement bubbling in your stomach. Alfie really was an idiot.

In all honesty, you didn’t see a damn thing wrong. Of course, you preferred Alfie without the bullet wound — but that was only because the scar was a reminder that he’d been shot by someone he’d considered to be a mate for a while.. someone who could very well come back and try and finish him off. It reminded you that Alfie lived a very dangerous life and he could be taken from you at any given moment. Your fingers twitched and then tensed, falling from his warm cheeks instead to the thick fabric of his coat. Clutching on to it, you wiggled closer. Appearance wise, it didn’t affect you at all. You knew it ordinarily should’ve, you should’ve been somewhat repelled by the scarring that lined half of his face.. you knew anybody would be a little hesitant or distracted. That was normal.. what wasn’t normal was finding the man even more handsome. There was still no flaw, despite the one staring you dead in the face.

The realization of why you still found Alfie to be as attractive as he was dawned on you. And it simultaneously scared you and excited you.

You loved him.

The space between the two of you vanished. Placing your small hands on the back of his hot neck, you drew him forward and into you so you could kiss his rambling lips. He went silent instantly, apart from the little hums of enjoyment that escaped him subconsciously. Alfie relaxed against the cushions, tense muscles growing to be loose. Your mouth was slow, soft, careful as it moved against his own. He could tell you weren’t just kissing him, you were trying to tell him something without having to use your words. He almost smiled against your lips, but found it easy to bite back when your tongue pried past your plump, pink mouth to venture into his own.

“I’m sorry.. Mr Solomons?” The woman he’d hired to keep his home tidy poked her head into the small den. Accidentally ruining the little moment the pair of you had been sharing, she brushed her fingers along the length of the doorway — a shy action to relieve some of the awkwardness her presence had created. “I’m all finished.” Right after the accident, you’d hired Emily to help out around Alfie’s. He wasnt capable of making dinner or keeping his house clean, he was always so tired from the medication he was on and stressed because he worried about Cyril and his business. You were busy with work on weekdays so it was really only at night, when you shared his bed, and on weekends that you got to spend a lot of time with the handsome man.

Prying yourself out of his secure grip, you brushed your fingers through your hair and inhaled deeply before looking in the woman’s direction. You’d helped pick her. She was very sweet, kept to herself, did her duties and then went on her way. Alfie let out a hoarse grunt before nodding his head once in her direction. His thick fingers ran along the length of your back, caressing it before he stood from his slouched position on the sofa.

“I’ll be paying you tomorrow, yeah, instead of on Friday. Going out of town that day, remember, fuck ton of stuff I need to get done.” The man shoved his hand into the deep pocket that lined his trousers. Dragging the gray slip of paper which had all her hours written on it, he shook the flimsy thing before setting it down on the desk so he could write down her hours for the day.

You shuffled on the couch. He wasn’t going anywhere. You thought it was cute, how much he wanted to go back to work and resume with where things had left off, but that was too risky. You weren’t going to let him go off to Camden Town, tell everyone he’d returned from the dead and then let Tommy Shelby show up announced to put another bullet wound on the opposite side of his face. Your lips twitched south, heart sliding down, down, down and into your tight stomach. The second Emily had confirmed he’d written down the right amount of hours, she grasped her coat from the rack in the corner and sent a short wave in your direction. You tipped your head toward her sweetly, but the kind gesture didn’t match the worried expression on your face. You didn’t want anything to happen to Alfie.

Rising from the couch, you crossed the length of the room without hesitation and while the man was tucking the piece of paper away in his pocket, you slipped your arms around his waist and nestled your front against his broad back, catching him offguard. Alfie stiffened for a moment before peering over his shoulder and down at your sweet face. Your lower lip was pouted, eyes big and watery as you gazed up at him. Try as he might, you both knew when Friday came around, he’d be lounging in the armchair and you’d be perched on his lap — no care in the world to hold your own job if it meant ensuring Alfie wasn’t getting into any trouble.

He twisted around and locked his strong arms around your small shoulders. Holding you against him securely, his mouth skimmed the top of your head. He’d never be able to understand why you cared about him so much or why you were so eager to stick around. His unanswered questions though, were about to be answered. Those three words were burning the tip of your tongue, but you took your time blurting them out.. your heart was beating so fast and your tongue felt swollen.

Alfie, in all honesty, hadn’t expected you to hang around after he was pronounced dead. Nobody else had come around, banging on the door of a deceased man. But you had. And you’d come daily, hitting the wood with your tightly curled fist in order to just be around Alfie’s belongings. The scent was comforting, the familiarity of his home. He was in the hospital, unbeknownst to you and you were curled up on his sofa, unbeknownst to him. Before he had a maid, it was easy to sneak into his home, knocking cautiously beforehand to ensure nobody was inside — cleaning it out, ridding of his things. Then one day, you’d come around and when you’d knocked, the gangster had answered. He was stood broad and tall with a hard expression on his face. He looked worn and exhausted, much paler than you’d remembered. You’d both been speechless for what felt like forever.

“Pet?” Alfie drew you from your thoughts. The words you’d been about to confess were forgotten for a moment. He was staring at you with such care glistening in those enrapturing blue eyes of his. You sent him a soft smile before leaning up on your tiptoes to steal a very soft kiss. “Alright?”

“Hm?” You nodded. “Why wouldn’t I be?” You felt like you were suddenly floating. The man in front of you was all yours and it was only hitting you now what that truly meant. Before this whole ordeal, when Alfie was going to work and his face was void of any scar, things had felt like they were just for fun. The pair of you fooled around, despite where you were, on the job, at the park, at home, it didn’t matter. Course, it didn’t feel like your relationship was strictly sex, but you hadn’t exactly envisioned being tied down to this man at any point. Now here you were, swallowing thickly in order to silence the heavily hammering beat of your heart. Nothing had ever been casual between the two of you. The minute he’d invited you around, it should’ve been a given that your heart was being given over to him. You didn’t do casual things. Casual sex wasn’t who you were. You were too emotionally invested in people. In him.

“Alfie,” You whispered breathily, when your head was beginning to pulsate from all the raging thoughts. You tipped your head back in order to see him fully, stomach twisting nervously despite the fact that you were sure he returned the feelings. “Alfie, I love you.” You told him softly. The whisper was almost inaudible, but he’d heard you clearly. His hands was delicately tracing your warm skin, absentmindedly caressing your soft flesh before he stilled at your confession. His mouth ran dry and his face felt hot. He knew the words weren’t too surprising, he’d been waiting to hear them for forever.. but now that you’d actually said them, it made everything all the more real. He blinked once and then twice, before his fingers resumed their soft strokes. You shivered beneath the warmth of his fingertips and the cold graze of his rings.

“Bout fucking time you told me, innit?” He joked. The man’s grip tightened in only the slightest so he could securely drag you into him. Your chest hit his silently as you lifted your arms in order to wound them around his neck. He grunted breathily, hunching forward in the slightest so his mouth could brush your cheek. “I love you.” He murmured. His breath tickled the side of your neck, and his words made your heart skip a beat. You let out a quiet sigh of delight before turning your head and catching his lips for a slow kiss.

His pink lips were warm and wet as they moved against your own. He laid his hand on the back of your head, holding you in place so he could kiss you as deeply as he pleased. He always took the lead and you always followed his every movement with your own. Alfie took a small step back, waiting patiently for you to follow along with him. It didn’t take long at all, your body was practically glued to his own, desperate to remain close and refusing to part for too long. He fell back on the arm chair and you collapsed instantly on his lap. Straddling his thighs with a slow smile and a shaky exhale, you broke the kiss long enough to sit up. Setting your hands on the arms of the furniture, you peered down at the man before biting on your bottom lip. Nothing felt as nice as telling someone you love them, and being told they felt the exact same.

Your fingertip lifted to the scar on his face and without hesitation, you caressed the tender space. He didn’t wince or flinch, for he felt comfortable and safe beneath your touch. You felt him stiffen momentarily, a sign he wanted to turn away and hide the impossible to remove patch of skin. You leaned in and kissed the space, reminding him that though he may feel self conscious about the injury, it didn’t bother you at all. Kissing up to his forehead, you drew his head forward and into your chest, cradling him as if he were a small child. You kissed his brown locks, ruffling them momentarily. His hair was shorter than it use to be. You used to almost suffocate between his shaggy brown strands when the pair of you made love. Now, it was short and easy to escape when you brushed your face against the top. Smiling to yourself, you pulled him in just a little closer.

“I love you.” You whispered into his strands before drawing back and hiding your face against his shoulder. He locked you in his embrace then, securely trapping you in place. You didn’t mind, neither of you going to be willing to move for a while.

———————————————————————

A/N: I feel sick, and I know this is absolutely shitty.

@peakblogbecauseimweak @mollybegger-blog @morphoportis @ghost-of-student-sufferings @drippydownes2002 @ellar21 @sovereigngoth @willowick13 @pansexualginger @heyitscam99 @haroldpain @justrepostandlove @emerald-bijou @multireality @innerpaperexpertcloud @goodiesintheclosetlove @giftofdreams @ihclipse @inkedfandom @thatsamegirl @doct0rstrange @jakechillenhaal @shanty-lol @centerhabit @clevertheoristpainter @favouritereadings @badmaax @thephuonganh @wewillfindourwaythere @uhhhemilyrose @scarrasco1325 @bignastyfan-nz @hot-and-spiceyyy @azayamari @shane-isa-shame @baliadelcuore @lonewolf471 @crldrr @keeleyella @overitall2018 @lovebitesimagines @eddieisasnack @axxl-rose @slytherintothedeep @lucreziaborgiatheunholyfamily @demoncrypt1066 @captainbuckyboobear

[moist-astronaut]

things my friends and I have said over the last year

“I’m verbally illiterate” “Isn’t that called dyslexia”

“I’m going to chemistry and I’m gonna light myself on fire” “No” “Damnit let me burn like the witch I am!”

“Don’t worry it’s not anti-Christ it’s just anti-government”

“I’ve been getting migraines everyday and I’m considering chopping my head off” “But that would kill you” “Two birds one stone!!”

“I swear to god I will hug you” “My house is 5 miles away and my doors are locked” “Your locks are FEABLE”

*writing an email* “Bitch comma”

“Ok but I could be a top” *laughing* “What I totally could be!” *laughing and crying for literally 6 minutes straight*

*on a group call, friends cat misha walks into the room* “Tell misha I would live and die for her, whichever she prefers” “She says thank you” *cat noises*

*joins discord vioce chat at 11:26 pm* “You guys are gae but I love you” “Thank you saeren very cool” “Goodnight” *leaves chat at 11:28pm*

“Jake jake jake jjjake -j-jaaake hey jake” “W H A T” “Can I eat your pens” “I literally have a restraining order against you”

“I’m educatn’t”

“Me calling you to dumb to be a slytherin is payback for you leaving multiple handprint bruises on my legs” “It’s not my fault your skin is weak”

“He’s rolling so that we can walk” *rolling in the grass and collecting leaves on his jacket* “I’m rolling for your sins”

“There are 7 of us so we can each be a deadly sin” “I wanna be Ross” “You mean wrath?” “No that dude from Friends”

“Ok but other than his strict attraction to women, his multiple wives, his hatred of gay people, and the fact that he is dead, what is standing between me and Joseph Smith the All American Hottie from being happy together”

“Consider: Mullet” “No”

“I do my homework while loudly eating a pop tart asmr”

“No no listen, he’s my brother, he’s a bastard of my dynasty…I might just ransom him off”

“These Norwegian bastards indroduced a fucking PLUAGE to my COUNTRY”

“Ooooo meth”

“Half of my life is me resisting the urge to sing the zaboomafoo themesong, the other half is me actually singing the zaboomafoo themesong. So either way my entire life revolves around zaboomafoo.”

“I just don’t think I would hire a gay man-wait no I’m not homophobic”

*chucks half a gallon of milk in a gas station* “-ah- got milk?”

“Gimme your sternum boy”

“Nooooooo he stole my sternum!!!” (Side note these were two separate occasions)

*being force fed milk duds* “No!! This is the worst way to die!!”

“Hey babe come over I have a hammock and a heated blanket”

“Be afraid, be prepared- IN THE WORDS OF SCAR”

“Stress eating stress gummies Stress eating stress gummies Stress eating stress gummies stress eating-”

“I thought to myself ‘Y’know if I die today this is how I want to be remembered- a leather skirt and leg warmers’”

“I think I’m telling you to go to sleep” “You’re gonna have make me” “I can’t tell if this is cry for help or flirting” “Yes”

“This is at best cannibalism and at worst being straight”

“Oh look Percy Jackson’s here now, ooh they replaced every character’s face with Mr. Bean. I hate it”

“You can’t be mean to me! I’m gay AND a woman! That’s a hate crime!” “Yeah well I’m brown and Muslim! Square the fuck up bitch!”

“Babe it’s not very metal to be afraid of your hair dresser” “It’s not very metal to have a hair dresser and yet here we are” “It’s fine you’re into glam metal”

“Hey augie, got any grrrrrrapes?” “I’m doing IXL :(“

“Can I come?” “No” “What if I bring watermelon?” “You can come, leave the watermelon, then leave” “:(“

“What in the jersey shore”

“Rad’nt”

“Ok but consider: Mullet-hawk” “I can and will divorce you”

“Dee-vorce 👏 Just to 👏 re-vorce 👏 👏 “

“Ah yes, that’s why I’m fat…for combat reasons…”

“You fool I consent!”

“My Boston fern is being a bitch but that’s because it’s winter and that’s BITCH season”

“You walk through the rest of the house and it’s like ‘ooo witchy and aesthetic’ then they’ll get to the guest room and it’ll just be a tacky twink Fever dream”

“Who needs a scalp”

“HeHe, sexing”

“Council has decided, your vibes are rancid (and not the band)”

“You’re never to young to hate women”

“Look at me I did the dishes I’m a 1950s housewife with a strangely new jersey accent and affinity for lesbianism”

“Well look who has the table now”

"contrary to popular belief, fuck you"

"There's nothing here that requires whisking, i'm just problematic"

"If you could go anywhere in the world with two people, who would you choose?" “New Orleans!”

"So he proceeded to bite me on the butt...like, really, really hard."

“I don’t cheat, I win. It’s not cheating if it’s consensual.”

“My mouth, my choice”

“Do you like my ombré of a tan"

“Who’s the cutest in the chat right now then?” “It’s Paige!” “No, it’s obviously Augie.” (paige's boyfriend)-said by a straight man

“Francis is just a one and done.”

“Would you ever have a threesome?” “...yes...” *To Francis* “Sure!”

“How do you feel about anal sex?”

“Of the people in this room, who would you most want to make out with?” “Augie” “The answer is yes, but only if it’s 6 feet apart.”

“Square, flat, and overcooked.”

“The virus would be over if everyone would breathe underwater for 5 minutes.”

“I have daddy issues, but not with my father.”

“You’re a ladies man but you have two boyfriends.”

“That means lesbian in sign language” “No, that means fuck boy in American”

“I’m like a parasite, you can’t get rid of me. I’m here forever.”

“You’re like my long term hit man”

“Is it Jake?” “No, why would the evil Russian man be Jake?” “Because he would never hire a gay man and you don’t look like a gay man”

“Jake is homophonic, Augie is racist, and Francis is a woman hater!”

"Grew a korean radish, 1 star"

"I've got more cause i'm a rich boy, and by that i mean my father sometimes buys avocados. And that's on what? Upper middle class"

"Tell your good for nothing boyfriend to stay away from my mom"

"It's not inciting violence it's just ~inspiring it~ "

"Listen bitch just because you have avacados and a roomba doesn't make you better then me"

"i would totally let narthex ruin my life. and that's on what? daddy issues and bisexuality"

"who is titty"

"how is he racist" "he hates the french and russians right?" "don't forget italians" "that's just self loathing"

"This is the last time i wear a thong- it's for educational purposes"

"babe come over i'm a burrito"

"he put bread with milk. luckily he passed away"

"you touched my wiener!" "you offered it!"

"foot'nt"

"i took a shower and realized the floor doesn't bounce"

"i love ass whoooaaaaaa i meant cassie"

"Rosalie you're the deciding vote. Be decisive." "Dude i'm bisexual and a gemini. what're you talking about?"

"Okay so to recap: jake is homophobic, augie is racist, francis is a woman hater, and now paige is a bunny abuser?"

"Just bring a watermelon keychain and it'll be fine" "Whooaaaa i'm gonna need a big key then"

"If you were blind what would you even see"

Post Traumatic Youth, plus D for danny's disorder"

"i think she's past the phase where she likes people just because they're russian"

"francine is a lesbian, but only during quarantine"

"don't be a home wrecker!" "i can't help it!"

"we are not doing coed tents" "i wanted to go purple-ing though"

"if it's not perfect i'm gonna through hands" "with who" "i don't know, the CEO of stupid"

"don't make me feel guilty for bullying you"

"it doesn't look very cash money cool but okay"

"slinky cat" (ferret)

"The pond behind my house didn't freeze all the way through this winter, so i couldn't go ice skating" "okay, so i have an idea. we can go to walmart and get-" "ANTI FREEZE!" "well, yes- wait, no. No, the more i think about that definitely no."

"The amish will win, the amish will prevail" "the amish will conquer us all!"

"He do be kinda mafia doh"

"i'm being sneaky sneak. stairs go creaky creak. and i need. DRUGZ"

"brain on shutdown, power saving mode"

"Somebody go tip her, she's dancing like a stripper" "thatd be nice- oh wait no!"

"fellas, is it gay to lick your homies eyeball?"

"it's not racist if you're only targeting one group of people" "that literally racism" "but what if they're french"

"i'm not racist yet but the option is available, and it's good to have options"

"they don't call me Mr. Steal Yo Boy for nothing!" -a straight man who has a girlfriend

"i think he has a bad habit of not dating girls"

"kinda hot tho 🥵 in a Santa Claus kinda way...hoe hoe hoe"

"i'll be your hot jacuzzi bubble dealer"

"when deceit and doubt fills you up, you cleanse your mind through creative activities, such as making organic soap"

"friendly reminder #4: you're never to old to eat a freezie-pop"

"sorry i'm just nervous" Chinese Teacher: (Waving her hand in front of her face) “Just pretend I’m cabbage.”

"me when my dads name is publicly broadcasted on the radio for his 14 felonies and assorted war crimes"

"<@!523669420435046401> I sentence you to a solid nine by the banhammer. For your crimes against Humanity, God, Satan, and Matt Frank. See you in hell."

"Danny, just because you're playing *Just Cause* doesn't mean you need to Just Cause our friendship!"

"Silly Matt! You fell for the ole’ Heimlich maneuver!”

"i got a bunch of new shirts over quarantine" "you would"

"Ok, there's a 32 year old doctor in new Jersey dying right now" "Yeah, but to be fair everyone in new jersey has a pre-existing condition"

“This is the longest period of time we’ve had without a Nintendo direct” “Maybe they’re gonna make a Nintendo indirect?”

"you’re looking extra white today.” "thanks i've been practicing"

"do you have any batteries" *looks inside shirt* "not yet"

"let's go colonize the middle school!" "yyayayyayayay!!!" " wait I gotta ask my mom first" What happened next is know called the *Juniors burden*

"oh so you're a DOWNSTAIRS milk kinda guy"

"you are literally the human embodiment of crumbs in a bed"

"The Berk-ey Creamery isn’t a place, it’s a people!”

 "He shoved a floating joy-con straight up his flux-capacitor.” "great! now it's paired"

"No, that isnt armor, the real armor are the friends you made along the way"

"This one goes out to all my lady friends out there *proceeds to kill himself in game*

"i'm a coward" "that's what a coward would say!"

"rest is for cowards and fools"

"every time you speak you take years off my life"

"Shark dick hoo ha ha"

"Me and the boys brushing our teeth at 3 AM"

"remember if you kill yourself the fascists win"

"The Beatles aren’t real. Have you ever seen a beatle? No? Exactly." "Babe” "Shut up I’m right."

*reading over these quotes* "god i hate that" "you said that!"

[just-a-spark]

The Before, and The After Part 4

A Knives Out Story

Story Masterlist

Warnings: Language, Sexual Content (18+ to be safe)

Summery: A wealthy classmate of Meg’s becomes close to the family, a little too close to the playboy grandson of Harlan Thrombey. The events leading up to, and following, Harlan Thrombey’s death.

“Lizzie!” Joni’s voice called as the redhead entered the Thrombey Estate.

“Hi Joni.” Elizabeth cooed as she wrapped the woman in a light hug, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Me too, Lizzie. It just doesn’t seem real. I can’t believe he’s gone... how are you doing with everything?”

Elizabeth nodded slightly, sucking in a sharp breath through her open mouth. “I’m... okay. I just wish we had the chance to patch things up before he- I wish I could have one last conversation with him.”

“Honey, don’t we all.” Joni grumbled, finally sparing Phillip a glance, “Good to see you. Is your father coming tonight?”

“Not tonight,” Phillip answered, “He isn’t able to make the trip out two days in a row, but he sends his love. He’s looking forward to seeing you all tomorrow.”

“We are all looking forward to tomorrow-“ Joni started, referring to the will reading, but Meg appeared and quickly wrapped Elizabeth in a hug.

“Lizzie, thank you so much for coming! It’s been such a fucking shit show today.” Meg sighed and tugged her friend away. She looked over her shoulder at Phillip, as if she forgot he was there, “I’m stealing her for a moment.”

“Take all the time you need!” Phillip called as he followed Richard to the kitchen to get a drink.

Meg led Elizabeth into the library and she felt her heart sink. She missed lounging around in Harlan’s comfortable chairs as he edited her writing and gave her advice. She missed his laugh when Elizabeth would say something crass and she’d blush tomato red, remembering herself a moment too late. She missed Harlan’s subtle clues, the way he’d always say “Miss Reynolds, I won’t be giving you anymore help until you do something about that mess of yours. Go upstairs and I’ll meet you back here in two hours.”

Two hours was generous, and nobody, not even Meg, suspected anything odd about the ritual. Sometimes Harlan would send her away several times in a visit, yet nobody ever questions why she had no work to show for her efforts.

Elizabeth pulled herself back to reality. Harlan was gone. That book on the shelf, the one he’d created for her to gush words onto pages in her messy cursive writing, sat on the second shelf from the floor. It taunted Elizabeth, reminding her she’d made a selfish mistake. As Harlan told her, she sold out for the money.

Away from everyone else, Meg pulled out her vape pen, “This is a fucking mess. This Blanc guy is interrogating everyone. Pretty sure his car’s still outside.” She mumbled, then offered the pen to Elizabeth, but she refused. Meg scoffed, “What? Are you too good for this kinda shit now? Your husband wouldn’t approve of it?”

“No... it’s not that...” Elizabeth trailed off, not wanting to talk about her husband.

“I just always imagined you with someone... else. Don’t get me wrong, Phil’s fine. He’s nice, I guess. Just not... your type.” Meg said nicely, and Elizabeth could tell she was holding back her feelings, something the rest of her family wouldn’t have talked around.

Joni would have come out with it: Phil was short, plump around the gut, and not terribly handsome with his thinning hair and mustache. He was almost forty, a good twelve years Elizabeth’s senior. He came from a good, influential family. He was poised to take over his father’s booming law firm and he’d had bad luck in love. A sweet, sweet man who deserved the world found a failing author who needed a safety net.

Elizabeth’s parents were so proud.

Meg waited for Elizabeth to answer, but the redhead stared at the bookshelf, unable to pull her eyes away from that white bound book on the second to bottom shelf, “I’m pregnant.”

“What?” Meg snapped her head back toward Elizabeth, almost dropping her vape, “You’re pregnant? You’ve been married less than two months-”

“I know... I know.” Elizabeth threw her hands up to cover her face, “It was a honeymoon baby. It wasn’t planned. Trust me.”

“Shit Lizzie... you’re in it for the long haul aren’t you?” Meg laughed, but pulled Elizabeth’s arms down, “Do you not want it?”

“Of course I want it, it’s a baby, not a purse. I can’t just get rid of it.” Elizabeth grabbed her stomach protectively, looking down almost fondly, “I just wasn’t prepared for it to happen so soon.”

“Lizzie? Is that you?” Linda’s voice called from the foyer and Elizabeth shushed Meg loudly as Linda Drysdale came swooping into the library. “Lizzie.” She cooed with venomous sweetness, “Thank you guys so much for coming. It means so much to us.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss. Is there anything we can do?” Elizabeth asked as she grabbed Linda’s hands, feeling her cheeks heat up as she silently prayed Meg would keep her mouth shut.

“No sweetheart, we’re just fine. It’s just nice to see you. I’m sure Dad would have appreciated you being here.” Linda said, but Elizabeth knew she was lying through her teeth. She smiled, but it was full of malice, “I’m sorry things were strained in the end. I never understood what happened between you two. Dad was so upset after Easter dinner.”

Elizabeth nodded, calculating her response slowly, “Your father and I envisioned different things... for me. For my life.” She corrected, lifting her left hand to scratch the back of her neck beneath her hair, “He tutored me, he guided me, but unfortunately I couldn’t live up to the greatness he expected from me.”

“Well,” Linda muttered with a shrug of her shoulders, “Some people find their own success. Some need others to help them get by. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No. I guess not.” Elizabeth straightened a little and grinned confidently, “We all have to make choices to do what’s best for ourselves.”

                                       Two Years Ago- New Years Eve

Harlan raised his champagne glass in front of his knife collection in the library, “To family, to friends, and to a glorious new year!”

Applause erupted around the room as his guests cheered, drinking their own champagne after his lead. Lizzie beamed at the author from his left and he looked to his watch, then motioned for her to approach but her parents rushed to his side first.

“Oh Mr. Thrombey, this party is phenomenal! Thank you so much for the invitation!” Elizabeth’s mom slurred as she tipped a little of her wine out of her glass.

Harlan smiled knowingly, nodding his head a little before addressing the woman, “I’m glad you are enjoying yourself. If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak with your daughter for a moment alone... I have some ideas I need to run past her for my next book.”

“You hear that honey, Harlan Thrombey need to speak to our daughter about his new book! Can you believe it?” Her mother drawled and her father just smiled and put his arm around his wife.

“We’ll catch up with you later, sweetheart.” He told Elizabeth and led his wife away to chat with some other guests. Elizabeth was vaguely aware of her father calling to someone named Alan as she turned back to Harlan.

“What can I help you with? Do you want to get out of here? Head to your study to work?”

“No.” Harlan answered, looking at his watch again, “It’s eleven-thirty. If you were to sneak away now, I don’t think the other guests would notice if you weren’t back by midnight.”

Elizabeth grinned, pressing her red painted lips together as she raked her fingers through her scalp to her updo. “Where would I go at midnight, then?”

Harlan looked across the crowd to the entrance of his library, eyes locked onto someone behind Elizabeth, “We’re setting off fireworks on the west lawn away from the trees. If you went to the second floor bedroom, you should have a pretty good view from the balcony.”

Elizabeth swallowed down her feelings and nodded, “That does sound nice. Get away from all this for a little while.”

“I envy you for that.” Harlan gave a little wave to Marta as she approached, clearly uncomfortable in her knee length dress. “Go have a good time. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Elizabeth leaned forward and kissed Harlan on the cheek, then darted through the mass of party-goers toward the hallway that would lead her to the main house. She slowed down when she noticed a gorgeous man sitting in a chair near the entryway. He seemed to be writing something, occasionally looking up to make sure nobody was watching, but no one seemed to care what he did.

The attendees seemed to think Ransom Drysdale was invisible, but he was the only man his Eliza saw-

“Darling! Have you met Phillip Stevens? His father is the attorney for the Thrombey Estate.” Elizabeth’s mother explained as she grabbed her daughter’s arm and pulled her into the circle. Elizabeth smiled weakly and jutted out her hand to shake Phillip’s, looking over her shoulder in a panic to find Ransom gone from his spot.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. You’re parents have told me a lot about you, as have the Thrombeys.” Phillip explained, noticing her absent expression. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” She croaked, seeing her white bound book placed on the second from the bottom shelf. “I’m fine. Just had a bit too much to drink.”

“Oh Honey-”

Phillip gently grabbed her hand and Elizabeth’s head darted up to him, noting that he was much older than her, but looked at her with kind, hopeful eyes. “We could go out and get some air?”

“Uh, maybe, I-” Lizzie stammered, but her father gave a firm nod, staring at her darkly. She swallowed and lowered her head submissively, “Some air would be nice.”

Phillip offered her his arm and lead her toward the foyer. As they moved toward the back door of the house, Lizzie looked up toward the staircase and met Ransom’s eyes, mouthing I’m so sorry as she was led outside for some air.

Ransom swallowed hard, watching as the lawyer’s son swept his girl away from under his nose. He considered finding another woman to pound into the new year, but he’d waited so patiently. He’d endured Thanksgiving and Christmas without her, and he didn’t want his plans to go to waste.

But seeing her led away by Phillip Stevens, a man who’s worth and wealth outshone his own, made Ransom realized she was never his to lose. So he stomped up the staircase to the west bedroom alone.

Lizzie stared up at the snowflakes that fell from the Massachusetts sky. Phillip spoke so sweetly to her, but the fresh air didn’t help her at all. She shivered, not dressed for the snow in her strapless gown.

“Oh.. I’m so sorry. Here.” Phillip pulled off his own jacket and draped it around her shoulders, and she smiled up at him thankfully. He was... nice. Just a little taller than her, enough to look up, but not nearly as tall as- others. He was portly and a mustache was beginning to grow. He looked at Elizabeth with true interest, and perhaps a hint of nervousness, “Is that better?”

“Yes. Thank you.” She muttered, already seeing where this was going. “My stomach just isn’t very happy right now. I may need to use the restroom.”

“I’ll walk you there, I almost know my way around.” Phillip teased and Elizabeth just smiled weakly, summoning what little care she could. “Let’s go.”

“I’m fine. Really... You go back to the party. I’ll be there soon. I might be gone for a while, I don’t want you to miss the fireworks.” Elizabeth assured the older man and he nodded, seeming to catch her drift.

Phillip took her hand and kissed it, and she felt her stomach twist in knots, “I’ll see you in a while, then. I’d love to talk to you more.”

“Yes. Later.” Elizabeth promised bleakly, hoping he couldn’t see how dismissive she was being. If he told her parents she’d been rude, she’d find herself berated in the morning when the alcohol wore off and the headaches began.

She scrambled through the doors and darted up the staircase, forgetting she was supposedly drunk and sick. She didn’t care much about what people thought of her, she was late.

Meanwhile, Ransom leaned against the balcony in the west bedroom. His breath turned to smoke as he huffed into the cold night air, but he continued to watch as Harlan’s team set up for the fireworks display.

Ransom didn’t give a shit about the fireworks. He cared about money, booze, sex, and not much else. Seeing as he wouldn’t be getting laid this New Years, he considered popping open the thousand dollar bottle of bubbly he’d placed in ice in the bathroom sink before the party started.

He couldn’t shake the image of his girl with the lawyer’s son. He was wealthy and powerful, heir to his father’s law firm while harboring a glistening reputation of his own in the courts. He was older than Ransom, and a thousand times more significant.

Ransom knew Lizzie didn’t intent on being a trophy wife, but she was struggling after leaving college. The money was running out, and her parents were running out of patience. The idea of their daughter marrying for money and stature wasn’t just accepted by the Reynolds, it was encouraged.

The young Drysdale knew he didn’t fit the bill. Wealth he had, but he didn’t have a job, a plan, and no reputation except for Trust Fund Playboy. Elizabeth wrote that she jokingly suggested him, only to be shot down her father who wanted his daughter to find a more “reputable” husband.

Not that Ransom had any intentions of settling down, especially with Elizabeth.

But her absence was disappointing since he’d actually put in effort for their rendezvous for once. He pushed himself away from the balcony with a loud sigh and left the door open, allowing the room to grow cold as his demeanor. Ransom grabbed the bottle from the sink and unwrapped the Veuve Clicquot ruthlessly, discarding the foil on the floor. He slunk back toward the balcony, standing just inside the door as he grabbed a decorative knife from the bedside table and used it to send the cork flying into the yard and bubbles foaming onto his hand.

Ransom put the bottle to his lips, the alcohol like water in the desert for him as he allowed himself to fall onto the bed. He set the bottle against the pillow beside him and used his Armani shirt to wipe the remnants from his face. He considered going back to the party. There must be some pretty women there looking for a New Years kiss. Or he could stay here, alone, where nobody would yell at him or taunt him or ignore him. Ransom could save himself the trouble and do what everyone wanted him to do anyway: leave.

He picked up the bottle again and took a long swig, looking at the single rose he’d set on the dresser near the drawer. Suddenly the door swung open and Lizzie panted as she shoved it closed behind her, catching her breath before turning to Ransom.

Her worry melted away into a knowing smirk as he pulled the bottle from his mouth, “You didn’t wait for me?”

“Didn’t think you were comin.” He answered gruffly, taking another swig and turning away. “How’s Phillip?”

“He’s nice.” She said bluntly, taking a step closer. Neither made a sound, so her heels were deafening in the room. Finally, she sat on the bed beside Ransom and took the bottle from him, but she didn’t take a drink yet. “He’s not you.”

“He’s husband material.”

“But I love you.”

“I hate when you say that.” Ransom spat, reaching for the bottle, but she raised it to her lips and took three long swallows. He watched her neck as the liquid ran down, imagining instead she was swallowing him, so his anger settled, “We’re fuck buddies, nothing more.”

Lizzie grinned and gave him the bottle back, using her hand to run along his side as he faced her, “I kinda think we’re more than just fuck buddies. I think of us more as an open relationship.” She bartered and he huffed into the alcohol, “Hey. We don’t do labels, but I do love you. I’m allowed to love someone I know I can’t marry, can’t I?”

“I suppose.” He replied, leaning back and placing the bottle on the bed stand beside the knife, “I suppose if we aren’t labeling it, and I can do whatever I want, and fuck whoever I want and love whoever I want- I guess I love you too, Eliza.”

She shook her head a little, slowly lowering herself onto him as she dug her fingers into his hair. He heard loud counting down from the floor below, indicating it was almost midnight. Ransom reached up and ran his thumb along her cheek, studying her fancy hair and painted lips and imagining all the time it would take for her to look presentable enough to go downstairs.

“Ten... Nine... Eight...”

Eliza nuzzled her nose against his, and Ransom breathed her in, as if she was the only thing giving him air. She whispered, “All we have is tonight, Hugh.”

“Two...One... Happy New Year!”

Ransom pulled her down to him and kissed her sweetly, and for a brief moment, he considered wedding the redhead, if only to keep her in his bed forever.

[raccoon-anarchy]

My Poetry Assignment thing

I still haven’t gotten my marks back for this, and maybe I’ll delete it later.

1. The Wishing Well

It’s a strange thing, love A well into which one, feeling lucky,

Willingly throws themselves down,

                                          like a sacrifice

And everyone, inevitably, hits the bottom        But, my god, does love feel like flying for a while

                                          My God

2. Pagans

Something is robbing me of my sleep

Leaving me scattered like a dropped glass

Or an ill set mirror

Leaving me to sweep the pieces off the floor,

When I can

                                           I feel restless; unsettled

                                           Like flower petals in an autumn breeze

The knowledge haunts me- that you are probably awake too

Just as unsettled

But we are too far apart

Clumsy, mismanaged words like clumsy, mismanaged hands

                                           You are not why I am losing sleep

We are two disciples of the hour of the witch

Familiar to its embrace

Its quietness, its allure, its unsettling air

We held hands and hearts across this dark

Moving together though so far apart

And carried out lamps close, blue lights upon our faces

Chanting back and forth silently with finger tips

The whole world holding its breath just for us

       You are gone now, just out of reach

       A figure, a shadow, a blur between the trees

That close in around me in the dark of my room

The whole world is holding its breath

Waiting for the chant that never comes

I’ve lost my way to the place of worship

And wander these winding hours

Unalone, but lonesome still

3. All the World’s a Choir

I’ve become fascinated by the musicality of things, places, people

The aftermath of a party feels like the start of a Violent Soho song

“The heat, it drowned itself and all the roads

with rattles from all the pubs and pokies rooms

The sound never goes...”

All the doors in the house are open, and the sounds of the morning haunt the outside world

But drift in anyway, uninvited, as sunlight reaches over crumpled cans

And

crumpled forms

Into tired eyes, to warm cool hearts.

Helium balloons quivering in the breeze like desire

Not yet given breath to.

My first love was a singer

                                          had a voice like liquid silver

I called her my stars because I swear

In her I saw a future, like a seer

Her laugh sounded like an angel taking flight

And she could touch my soul with a whisper

And those boys, that party

with their guitars slung low, lyrics curling from their lips

       like

Hymns to gods of elsewhere and other times

Their heads bobbing, hair waving

I can’t imagine my life without them in it

I count myself lucky to have fallen in with musical people

It's not something I appreciated, years ago

But the music found me

I knew a girl who I once wanted to make gasp

Just to hear what music her accent would lend my name

As it escaped her lips.

And the smartest woman I know is Polish

Her last name curls like the tail of a cat

Or the corners of her mouth when she smiles

I heard her reach back in time

And introduce the curve of a Pompeii street corner

With the notes of her voice

Come, touch my neck. Be my Dorian Grey, or I’ll be yours

Run a bow across my heartstrings, I’ll sing for you

Tease music out of me I did not know existed

I want to feel that again.

                                          I’ll put down my armor, I promise

The guitar suggested we share a bed

I like to think he was only half joking

                                          (but I could never get away with saying that)

Instead, I lay on the floor

       And we talk about girls

Why do we do that? Tiptoe around one another

I stumble like my shoelaces are loose

I’m no good at this dancing

You know that, my dear

Music was always lost on me

Always locked away

Ignorance places its hands over my ears

Takes my hands and holds my tongue

If I could only find the key

I would never stop finding rhythms

In the ways people speak

I’ve become fascinated by the musicality of things, places, people

But can’t quite grasp it

I want to learn, not for its own sake

But to know others

And to dance easily to the rhythms of their gentle hearts

All the world’s a choir, and I’m a pagan to its ways

My words never quite could hold to a stave

So I got stanzas instead

“Poetry is not real life”

The stars twinkle

“Poetry is not real life”

4. Shelley

Into me you poured kisses

and poetry under my skin ‘til it turned

my cheeks pink and warm

Bringing me to life, like a gargoyle, or golem

Made of clay and iron and black coats

And cheap whiskey

And smiles

       And bright eyes

              And a heart that beats despite its

Frankensteinian construction

You tapped lines of verse into me

Like tattoos I can’t undo

But you hated the kisses

And the poetry was not of

this reality

Someday, when they pick through my calcified heart

-Those vultures-

And peel back the layers

Under all the names of all I’ll ever love

They’ll find yours

and the white

       Scars

Left behind when I tried to scratch you out

but couldn’t

       Just couldn’t

              was not able to

And they may wonder, as do I

“Why he tattooed on his breastbone

Such a flagrant lie?”

5. Chasing Neverland

I’ve always felt out of place

Always feeling as though I’d be more comfortable in some elsewhere

- A changeling,

The green-eyed son of Oberon

Dropped in a cradle and left to cause trouble

In this world of mankind

A lost boy, looking for a Neverland

That probably doesn’t exist.

And so while I always tell people I’m going to run home

I don’t

I walk this strangely quiet and transient path

Here where the veil is thin at two am

With the trains rumbling far behind me, and the wander home ahead

Even when the night is dark

And combs my hair with an icy palm, I walk

                                          Or stagger

Watching entranced as flickering streetlights illuminate

The rain slick cement with a stutter

And the way car lamps cut through the slow dewfall

Showing the rain like a thousand shining stars

Flowers of all colours seem to wave and wink in the dark as I pass

I walk, and my mind runs away from itself, making the hills feel shallow

As I chase after my drunken thoughts trailing after your thorough absence

And do my best to reel them back in

For moments I fail and I get lost in swirling nostalgia mostly for things

That never had a chance to happen in this world

                                          But it’s warm there

                                          And it’s so cold here

                                          On these empty streets

As I wander my way back home. 6. Thomas of John

Sinner- I want what I cannot have.

These days my wine is just wine

But my bread is mouthfuls of codeine

And late nights on smoke swept streets

I fish for silver in my pocket and pass it off to the next, less fortunate, man

A sweet, poor sinner

The others tell me that he’ll just spend it on escape

                                          What do they think I’ll spend it on?

A sweet, naive sinner, they call me.

Under the judgemental eye of the watching sun

The sound of gentle hands on piano keys

Draw me in as they draw me back

To quiet moments shared when I was a humbler man.

The bags under my bloodshot eyes are swollen

Like the purses rich men push uphill

And my fingers are clumsy

                                          How did I get here?

                                          Did I even sleep?

A hopeless, faithless sinner

                                          Just like my namesake

The service is completed in a blur

Of well remembered movements

I stand in the carpark and smoke quietly

Feeling

       Cleaner?

I don’t disgust you here

Only pity, and curiosity

You ask why such a pagan

Would wander between these hallowed gates

                                          Rehearsing for my funeral

I smile, you laugh- I’m joking

                                          A little

I tell her that we are the only ones who belong here- not these older judges

This house of our childhoods,

Us poor and honest sinners

Our sweet and dying breed.

I hold this treasured moment

And want more, forevermore

Away from your new, perfect creature

A sinner- I want what I cannot have

                                                                                     Awake

       Of course

The church is no place for a pagan like me

And the distant sounds of keys

Vanish between the trees of this forest we used to wander, you and me

You are not far away, but just out of reach

So this familiar hour is just mine to keep

                                           Something is robbing me of my sleep

[serensama]

Happy Birthday Choi Boys

Just a quick, last minute Birthday HC for our favourite twins. 

How do the Choi Boys celebrate their birthday?

This includes some profanity :) 

Saeyoung:

-       Saeyoung was up at 11:59pm the night before.

-       As soon as the clock struck 12 he tried to jump on the bed and scream out the ‘Happy Birthday’ song, only to have been beaten by his fiancé.

-       MC quickly turned around and blew a small, red party horn in his face.

“Happy Birthday baby!” she cried out with her arms held up to the ceiling.

-       The red head was stunned for a whole minute until the beginnings of a smile formed on his face. MC took out another party horn for him and the two started to blow the noise makers, alternating turns, as they jumped up and down on the bed like children.

-       Saeyoung darted out of their bedroom and crashed into his brother’s room; the younger twin sprawled out over the bed, his covers mussed all over the place. The ex-hacker dove onto his sleeping sibling, causing the latter to scream out in shock as MC bounced up and down on her knees at the foot of the bed.

-       Once his brother stopped screaming in fear, he started screaming in anger for them to get the hell out, (“You bunch of crazy shits! Get the fuck out of my room. My birthday doesn’t start until I say it does and I refuse to share it with you, Jackass! GET OUT AND LET ME SLEEP… MC if you blow that horn one more time…”)

-       Suffice it to say, she did.  

-       The younger man leapt up to tackle MC only to receive a pillow to the face.

-       “TRADITIONAL BIRTHDAY PILLOW FIGHT!!!” Saeyoung screamed, one pillow in each hand like some fearsome, duel wielding warrior. Saeran growled as he got up, glaring daggers at his brother. “That’s not a thing. That’s not a tradition we have. We have no birthday traditions.” “WE DO NOW!” he challenged as he raised a pillow into the air to whack his brother with. However, Saeyoung unexpectedly fell forward when MC, who was now wise to her lover’s antics, threw in a sneak attack.

-       The twins looked at each other and for once were in complete agreeance. No one got to be sneakier than them on their birthday, especially not during Birthday Pillow Fight time.

-       The three ran around the house, swatting at each other with their pillows- the fine feather stuffing littering the ground wherever they went.

-       It ended up as a three-way Mexican standoff around the dining table; Saeyoung armed with a pillow and a rubber ducky he had somehow picked up along the way, Saeran with a cushion and tea towel he twirled menacingly- ready to snap at anyone who moved… and MC… one slipper in one hand and a body pillow far too big to be of any use to her whatsoever in the other….

-       As they stood there, inching one way and then retreating to the other, MC looked over to both men, still eyeing each other off intensely- looking to exploit any weakness. “So… Cake?”

-       The two turned to her and received a smack with the slipper and the ridiculously large body pillow.

-       MC dropped her weapons and made a beeline to the kitchen.

-       There on the counter was a giant (obviously homemade) cake with yellow and pink candy letters that spelt out,

“Happy Birthday to the best twins ever. And yes, you are my favourite.”

-       They spent the next five minutes arguing who was the favourite as MC ran out to gather their presents. The two looked at the presents in her hands and quickly shut up… presents? For them both? Who cared who was the favourite? They had presents! “For the record, it’s obvious that I’m the favourite Saeran-” “And why is that? Because you’re marrying her? That just proves she pities you more.” “MC! SAERAN IS BEING A JERK!” “Saeran! Apologise to your brother!” “See… told you I was the favourite!” “Saeyoung! Stop being a jerk to my favourite!” “Told ya.” “MC~!”

-       After their third slice of cake the trio found their way on the couch, rubbing their tummies and bemoaning how tired and old they were all getting.

-       They fell asleep with MC in Saeyoung’s arms and Saeran leaning his head against his future sister in law’s shoulder.

-       Saeyoung was the first to wake up and survey the scene before him- Saeran with chocolate smeared on the corner of his mouth and his perfect fiancé resting peacefully in his arms- he knew he already had the best birthday present of all. His happy little family.

-       He let his thumb trace MC’s sleeping features, a small smile of contentment on his face.

-       Pulling it out, and putting it between his lips- he freaking blew the party horn again.

-       MC and Saeran woke up in a panic to the howling Saeyoung, rolling about the couch.  

-       The other two squinted their eyes at him and were on him in the blink of an eye, slapping at him and pinching at any bared skin. He was sure his brother gave him a wedgie… well more like he tried… but he wasn’t wearing any underwear.

-       Saeyoung cackled at the sound of utter horror his baby brother emitted.

-       After becoming black and blue from their playful smacks, he called for a timeout and heaved his fiancé over his shoulder and back to his room- his younger brother pulling a disgusted face before laying back down on the couch to get some more sleep.

-       Saeyoung sat at the end of their bed, MC upon his lap, her arms and legs encircled around him. She gently placed her forehead against his and smiled before leaning in to steal his mouth for a birthday kiss.

-       “Happy Birthday, my darling,” she whispered against his lips as they pulled apart, her fingers idly twirling in his messy locks. “Hmmm,” he hummed happily, drunk from the euphoria he had just experienced, “best birthday ever!” he proclaimed as he drew the curtain of hair away from his lover’s face.

-       “It’s not done yet ‘Youngie!” she chirped, wriggling about on his lap, “We still have tonight’s party at that BBQ restaurant Jumin booked out for us… I have no idea why he chose it- as if that man has ever cooked his own meat…” “He’s probably going to get Jaehee to cook it for him…” “Who are you to judge, Mr “I almost burnt down the kitchen making grilled cheese-” “Hey in my defence-” “No defence! You had put the whole sandwich in the toaster and it was on fire-”

“It still tasted good.”

-       MC groaned as she pushed Saeyoung back against the mattress, straddling him- her giant grin contradicting the puff of annoyance she made. “My point is- smart ass- your birthday has only just begun! You can’t possibly know it’s going to be the best one ever-” “Yes I can,” he answered assuredly, locking his hands around her waist, drawing her down towards him. “Oh, how can you?” she asked as she aligned herself upon him, her arms folded under her chin, resting on his chest. “Because… I started the day with you. I started the day laughing with you. Laughing with my brother. I never thought I would have that… it’s already the best birthday ever,” he replied quietly, a look of calm washing over his face.

-       MC beamed up at him before launching herself at him and assaulting his mouth with her own. “Let’s not forget… birthday boy gets to choose all the games we play today…” she teased. “Ahhh any game?” he chuckled, turning them over so she was pinned underneath him. Her smile widened as she nodded, her teeth worrying her bottom lip in excitement.

“So, if I wanted to play a game… naked in bed… you would play with me?” he asked as he bent down to nip at her exposed throat and collarbones. MC giggled her response as she automatically spread her legs so he could lay in between them. “That’s awesome! We can play naked Snap then!” he jeered as he got up to find the deck of cards.

“Oh… oh yay…Snap.”

-       Best. Birthday. Ever.

  Saeran:

-       “Honey! Happy-” “Don’t say it MC-” “But I just greeted your brother-” “Good for both of you- but seriously, don’t.”

-       Birthdays were always a hard time for Saeran. He had never had a good birthday in his entire life- why start now? It was just another crappy day, so why not treat it like another crappy day?

-       “What would you like to do?” his girlfriend asked him for the thousandth time that week. He knew she was trying to be thoughtful but all it did was grate on his nerves and if she didn’t stop soon, they’d have an argument. He took a deep breath in and stilled his emotions- she was trying to be nice, don’t repay kindness with ungratefulness.

-       “Honestly babe, I wanna go out to the park and go for a quiet walk- it would be nice if you came along, but it’s cool if you don’t. Then I wanna go and get something simple to eat- you know I’m not going to that damn restaurant Han booked. That’s going to end with him and Pretty Boy fighting and Saeyoung recording it and laughing like an idiot… I just… I just wanna chill,” he answered earnestly as his hands swept through his newly dyed pastel locks.

-       MC smiled and nodded, if that’s what he wanted- then that’s what he would get. Who was she to tell him how to spend his birthday?

-       She let him stay in bed as she delivered breakfast to him… a stack of pancakes with a lit pink and white candle, standing proudly in the middle.

-       Saeran looked up at her and bit back a smile- the woman was tenacious- he would give her that. Licking his fingers, the man pinched at the flickering flame before tucking into his breakfast.

-       After eating, MC joined him in the shower, enjoying the feel of her hands roaming over his body- massaging out the knots and tender spots over his neck and shoulders. Her nimble fingers combing at his wet scalp. Her body against his as they hugged under the warm spray of water.

-       When he was drying his hair, he didn’t notice her pop out of the bathroom, only to reappear with a cupcake and the same small candle from before- peeking out from under a pile of icing.

-       Saeran gave her a withering look before he pointed the hairdryer towards the flame and extinguished it.

-       The walk in the park was just what he wanted- the sky was blue and the clouds the perfect mix of wispy and puffy. He would look up and call out the different shapes he saw, “Oh! There’s Yoosung!” “Where?” “Up in the sky… see that one, the small, wimpy looking cloud- there he is. He just died in LOLOL…” “That’s one freaking specific cloud ‘Ran-Ran.” “Oh! And there’s one of The Idiot running after Han’s cat…” “Huh?”

“The stupidly shaped cloud over there trailing after the smaller stupider looking cloud?” “They all look the same…”

“That’s because everyone is stupid.” “Ahh… yes… how silly of me…”

-       MC spotted a man selling ice-cream and excused herself, rushing off to leave her man on the park bench- as he glared at anyone who thought it was a good idea to sit down beside him.

-       Shuffling back excitedly she came up to him with her hands behind her back, a proud smile spread across her face. Saeran stared up at her, his eyes slightly squinted as his gaze moved up and down her body. “I swear MC… if you’ve put that damned candle in my ice-cream…”

-       MC’s smile faltered as she revealed both cones, one with the same dejected candle. She looked away from him with a very visible pout on her lips as she blew out the flame. Huffing as she pulled out the small pink and white candle and put it back into her pocket, she handed him his mint chocolate chip ice cream cone.

-       As the day wore on with them still on the same park bench, Saeran was half asleep with his head perched upon his lover’s lap, her fingertips softly trailing swirling patterns at his temples and upon his brow as she read a book. The heat of the afternoon sun warmed him to his bones as a lazy, happy feeling coursed through his veins. This was perfect. Just, perfect.

-       He turned his head and nuzzled at MC’s stomach, eliciting an amused chuckle from his girlfriend… and then a loud rumble from her belly.

-       One eye snapped open to peer up at her, her face plastered with shock and her cheeks brighter than his brother’s hair.

-       He laughed. He laughed and laughed and laughed.

-       It wasn’t even that funny but- he couldn’t stop laughing.

-       So, this is what it feels like, to be happy- for no reason… it’s nice.

-       Finding a quiet restaurant, the two huddled into the corner and picked off each other’s plates. He caught MC as she tried to smuggle the sad little pink and white candle off to one of the waitresses and his unimpressed look was all she needed to look sheepish and put the thing back into her pocket where it belonged (or the trash can if it were up to him).

-       They walked back home, Saeran’s arm draped nonchalantly over her shoulder, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair. As the setting sun’s colours danced over her skin, he smiled and held her to him even closer before he pressed a kiss to her temple and grinned into her hair. It truly is nice.

-       Stripped down to their underwear with MC in yet another one of his stolen shirts- they both crawled into bed and just stared at each other.

-       “Thank you,” he rasped as his hand ran over the dip in her waist. She looked at him and gave him a confused smile. “For what?” “For not pushing the whole birthday thing on me too much… and… and for trying to push the whole birthday thing on me too… maybe, maybe next year we can do something…” he trailed off, his cheeks burning in the darkness of their room. He was absolutely convinced he was practically glowing with embarrassment.

-       MC smiled as she pushed herself up to rest on her knees before she crawled over to the edge and picked something up from her bedside table. The sound of a lighter clicked and a bright blue flame turned orange… and that little pink and white candle was once again brought to life.  

-       “Make a wish baby,” she whispered, her face illuminated by the soft light, her kind (always so kind) smile and sweet eyes radiating with so much love Saeran could feel his throat close up against his will.

-       Scooting up the bed so his back rested against the headboard, Saeran crossed his arms and threw her one more apathetic look. At the sight of her waning smile he let out a bark of laughter before leaning in, looking up into her eyes and smiling- blowing out the candle.

-       “What did you wish for?” she asked after a minute of silence as they sat in the dark again.

-       Saeran smiled as he reached out for her again, yanking her back down to lay against his chest.

“I wished that I could have eaten that cupcake from this morning. That shit looked tasty as hell,” he joked, wincing as she slapped him gently across the chest.

-       You. I wished for you. To do this again next year. And then the next year. And the one after that. Forever.

-       …. And the cupcake too.

-       Because it was his birthday- it was the day to be selfish after all, right?

[calcinators-blog]

FN-2187, TR-8R

I can’t tell you what it was like. And by it, I really do mean all of it.

“Indoctrination” was one hell of a thing. But then, well… back then, I didn’t know any different. It was all one way up until it wasn’t, until Dr. Thos pulled me out of my mental stasis and I could really think for myself. Do you understand what I mean?

I guess that’s maybe not for me to wonder in the first place; I know your mind has been yours the whole time. I know you choose this and you know I couldn’t. Insinuating it’s possible for you to place yourself where I’ve been is out of the question, not that you wouldn’t try to because I know you well enough, but I couldn’t explain even if I had all the time in the world to. And I don’t.

I’m still coming to terms with it. I know that we’ve already said goodbye. Maybe I’m only talking myself through because it’s too quiet and no one else has said anything to me in hours. Maybe because I still feel like I’m going to see you later and I’m practicing re-telling this story.

If you could hear me, right now, I don’t even know what would I say to you. Maybe that watching the hatch seal over your face was death enough for me. But that’s not the important stuff that I should have said. The one chance I had, I kept it back. Everything. All the nitty-gritty details, the stuff that a part of me would rather get vaped than admit to you. I wanted to come clean, really, but I just couldn’t burden you like that. I held my tongue then and I hold it now, inching closer to the great wipe.

Being reconditioned feels like a joke. But, I’m not laughing.

As I was saying, I broke out of it all, sure, then came pretending like I hadn’t, which was easier than you’d think since you can never really forget what it’s like. I mean, it was both a barrier and an alarm. It was an invisible wall blocking a spectrum of thought, protecting me from revelation and natural impulse. It was an inaudible siren, influencing my brain to duck and run or stand in line. To lay my life out for the cause and all that.

In time, you can imagine, that you’d grow to tolerate it. And I did. Fighting against it only makes headaches. Real bad ones. Ones that grind and pound at your brain like it’s the Resistance itself. I think it’s because our minds were conditioned not to do what they want to do.

Well, I’ll call them headaches, but in truth, they were more than that. The programming and programmers, the ones who do this to us, they are not our allies and they are not our friends.

The end feels all too similar to the beginning. I blame the hallways. The repetition of steel and stone. These worn down boots of mine are ticking like a detonator against the floors, slick with polish. I’m amazed I can walk without falling on my ass.

Hell, now I can’t see anything but Slip’s face. I’ve been in my share of accidents but he was by far the clumsiest trooper I’ve ever seen. I mean it lovingly when I say his dexterity was fictional… ‘Cuz he was also as sharp as a sarlacc’s tooth and that’s why they kept him around. Slip, walking to reconditioning and tripping on his way, would have been the greatest “fuck you” to the General over here. I’m sure it’s a mood killer. It’s gotta be.

Anyways, he’s at my left and a psytech I can’t recognize is at my right. So, there’s a black coat on one side and white at the other. It feels almost like a devil and angel on my shoulders but neither is interested in mercy.

I should also mention that Hux here, has been staring at the back of my head so intently I can feel his glare burning away at my scalp. On one hand, I want to ignore it but on the other, I can’t help but feel he’s annoyed that my hair is  redder than. I must have established myself as the alpha. And I say that as if, wherever you are right now, you’ll stop what you’re doing and laugh– or at least roll your eyes in that way you do when I say something unbelievably corny. I know this look well from too many sour jokes.

I think suddenly to when you told me my hair was as red as poppies. I’m not sure why, but it’s always stuck with me. Maybe I liked the association to something organic and innocent, maybe I just liked how your face lit up when you told me. I think about how you had mentioned they would stain your palms  because you would hold onto them, collect them. Keep them close.

I hope I haven’t left a mark.

Everything aside, I just wish you could hear me. You know, even still, as I march on knowing what’s coming, I don’t think I can take this moment seriously. I don’t think so, but it sneaks up on me. I’m fine in one step, a mess in another.

I contemplate decking the General, then running as he’s stunned. He’s confident that I won’t. I don’t have cuffs. But where would I go then?

It’s hard to stomach how close we were to— it. I guess the absolute worst thing that I could do is measure the distance between here and freedom. I’ll forget about freedom soon enough but damn, if I wasn’t right there.

It’s just ahead now. I’d be lying if I told myself that I didn’t feel scared, or worse, alone. It’s intimidating to know I’ll be fine on the other side or that I won’t remember this moment of not being fine.

I’m not okay right now. I’m the exact opposite. I’m shaking under these outer plates. I feel it breaking like sheets of ice, shifting and crackling along moving water. This armor, my second skin, won’t prevent what they plan on doing to me. Can’t.

I always imagined, in the end, you would show me your home world. I thought about what it would be like to see it with order restored because that’s why you were here. In some vague, ridiculous way, I’m thankful that it pushed you here. I’m not, for one second, pleased that your planet is suffering now but we met and that’s something I would never regret. The universe is too big to not host such happy coincidences and if my memory serves me right, you did say I was like your brother.

Yeah. Happy.

Starkiller isn’t going to get some ceremonious goodbye from me. No one did– not even my Captain. She handed me over; they must have not trusted that I could do it myself for sending her as a chaperone. She came to collect me before any of the others had woken up. We marched soundlessly from the barracks to the main bridge all to find the General waiting for me, sipping tea and reading something on his holopad. He gave me this look, like I was a dog on a leash or something, and told Captain that he was “sorry it came down to this.”

Sorry... Can you believe that? That he was sorry?

She didn’t.

We didn’t have to talk, you know. I mean, I respect the hell out of that woman– under the armor, I wouldn’t be surprised if her flesh was also chromed– but she was thrown through a loop. I don’t think I’ve ever been so quiet; maybe she was waiting for me to brush it all off my shoulders. She didn’t think I could bear the weight of it all without comedic relief to shake the tension loose. But I did.

They’re connecting me to the machines now.

They’ve kept to themselves how potentially dangerous this procedure is. They haven’t warned me that it’s excruciating, that I might wake up in the night with sweat-soaked sheets from nightmares of this life. Dr. Thos forewarned us. You know if it were simple, being reset, they would have done this to me the moment I started laughing more than I blasted things to bits. They don’t do this to wise-mouths; only turncoats… and I wouldn’t have made it as an FN without faking my undying devotion. I’ve never shown that my allegiance is outside this white skeleton.

They look at me, close-lipped. No one has explained to me why I’m here. The only disclaimer they’ve made is that this is what is going to happen. I’m lead to believe our secret is about to make itself known if they do not already know. But I don’t want to entertain that. Thinking about the others… They just can’t.

I’m suddenly terrified of what will happen to the rest. I can’t do anything, secured tightly to this chair, each limb pressed down to the surface. I can only blink and move my head. Neither action is sufficient, so I do nothing.

I put so much belief in the plan. I depended on inertia, and maybe to a fault, that it would just keep us all creeping forward undetected. I never thought I’d be halted. I’m trying to be okay with it. If the skifflin is out of the sack, I only hope it means that you’re right on the edge of figuring it out too.

Damn.

I just couldn’t risk it though. I couldn’t include you in it all when I knew how unsafe it was to house these thoughts. Sometimes I would rip myself out of sleep and have to fight not rocketing down the hall to tell you… It’s just that there is so much happening beneath.

Maybe I should have told you– I should have said something, right? I can’t say anything now. No. Nothing. Not in a metaphorical sense either. Stars, they’ve tied a strip of ashen, flimsy fabric over my mouth. It tastes like gauze and I can’t help but think of being stitched up in the medbay a few cycles back for being a little too reckless. I can’t help but think while I still can. I can’t help it at all. I’m not going to make a sound– untie it. Please, General. I can’t go through my final moments like this. And why do you have to look at me like that? Like I’m a wounded animal about to be put down. My limbs are transformed to claws and wings. Let me go. Let me go.

Am I awake for this procedure? There was no countdown. It’s happening. God. I can feel parts of me going numb and cold. It’s a submersion into ice water. I’m not ready. I’m not ready. I don’t want to forget your face. I’m thinking really hard about you. I’m not ready to give you up. They can try to steal you and everyone else from me but I refuse to let you go.

I feel something moving down the pathways of my memory. There’s no way to describe this feeling, only that I’m all too aware of something slithering about inside my head. Starkiller is absorbing my mind in preparation for total annihilation.

I won’t forget you. I won’t forget you when you had been watching the interstellar dust. We had everything then– the one last perfect moment.

General Hux has his hand on the controls. I can’t see much but I see him from the corner of my eye. The techs, in ghostly white robes around him, are supervising. He must think he’s deleting the problem; that it began and so dies with me.

I can only hope this buys you enough time.

Whatever happens after this, you’ll make it out. I know you will. You’ll go back to your planet and see the poppies. I don’t know where I came from but I trust you don’t mind if I go there too. It feels like it’s home enough for me. I hope you know my consciousness will be there, preserved and flowing through the stems of every single flower, bursting into petals you used to admire.

We’re all finally free there. Everyone. Please, you have to keep holding on.

You just have to.

I wonder if they can see it in my eyes, the brilliance of the view we had. I’m thinking about it hard enough that I’m surprised that my skin hasn’t become one with the darkness we hang in.

You’re here. With me. You’re next to me. I feel our last hug become our last once more. I feel you holding me together, but you’re fading to quickly to keep me in tact. But I’m not ready to let you go.

The fabric over my mouth slips; it falls down my chin and hangs at my neck like a noose. This vision of you, the last I’ll see of you and know who you are, but I whisper to you regardless:

 "We will escape. We will all escape."

The man with red hair, whose name and face have left me, cannot control his rage. He slams his hand on a button and I’m shocked with so much invisible electricity that I–

[wordcreatr]

Frankly, my hair is becoming a bit of an issue, and I’m in dire need of a COVID-19 pandemic haircut.

This was me pre-pandemic.

This is me today.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to write a concerto — or invent a time machine.

My hair hasn’t been this out of control since college when I started growing it long because a girl I had a slight crush on told me to (Yes, I had all the will power of a drone, and no we never dated). I used to refer to the inevitable ugly stage as the Bobby Brady phase, which transitioned into the Industrial Mullet before it reached a state when others began referring to me as the Wild Man of Borneo. And it’s even worse now because it’s losing pigment so is more flyaway — and it’s thinning.

When my friend Neil Griffiths, an officer in the Royal Navy, saw a recent online photo of me, he posted ‘Steady on, Ludwig!’ Besides Beethoven, I’ve also been compared to Doc Brown from Back to the Future, Horshack from Welcome Back, Kotter, the Heat Miser, and any number of 19th-century pompadoured villains and maybe a modern-day televangelist. 

Ludwig van Beethoven

Doc Brown

Horshack

The Heat Miser

I’ve even been compared to Shrek, a New Zealand sheep who kept eluding the annual shearing roundup by hiding in caves. He spent six years on the lamb (yeah, I’m not apologizing for that one) and had 60 pounds of fleece shorn from him after someone finally caught his wooly ass.

I think I found my spirit animal.

Like Shrek, I can’t remember the last time I had a haircut. Maybe some time toward the beginning of the year? As the pandemic ramped up here in Arizona, they initially listed barbershops (along with nail salons) as essential businesses, but then shuttered them after public outcry. Not that it really mattered to me. As I mentioned in an earlier post, I’ve been getting my hair cut by Rosalinda, my Mexican Mom, for coming up on 20 years. So even though the barbershops are open, she’s the only person I trust with my hair. But, she and her husband, Alfredo, fall into the older category of citizens, so even though I don’t go out much, I’m not taking the risk of possibly infecting them. Besides, like I said, I rarely go out and when I do, I (usually) wear a baseball cap. On the plus side, my coworkers find my hair humorous when we have video meetings, so at least I’m bringing something to the table.

Zero F***s Given

When I was younger and out trying to meet women, I would have had a lot of anxiety if I had looked this crazy. Today — and I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or not — but I pretty much don’t give a fuck. My biggest worry is whether I’ve walked out of the house with pants on or not (trousers for the Limeys). This is actually a valid concern as I tend to spend my days wearing boxers and a t-shirt, maybe leaving my property once or twice a week to shop. I’m so used to it, I walked into Fry’s grocery store the other day wearing plaid shorts and for a horrifying moment, I stopped in my tracks because I wasn’t sure if I’d actually put my shorts on before I left home and was instead clad only in my plaid boxers. It was one of those breathtaking moments, the kind you have in a dream when you suddenly realize you’re out in public and you’re butt-ass naked. If someone in security was monitoring the front door and saw the look on my face and my eyes darting around as I stopped up short, he probably would have said “Hey keep an eye on this guy. I think this old fucker is getting ready to steal something.”

The Houseguest keeps telling me to grow my hair out till January, but I think it’s more for her amusement than her looking out for my interest because occasionally I’ll walk into a room and she starts laughing.

Speaking of unruly hair, the Houseguest was complaining hers was looking a bit witchy lately, so she got her boyfriend to help her cut it yesterday. He did the back, and she did the front and sides. It actually looks pretty good despite him asking about haircutting techniques during the process. I am so thankful it turned out okay because I was NOT prepared for all the crying and wailing a hack job would have resulted in. I had another friend in college whose boyfriend misunderstood her request that he cut 2 inches off her shoulder-length hair, and gave her an unintentional bob  — there was lots of boohooing that day.

Surprisingly, the Houseguest actually gave me first crack at the job a couple of weeks ago when she made an offhand comment about having me trim her hair for her. I stared at her, incredulous, and said absolutely not.

“Why not?” she asked.

“Have you not been observing me for the last 18 years?” I asked, staring at her. I mean, she even reads my blog for God’s sake. There was no way in hell I was getting roped into something that might require an ear being reattached or a scalp transplanted.

After thinking about it for a second, she acknowledged that, yeah, it was probably a dumb idea. Plus I wasn’t about to break my vow.

The Vow

I still have nightmares about this. When I was a kid in the UK, around 8 years of age,  I had a lock of hair hanging in my eyes, annoying me. So I tried trimming it with scissors right before we were leaving the house to go to Mass one Sunday. A fairly simple task, right? No. I succeeded in removing the offending lock by cutting a large and very obvious rectangle out of my bangs. My mom was so mad and said I looked like I was simple. She tried disguising it by wetting my hair and slicking my bangs over but to no avail. And even worse, I was an altar boy. Naturally, I didn’t want to go up in front of the congregation with fucked up hair, but my mom was a big believer in serving the Lord and paying for your mistakes, so this was a two-for-one. So there I stood in my black cassock and white surplice, as people in the front rows snickered at my bangs, disrespecting my sacred role in the celebration as the bell ringer and the lighter of candles. Humiliated and seething, since God refused to smite them, I could do nothing to avenge my shame. That day,  I swore I would never take scissors to my — or anyone else’s — hair ever again (my brother Kevin had recently butchered a neighbor kid’s hair–he was an ugly kid before the haircut and my brother did him no favors).

Anyway, so that’s what’s up with my life right now. We’ll see how long this plays out.  I thought about buzzing my hair with clippers, but I gave my dog trimming clippers away after my dog died. Plus, I never did a good job on her anyway. She always came out looking like a moth-eaten baby seal.  My friend Carlos’ wife, Tiffany, saw the same photo that Griff saw, posted “Good Lord!” and offered to buzz my head with her clippers, but I’m not sure I’m ready to go down that road. Besides, I have a sneaking suspicion I have a misshapen head.

So, barring an unexpected pandemic haircut, it looks like the Wild Man from Borneo may be hanging around for a bit longer.

In Need of a Pandemic Haircut Frankly, my hair is becoming a bit of an issue, and I'm in dire need of a COVID-19 pandemic haircut.

[apsbicepstraining]

5 Actors Who Do The Same WTF Specific Thing In Every Movie

Many actors have a signature form. Tom Cruise loves to pas, Nicolas Cage can never be more than six inches from ardor, and Sylvester Stallone likes to add a brief fart announced to the centre of every word. But those can easily be explained away — by vigour, lunacy, and mouth-full-of-farts, respectively. But no one can explain why the next 5 aces continue using the same bizarrely specific stuffs happen to them in every single movie.

5

Arnold Schwarzenegger Is Constantly Perturbed About Forgetting His Partner To Leering Shitheads

Arnold Schwarzenegger has returned himself into a glistening cistern of a human, but all those thousands of hours at the gym seem to have obliged him unusually insecure about his house life. In True Lies , he plays a top-secret authority ultra snoop pose as a run-of-the-mill 300 -pound bodybuilding software salesman, but he gets murderously anxious when his ignored partner strives out “adventure” in the form of sleazy employed vehicle salesman Bill Paxton.

20 th Century Fox “Guess your partner likes the confidence that comes from being a total fucking douchebag, bro! “

Then, in Jingle All The Way , Arnold reprises his role as “shitty inept spouse, ” sans being an ultra spy( he’s precisely a regular superhuman whale ), and again gets insanely resentful where reference is finds his wife’s been spend time with a certain popular-with-the-neighborhood-housewives Phil Hartman.

20 th Century Fox “I couldn’t help but notice your stupendous muscles. Well, I simply work out one muscle, and here’s a clue which one: THE PENIS.”

In Total Recall , Arnold’s wife-stealing fears play out in the most frightful direction possible: He experiences out the status of women he thinks is the adoration of his life is actually a double agent who’s secretly with Richter, a villain who embed phony retentions into his intelligence to stir him think he and his wife had a life together.

TriStar Pictures “What are the last five statements you’d ever expect a mortal with my face and hairline to say? No , not ‘THIS HAIRCUT WAS 60 DOLLARS.’ The reaction was ‘YOUR WIFE IS FUCKING ME.'”

All three cuckolders get their comeuppance, though. Arnold expends a vast quantity of CIA resources to illegally stage a escapade to get Paxton to pee-pee his gasps, Hartman goes refusal eggnog thrown on him when he goes full sneak, and in Total Recall , Arnold killed his bogus partner in the pate, says, “CONSIDA DAT A DIVORCE, ” then snaps Richter’s arms off and drops-off the rest of him down an elevator gibe. So in all cases, love triumphed in the end.

4

Hollywood Will Always, Always Destroy Mads Mikkelsen’s Eyes

Take a look at Mads Mikkelsen’s face. Particularly his eyes.

Sony Pictures Television Now, if you even can, try to tear your eyes away.

They seem all right, as far as seeings start. Nice brown pigment, good spacing and symmetry … no real troubles worth mentioning. And yet for some ground, every filmmaker’s action when they read those seeings is “I must exterminate them at all costs. Cut them out! Ignite them out! Accompanied me the moaning children of Mads Mikkelsen’s eyes so they are unable look upon their father’s ruin !!! “

We … we should probably start explaining.

The veer started in Casino Royale , Mikkelsen’s introduction to the world outside Scandinavia. In that movie, his character’s left gaze is horribly scarred, leaving him weeping blood in moments of high-pitched stress.

Eon Productions We’re talking about the one that had all the coloring carved out of it with a dull fork.

Mads’ gooey eye isn’t a plan extent, or even a setup for one of Bond’s one-liners. Instead, someone was look back Mikkelsen and expected that they fuck up his left attention before filming. And then someone completely different chose the same stuff two movies afterwards in Valhalla Rising . Mikkelsen’s character not only has a wad of joint scalp for a left see in the film, but he is actually announced One Eye.

Scanbox Entertainment Danish pinkeye does not fuck around.

Mikkelsen’s rising star intended his agent had more strength to bargain, so they must have reached a endanger in the movie after that. In The Three Musketeers , his reference is utterly still missing a left eye, but he gets to wear a cool attention patch over it instead of a prosthetic ball sack.

Summit Entertainment “I’m here to talk to you about the Musketeers initiative.”

But instead of slaking their hate of Mikkelsen’s eye, such an affront only formed Hollywood’s anger grow. The Union of Hollywood Theatrical Artists Specifically for Mads Mikkelsen’s Eyes affirmed, and so in Doctor Strange , Mikkelsen’s eyes are two burning embers at the center of eight pounds of makeup.

Marvel Studios In other statements, FABULOUS.

It’s obvious that Hollywood will not rest “until youve” pried those orbs right from Mikkelsen’s head, so Mads built the wise men move to branch out to other media. He became best friends with Metal Gear builder Hideo Kojima and agreed to wizard in his next tournament, Death Stranding . And if you’d like to see the brand-new and interesting direction Kojima is taking Mikkelsen, here’s a screenshot of what his attribute will look like!

Sony Interactive Entertainment You, uh … you got a little something in your …

3

Keanu Reeves Desires Being Strapped Into A Cyber Chair

Over the course of his movie busines, Keanu Reeves has traveled through time, goes in superman combats with infantries of computer programs, and once helped Sandra Bullock launch a bus in accordance with the arrangements that spat in the very mouth of physics. But the most frequent shenanigan Reeves guides into is finding himself tied to a cybernetic chair.

Read Next

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He got a taste for it in Johnny Mnemonic , a movie about the 1990 s trying to create a black hole of self-parody. Keanu plays a human flash drive in a futuristic cyber world felt up by a person who is exceedingly, very cynical about humanity’s ability to miniaturize data storage. He enrols the virtual reality via a cyber chair, whereby he gambles the hazards of the over-storage meltdown to … you know what? It’s quite hard to explain Johnny Mnemonic in one paragraph. Reckon the various kinds of cyberpunk you would detest if you were into cyberpunk, and then include a dolphin. Wait … is the fact that it? Holy shit, we did it!

TriStar Pictures In that container behind the chair? That’s the dolphin we were talking about!

Later, Reeves starred in The Matrix , in which most of the planned and interior decides were made up of cyber chairs. Keanu was quickly growing Hollywood’s go-to star for narratives about people whose figures are in chairs but whose minds are absolutely not.

Warner Bros. Pictures Above: The People’s Choice winner for Actor Most Often in Cyber Chairs.

Keanu even manages to find a way to incorporate cyber chairs in movies about sorcery. In Constantine , the entitle attribute has a chair called “The Chair, ” which gives him get views of Lucifer’s son Mammon obtaining the Spear of Destiny. It’s another cinema we shouldn’t try to explain in a paragraph. The item is, he’s a wizard in a macrocosm of supernatural, and Keanu still ascertained a space to shoot his brain into virtual reality while buckled into a chair.

Warner Bros. Pictures “My contract clearly states that my psyche and my organization cannot ever appear in the same scene.”

Keanu doesn’t ever move his knowledge away when he’s strapped into a cyber chair. In The Day The Earth Stood Still , he plays an immigrant referred Klaatu. The tale identifies him tied to an everyday chair and pointlessly covered in sensors by authority agents who had to have been waiting their whole lives to fuck with an immigrant, yet still manage to screw the whole event up.

20 th Century Fox “Does your Earth sensor pick up how disappointing this all is? To everyone? “

The Day The Earth Stood Still signal Keanu’s growth as relevant actors. He substantiated he could get fastened to chairs with less and fewer devices. He disappeared even further in Knock Knock , in which he gets tied to a chair that exclusively includes headphones.

Lionsgate “I SAID! WE’RE BREAKING FOR LUNCH! WE’LL BE BACK IN ABOUT 90 MINUTES! GREAT WORK THIS MORNING, KEANU! “

Reeves lastly “made it” as a fully cyber-free chair actor in the acclaimed act movie John Wick , which has him tied to a chair with perfectly no electric wires or cables. It is attached to zero cyber dolphins and no alternating digital actualities. It was a long and confusing road getting here, but here he is …

Summit Entertainment

… living the reverie!

2

Jim Carrey Is Forever Plagued By Bugs

Before Jim& Andy documented the full and insufferable penetrations of his self-indulgence, Jim Carrey was a beloved performer known for his goofy overacting and pseudo-philosophical public meltdowns. One repetition topic in Carrey’s achievements, nonetheless, seems to have operated under the radar for years: Namely, that his rubbery face redoubles as a glitch magnet. Let’s start with the hover that crawls across his eyeball in the stupidly premised Yes Man .

Warner Bros. Pictures Yes Man is a movie about a serviceman who can’t say no to concepts! Even flies on his eyeball!

In Me, Myself, And Irene , Jim’s face and mouth get contained within imperfections, and he utterly doesn’t charge. Oddly enough, in Dumb And Dumber , he mentions swallowing a junebug off-camera as a intellect he’s not ravenous. We’re not sure what this makes, but Carrey’s references seem to be the only people who are totally fine with live insects piloting into their lips and eyes. Are all his movies secretly zombie movies? Candyman spinoffs?

20 th Century Fox “Turn out the brightness and say my refer 5 times in your reflect to be informed about! “

Here’s a recreation GIF from How The Grinch Stole Christmas , and we’re beginning to believe this wasn’t even in the dialogue. This is simply what happens when Carrey stops moving his lip for more than five seconds.

Universal Pictures What you are familiar with as Jim Carrey is merely an elastic pocket harbouring the legion of Swarmog, insect mass of Nebulo 8.

The man is comprised and filled with insects in a way that may account for his inhuman gyrations. It doesn’t seem to be limited to the laid, either. He once told a Jimmy Kimmel audience all about the mites that started living in his beard. When the time comes to Jim Carrey, the question isn’t whether or not he has a fault on him; it’s where, how many dozens, and how many eggs they are laying.

“Cut! We’re going to need to fumigate Jim again.”

1

Leonardo DiCaprio’s Toasts Are Omens Of Destruction

If you don’t weigh dopey comedies committing weddings, you don’t see toasts in very many movies. But when you do, there’s a 90 percentage likelihood Leo DiCaprio is the one dedicating it. Every single filmmaker agrees that the man sounds good delivering a spectacular speech with liquor in his hand.

Here we have the first instance, from Baz Luhrman’s Romeo+ Juliet . DiCaprio makes the “here’s to my love” discussion to what he thinks is his dead sweetheart before downing poison.

20 th Century Fox “So let’s create a glass of Drano to my dead lover. What? She’s not d- ACK! “

Seeing him deliver such a heartfelt addres with poison on hand, James Cameron wanted to see what the teenager could do with real alcohol. So in Titanic , he has Leo deliver a speech on how the peoples of the territories about to be eaten by the ocean should “make each day count.”

Paramount Pictures “To remaining heated and strong dive! Here here! “

And here he is in The Man In The Iron Mask , a movie where they applied the highest-paid performer on the planet’s honcho inside a barrel for most of the running duration. He’s toasting to his mother and his own predominate as king.

United Artists These toasts aren’t … working out absolutely amazing yet.

His next cinematic cup-hoist came in Gangs Of New York , in which he disguises his threat to kill the man who murdered “his fathers” as a toast.

Miramax “And here’s to the guy who killed my pa! Fuck you, buddy.”

Next, in the smash hit everyone surely attended, Revolutionary Road , DiCaprio makes a toast to Kate Winslet being pregnant, right before Michael Shannon manages to shatter the facade and shorten DiCaprio to a screaming, violent shipwreck. The moment is: Nothing good ever happens after a DiCaprio toast.

DreamWorks

Leonardo adorations toasting so much better that he does it even when it’s not appropriate. Here he is justifying the order of Inception . It’s one of the most important and complicated pronunciations anyone in a cinema has ever had to give, so he of course does it by standing up and raising a glass of wine.

Warner Bros. Pictures “So create your glass to how occasion labours differently inside a nightmare, but then likewise daydream parties have to fall out of their chairs to wake up, and if you die in your fantasies, you become a centaur in the next realm up, even if it’s real life.”

In Django Unchained , they had DiCaprio’s curiosity, and then they had his attention … a line that might have been clunky and overwritten had he not interspersed it with a laughable drink.

The Weinstein Company “It wasn’t truly a toast, I guess. I just like giving 40 percent of all movie scripts while I drink.”

In The Wolf Of Wall st. , Leo sarcastically toasts the impotent FBI agents to show them that dickheads can do anything they want if they’re rich enough.

Paramount Pictures “Here’s to the rest of you fuckers taking that exercise, extremely. I’m Leo DiCaprio, and each toast I induce is so, so awful.”

Every single one of this man’s toasts have contributed to pitch-dark and horrible events, but he deters doing them. You cannot stop him. Here he is in the Departed , holding a speedy toast right into the side of another man’s head.

Warner Bros. Pictures “Here’s to you, FUCKING HEAD.”

The point we’re trying to obligate is that if you recognize Leonardo DiCaprio start to raise his glass, run.

Warner Bros. Pictures “Here’s to you being too late. You’re already dead.”

It genuinely was merely a matter of time before someone put Leo on a wine glass . If you desired this article and crave more content like this, support our website with a visit to our Contribution Page. Please and thank you .

The post 5 Actors Who Do The Same WTF Specific Thing In Every Movie appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

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[apsbicepstraining]

5 Actors Who Do The Same WTF Specific Thing In Every Movie

Many actors have a signature form. Tom Cruise loves to pas, Nicolas Cage can never be more than six inches from ardor, and Sylvester Stallone likes to add a brief fart announced to the centre of every word. But those can easily be explained away — by vigour, lunacy, and mouth-full-of-farts, respectively. But no one can explain why the next 5 aces continue using the same bizarrely specific stuffs happen to them in every single movie.

5

Arnold Schwarzenegger Is Constantly Perturbed About Forgetting His Partner To Leering Shitheads

Arnold Schwarzenegger has returned himself into a glistening cistern of a human, but all those thousands of hours at the gym seem to have obliged him unusually insecure about his house life. In True Lies , he plays a top-secret authority ultra snoop pose as a run-of-the-mill 300 -pound bodybuilding software salesman, but he gets murderously anxious when his ignored partner strives out “adventure” in the form of sleazy employed vehicle salesman Bill Paxton.

20 th Century Fox “Guess your partner likes the confidence that comes from being a total fucking douchebag, bro! “

Then, in Jingle All The Way , Arnold reprises his role as “shitty inept spouse, ” sans being an ultra spy( he’s precisely a regular superhuman whale ), and again gets insanely resentful where reference is finds his wife’s been spend time with a certain popular-with-the-neighborhood-housewives Phil Hartman.

20 th Century Fox “I couldn’t help but notice your stupendous muscles. Well, I simply work out one muscle, and here’s a clue which one: THE PENIS.”

In Total Recall , Arnold’s wife-stealing fears play out in the most frightful direction possible: He experiences out the status of women he thinks is the adoration of his life is actually a double agent who’s secretly with Richter, a villain who embed phony retentions into his intelligence to stir him think he and his wife had a life together.

TriStar Pictures “What are the last five statements you’d ever expect a mortal with my face and hairline to say? No , not ‘THIS HAIRCUT WAS 60 DOLLARS.’ The reaction was ‘YOUR WIFE IS FUCKING ME.'”

All three cuckolders get their comeuppance, though. Arnold expends a vast quantity of CIA resources to illegally stage a escapade to get Paxton to pee-pee his gasps, Hartman goes refusal eggnog thrown on him when he goes full sneak, and in Total Recall , Arnold killed his bogus partner in the pate, says, “CONSIDA DAT A DIVORCE, ” then snaps Richter’s arms off and drops-off the rest of him down an elevator gibe. So in all cases, love triumphed in the end.

4

Hollywood Will Always, Always Destroy Mads Mikkelsen’s Eyes

Take a look at Mads Mikkelsen’s face. Particularly his eyes.

Sony Pictures Television Now, if you even can, try to tear your eyes away.

They seem all right, as far as seeings start. Nice brown pigment, good spacing and symmetry … no real troubles worth mentioning. And yet for some ground, every filmmaker’s action when they read those seeings is “I must exterminate them at all costs. Cut them out! Ignite them out! Accompanied me the moaning children of Mads Mikkelsen’s eyes so they are unable look upon their father’s ruin !!! “

We … we should probably start explaining.

The veer started in Casino Royale , Mikkelsen’s introduction to the world outside Scandinavia. In that movie, his character’s left gaze is horribly scarred, leaving him weeping blood in moments of high-pitched stress.

Eon Productions We’re talking about the one that had all the coloring carved out of it with a dull fork.

Mads’ gooey eye isn’t a plan extent, or even a setup for one of Bond’s one-liners. Instead, someone was look back Mikkelsen and expected that they fuck up his left attention before filming. And then someone completely different chose the same stuff two movies afterwards in Valhalla Rising . Mikkelsen’s character not only has a wad of joint scalp for a left see in the film, but he is actually announced One Eye.

Scanbox Entertainment Danish pinkeye does not fuck around.

Mikkelsen’s rising star intended his agent had more strength to bargain, so they must have reached a endanger in the movie after that. In The Three Musketeers , his reference is utterly still missing a left eye, but he gets to wear a cool attention patch over it instead of a prosthetic ball sack.

Summit Entertainment “I’m here to talk to you about the Musketeers initiative.”

But instead of slaking their hate of Mikkelsen’s eye, such an affront only formed Hollywood’s anger grow. The Union of Hollywood Theatrical Artists Specifically for Mads Mikkelsen’s Eyes affirmed, and so in Doctor Strange , Mikkelsen’s eyes are two burning embers at the center of eight pounds of makeup.

Marvel Studios In other statements, FABULOUS.

It’s obvious that Hollywood will not rest “until youve” pried those orbs right from Mikkelsen’s head, so Mads built the wise men move to branch out to other media. He became best friends with Metal Gear builder Hideo Kojima and agreed to wizard in his next tournament, Death Stranding . And if you’d like to see the brand-new and interesting direction Kojima is taking Mikkelsen, here’s a screenshot of what his attribute will look like!

Sony Interactive Entertainment You, uh … you got a little something in your …

3

Keanu Reeves Desires Being Strapped Into A Cyber Chair

Over the course of his movie busines, Keanu Reeves has traveled through time, goes in superman combats with infantries of computer programs, and once helped Sandra Bullock launch a bus in accordance with the arrangements that spat in the very mouth of physics. But the most frequent shenanigan Reeves guides into is finding himself tied to a cybernetic chair.

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He got a taste for it in Johnny Mnemonic , a movie about the 1990 s trying to create a black hole of self-parody. Keanu plays a human flash drive in a futuristic cyber world felt up by a person who is exceedingly, very cynical about humanity’s ability to miniaturize data storage. He enrols the virtual reality via a cyber chair, whereby he gambles the hazards of the over-storage meltdown to … you know what? It’s quite hard to explain Johnny Mnemonic in one paragraph. Reckon the various kinds of cyberpunk you would detest if you were into cyberpunk, and then include a dolphin. Wait … is the fact that it? Holy shit, we did it!

TriStar Pictures In that container behind the chair? That’s the dolphin we were talking about!

Later, Reeves starred in The Matrix , in which most of the planned and interior decides were made up of cyber chairs. Keanu was quickly growing Hollywood’s go-to star for narratives about people whose figures are in chairs but whose minds are absolutely not.

Warner Bros. Pictures Above: The People’s Choice winner for Actor Most Often in Cyber Chairs.

Keanu even manages to find a way to incorporate cyber chairs in movies about sorcery. In Constantine , the entitle attribute has a chair called “The Chair, ” which gives him get views of Lucifer’s son Mammon obtaining the Spear of Destiny. It’s another cinema we shouldn’t try to explain in a paragraph. The item is, he’s a wizard in a macrocosm of supernatural, and Keanu still ascertained a space to shoot his brain into virtual reality while buckled into a chair.

Warner Bros. Pictures “My contract clearly states that my psyche and my organization cannot ever appear in the same scene.”

Keanu doesn’t ever move his knowledge away when he’s strapped into a cyber chair. In The Day The Earth Stood Still , he plays an immigrant referred Klaatu. The tale identifies him tied to an everyday chair and pointlessly covered in sensors by authority agents who had to have been waiting their whole lives to fuck with an immigrant, yet still manage to screw the whole event up.

20 th Century Fox “Does your Earth sensor pick up how disappointing this all is? To everyone? “

The Day The Earth Stood Still signal Keanu’s growth as relevant actors. He substantiated he could get fastened to chairs with less and fewer devices. He disappeared even further in Knock Knock , in which he gets tied to a chair that exclusively includes headphones.

Lionsgate “I SAID! WE’RE BREAKING FOR LUNCH! WE’LL BE BACK IN ABOUT 90 MINUTES! GREAT WORK THIS MORNING, KEANU! “

Reeves lastly “made it” as a fully cyber-free chair actor in the acclaimed act movie John Wick , which has him tied to a chair with perfectly no electric wires or cables. It is attached to zero cyber dolphins and no alternating digital actualities. It was a long and confusing road getting here, but here he is …

Summit Entertainment

… living the reverie!

2

Jim Carrey Is Forever Plagued By Bugs

Before Jim& Andy documented the full and insufferable penetrations of his self-indulgence, Jim Carrey was a beloved performer known for his goofy overacting and pseudo-philosophical public meltdowns. One repetition topic in Carrey’s achievements, nonetheless, seems to have operated under the radar for years: Namely, that his rubbery face redoubles as a glitch magnet. Let’s start with the hover that crawls across his eyeball in the stupidly premised Yes Man .

Warner Bros. Pictures Yes Man is a movie about a serviceman who can’t say no to concepts! Even flies on his eyeball!

In Me, Myself, And Irene , Jim’s face and mouth get contained within imperfections, and he utterly doesn’t charge. Oddly enough, in Dumb And Dumber , he mentions swallowing a junebug off-camera as a intellect he’s not ravenous. We’re not sure what this makes, but Carrey’s references seem to be the only people who are totally fine with live insects piloting into their lips and eyes. Are all his movies secretly zombie movies? Candyman spinoffs?

20 th Century Fox “Turn out the brightness and say my refer 5 times in your reflect to be informed about! “

Here’s a recreation GIF from How The Grinch Stole Christmas , and we’re beginning to believe this wasn’t even in the dialogue. This is simply what happens when Carrey stops moving his lip for more than five seconds.

Universal Pictures What you are familiar with as Jim Carrey is merely an elastic pocket harbouring the legion of Swarmog, insect mass of Nebulo 8.

The man is comprised and filled with insects in a way that may account for his inhuman gyrations. It doesn’t seem to be limited to the laid, either. He once told a Jimmy Kimmel audience all about the mites that started living in his beard. When the time comes to Jim Carrey, the question isn’t whether or not he has a fault on him; it’s where, how many dozens, and how many eggs they are laying.

“Cut! We’re going to need to fumigate Jim again.”

1

Leonardo DiCaprio’s Toasts Are Omens Of Destruction

If you don’t weigh dopey comedies committing weddings, you don’t see toasts in very many movies. But when you do, there’s a 90 percentage likelihood Leo DiCaprio is the one dedicating it. Every single filmmaker agrees that the man sounds good delivering a spectacular speech with liquor in his hand.

Here we have the first instance, from Baz Luhrman’s Romeo+ Juliet . DiCaprio makes the “here’s to my love” discussion to what he thinks is his dead sweetheart before downing poison.

20 th Century Fox “So let’s create a glass of Drano to my dead lover. What? She’s not d- ACK! “

Seeing him deliver such a heartfelt addres with poison on hand, James Cameron wanted to see what the teenager could do with real alcohol. So in Titanic , he has Leo deliver a speech on how the peoples of the territories about to be eaten by the ocean should “make each day count.”

Paramount Pictures “To remaining heated and strong dive! Here here! “

And here he is in The Man In The Iron Mask , a movie where they applied the highest-paid performer on the planet’s honcho inside a barrel for most of the running duration. He’s toasting to his mother and his own predominate as king.

United Artists These toasts aren’t … working out absolutely amazing yet.

His next cinematic cup-hoist came in Gangs Of New York , in which he disguises his threat to kill the man who murdered “his fathers” as a toast.

Miramax “And here’s to the guy who killed my pa! Fuck you, buddy.”

Next, in the smash hit everyone surely attended, Revolutionary Road , DiCaprio makes a toast to Kate Winslet being pregnant, right before Michael Shannon manages to shatter the facade and shorten DiCaprio to a screaming, violent shipwreck. The moment is: Nothing good ever happens after a DiCaprio toast.

DreamWorks

Leonardo adorations toasting so much better that he does it even when it’s not appropriate. Here he is justifying the order of Inception . It’s one of the most important and complicated pronunciations anyone in a cinema has ever had to give, so he of course does it by standing up and raising a glass of wine.

Warner Bros. Pictures “So create your glass to how occasion labours differently inside a nightmare, but then likewise daydream parties have to fall out of their chairs to wake up, and if you die in your fantasies, you become a centaur in the next realm up, even if it’s real life.”

In Django Unchained , they had DiCaprio’s curiosity, and then they had his attention … a line that might have been clunky and overwritten had he not interspersed it with a laughable drink.

The Weinstein Company “It wasn’t truly a toast, I guess. I just like giving 40 percent of all movie scripts while I drink.”

In The Wolf Of Wall st. , Leo sarcastically toasts the impotent FBI agents to show them that dickheads can do anything they want if they’re rich enough.

Paramount Pictures “Here’s to the rest of you fuckers taking that exercise, extremely. I’m Leo DiCaprio, and each toast I induce is so, so awful.”

Every single one of this man’s toasts have contributed to pitch-dark and horrible events, but he deters doing them. You cannot stop him. Here he is in the Departed , holding a speedy toast right into the side of another man’s head.

Warner Bros. Pictures “Here’s to you, FUCKING HEAD.”

The point we’re trying to obligate is that if you recognize Leonardo DiCaprio start to raise his glass, run.

Warner Bros. Pictures “Here’s to you being too late. You’re already dead.”

It genuinely was merely a matter of time before someone put Leo on a wine glass . If you desired this article and crave more content like this, support our website with a visit to our Contribution Page. Please and thank you .

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