#also fuck dude I can't stand for more than an hour if I cleaned all that I'd be out of energy. also that's like. his one job in the house so

[lavendertarot]

Just tore apart the kitchen looking for my matcha latte mix that was put in a usually out of reach place by my father (the power of petty "where the fuck is my latte mix" knows no physical bounds) and upon realising that I couldn't even make an iced latte because we have no ice either I proceeded to stick my latte in the fridge for half an hour. my cottagecore lifestyle is in shambles. will report back if it chilled it or not

[octuscle]

There's this one super annoying guy in my friend group, he's your typical jock, always seeking attention, trying to be funny, showing off. Sometimes he really gets on my nerves, just like earlier today. I know he doesn't do it intentionally, but is there any way you can help me deal with him ?

You were at the movies together. "Napoleon." What a waste of time and money. Now for a beer in the sports bar, maybe that will save the evening. Stupid Jock talks to your best friend all the time. You only understand "Dude" and "Bruh" and "Fucking great". That's not actually the language your friend normally uses. But he's also usually a head shorter than the jock. From behind, the two of them now look like clones. You get yourself a beer. Another friend from your group calls out to you "Bruh, it would be sick gud if you brought me uh beer." What the hell is going on here? The man is studying English literature and philosophy. When did he start talking like that? Is this a joke? Some kind of role play?

When you come back to the pool table with two beers, four men from your group are standing at the table with worn-out tank tops and backwards caps, talking about football. Phew, they reek of sweat. The only one who still seems to have any sense, who is clean-shaven and wears a polo shirt over his small belly, comes up to you and asks if everything is okay. You look kind of stressed, dude! Shit, he says "dude" now too. What the hell is going on here. You start to feel dizzy and then black out.

"bruh, that wuz two too many beers last night, huh?" "dude, when did you stop showering? you're an animal!" "get up, bruh! da frat house isn't going to renovate itself!" "only two more hours until you have to go back to wrestling practice, hurry up!"

Hehehehehe, it was a sick evening last night… Good thing your bros woke you up. You would have slept through half the day again. That wouldn't be too bad with the lectures. But the wrestling would have sucked. You can't mess things up with your coach so close to graduation.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unsolicited 4

Warnings: bad self-thought/talk, bullying, insults, low self-esteem, money problems, more dark elements to come.

Promise, Lloyd will pop up again soon.

Wouldn’t mind some feedback! Lloyd was driving me nuts so I had to do it. Thank you in advance 💜

You don't say anything. Instead, you let it eat away at you. Your days end in tears, your few hours to yourself spent sleeping until your next shift. Hours worked for what? The watch is gone and Colin's lost in his new job. With his ex.

How do you say it? How can you put your suspicions into words without making them true? If you accuse him and he hasn't done anything, he'll only be angrier.

On your sole day off, you sleep all of two hours and drag yourself off the couch. It isn't even noon as you tidy the house, sweeping, mopping, vacuuming, dishes, toilet, floor to ceiling spotless.

The last hours of the afternoon are spent cooking in anticipation of Colin's return. To make up for the night more than a week ago that it all went rotten. An apology. An act to show him you're worth something. You can take care of him. You love him!

You change into clean clothes and check yourself in the mirror. You do your best to look human. You put on the necklace he gave you all those years ago.

You keep the chicken warm in the oven and set lids over the broccoli and creamy fettuccine on the burners. You pace the kitchen tiles and wait.

And wait.

And wait.

6:30.

6:58.

7:14.

The chicken is dry, the noodles bland and limp, the beans overcooked.

8:06.

You scrape it all into the bin and turn off the lights. You run a bath and cry as the tub fills and you strip away your clothes. You check your phone as you sink into the hot water. Nothing.

You put the phone on the flat edge of the tub and lay back, closing your eyes as you try to enjoy the soothing heat. You can't free yourself from the tension knotted in your overworked muscles. Another heave rises just as soon as the last subsides. You only stop as you hear the front door.

Your cell shows 9:17.

You don't bother getting out. The water's cold but you don't care. You hear him walking through the house. He goes into the bedroom. You've been on the couch for days and he's out late, doing what? With who?

Your lip trembles and you splash warm water over your face. You're done crying. You sit up and sigh.

A gentle tapping comes at the door. You don't answer, the water stirring around you as you pull the stopper and stand. As you reach for the towel, his voice comes through the door, "babe."

It stings to hear the pet name. After so long. He wants to act like nothing is wrong. After he didn't even send a message. After you tossed out a whole meal.

You step onto the bath mat and dry off. The door clicks and you quickly wrap yourself in the towel, hiding from him. You're not a skinny blonde with glowing pink cheeks.

"I'm in here," you say.

"Sorry, I… I gotta go," he cringes, "and also, wanted to say hello…"

He puckers up and you cross your arms, "I'm done. Excuse me."

You ignore his attempt at a kiss. He doesn't move and you stare past him. He stretches his arm across the doorframe.

"You okay?"

"Don't. Don't act like nothing happened."

"I'm trying to talk to you-"

"Go piss," you snarl.

"Look, I believe you. That dude, you wouldn't fuck him. I'm just… I was caught off guard, I didn't know what to think. Things have been so tough lately. The watch was nice. Really nice."

"Please, I'm tired. I have to work in the morning–"

"You can't just shut me out–"

"And what have you been doing for the last week? Colin, please."

"Please, I…"

"Where were you? I waited for you. I made dinner, I cleaned. It's nine at night."

His eyes shift to the wall, "work. This new job, it's a lot of extra hours. Like you. Picking up all those night shifts. I feel like we don't see each other."

"You haven't wanted to see me," you accuse.

"I thought– I was stupid, okay? I got scared. It's like I said, I don't deserve you."

You roll your eyes and hug the towel tighter, "whatever."

"Oh, don't do that," he grasps your arms gently, "you know I'm an idiot. Isn't that why you married me?" You try to shrug him off and he slides his hands up to cradle your face, "I love you, baby. I picked up the extra hours so we can take a trip. Book a weekend off and we'll head to the lake."

"Colin," you stare away from him.

"We'll get a room with a hot tub," he lets a hand descend and plays with the top of your towel, "skinny dip… get dinner. This time for real."

"Please," you beg weakly as he tugs on the cotton.

"You always liked to play hard to get," he teases, "let's take the watch back, get you a pair of earrings, huh?"

You gulp, "no, no, I…I don't need earrings." You catch his hands and look at him, "it's gone. I left it at the restaurant and someone snatched it. So… can't even do that right."

"Shit, really? Well, it's just a watch. We'll be okay."

"We will?"

"Oh, for sure, I'm getting a raise. Plus travel pay."

"Travel pay," you cant help but relax as he tickles you playfully.

"Conference out east. I'll be gone a week but when I get back we'll go to the lake."

"Conference? Away?"

"Yeah, I told you I'd have to travel for the job."

"Who else is going?"

"What?"

"It's just you?"

"Well, no, my boss will be going and a few of the other account managers–"

"Your boss?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Nothing, nothing. Makes sense, she probably has to go right."

"Yeah, she–" he hesitates, "she would."

You nod and wait. Will he say it? Will he tell you?

No.

"Is she nice?"

"Who?"

"Your boss? Is she a good boss?"

"Sure, I guess," he pulls away from you, "man, I'm starving. Smells good in here."

"Uh, yeah, well… I burnt the food so it's in the garbage."

"Damn," he backs out of the doorway, "well, I'm sure we can scrounge up something."

"Guess," you skirt around him and head down the hall. He follows, "what are you doing?"

"Just tryna get a peek of the goods," he kids.

"Don't even," you keep yourself covered as you enter the bedroom and search the dresser. "So, you didn't tell me about the job. You like it?"

He pauses, he knows you're changing the subject. He leans on the wall as you keep the towel around you and quickly pull the night shirt on, then step into the loose pants that go with it. You tug the towel from beneath and face him.

"It's a job. Pays better, more freedom, coworkers are nice."

"That's good."

"How's night shift going?" He rubs his neck.

"Lonely, dull," you answer flatly, "nothing special."

"Ah, maybe…"

He lets his voice trickle off as you near him, "maybe what?"

"Maybe you could look for something else? A desk job or maybe do some home cleaning. Lots of rich snobs out there will pay top dollar to not see their own messes."

"It's not that easy."

"You could try," he says.

"Yeah," you hold back the mean thought, I don't have an ex to get me a new gig, "I'll try."

"Mmm, how's mac and cheese? Think I can manage that."

"Mac and cheese?"

"For dinner," he explains brightly and winks, "then maybe you can think of something for dessert."

[wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart]

And another average day at Family Video:

"No you literally can't"

"Of course you can, dingus! Some are just classics!"

"Well, and some go to Family Video to browse and randomly choose movies they know nothing about!"

"But doesn't that further prove my point?! Why would someone choose a movie solely by the cover if the cover is just a hot person?!"

"Well you said that Rocky Horror is also a queer classic and me and Tommy chose that one at random back when we were both assholes. If you'd flirted with Carol then you probably would have been hate-crimed."

"That is not a word"

"Well good thing I don't work in a fucking library then"

They glare at each other. If this was another genre, this story would end in a fight to the death. As things are, they are just two best friends getting unnecessarily heated while fighting about nothing. To be fair, it's more entertaining than watching the same two questionable movies over and over again.

Robin crosses her arms. "Okay. So just, let me repeat. To make sure I understood. You - who have admitted that you would sleep with Jonathan and Eddie if the chance arose and made out with Tommy multiple times - watched Rocky Horror Picture Show with Tommy, who may I remind you - you made out with multiple times, which once again, fucking ew-"

"Hey! He was the one who suggested it first!"

"And then you have the audacity to say that Rocky Horror Picture Show isn't gay?!"

"THAT'S NOT WHAT I'M FUCKING SAYING. If one were to see the cover with no context and decided to rent it just to see what it is about-"

"You mean the cover of Tim Curry in drag?!"

"Yeah well, Tommy was the one who chose the movie, and he is straight. So."

"Didn't you just say that Tommy was the one who wanted to kiss you first?!?"

Steve rolls his eyes so hard it's a wonder they stay safely inside their socket. "Yeah, but that's just the normal amount of same-sex attraction every straight dude has. That was just boys being boys. If that made someone gay, the whole basketball team would be full of queers"

"First of all, I will be coming back to that last bit later-"

"You? Coming for the all-male basketball team? Never thought I'd see the day"

He can admit that he probably deserves the kick against his shin.

"Focus, dingus! Let me just repeat what you just said. And I want you to think about it carefully, okay?! So in your words, a boy kissing another boy is not gay, unless one of the boys acknowledges that that is gay?"

"Uhm, duh?"

"So you and Tommy kissing was... straight?"

"I mean. No. Because I have now realized that I am not straight which retroactively makes the making out sessions gay"

Robin thumps her head against the counter. She takes a deep breath and does it again for good measure.

"I- oh my god. Okay. Just. Think about what you just said, okay? Think about it carefully. Think about it while you rewind that stack of tapes."

"Hey isn't it your turn?"

"Wrong thing to think about! You do that while I clean this...already clean counter. Again."

He gives her the stink eye but does as he is told.

They change topics. Robin tells him about the newest gossip in band. It is surprisingly intense. Just like Robin is also intense. Maybe only intense people go to band. Or maybe playing an instrument makes you intense? Well, he has a band member right here, so he asks, and they spend the next half an hour making fun of various instruments. The gay-jokes-whiteboard gains a lot of new points.

Both are laughing so hard they don't even realize they have a customer until the girl is standing in front of the counter, "The Wizard of Oz" in her hands. Steve raises a brow. Do you think this one is gay too? Robin nods to the snap hook hooked to her trousers holding her keys. Duh. He rolls his eyes. I also do this all the fucking time. It's convenient, okay?! It means nothing. Robin only looks at him with a deadpan look. You are literally further proving my point.

It is then that it clicks. "Oh my god it was gay! What the fuck?!"

Robin's face falls. He hears a gasp from somewhere behind him. Oh yeah. They were not alone in the shop right now. Fuck.

Steve thinks he vaguely recognizes her. He never talked to her, but it is hard to miss her bright red hair. Her name was....Vinnie? Or something? Right??

She looks down to her snap hook. It seems like she is going to run out of the shop at any moment. But then she takes a deep breath and looks up again, determination in her eyes. "Are you...are you also a friend of Dorothy?"

Robin's eyes shine. Steve goes to the back to have his mental breakdown in peace.

Steve isn't sure how much time passes before he dares to come out again. Vanessa (?) is gone and Robin looks incredibly smug.

He sighs. A true man knows when to admit defeat. "Okay. Maybe you had a point. With Tommy."

Her smile widens even more. "Only Tommy?"

"And the basketball team. And Valerie."

She frowns. "Who the fuck is Valerie."

"The girl who just left? Red hair? Also in band I think? Friend of Dorothy or whatever?"

"Her name is Vicky."

"Hey, I got the first letter right. If you expect much more from me you are seriously deluding yourself."

Robin rolls her eyes. They continue working in silence, but there is a tension in the air that hasn't been there since Robin first came out to him. Steve is not a very patient dude, but he can wait as long as it takes when it regards someone he cares about. And so he does.

"...Hey Steve?"

"Yes Robin?"

"I- I know we talk about it relatively openly here because it's always deserted when we have a shift together for some reason. But for the love of god, you need to be more careful. Okay?! The thing with Vicky was a lucky shot-"

"You mean your future girlfriend?~"

She pinches his lower back. Everybody looks at them weird when they do that, but it is very effective. The skin is still tender where they got their matching tramp stamps and it hurts like a bitch.

"I'm serious."

He looks at her. Sees the fear in her eyes. And he nods. I know. I promise. I'm sorry. He doesn't have to say it out loud for Robin to understand him. She knows that he means it, that he will probably be overly careful for a few weeks before they find a comfortable middle ground again. That he would never betray her trust. That is the reason they are soulmates, after all.

He isn't angry when she still asks him for reassurance anyway. "I promise", he says, more serious than he has been all day. They are both getting better at that, asking for verbal affirmation.

Another customer comes in. It's a cute girl. She rents the new Tom Cruise movie and Robin finally gets to take out the you-suck-board again.

"Okay, but did you really never realize that making out with other boys is kind of fruity?! Did I literally have to spell it out for you?"

"Hey! You yourself said that it's hard to 'break out of a heteronormative mindset' and shit. Plus, this is actually my second shift. And I used my break to drive you from school to work. So like, cut me some slack"

"Steve! I told you to stop taking double shifts all the time! No wonder you look so exhausted dingus"

"Well, Buckley, I would. But as I am sure you are fully aware Dustin's birthday is in two weeks and I need money to buy him that stupid nerd-thingie he's obsessing about-"

(more average days)

[gettingfrilly]

Can't get you out of my Ed

Chapter one of... 39 chapters lmao. This fic will kill me and I'll be damned if I don't take some of you down with me. Read it here or on ao3. Super mega thanks to @fish-bowl-2 for betaing and also for giving feedback on my massive outline.

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

“Ppbbbbbbththtbbbhththtthhhhh.”

“Dude.”

“Dude yourself.” Eddy mutters, not caring if Kevin objects to his bored mouth noises. What else is he supposed to do? It’s Wednesday, five pm, and raining. No one's been in the candy store for hours, and ain’t no one gonna show up before they close at six. So he stands here bored out of his skull, full weight propped against the counter with his face squished in his hands, elbows velcroed to the permanently sticky wooden surface. He keeps his eyes where they’ve been glued for the last hour, which is directly on the nostalgic kitsch wall clock with plastic lollipops for hands and pounded sheet metal with a scene from some 50’s style soda shop superimposed on it for a face. It goes well with the completely non-functional jukebox in the corner, the rows of dusty, empty, retro soda bottles lining the shelves on the wall opposite the front door, and the 40 year old ice cream machine behind the counter that’s been out of order since last summer. Eddy had felt giddy when Kevin first got him a job here his freshman year, tickled by his younger self’s hypothetical jealousy over how easily he could pocket a jawbreaker here and there. The garish clashing of the puke green tiles and pastel pink walls had filled him with bittersweet memories of childhood, familiar and welcoming for a first time job.

Now he just finds the whole store ugly. 

“You could, ya know. Work.” Kevin suggests. “Clean something. Stock something. Anything other than standing there with your thumb up your ass.”

“Oh? And you can’t?” He asks while side eyeing Kevin, who is also currently standing around with his thumb up his ass. More specifically, he’s leaning backwards against the displays behind the counter, wide shoulders slouched as his arms dangle at his sides. The clean hairline of his crew cut frames his wide, blocky face with sharp angles. He’s been made up of solid, sturdy shapes since he started playing for the varsity team in his junior year, and his workout regimen has further defined his muscles in the years since. Eddy wouldn’t exactly describe him as beefy, but his build is athletic for sure. He’s also classically handsome, Eddy begrudgingly admits to himself, though he’s not really his type. Too much of a normie for his tastes, with his basic sense of style and outfit compiled of store brand athletic wear. Guy shops at Old Navy for sure. Well, more like his mom shops for him there.

“I’m the boss. I’ve got underlings to do that kind of stuff for me.” An annoyingly smug smile graces his shovel shaped chin, and Eddy can’t help but grind his teeth.

“For your information, bossman, ” he hisses the title, “shelves: dusted. Floors: mopped. Inventory: stocked. Windows: windexed. Hell, I even ordered the lollipops by color out of fucking boredom. There is truly not a single thing left to do.”

Kevin hums and scratches his ten acre chin. “Oh. Well. Pbth.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

‘ Come now, with your cleaning skills, surely you left something amiss. Did you wipe down the floor trim? Deep clean the register? I see plenty of snack crumbs wedged between those sticky keys. And you didn’t even mention the employee bathroom, for heaven’s sake. ’

“Shut up.” He mumbles under his breath. “Huh?”

“Nothing. Hey, how’s Nazz doing?” Kevin’s and Nazz’s shaky relationship isn’t exactly his favorite can of worms to open, but he’s starting to get bored enough to peel his eyelids off of his face, so he better strike up some kind of conversation. 

“ Man- ” Yup, here we go, “I don’t get what’s up with her. Ever since she moved to Buffalo she’s been acting all different and weird. Dunno what happened to the Nazz we used to know.”

‘ She grew up. Which is something you may want to look into yourself, Kevin. 19 years old and no interest in pursuing a higher education or a greater calling like our dear Nazz has. Tut tut.’

“Yeah, it’s almost like she cares about shit now or something.”

“Exactly,” Kevin bemoans, completely missing Eddy’s sardonic tone. “I don’t get all the polisci stuff she talks about. I’m just not a political guy, ya know? Why can’t things just go back to being simple between us? College wrecks people, man.”

On one hand, even Eddy can tell Kevin’s being pig-headed about this. On the other hand, he can relate on a very painful, squishy, sore, and tender level.

‘Well you are quite pig-headed yourself.’

“She just outgrew this small town shit. We all should. I know I’m getting out of here as soon as I graduate.”

“Speak for yourself. I like it here.” Kevin mutters while crossing his arms petulantly.

“Of course you do, mister former high school quarterback nepo baby. You already got shit made here. Doesn’t your dad own the candy factory now?”

“Vice president. But yeah, he’ll own it soon. And he’s thinking of expanding. But what are you complaining about? Aren’t you all set up to inherit your old man’s dealership? That place makes decent dosh.”

“I’d rather eat nails.” The words come grinding out of his mouth as if it were already full of sharp, pointy metal.

“What? No way, man, you used to brag about that place all the time. Said it was your legacy and that you were gonna make it the hottest place in the county to get a used car.”

“Times change.” That’s the only explanation he’s willing to offer.

Kevin just shrugs, much to Eddy’s gratitude. That’s probably the best thing about being friends with Kevin; guy doesn’t ask questions. Makes him a solid person to vent to.

‘Especially if you’re allergic to discussing your feelings.’

With a long suffering groan, Eddy literally peels himself off of the old counter to do another useless perimeter search of the shop. He knows he still won’t find anything to do, but at least it’ll get his body moving. His sneakers squeak against the freshly mopped floors (so bored he even got out the mop, for chrissake…) as he eyes the displays, watching his reflection warp and transform from one glass container to the next, an endless hall of funhouse mirrors mocking him with his own boredom, irritation, and overall misery. His fault for scrubbing them all until they were spotless. The hole punched cardboard pallet that holds a variety of different brands of lollipops is just as hue spectrum oriented as he left it, so this time he goes for ordering them by size and shape instead. Well, that killed two minutes. Walk by the freezers, rearrange  some mismatched soda bottles he missed before. 30 seconds. Scrape a fleck of taffy off of one of the sliding door handles. 20 seconds. Stare at the wall for five seconds. Bang his head against it. Another second. Bang. Another second. Bang. Another second. Bang.

“I’m taking a smoke break!” He calls loudly over the shelves in the direction of the front counter, not waiting for Kevin to respond before frantically scrambling towards the backroom. He nearly trips over a broom as he bursts into the cramped space, swearing at it uselessly as he stumbles over to his locker. It gets jammed as usual, the damn thing, Eddy jiggling the handle with a growl before he finally tears it open. The hood of his windbreaker catches on one of the locker’s internal hooks, causing Eddy to shout obscenities until he finally shakes it loose and shoves his arms into the sleeves. He stomps towards the back door and bumps it open with his hip as he wrestles with the zipper, getting himself encased once he steps outside into the muggy July evening air.

The door slams shut behind him as he huddles under the small overhang of the dirty green awning adorned above the back door, fishing his pack of camel menthols out of the pocket of his windbreaker. The hush of rain against the pavement and rhythmic pounding of droplets plunking against the rusty metal of the awning harmonize well together, creating a nice soundscape to back up the click click click of his lighter. He mutters swears under his breath like a prayer, internally praising glory hallelujah once the cig balanced between his lips lights and he can breath in deep and slow, the mint flavoring tickling his nose hairs and soothing the burn of hot smoke in his windpipe. Smoke billows from his mouth and nose after he’s held in his lungful for as long as he can, his exhale audible and pointed heavenward, smoke catching and lingering on the underside of the sheet metal above. 

‘Those will kill you.’

“The sooner the better.” Eddy mumbles, letting gravity pull his loosening body down against the wooden door behind him, desperate for a paint job. He takes another grateful drag as he watches the rain bounce and slide off of trashbags, forming muddied puddles in the potholes below. The hit of nicotine puts a fuzzy blanket over the constantly firing nerve endings in his brain, making his eyes droop as he fights back a yawn. Double D doesn’t know what he’s talking about, calling nicotine a stimulant. Smokes practically put him to sleep. 

He sneers down at the ground. What’s he got to even do these days other than work, smoke, sleep, repeat? The only thing he has to look forward to are the occasional phone calls he makes to Ed at the military school his shithead mom shipped him off to last summer before they all started their junior year. Double D and Ed were inconsolable that day, clinging to each other and sobbing as Ed’s dad silently packed his red commodore with sparse necessities, the rest of Ed’s belongings in boxes marked for the salvation army. The memory still makes Eddy’s eyes burn, the same way they did that day as he blinked to hold back his tears, repeating to the other two that they’d call, they’d write, they’d visit, and once senior year was done in two years, the three of them would be out of here. Double D would definitely get accepted to some fancy shmancy school on a fancy shmancy scholarship, and the two of them would follow along, working whatever jobs available so that their combined income with Double D’s scholarship funds could net them a nice apartment in whatever fancy shmancy city Double D went to for school. They’d be free of this pimple on the map of America called Peach Creek, free from their families, free from public school, free to be themselves. There’d be a queer scene, he told Double D. They’d be accepted there, he told him. It wouldn’t be like it is out here in the boonies. They wouldn’t have to hide.

Well, his plan may have less people in it now, but he’s sticking to it. He can’t stand the boredom anymore, can’t stand the confinement. If he spends one more summer afternoon staring at his bedroom ceiling, has one more shift during the dead hours of the candy store, has to give his dad one more excuse as to why he’s not dating anyone now that he’s got a paycheck, he’s going to burst out of his own skin like some kind of insectoid, brain sucking monster from one of Ed’s B-rated black and white horror flicks and suck the noggins of everyone in a five mile radius. He’ll get out of this shithole come hell or high water. He has to get out.

‘And go where, exactly?’

‘Anywhere but here.’

‘To do what?’

‘Live. Breathe. Stretch out and run around and scream and cry and shout and kick and hit and go and go and go.’

‘With who?’

‘Ed. Or no one. Who cares.’

‘You’d be alone.’

‘I’ve always been alone.’

‘That’s not true. You know that’s not true.’

Water streams from the corners of the awning, creating a puddle dangerously close to his Air Force 1s. An errant raindrop lands right on top of the toe of his left sneaker, and he grumbles as he bends over to swipe it away, cursing himself for not looking at the weather report before putting these on. He curses louder when a chunk of ash falls from his cig and takes up residence where the water droplet just vacated, grabbing it from his mouth to hold it out to the side as he frantically brushes off his shoe.

‘Please, Eddy, be careful! Think of how much money your mother spent on such a frivolous purchase.’

Eddy snarls, sick to death of this incessant nagging. “Just shut uuUGHH!”

The smack of the wooden door against his ass throws him completely off balance, staring down at his shoes one second then catching himself on his hands and gazing at a puddle inches from his face the next. Adrenaline rushes through his body, making his lungs seize up and his eyes go wide, the rain falling on the back of his head feeling far colder than it should be on a warm July evening. He keeps himself propped up on one hand as he swivels around to identify his attacker, blinking owlishly when he sees Kevin standing in the lit doorway, giving Eddy the same, wide eyed look.

“Dude. You okay?”

Anger quickly intermingles with his gut-dropping fear, gritting his teeth as he pushes himself back onto his feet. “Watch where you’re going, shovel chin!”

Kevin places one hand on his hip while he holds the door open with the other, expression blasé. “Doors are for opening, man. Anyway, we’re closing up. Just wasting money at this point.”

He finally catches his breath, raising his cigarette to take another calming drag, only to feel something unpleasantly cold and soggy touching his lips. Damn it. His hand must have landed in a puddle. He groans and pushes his now wet hair out of his face.

“These ain’t fucking cheap.” He grumbles, flicking the unlit stub to the ground.

“Did you even hear me, man?”

“Huh? Oh.” Calmer and less distracted now, his brain finally catches up with what Kevin said. “Yeah, great idea, bossman!” The title is used in a much more jolly manner than before, giving Kevin a pat on the back and leaving a stubby, wet handprint behind as he pushes past him and back into the backroom to grab the rest of his stuff. He kicks off his nice sneakers to trade them for the ratty back ups he keeps in his locker, stepping into the worn pair as he puts his multi-colored Nikes into his water proof backpack for safe keeping.

Kevin sneers and murmurs something Eddy is sure was insulting as he looks behind himself and at the back of his shirt. “I’ve got to count money and lock up if you wanna stick around to help-”

Eddy’s locker slams abruptly, echoing loudly in the small space as he slings his drawstring bag over his shoulders and puts his hood up in quick, jerky motions. “Bye, seeya later, hasta la vista, sayonara, annyeong.” He half-jogs out of the back room before finishing his goodbyes, ignoring Kevin’s jeering as he slips through the door to the front room. He continues his half jog past the candy displays, snagging a jawbreaker and shoving it into his pocket next to his smokes before heading out the door and back out into the rain.

He breathes in a deep breath of freedom as he stretches his arms out to his sides and then over his head, making his way back to the cul de sac with a skip in his step. The world is his oyster now that he’s off of work. Now he can… he can… well.

The skip turns into a slow trudge as Eddy remembers he doesn’t actually have anything post work to look forward to, mood sinking further and further with each dark and empty store he passes by. Looks like Kevin wasn’t the only one who decided to close up early; all of downtown is dead. And it’s just not the cafe, the butcher shop, and the shoe store that are dark. It’s too early for the street lights to come on, but the sky is thick with heavy rain clouds, keeping the sunlight prisoner behind the bubbling veil of black and gray. His eyes turn down to the wet cement of the sidewalk with its divots and potholes, floating cigarette butts in the puddles that formed within them, scowling at his feet as they pointlessly move beneath him. What’s he even going home to? Another evening zoning out in front of the TV? Maybe lying upside down on his bed and listening to saccharine sweet slow dance songs? Then whatever he does will just be followed by chain smoking in the backyard until he’s tired enough to pass out as soon as his head hits the pillow, welcoming oblivion as an alternative to being left alone with his thoughts. It’s the same damn thing every day. And it’ll keep being the same damn thing every day until he gets out of here or dies. Dying may be the more convenient option at this point. It’d be a lot easier than having to finish high school before he beats it. All he has to do is wait for a car to come by and then jump out in front of it.

But no cars come. No one coming, no one leaving, a town stuck in stasis, the white noise enough to deafen him. His shoes are getting soaked. He’s gonna get cold feet.

Christ, he needs to quiet his fucking mind before he ends up as roadkill. He reaches into his pocket, fingertips brushing against the cool metal of his lighter before he finds his pack of camels, grasping onto it like a lifeline. He takes out the light with it, shaking a cig loose from the pack and into his waiting hand. He balances it between his pointer and middle finger, bringing it up to press it between his lips and under his hood so he can attempt to light it-

Only to immediately pull his hand away when he tastes blood on his tongue.

“The fuck?” He squeaks out, high pitched and startled. He looks at the cig and finds fresh red blood smeared on the paper and filter, but that’s not what’s most alarming; what has him wince and hiss under his breath is the sight of his hand, dark, slimy globules clotted together in the center with dried and flaky trails of blood running down between his fingers, some of it gathered under his nails, in his nail beds, and around the gold band on his ring finger. Rain splashes down into his open palm, the droplets saturating themselves with blood before they roll down the sides of Eddy’s hand and down his wrist, leaving trails of pink behind. He swipes his thumb gingerly over his palm and squints, scowl deepening when he discovers the cut beneath, small but deep. 

Damn it. Must have happened when he fell. Probably glass from a broken bottle. How did he not feel it? Stupid Kevin. Stupid door. He clicks his tongue and keeps walking, placing the cig back between his lips; he’s not gonna waste another one of these. It brings him minimal relief once it’s lit, his frayed nerves further agitated by the site, smell, and taste of his own blood. He’s had e-fucking-nough of that for one life time. Thankfully the shops start to become far and few between, with residential houses looming on the horizon. He’ll walk in through the back door to his room before his mom gets a chance to see his hand and starts freaking out. He’ll clean his hand, dry off his feet, and get out of this fucking rain. That’s something to sort of look forward to. Isn’t it?

When he turns the corner of rethink avenue several minutes later, all thoughts of the creature comforts of home disperse like a warren of rabbits intruded on by a fox. His cig, burned down to a stub at this point, dangles from his parted lips, eyes frozen on the looming portend of the past come to haunt him currently parked in his own fucking driveway. He’s freezing suddenly, all heat sapped out of him like someone pulled the plug, lungs becoming a vacuum as cosmic background radiation burns within them, singed by his only source of heat. It’s like he’s falling again, shoved from behind and just barely managing to protect his face from scraping the pavement. An unknown attacker from behind, the familiar sound of him breathing through his teeth.

He tastes blood on his tongue.

The cigarette butt falls from his lips as he turns away from the sight of the whale shaped trailer in front of his house, breaking out into a jog to the only other house he can think to go to, nestled right on the corner he just turned. His bedroom lights are on. His parents, as usual, aren’t home. He misses him with an ache deeper than anything else he’s felt in a long time.

He hopes Double D actually lets him in.

[orion-my-rion]

oh please gay middle aged men….

ok i wanted to answer this as soon as i got it but it was past midnight for me and i had to go to sleep lol. anyway i'm awake now so It's Time. (i wrote so much more than i thought i would. i've been typing for like an hour...)

so it all started when i had to write a 10 minute play for a creative writing project last year. we did some brainstorming exercises to make sure everyone in the class had something compelling to write for, and one of those exercises involved selecting common tropes in famous plays at random. so we had to pick three slips of paper from the box and come up with a story that ties in the three tropes we ended up with. the professor was a little concerned when i pulled "nationalism," "fate vs free will," and . a third thing i can't for the life of me remember. it honestly might have been like "nature vs man" lol i don't know. anyway, everyone was surprised when i actually came up with something.

the original story goes like this: three average american dudes living average american lives. they don't follow soccer, but they know that team usa is somehow on their way to the world cup, so they've employed their usual (over-the-top) superstitions to help them along. the night before the championship, one of them orders chinese takeout (they're not allowed to order "enemy cuisine" until that team is out of the running (china hasn't qualified for the world cup since 2002 but just pretend with me)) and ends up with an extremely specific fortune cookie that says as long as the three of them watch the whole match, usa will win. naturally, the paper then spontaneously combusts and he has to convince the other two without it.

so, on a stormy night three dudes who know next to nothing about soccer but combined have all the sports-related superstitions in the world are now watching the world cup, knowing that they have already set the outcome of the game in their favor just by seeing it through but not trusting that enough to abandon their frankly insane rituals. most of the comedy of the play is tied to someone being told to absolutely under no circumstances sit down/stand up/touch the tv remote/talk about losing/talk about winning/etc. in the end, the power briefly goes out in the storm, the game is lost in the few seconds they aren't watching, and the play closes with the commentators dragging usa for an incredible loss while the guys realize what happened.

i was happy with the play and received great remarks on it, but i've been wanting to rewrite it some before putting it anywhere. more importantly tho i spent so long writing these guys for a ten minute play that i came up with all sorts of side info for them. i also changed their names because i didn't like the ones i wrote for the class (i gave them dudebro names but they weren't middle-aged sounding enough lol).

first of all, they're in a polycule. they've known each other since childhood but only got together in adulthood, and they don't live together just yet. they all work fairly steady jobs and spend their time off at one of their places depending on what they plan on doing.

the one hosting the fifa watch party is adam. he's the most superstitious and as a former star athlete he knows the most of the three (minimal) about soccer. he has the nicest place with the biggest tv and keeps it mostly clean. it is mentioned in the play that he likes to watch asmr videos with the sound off because he doesn't like the sound.

the one who opened the fortune cookie is kenny, short for kenneth. he doesn't understand or give a damn about any sport and is extremely skeptical, but was interested to see how his weird as fuck fortune would turn out. he also drinks too much dr pepper. this does come up in the play. his place is actually a mess (he's very forgetful) but the other guys find it endearing. he thinks it's bizarre that the first guy watches asmr for the visuals since it's supposed to be about the sound.

the third guy is curtis. he's pretty superstitious but the only sport he really understands and pays attention to is american football. he spends most of the time acting super "usa! usa!" to the point where the other two are like "hey man you're not usually like this we're here for you if you need to talk." he's very emotional because he has a big heart. his house is a little messy but only because he has two or three dogs that everyone loves very much. he thinks asmr stands for "audio something something something."

i could continue to make up new things about them forever. they're like old friends to me. kenny loves food but can't cook (he Can but it doesn't turn out very well). curtis is the Real chef of the three, and the other two want him to make a living of it but he's not confident enough in his abilities. adam is a little bit scared of dogs but was introduced very gently to curtis' dogs and now they're mostly chill. kenny doesn't yet know that he's a cat person because he's a big fan of dogs and doesn't know that those aren't mutually exclusive (and then one day he rescues a stray kitten and that animal becomes his Child). curtis got the other two into street fighter when they were younger and is still a little upset that they both turned out to be better than him (and that they still are). god. my guys. my guys.

i love boring characters who experience situations it's like fun to me please understand. i've been wanting to write more plays with them and whatnot. whenever i get around to that i'll probably post about it on neocities :)

ok that's enough rambling for one morning lol hope everyone enjoyed it 👍

[happyandticklish]

ok writing out my thoughts is a lot harder than i expected because there’s just so little scenarios that izzy would Let himself be vulnerable in.

but say there’s been a raid, and izzy’s been injured. nothing huge, but his hand’s a little messed up. he knows he should go to roach for anything like that but that would mean admitting to a weakness, no matter how small, which he just won’t do. he won’t do that! so he makes a bandage out of spare rags and continues with his duties fine enough, but then stupid fucking stede bonnet comes along always caring about people and fussing over something minor like that, and izzy would never willingly accept help from him of all people but apparently everyone is against him today and ed’s ordering him to let stede at least take a look and he can’t just. refuse. he’s a dick but an order is an order and he’s going to follow it. so he agrees (with tons of complaining and rolled eyes), and finds himself hours later in the captains shared cabin, sat on a chair that’s far too soft with a cup of tea on the table that’s far too hot, stede’s on some rant about how “silly” he is for risking an infection for his reputation, and izzy considers leaving, slamming the door in his face and going to bed because 1) they hate each other and 2) he’s FINE. but ed is sat opposite to them, because he knows izzy and stede well enough that there’s no way in hell he’ll leave them alone together or they’ll be duelling in less than 20 seconds, and izzy knows ed well enough to know that upsetting his little boyfriend is a one way ticket back to square one. so he stays, uncharacteristically quiet save for a few complaints here and there. he’s thankful that stede also doesn’t want him there any longer than he has to, because it goes by quite quickly. but somewhere between cleaning and redressing his hand, stede’s being too gentle. he hisses and yanks his hand back, and bonnet looks up at him almost sympathetically, muttering something about knowing it hurts but he needs to get it over and done with, so izzy places it back onto his lap and turns away, biting his gloved knuckle to stop himself making anymore embarrassing noises. and apparently he can’t have any peace today, because ed’s clearly caught on, and the stupid smirk he’s wearing hasn’t been seen since they were younger, before blackbeard and first mate hands, when it was all muffled giggles and late night tickle fights, and for some odd reason his chest aches a little, but he has no time to think about it because it really tickles, and stede’s gotta be stupider than he looks because there’s no way he’s not realised between all the scuffed boots and huffs and slightly red face, but he seems … oblivious? and izzy’s never been so happy for something to finally be over.

“come back tomorrow mate, yeah? just to make sure, can’t risk you being out of duty.” ed says innocently enough, but the shiteating grin he has makes him more nervous than he cares to admit, so he nods and leaves without even a thank you. and when he’s finally out of earshot, the first thing stede says once he stands is “ticklish?”, and ed cackles.

Dude

DUDE

This is such an incredible concept you can't just casually drop this in my inbox!!!

This flustered me a tad more than I'm willing to admit lol. Because as stated before, Izzy absolutely has ticklish hands, and I can completely see this scenario happening. And the bit about Izzy reminiscing on past tickle fights I am going to cry you cannot just bring shit like that up

And Stede's innocent little, "Ticklish?" at the end is so cute too. Because you know Stede would never use it against him but Ed for sure will and absolutely rats out the fact that Izzy doesn't mind it later on. Not that Stede isn't still hesitant for fear of Izzy killing him asjgjhjki

Thank you so, SO much for this, this is actually my new favorite thing in the world <3

[straight4joekeery]

Teach Me How To Love In Your Own Lyrics

(part 11/final) Ao3

prev. part one

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You taste good?” he groaned, “What in the everloving fuck was that? Huh? You’re a complete dumbass you know? You are actually disgusting. You finally kissed the dude then you pull that? Did you think that's cute? He probably doesn’t ever want to see you again. You know what? I can't even look at you right now. Perv,” he said walking away from the mirror.

Once again, he was pacing. He needed to be at the airport in three hours, and he just woken up. You might say ‘So? You have plenty of time.’ but remember, this is Steve we’re talking about. He rushed around the house completing his daily routine (using an actual physical checklist, because why not?). This list included all the basics, plus: deep cleaning the entire house, actually doing things that needed to be done for work, and even giving Ozzy a bath (horrible idea). By the time he threw on his sweater (who cares if it’s summer?) and made the last check, he still had two hours left. He wanted to cry. He wish time would stop being so inconvenient. He sat down and watched tv until he couldn’t stand it. This house was making him anxious. He patted Ozzy on the head and ran out the door.

“Steve?” It was his neighbor. Great. She had the tendency to talk. For hours. And hours and hours. (More than Julie. And that’s saying something.) In her defense, she was old and had no friends. (what? It’s true.) He was going to be late. He was going to be late and Eddie was going to be furious. He’d probably never want to speak to him again. Damnit. He decided to be bold for once. Once! (And that was a one time thing!) And he was already going to mess it up. “Are you doing alright? You look a little pale.”

“Uh hi, Sharon. Yep, fine. Just in a rush,” he said walking towards his car.

“Where ya headed?” She said, also walking towards his car.

“The airport. Picking my- someone up,” he quickly opened the door and sat down in the car. She, however, decided to hold the door open with her hand.

“My someone?” She raised her eyebrow, “I know that look. You’re dating someone. Is it that girl? What’s her name? Rachel- no that’s not it,” she gave him a puzzled look, “Ruby? No wait… Robin!”

“No-“

“You know I’ve seen you two. Is something going on? Y’all seem super cute together. I think-“

“No! Ew, no! No, Sharon. You’re right okay? I am going to pick up someone I’m dating. Is that good enough for you? Now if you’ll excuse me I need to leave before the plane lands so they won’t have to stand and wait an hour for me,” he said, knowing well no matter how slow he went, he’d make it on time. He moved her hand and slammed the door. He could see her glare at the car, from the rearview as he sped away, mouthing at him. Now he’s down to one neighbor on his side. (Amy will never not love him.)

Fuck. He felt nauseous. It most likely didn’t help that he hadn’t eaten. Oh. Yeah. He should probably do that. He wasn’t really in the mood to pass out behind the wheel. He had time. It was going to be fine. But, like, not enough time to go sit down and eat, obviously. He pulled into a convenience store on the side of the road. He rushed in and grabbed a candy bar (that’s enough right?). He paced to the checkout noticing the display of flowers nearby. (Hawkins takes National Women’s Equality Day very seriously.) He handed a bouquet to the cashier. (“Lucky lady I see?” Probably not the display he should buy these from. “Uh yeah,” he grimaced, “Something like that.”) He, quite literally, scurried to parking lot, and threw the candy bar into the ibis that was his car (which was quickly discarded and never eaten).

And just like that he was off. Again. He made it to the airport a little faster than expected (he only sped a little). With (drumroll please) 58 minutes to spare. Just in time am I right? He drummed on his knees impatiently and looked around. Well folks: to the left, we have ourselves a car, to the right we have (get this) another car, and I’ll give you one guess for what’s in front of Steve’s car… if you said ‘a car’ Congrats! Bingo! Right on the money! You win! Fantastic job! He sighed and looked over to the passenger seat (fortunately, there was no car there). He picked up the flowers and scrunched his face. This is stupid and horribly embarrassing. Who actually would want flowers? Definitely not Eddie. He’s probably allergic or something. He threw them behind his seat and closed his eyes. He took a few breaths to calm himself down and decided it hasn’t been long enough since the last time and needed to check the time. And- oh my god. Oh no.

So apparently that had been a lot more than a few breaths. It was 9:14. The flight landed at 9. Oh, this is bad. This is really really bad. He immediately sprang up and bolted out of his car. His mind went blank, while he stood still for a second not knowing what to do, before realizing that he was inside waiting. When he made it inside the airport, out of breath, he looked around for what seemed like an hour, before he actually panicked. He paced (a simple way to put it) around the airport looking for anyone who slightly resembled Eddie. Luckily, he was the only one who could be mad at him. The rest of the band was being picked up by Gareth's mom since she had a ginormous van. When he didn’t see anyone, he walked over to the arrival/departure board. He bit his nails as he searched for Minneapolis. As soon as he made it to the M’s he felt someone crash into his back. Jesus Christ. First, he loses Eddie’s trust, and now he’s getting kidnap-

“Stevie!” Eddie said, backing up so Steve could move, “Oh no. You look mortified. I am so sorry, the flight was late. I mean it’s not like I had any way of telling you but- I am so sorry!” He let out a huge sigh of relief, “What?”

He walked forward, wrapping his arms around his neck for what felt like the 1000th time. “I’m so glad you're back, I don’t think you get it.”

“Trust me, I get it,” he rolled his eyes and smiled to himself. “Okay not to, like, totally ruin the moment and all but I have been stuck on a plane for god only knows how long and I really have to pee. Okay? Stay put, I’ll be right back,” he set down his bags and ran away like a literal gremlin. He snorted and backed against the wall. The three-month wait wasn’t that horrible.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you okay?” Steve whispered.

“Obviously! I haven’t been here in three months. Three months! I’m so happy!”

“That wasn’t obvious, you look like you’re about to cry.”

“Oh, I totally am!” He giggled, “Hey and you can’t say anything, hypocrite. Or shall I say ‘Mr. I-am-so-emotional-I’ve-already-cried-three-times-since-Eddie’s-been-home’. Which hasn’t even been half an hour by the way,” he grinned. Steve looked back at Eddie to see him hitting the palms of his hands against his knees. He reached over the center console and held his hand for Eddie to take. When Eddie noticed, he blushed (badly) before taking it. “Thank you.”

“…for?” He questioned.

“Oh ya know, everything ever.”

“Um okay. You’re welcome I think? I'm not sure you should be thanking me for everything ever but, uh. Yeah, I guess?”

“No I mean it,” Eddie sighed without any further explanation. “Hmm, no. I’m kidding actually. Bitch,” he said endearingly after a hot minute of silence.

“Asshole,” he said, trying to remove his hand from Eddie’s with a smirk.

“Fucker,” Eddie said squeezing his hand tighter, so he couldn’t move.

“Dick.”

“Slut.”

He gasped, “Low blow, dude. Low blow.”

“Yeah, that’s fair. I’m so so sorry. Uhm,” he fake-pondered with a finger on his chin, “Ah yes. Gay,” he nodded successfully to himself.

“That’s better.”

These were the moments he missed most. Meaningless things that they would probably forget about in a day. Where they could be themselves without a care in the world.

“Oh, my god. The Harrington mansion at its finest. How I missed this place,” Eddie whispered to himself loudly.

“Three things. First of all, this house is barely considered big, let alone a mansion. Second, you say that like more than one Harrington living here. Third, why?” He said, pulling into the driveway.

“Okay one, have you seen my apartment? And-”

“Aren’t you, like, super rich and famous now? I bet you could afford my house, twice, and still have enough to be considered ‘rich as hell’,” Eddie raised his eyebrows and gave him a look, “Sorry. Continue.”

“And you used to live in a mansion with your parents, ahem number two, and I’m not giving up calling your current place of residence the Harrington mansion. That’s set in stone. Engraved into the stone if you will. Lastly, it's your house, ergo you will be here, ergo I have to like this place,” Eddie smiled, and made a face so you visibly could tell he just had a great (evil. Pure evil.) idea. “Also, revisiting number two, maybe if you let me move in, there might be more than one Harrington,” he winked and threw a ring made out of a straw wrapper (he swears this dude is Mary Poppins’ son) at him, before jumping out of the car. “That is, assuming it’s a yes.”

He quickly slid the ring on his finger (what? He was never letting that out of his sight now) and followed him to the other side of his car, “You are so-”

“Amazing? Charming? Handsome? So completely generous? Irresistible?”

“Interesting.”

“Well, I take that as a compliment. Though I think fascinating would be a better fit,” he said opening the back door to grab his bags, “Jesus H. Christ why did I need to bring- are those flowers?” He grabbed them and smirked.

“Oh, uh- I’m-“

“I’m hoping these are for me and you haven’t been seeing anyone else,” his face went pale, “You haven’t… right?”

“No! Of course not! I just- I thought it was weird and I knew you are clearly not the flower type and plus! I mean they-“ he went on but was interrupted by Eddie smacking a quick kiss on his lips. Nevermind. Flowers were good. Keep buying them.

“I think that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. Purple is my favorite color too,” he blushed, bringing the flowers up to cover his face.

“Really? Purple?”

“Yep,” he said, popping the p, “And you can tell everyone you want I don’t care.”

“Oh, trust me, I’ll be sure to tell my three friends.”

“I mean, it’s not like they’d ever believe you. Three friends you say? Who’s this new mystery-“

“Oh, really Steve?!” They looked over to see Sharon with her hands on her hips, “look, I don’t care that you're dating a- a man,” she stuttered, “but why him?! He’s such a horrible influence!”

Eddie looked over to Steve and gave him an amused look. “Just between you and me,” he put up a hand to his mouth and stage whispered to Sharon, “I’m one hundred percent in it solely for the money.”

“Is that so?” Eddie gasped.

“Don’t act like you didn’t know,” he winked and rested his hand on Eddie’s hip for show. “Bye, Sharon! Have a marvelous day,” he turned around and dramatically rolled his eyes. “Okay anyways back to our scheduled programming, yes I do have three friends. Why does no one belive I have friends by the way? Very insulting,” he ran and unlocked his door, Eddie following shortly behind him, “I have Ozzy now!” Eddie pushed Steve inside and threw his bags on the floor (one of which fell open and sent random junk flying everywhere).

Eddie, completely ignoring what Steve had said, backed him against the counter, “So we’re dating now?”

“Oh uh, sorry about that. She was bothering me this morning so I kinda just spit out words and sped away. That was weird. Sorry, I’ll tell her that I was-“ he was once again interrupted by Eddie pressing his lips against his. (He was definitely not complaining.) This time it was better, deeper. More meaningful. Magical. They almost instantly tangled their fingers into each others hair, like it was habit. And he was going to do everything in his power to make sure it was.

“Stevie, wait,” Eddie pulled back, (after about the longest 3 minutes of Steve’s now glorious, wonderful life) eyes widened.

“What? What is it? Are you okay? Did I do something? Is it-“

“No,” he giggled, “it’s just… did you say cat?”

“Yeah? Like 5 minutes ago? Why,” before he could finish he was already gone, searching the house for said cat. “Did you just now process that?" he giggled.

"Shut up, I'm slow," he popped his head out from where he was searching under the shelves, "You know this. Therefore you cannot be mean."

"I don't think that means anything actually," he groaned when he didn't see a cat and moved onto a different spot, "Eddie, he’s over there. He hides in the pantry when someone comes in the house.”

He bolted in that direction immediately (slipping on the hardwood like scooby-doo), “Oh my god I love him,” he said triumphantly holding the cat in the air, “I’m keeping him. He’s mine now.”

“Hmm, I don’t believe that’s happening. You can see him when you're here, you’ll survive I promise.”

“Well,” he said, skipping over to the couch and throwing himself on it with a smirk, “I guess I’ll just have to move in won’t I?” These are the time Steve’s glad Eddie was the bolder one. (Again: One. Time. Thing.) He’d wanted to ask that for about a year now but never got the courage.

“Is that so?” He said while, more gracefully, sitting down.

“I mean, little man said he wants me to. And you cannot resist that face can you?” He held Ozzy up to his face and poured.

“Which one?”

“Mine obviously,” he scoffed, “Is that a yes? Because I’m taking that as a yes.”

Steve sighed and smiled, “Yes, Eddie. Whatever will satisfy,” he waved his hand at Eddie, “your needs.”

“Wait really?” Eddie beamed.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t you?”

“Because I’m not cool enough duh.”

“I think you are almost too cool.”

“Nobody could be too cool for Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington,” he said, setting Ozzy down and laying his head on Steve’s shoulder. He wanted to cry. He’s never been this happy.

“I don’t know man. Oz is pretty cool.”

“True,” he looked up at Steve and smiled, before looking serious, “I hope it will always be like this.”

“It will be,” he let out a shaky breath.

When Eddie didn’t reply he went to say more, take it back, but didn’t have the chance. Because just like he took the words right out of his mouth, “Right.” And he was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End

and this is what I call "thank fuck, it's finally over." BUT YAY I THINK. I honestly have no clue what to say besides uh thanks. Love how I went from a part everyday to a part almost exactly every month. I like to tortue myself with that info. I could have been done in January. But I think it’s better this way. Now I can finally put this on Ao3. Um anyways. I’m really unenthusiastic about this. I’m tired (wow what a shock). It is kinda crazy tho. I’d like to restate that all of this was all based off a dream. Also I’d like to inform that my most interesting dream was me getting chased by a big butterfly sooooo. Somehow this was a decent length. Idk how. I kinda just woke up and poof part 11 spawned. Okay so in other news,

Since I can no longer go on my how to get tagged spiel: I will now ask if you would like to be tagged in my next fic/ or if you want to be permanently tagged in all of my works such a as- all my fics, incorrect quotes, and random misc stuff.

One thing abt the new fic, remember how slow the last few updates of this were? It will most likely be like that. I kind sorta have it planned out but I am STRUGGLING with the povs. I’m also probably going to wait Untill I’ve written part 2 before posting pt 1. That worked out a lot better and kept me motivated for this one! )The fic is pre st1 btw and I’m rly excited cause I LOVE LOVE LOVE pre st4 fics.)

Tag list:  @asbealthgn @queerbeansworld @bird-with-pencils @vecnuthy @artiststarme  @captain-winter-wolf-aehs @piningapplewitch @rowendyss @steve-themom-harrington @lofaewrites @azreadytodie @thequeenrainacorn @pastel-dreamscape @importanttimemachinenerd @jehneeg @swagaliciousmarie @mightbeasleep @krazyperson @milkshakeflowercreator @fando-random @bumblebeecuttlefishes @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @fluffyreturns @scheodingers-muppet @wonderland-girl143-blog @briceslayed @youaremylobster @juststeddiebrainrot @pr3ttyb0yindie @scarlet-pandrian @drips-from-breaking-bones @plasticcrotches

I LOVE AND WILL MISS ALL OF YOU (That is unless you get tagged in the next fic ofc 😉)

[dumbmusclehypnojockboy]

Jersey Bros by writer-ofstuff

"So, how did these two do?"

"What do you think? Failures. Just like the others have been."

"I don't know. I wouldn't say they were total failures." The lead scientist mused.

"Sir? What do you mean? The super soldier serum didn't work." His assistant said.

"Yes, while that is true, it does tells us we are on the right track to perfecting it." The scientist said. He types on the computer and brings up their two subject's readings to show his assistants what he means.

"Look at their readings. Their DNA is already changing due to the serum. Which means we are closer to our breakthrough. We just need to do some more adjustments to the formula to get it exactly what we want it to do." He explains.

His assistants nod their heads in understanding and then busy themselves with work that the lead scientist instructs them to begin.

"Sir, what should we do with these two?" One of the asked, gesturing towards the two men who lay asleep on the metal table in the next room.

"Toss them out on the beach. They are no longer of any use to me now." He says dismissively.

The assistant nods his head and calls up a few soldiers who stood guard outside to help take Dean Winchester and Derek Hale's sleeping forms out of the lab and into a truck. Driving them down to an isolated part of the beach just as the morning sign rises and leaves the two sleeping men on the sandy beach.

------

Derek awakes with start, sitting up and looking out at the ocean while the gentle waves wash up and down the sand shore. He rubs his hand through his hair, not caring he is getting small pieces of sand in it.

He feels like he is forgetting something, like the last few hours there is just a hole in his memory. Derek turns his attention to the man sleeping close by him. The werewolf rolls his eyes when he hears Dean starting to snore rather loudly. He has a hard to believing this guy his a feared and bad ass hunter when he is passed out with his ass up in the air and a little drool coming out of his mouth.

Derek doesn't quite remember why he and this hunter teamed up, that being part of the missing pieces in Derek's memories. Yet he still for some reason remembers meeting Dean.

Derek gets to his feet and walks the short distance between himself and the sleeping hunter and lightly kicks him with his foot. The action jars Dean away who quickly rolls over and hits up, sand falling off his face from where he had laid asleep.

"Wake up."

"Wha? I am up." Dean says in a sleepy voice. Rubbing his face clean of the drool and the sand that was still on his face.

"Derek? Why are we on a beach?" Dean asked.

The hunter had sounded just as confused as Derek felt. So Derek doubts asking Dean if he knew what was going on here would be of any help.

"Come on, let's get out of here." Derek says.

He offers his hand out for Dean to take to help the other man up. As soon as their hands make contact a strange feeling jolts through both men's hands. The two men are so startled they let go of their hands and Dean falls on his ass.

"Oops, sorry bro." Derek says.

He frowns when he thinks about why he just referred to Dean as bro. That wasn't a word that Derek would use yet it just slipped out when he spoke. Derek thought nothing of it, besides Stiles said bro all the time so it must have just slipped into his speech.

Thinking about Stiles, Derek started to wonder where the younger man was. He had an odd feeling that he had been looking for him and grew tense at the thought.

'Was Stiles endanger and he didn't remember it?' He thought for a moment. But then his mind felt a little dizzy and then he thought about how the younger man is just at home relaxing.

Derek glances at Dean who looks lost in thought as well. Derek wants to ask him what he is thinking about, but he refrains from it. Dean was a hunter so Derek didn't want to bother to get to know the other man.

Now that he thinks about it, why was he even with Dean? He asks the human and sees Dean's confused frown deepened as he pauses walking.

"Huh, I don't know either." Dean said.

This honestly should alarm both men, yet Derek felt himself feeling relaxed instead. He assumes Dean feels the same way since the other man doesn't make a move to get away from Derek by walking in the other direction.

As they continue to walk side by side down the sandy empty beach Derek's mind wonders. Thinking about how the pair ended up on the beach anyway. Surely there was a reason wasn't there? At the moment he couldn't think what the reason was. When he asked Dean the other man shrugged his shoulders and didn't say a word.

When Derek stole a glance at him he frowned when he noticed that Dean's hair looked lighter than before.

'Wasn't his hair brown?' He thought to himself while he looked at Dean's now bleach blond hair. The hair style even looked different. Looking a little longer and styled differently with hair products to give Dean a fluffy faux hawk style hair do.

The hairstyle even made Dean look younger to Derek. The older man now looks like he is around Derek's age instead of a man pushing into his late thirties.

This was really starting to confuse Derek, but the more he pondered what was going on here the more those thoughts left his mind and he got distracted by something else.

"Did you change your hair?"

Dean hears Derek ask and he turns his attention to the werewolf.

"Sorry, what?" Dean asked. He wasn't really paying attention to what Derek said. Busy in his thoughts about why he was on a beach with a werewolf.

"Your hair. It looks different." Derek said.

Dean touched his hair, feeling how it was a little stiff from the hair product he put in this morning after his shower. It felt like his usual style, telling Derek as such.

When Dean looks over at Derek it's his turn to be confused since Derek's facial hair looked different. He could have sworn Derek had a thick amount of stubble along his jaw and around his mouth. Yet now Derek's face was all clean shaven except for some scruff that covered his chin.

Dean had intended to ask Derek about it, but he then thinks against it. After all it would sound rather odd to ask Derek that. Since obviously Derek just had the chin scruff prior, Dean must have just been mistaken is all.

He started to second guess himself, wondering what if something was going on here with himself and Derek. Especially since he couldn't quite explain why the two were even together in the first place.

The two men reach the boardwalk and continue to walk side by side in silence. The pair were both lost in their own minds trying to make sense of what they were doing when Dean noticed a gym to their right.

He pauses and stands outside it, looking inside through the glass windows. When Derek notices he isn't by his side the werewolf pauses and turns around.

"You alright bro?" Derek asked.

His voice sounded off to him and he clears his throat and asks again.

Dean didn't answer him so Derek walked up to stand beside him. He peers through the window of the gym like Dean is doing.. For a moment nothing happened but then Derek starts to get flashes of memories in his head. He sees himself inside the gym, working out with Dean. The two chat like they are best friends while they spot one other while they work out.

The memories he recalls aren't really, he knows this, but at the same time they feel like they are real to Derek and he hates that.

"Come on bro, let's get goin yeah?" Derek asks. Again his voice sounds off to him, but he can't quite place why.

"In a bit dude, I need to see somethin." Dean replies.

Derek opens his mouth to say something, but before he could Dean confused walking into the gym without another word.

"Fuckin hell." Derek grunted.

He paced a little outside, debating on what he should do. Running his hand through his hair, as soon as his hand falls back to his side his hair shifts. The sides shaving down to a buzz style while the mid section of his hair style back as it lengthens.

He thinks about just leaving Dean. Clearly something strange is going on here and that is the reason they feel holes in their memories while also having these fragments of new memories.

"Fuck it." Derek grunts and follows Dean into the gym.

------

Dean can't explain the urge he felt to go into the gym. Like Derek he gained those similar memories of himself and the other man coming here. In those false memories it seemed like they were close friends despite the two men hardly knowing one another.

He told himself this was to get to the bottom of things. Instead though Dean just wanders through the main area of the gym. He only sees men in the gym, some guys alone working out while others are grouped up and chatting while jogging on the treadmill.

What makes it strange is how some of them address him by his name, as if they know Dean. Rather than question how they know him Dean just rolls with it, greeting them back. While he does and continues deeper into the gym. His body alters, muscles becoming more toned and defined. Gained from years of working put and maintaining this kind of physique rather than Dean having earned it through training.

The tattoo on his left pec that wards of possession starts to break apart. The ink traverses along Dean's chest under his shirt. Wisps of ink branch off to spread along Dean's arms while the rest form into different styles of tattoos.

More false memories bombard Dean's mind and the hunter clenches his head as he attempts to push those new thoughts out of his mind. He looks ahead of him Dean sees he is standing a few steps away from a large wall mirror. He can see his green eyes darken and for a brief moment he fears he is being possessed by a demon.

"Demon? Demon's don't exist," he then thinks.

His green eyes turn brown, his lips get a little fuller, nose wider and the bridge of it becomes slimmer. Dean grunts, watching his face change before his eyes and unable to do anything but throw his arms up and start to pose. Smirking at his biceps and admiring how large they are. Giving into the admiration of his own appearance finally pushes Dean over. His mind purging his own self from it finally as his new dimwitted and vain self takes over.

He lifts his shirt up to admire his hard earned abs and pecs next once he has had enough flexing. Only stopping to look around and wonder where his best bro is at.

📷

----------

Navigating through the gym was making Derek feel uneasy. What connection he had left to his werewolf abilities was telling him something wasn't right about this place. The men he walked by all seemed like the same type. Self absorbed meat heads who cared only about themselves and showing off.

Derek despised shallow men like this. So whenever any of them tried to stop and talk to him he would give them a glare and ignore them to continue his search for Dean.

The further Derek ventured into the gym the harder it was to recall past memories of his. Thoughts he would have would shift to random things.

'I'm totally bigger than that dude.'

'Jason's here? May need to see if he wants to fuck in the locker room again.'

'Mike's here too. Should talk to him about getting another tat.'

'Where the hell is Dean at? My bro needs to spot me.'

Derek tried to shove those thoughts away but it felt like the more he tried to, the more adamant they were to linger in his head.

He needed to find Dean and get out of here. When he reaches the back area of the gym he finds a tattooed dude posing in front of the mirror.

Derek thought of what a self absorbed guido the guy was. The type of guy you would hate on a trash reality show. He releases only to realize a moment later that this man was somehow Dean.

Astonished, Derek quickly approaches Dean, opening his mouth to ask what happened to him.

"Looking good bro." He says instead. Taken aback by his own words.

Dean turns to look at him and grins.

"You see yourself bro? You hitting the iron hard ya?" Dean replies.

Derek wants to deny it, but he can feel his body surging with muscle. He tries to repel the ongoing changes, but it proves to be useless. His pecs inflate to large and firm pectorals. While his biceps gained quite a bit of bulk to them. The rest of him gained a significant amount of solid muscle while Derek also felt himself growing a little taller.

His pale skin darkened with a tan gained from walking around shirtless and hitting the tanning bed when he could.

Derek tries even harder to repel these alterations happening to him. Not wanting to end up like some self absorbed dick like Dean had become. He assumes being a werewolf has given him an edge that made whatever caused this work slower on him.

He can feel himself being overweight by whatever this is, wincing when two diamond studs appear in his earlobes and his mind shatters a few moments later. Derek stood there in a daze while his old thoughts were overrun by a new persona.

Derek then blinks himself awake, a slow grin spreading on his face as he flexes for Dean.

"Fuck yeah bro. You know I gotta keep this bod in shape for the studs." Derek said with a heavy Jersey accent.

He stands beside Dean and the best bros make faces and pose for a picture. Uploading it to social media before the pair get back to their workout routine. Neither of them remembering anything of their past selves.

📷

[sly-merlin]

KILLING ME- 14

pairing : law student!reader + yuta

genre : (fluff)  angst , mafia au/ arranged marriage au.

warnings of this chapter : cursing, mention of drugs, character death.

words : ~4k

summary :

“life’s never fair y/n. realise it as soon as you can . it is the only secret for living a regretless life.”                                  

or            

“ curiousity got the cat hitched”

K.M masterlist

K.M 13

TAGLIST : @kpop-choco @moon-yuta @kawaiiayasan @btm-taeyong @exfolitae @lanadreamie @cheersskznct ​​ @hyuckiesgf ​​ @theworld-accordingtocasey ​​@simplybree

@yiyi4657 @sorrywonwoo @sillywinnergladiator   @minejungwoo @leesalts @mal-nakamoto23 @ro2424 @itlittlefangirl @nctzens-world @bl–ankhaeji @jeaneteflo @nuoyii @bralessmermaid @minhoseyeliner @tyongpoetry @swimmingkpopblog @jkjkseo @orphicmoon @floralescapes

A/N : this chapter marks the celebration of this blog surpassing 600 followers! thank you so much for all the support! also for minor readers, the sfw versions of nsfw chapters are given at the end of the masterlist so check those properly before reading.

•••••••••••••

y/n! Are you sleeping?”

Registering his words, you replied in a groggy voice,“What the fuck do you want?”

“Your phone. I left mine in the medical room. I need to call Mark right now.” with some authority, he spoke.

Whining loudly, you fell back on the bed. It was only due but flailing your arms and legs like a kid in a toy store, you let out a screech full of annoyance, cursing your fate.

Were you really going to babysit him now?

"Have you suddenly lost your hearing? Stop with this sick attitude and open the door."

A puff of air left your nose, your chest moved rhythmically with your stomach and you relaxed your arms beneath your head, eyes fixed at the fan above and ears ringing with his voice. He kept calling you and after a number of shouts, you started humming to distract yourself, afraid that you'd end up helping him otherwise. That was something, naturally, you were not interested in. Last time he had ignored your voice and now nature had presented you with an opportunity to return the favour. Just with a bit less flavour.

"Are you dead?"

"Hmmm. To you, yes I am." Mumbling, you yawned and pushed yourself up to reach your side table and fishing out your earphones from the bottom drawer, you untangled them and fixed them comfortably in your ear, hiding yourself underneath the sheets.

Sonata no.14 instantly transported you away from the noise and the stress that was your unwanted husband, yuta. The smile playing on your lips widened as you realised that you were his only mode of communication at the moment.

But You were going for a nap. Until then, he could wait. And thrash. And cry. Or die.

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you rotated the handle of the door to walk outside but your little trip was interrupted when your body collided straight into a wall. No. The obstruction was too soft for a wall.

Opening your eyes properly, you saw yuta standing stiff. Surprised at the sudden appearance, you immediately stumbled back and in hurry, hit your spine on the wooden door. The glare of his eyes, that always spoke more than you could comprehend, coupled with a clenched jaw, was not a very pleasant sight for sure yet you found it harder to dart your own eyes away from him.

"Your phone" he seethed, breathing deeply.

"Huh?" You croaked out.

He raised his brow and in an instant, the previous scenario played like a short movie in your head. Snapping your head down, you regarded his leg with pity. He obviously noticed it immediately but seemed to ignore it and refrained from saying anything. Good for you, you thought.

"Are you deaf?"

Your furrowed brows met his eyes and with a roll of his own, he picked up his finger to force his demand but you managed to walk back inside your room before he could've done that.

Your back faced him as you contemplated your options while slowly stretching your arm to reach for your phone on the other side of the bed.

should you even be giving him your phone?

You had more trust in Taeyong than the man you shared a roof with so there was no way you were doing that.

Unbeknownst to you, yuta was watching your movements intently and the way you bobbed your head, he knew you were scheming something so he decided to be polite for a moment. Only until you were needed. Or your phone was needed.

Once the phone was in your hand, another thought crossed your mind.

"Wait. Where is the house phone?" Crossing your arms, you asked him slyly, already knowing the answer

"You fucking never got it installed. It's still in its stupid package" he seemed rather impatient.

"And you could've called reception through the door telecom. He would have phoned Mark for you. These rich apartments certainly have more hospitality tha-

"I CAN'T GO AROUND DISTRIBUTING AN UNDERGROUND CRIMINAL'S CONTACT NUMBER TO EVERYONE"

He inhaled and exhaled and you just watched until he opened his eyes again, hand reaching out to you.

"Chill. I've every right to be sceptic especially when you are the one asking for it."

Finding Mark's number on your phone, you called him.

Yuta's hand threaded through his rough hair as he noticed what you were trying to do.

"Hey mark!" Your chirpy voice resounded in the room and yuta was sure this was some different spirit speaking. You sounded too bubbly for the way you were investigating him just a second ago.

"Yes yes. His phone exactly.i don't trust him enough to hand over my phone so that's why I'm calling you myself. Just hurry up if you can or you might have to clean up a dead body in the next few hours."

With that you cut the phone. Without meeting yuta's gaze and resting your hand on the handle, you mumbled,

"He'll be here in an hour."

You were about to close the door when he stopped it with the palm of his hand, alerting you with the force.

"Tell him to get some food too."

And limping, he retired back, to the couches.

Sighing, you messaged mark. Had it been for something else, you'd have ignored but your own stomach had signalled you that it needed some good food so you chose not to fight against your own body.

Now, only the taste of the food could decide how many days you were going to tolerate that barbaric human.

"Are you still going to that stupid internship?" Johnny hesitantly murmured from your desk chair while taking big bites from the plate.

"It's not stupid please! I’m just waiting for them to actually pay attention to my awesome capabilities so they can transfer me to the main branch. This is not bad either but”, you stopped to lick your forefinger and tasting the sauce, continued, “but I really wanna go into the criminal unit. That’s where the actual fun is. As long as i’m being paid decently, i’ll suffer with the stupid research work here.”

“With the tongue as sharp as yours, I think you should be getting ready for a demotion instead” he laughed, showing you his fake bunny teeth in the most annoying and childish way.

“Ha ha ha ha. Some well wisher you are! Thank you so much for looking out for me but I'll be fine. Who knows the gatekeeper’s pay package is more than me. So it’d be a win-win in that case too I guess?” when you did a drum roll with your chopsticks to stress upon your point, he laughed harder.

"So being broke is the new black?" Rolling his eyes, he dragged out, "I swear you kids don't know how this world works."

"And you, grandpa of the century, knows?"

"I'm aware of what I need for my survival and from what I've learnt, you can either take risks or look for job security. In your case, " he fake coughed, "where the proportions of risk taking have already exceeded the acceptable limit, a job security is the best and safest option to choose."

"And that would justify my greed and desire to work for the biggest company of this city."

"Kun. The security you need and the independence you seek would be given by kun. Chois are hmm how to say? Cheap? Yeh cheap. They have no work ethics. "

"Have you worked with them, johnny?"

"No. I'm ju-

"Then was your ex a choi?" You saw his eyes comically and cutely widening at your remark.

"No. My ex wasn't a choi and that's not what I'm saying and you know that."

"Oh. So your ex wasn't a choi. Then a lee? Kim? Im? Oh my god! Look at your cheeks seo!" You dragged out. He shook his head as you kept wiggling your brows at him.

"She was a kim but that doesn't mean I would hate all kims dude. That's baseless and stop ignoring the topic. I want you to apply in Kuns. It's the best option. Do it as soon as you-

"Yeah yeah we'll see about that. First take that bitch back. I can't even nap in his presence. "

"Umm. Yeah. You gotta tolerate him. And besides he's injured. Injured yuta is like a gun without a bullet. He's gonna shout for a day or two and then peace out. He'll be sleeping and reading in his room and you won't even know if he's alive or not."

"Now that's bullshit. What is he going to do here anyway? I hope he can hop himself on one leg because even if the sun rises from the north, I am not going to do a single task for him. He can die hungry , for all I care.”

“Do you think you can endure him for some tasty dinners?”

Clicking your tongue, you quipped, “Do you really think you can buy me with a few homemade meals?”

Day 1

Yes. you were sold. The moment the tasty noodles had melted in your mouth, you knew you had no dignity. And you were indeed ashamed of yourself.

Earlier, Renjun had called you to inform you that he had delivered the food and medicines for yuta and had left your dinner box but he had failed to mention the special and endearing note that was pasted on the glass box. In the curvy letters, it read bitchy piglet and you swore the only person you’d be killing before yuta would be jaehyun. But you were going to use jaehyun to build up your tolerance instead.

When you went out to clean your dishes, he was playing some game on his phone, excitement evident from the way he was laughing every other second. Maybe if he remained occupied, he would not be so insufferable.

Day 3

"Oyii! Oyii!"

No. You were wrong. He was very very much insufferable.

At midnight, his voice echoed, disturbing your sleep. You cursed at the cool atmosphere that had prevented you from using the air con which otherwise would have blocked his annoying screeches. But it seemed like bad luck wanted to change its name to y/n instead. With your name being called like a broken record, it was a fight between you and him that you were not going to lose. Shuffling to your side, you covered your ears with the other pillow and tried to drown out the annoyingly demanding and hoarse voice. There was no way you were giving him the satisfaction of having any power over you. He could cry for all he liked!

“What the fuck do you want at this hour?”

Attempting a glare at him through sleepy lids, you spewed with irritation. Unlike you, he was very much awake, breathing with the sole purpose of making you question your whole existence.

“Pillow” scratching his non-existent beard, he mumbled.

Your nostrils flared and jaw clenched at such inconvenient command.

“You summoned me for a pillow? A pillow that can normally be found on a person’s bed? Can you please rectify your demand or did I just simply hear something wrong?”

The opened curtains and the moonlight that drenched the room was the only source that illuminated his face for you and even with drooping eyes, you could see how serious he was and yet you couldn't hold your tongue back because he simply deserved every shit you bestowed him with.

“Turn the lights on and count the pillows on my bed! And when you are done, get me some pillows from your room.” he simply stated.

“Why should i give you my pillow? I need them!”

“Because I don't use a pillow and I need it asap!”

“Then why do you suddenly need one? To disturb my sleep? Oh that makes sense.” and suddenly, your eyes had synced with your body to side with your fight mode.

“I need them for elevating my leg. The bandage is too tight and it’s not comfortable.”

“Then why don't you walk out of the room and get some cushions for yourself!” you raised your volume.

“Because my leg is in pain and i’m unable to get up? What makes you think I'm dying to see your ugly face at this time of the night. I dont wanna have nightmares of you as well but i can't help it ok!”

“you should have kept them near you. And who are you calling ugly hmm? You poop fac-

“Okay scream for all you want! But get me a pillow when your battery dies down!”

“What the fuck d- are you covering your ears? Wow ways to be generous!”

Stomping your foot, you left the room to get the hardest cushion on the couch.

“Here! Next time call Mark if you want anything. Don’t raise your voice ever again to call me because unlike you, i have work in the morning and hence I need some sleep..”

Just when you were about to leave after shoving the cushion in his hand, he spoke up again,

“This is damn hard! I asked for your pillow specifically and not th- AHH!”

A scream left him as you harshly removed the support , leaving his leg to painfully meet the mattress.

“How about you fix your attitude before fixing your leg?” suggesting, you dropped the cushion on the floor and left.

He didn't call you after that. Nor that you cared. However, the sleep in your eyes somehow vanished. Dancing on your sides didn’t help. Neither did drinking a glass of water. So, with a groan, you listened to your conscience and picked up your extra pillow that was sadly too perfect for your enemy.

Padding to his room, you tried your best to scrutinise and hearing his heavy snores, you placed the pillow right under his thigh and the cushion under his calf. Scoffing at his sleeping figure, you internally groaned to remind yourself that you hadn't done it for him. It was just a debt. For the blanket he had once covered you with. Nothing more and nothing less.

Day 5

You just wanted him out of your hair. He was just being a load on your head. At first, only the work was kicking your ass, then jungwoo was kicking you like a punching bag for an hour straight and adding to your distress was yuta.

"I'm not your maid! Stop piling up the dishes for me. I've had enough mercy on you. From today onwards, get a cleaner for yourself or buy disposable cutlery. I'm not going to clean after you!"

With a roll of his eyes, he had ignored you.

And so did you. Pasting a warning note on the sink tap, you had left for the library with a dying hope that maybe the kitchen would be spotless on your arrival or you'd be dialing some numbers in the evening.

For someone who despised the solemn atmosphere of libraries, you had successfully spent 11 hours in the said hellish room. It was 11 p.m and you wanted to sleep, more than anything but here you were, waiting for yugyeom so he'd just pick you up for a good drinking session that you were dying to have.

Fortunately, you weren't the only one who had missed living these past days. Everyone, for different reasons, was suffering so you felt a little less bad for yourself even though you knew your troubles were far more grave than their academic burdens.

"Wake up shorts" someone whispered in your ear. Squirming on your seat, you whipped your head in your sleepy state and found jungkook caressing your head, goofily smiling at you.

"I thought you wanted to hang out till the next morning" air quoting the last words, he picked up your bag.

"Yeah. Let's go. I'm all ready for a night full of vodkas." You yawned out.

"Definitely. No. You are going home. We can have a small get together me and yuggy are done with our final project." He dragged you out into the parking lot.

" I feel like it's been years since we got drunk together. You are never here anymore!" You whined at him, complaining your heart out.

"I will be. Soon. Then we can celebrate your little choi job as well."

"Oh please. Don't even mention it. If I had penny for every time they rolled their eyes at me, I'd be richer than your parents kook." You huffed out and as his gentle laugh surrounded you, you closed your eyes resting your back against the seat, expecting to be up by the time he'd park.

But the next day, you woke up tangled in the sheets of your bed, unaware of the events of the previous night.

When you had warned yuta about the dirty dishes, you hadn't expected him to fill the corners of the kitchen with disposable containers. It looked like you had missed a whole drama while sleeping in the library. The kitchen was shining except for the new utensils. But as long as you were not babysitting him, you were fine with anything. You didn't want to jinx your relief, however, you were glad you would be able to get some work done. finally.

You had spoken too early for your own good. Just when you sat down to write your paper, passionate and enthusiastic howls of that man pierced through your earphones and once again, you opened the window and hopped outside, in the balcony, ready to drown him out. Sipping on your lemonade, you gaped at the scenery the not so distant traffic provided you with and somehow, your thoughts wandered to the only person these horns reminded you of. Johnny.

What are you doing? Your fingers hovered over the text but once again, you deleted the message, declaring it to be too childish for someone as mature as him. Maybe you were just being silly. Maybe you were not. But who was going to put a stamp on your maybe?

Tears pricked your eyes as the harsh words of your senior thundered in the room. He kept shouting and you had no option than to consume each and every word he directed at you. Even if you were being insulted in front of your twenty other co-workers, staying quiet was the best option, you ascertained. so along with your saliva, you gulped your explanations down your throat.

Howsoever unconscious, you were still in the wrong. There was no excuse as to why you had mailed the wrong bills, apart from the headache that was caused by the person possibly lying on the sofa and watching t.v back home. No matter how much you tried to run away from his existence, he had somehow managed to let himself inside your head.

Glaring at the kid who asked for his turn on the park swing, you pushed yourself a little higher, letting the wind greet your stinging eyes as it hit your face in waves. Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you chose to ignore jungwoo for a day as it was the time, you decided, to let all the lessons that the past few months had taught you sink into your mind, to bleed into your soul so you won’t ever be able to deviate from them. Ever.

Only if that was so easy. You knew blaming others for your problems was no solution but trivialising them by not paying heed wasn't a smart move either.

When you reached home, your frustrations had died down. So when yuta simpered and pointed towards your empty container, telling you how he had already finished your supposed dinner, you simply rolled your eyes at him, robbing him of whatever he wanted to achieve by riling you up. Heating up the water, you were about to open the noodles packet when yeong called you.

You stared at the shattered phone screen in disbelief as the endless tears ran down your cheeks. As you verbalised the words to yourself again, your body met the floor with a thud.

Jungkook. Drugs. No more.

Three words had silenced the screeches in your head and your mind busied itself in rejecting what you had heard for it had to be a lie. But what how were you going to ignore the heart wrenching screams that yeong had let out. How were you going to dismiss the truth.

How were you all going to accept it?

••••••••••••••••

next update: Some day between 5-7 June.

[rattyoakenbitch]

❝𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞❞ ─ 𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨

hey, it's not like you ever tried to stay . .

❥ content ; gn reader, angst, dark themes, yandere themes, toxic relationship

❥ warnings ; sxlf hxrm & mxtilation, swearing, verbal abuse, manipulation, slight nxdity lol

❥ synopsis ; all you wanted was his attention. and by the gods, you were going to get his attention by any means.

❥ a/n ; first mello fic (: i've been wanting to write something dark for a while and ig i finally got the opportunity lol. i thought i got out of my death note stage but i'm back, so please don't be afraid to send requests or ask to be added to my nonexistent taglist! alsoo while this oneshot does include s/h, i am in no way glorifying or romanticizing it!!! but i do tend to write angsty and dark fics. again, this is a work of fiction and i don't intend for anyone to take this too seriously and let this influence them.

The loud crash of a glass echoed throughout the room as a vase went flying through the air and collided with the wall, just a few feet from where you were standing.

You didn't flinch. Didn't scream. Didn't cry. Didn't react. You were used to Mello's fits of rage by now, months into your relationship. If you could even call it that, at this point.

You knew Mello wouldn't dare lay a finger on you; if he did, he'd cut off his own hands and have live with the guilt forever, knowing he brought you harm. Which is why you didn't react.

However, he didn't seem to have a problem when it was only verbal.

"I don't fucking get you!" Mello spat harshly and continued to rant, "Why did you think that was okay?! Did you once consider how I felt?! I was worried sick that some asshole hurt you but you come back a day later and tell me you were at some boy's house!"

You only scoff, leaning against the wall in a relaxed manner, eyeing the remaining shards of the vase carefully. Just like Mello, you were incredibly stubborn.

"Answer me, Y/N!"

"Okay, Mihael," you state cooly, using Mello's legal name and causing him to listen more intently. "First of all, I don't know what you expected me to do when you invited your weird mafia 'friends' over while I was trying to sleep. Second, he's not 'some boy', his name is Y/F/N and he's one of a few people I can trust. I don't know what you think of me."

"You could've gotten a hotel room, that's what!"

"With what money, Mihael?! What fucking money? You forced me to quit my job and then practically lock me up in this hell hole that I can't even call 'home' anymore!"

Mello huffed. "Pfft, you should be grateful. I've kept you safe all this time, away from the dangers of the world. You're alive because of me. Me. You're mine."

"Yeah, some fucking life, right?"

"I provide for you, I protect you from the monsters out in the world, but you still decide to go and whore yourself out to your little 'friend'," Mello sneered, his sharp voice dripping with venom.

You stared at your boyfriend in disbelief. All words, all arguments and nasty retorts expiring on your lips.

"I.." You start, but laugh pitifully. "I don't even know what you're saying. I don't know if you even know what you're saying. Honestly, Mello, just when I thought you couldn't surprise me anymore, you start spewing complete and utter bullshit out of your mouth." Mello's silence only egged you on. "It's no wonder Near always came in first place." Aaand there it was. You snapped.

If looks could kill, you'd be dead. Mello's eyes widened in anger at the mention of Near, reminding him of his inferiority.

In a completely different situation where he wasn't on the receiving end, Mello would be smiling proudly, listening to your clever retorts and comebacks. You've always been as stubborn and hot headed as him, and he really liked that about you, fuck that "opposites attract" bullshit. (I ACC LOVE THAT TROPE LOL IM SORRY) However, considering you were both extremely toxic people, it was far from entertaining when it was you who got in a fight with the other.

You didn't stop, though. If he was gonna play that who-could-be-more-toxic game, you weren't gonna back down.

"I don't know if it was the explosion or you've really always been that stupid, but you need to get the fuck over yourself and stop throwing tantrums when you find out that I have a life, too, and I have friends. Friends who actually give a damn."

You stare down each other in silence, a heavy tension hanging in the air. Still, after a few moments, Mello didn't make any effort to speak or react, other than walking out of the room.

Days, weeks went by. Mello hasn't spoken a word to you. Hasn't even looked in your direction when you passed each other or walked into the same room. You didn't exist anymore, and it worried you.

Mello was never like this. Within a few days or even hours after an argument, you would easily kiss and make up. Had you gone too far this time?

Besides the fact that Mello was intentionally giving you the cold shoulder, he was also busy with work, and was out of the house from midnight to early afternoon. During that time, you would stay at home and carry out your every day mundane tasks and chores.

Even now, you didn't seek comfort in your family or friends. You were either busy keeping the house clean, sleeping, or entertaining yourself on social media. But it was all a sad attempt to keep your mind occupied on anything else other than Mello.

And one day like any other where Mello was out doing whatever the hell mafia dudes do, you snapped. You decided you were sick of the silent treatment.

If Mello was gonna play dirty and ignore you, you were gonna give him something to react to.

Mello came home some time after sunset. Kicking off his boots as he walked in the front door, he immediately knew something was off. It was quiet - too quiet. Despite the fact that you were practically taking some sort of forced break after the argument, you acted the same. You went about your day and didn't bother acting shy or timid around Mello. You still hummed earworm pop songs to yourself or put on a podcast to fill the tense air. But now there was nothing. Just Mello, the walls, and the silence.

Mello cautiously walked around the house and searched for any signs of you, fearing the worst.

As he frantically looked around, he stopped abruptly at the sight of blood smeared onto the hallway wall.

Blood.

His heartbeat began to thump loudly in his ears.

Then he noticed more blood. And more, smeared up on the wall, and eventually a trail picked up. He followed the bloody trail as it lead him through the hallway and stopped outside of your shared bedroom that he hasn't been inside for weeks.

Mello shakily inhaled and braced himself for whatever gruesome scene he would walk into.

He reached for the doorknob, twisting it and letting himself in.

Soon as he did, he ceased all motions, his breath caught in his throat as he tried to process what his eyes were showing him.

There, you sat on the bed, nothing on but your underwear and one of Mello's shirts. On one hand, you loosely held a pocket knife. On the other, you had your sleeve rolled up, your inner arm facing Mello's direction.

Your doe eyes looked up from the floor and met Mello's panicked ones. He was finally looking at you again. Despite the gorey setting and the stinging in your arm, you smiled. You were real to him again.

Multiple cuts oozed blood and trickled down your arm, onto your now dirtied clothes and the once satin white sheets below you.

As Mello got closer, silently freaking out, he could now see that these weren't just cuts - you carved out words. Sentences, onto your arm.

Among the many bloody 'I love you's' and pleads, one word stuck out to him.

It was his name.

He felt sick. Distraught. Guilty. Afraid.

"Y/N," he choked out shakily.

His gaze trailed up your arm, your body, and fixated onto your seemingly innocent face. Your face was rested and gentle, your eyes still staring up at him with adoration and desperation. If it weren't for the blood that painted your whole body and surroundings red, he would have found comfort in your presence.

"I did this.." You ran your fingers along your fresh wounds, not once wincing or drawing back in discomfort. "For you."

You continued, a sick sweetness in your voice. "Jus' wanted to show you how much I love you.. You've been leaving me so lonely, Mello." You frowned. "It was only a matter of time before I had to do something. And now you're finally here.. And you won't leave me again."

[imo-chan-imagines]

『 As your boyfriend | BNHA Headcanons 』

From the good, to the bad, to the downright adorable.

Characters: female!reader, Aizawa Shouta

Tags/warnings: Boku No Hero Academia (anime), 18+, explicit descriptions of sex, smut, fluff, soft dom Aizawa, relationship, headcanons

⚠️ 18+ CONTENT! MINORS: PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT ⚠️

A/N: Right, so I'm simping for this man biG TIME, but I'm only on season 3, so no spoilers or anything, please. This is my first BNHA post (and it turned out way longer than I was intending 😅) Please let me know if you want more in the future!

Also, I have a repetitive strain injury, so typing stuff is taking a while at the moment. Sorry about that. Thanks for reading! Please enjoy ♡ ~Imo

☆ Aizawa Shouta ☆

I'm not going to lie. Shouta can be a big ol' grouchy pants sometimes, and it's basically impossible to win an argument against him makes you want to tear your hair out, sometimes

But most of the time, he's just tired and in pain, and he doesn't mean to be so crotchety

He's not the type to make excuses, though. That's childish. He means his apologies, even if they're simple

He'll normally initiate an apology by gently wrapping his arms around you from behind and resting his forehead on your shoulder 🥺

Physical contact is incredibly personal and intimate for him. He doesn't just touch anyone, or allow them to touch him

You're special 💞💫

Soft, gentle touches, like his fingers interlacing with yours, or his leg brushing up against you, are basically his way of saying 'I love you'

Catch me crying in the corner, a'ight? 😔

He rarely ever raises his voice. Like, ever he doesn't need to, and is aware that it can be scary

He's definitely the kind of guy to forget to tell people that you're dating, simply because he doesn't see how it's relevant or anyone else's business 🤦‍♀️

I mean, he ain't wrong, but–

And his mood switches between 'antisocial' and 'clingy' like a mechanical metronome did someone say 'cat'?

Sometimes, you'll be lucky if he speaks more than three words to you together in a whole day nothing personal 🤷‍♀️

But on other days, he literally won't let you out of his arms for the world he's complicated, okay?

You have missed many a parcel delivery because he wouldn't let you get up from his lap to answer the door 🙄😂

Boundaries and responsibilities are key and highly respected by Shouta, and he would NEVER erase your quirk without your permission, unless he literally had no other choice like someone's going to get hurt, or something

Is generally quite serious so what's new? but you're one of the few people he can relax around when he feels like it

9/10 of his jokes are dad jokes 😎 hell yeah

Takes a hard stance in financial debates, but is constantly broke af 😶 says he'll buy you dinner and presents you with some instant noodles with a 'Reduced To Clear' sticker on them

Will take a bite of your food/steal some off your plate without asking, and literally say nothing to defend himself #gremlin

Is incredibly shy and uncomfortable about being ~le horny~ until you've been together for literally forever

Even then, he's still shy about it when he has to bring it up and it's pretty cute, let me tell ya

It took him forever to admit to you that he gets turned on when you eat ice lollies

Guess what you do whenever you want to mess with him like a little brat 😛

But if he's in the mood, he will 100% whisper something dirty in your ear, even if you're completely alone and probably well past third base

He does it because he knows your pussy will clamp around him at the sound of his voice 😳🥵

*fans self profusely*

Genuine, unadulterated smiles are rare with Aizawa, but when he does 🙌 Heaven hath opened its gates and allowed an angel walk amongst mere mortals 🥺🤧

If he lays his head on your chest, he will fall asleep like that *snaps fingers*

Surprise nose and forehead kisses to show he loves you ❤

Calls you 'Kitten' this is basically already canon at this point

And he's all about those deep talks with you at 3 am when he can't sleep

Speaking of insomnia!

It's cheesy, but you're like a soothing balm. The warmth of your body makes him feel safe, your touch helps him relax, and your voice soothes him to sleep

He's never slept as well as when you're beside him 😭🤧

When cuddling, he likes to be the big spoon but will accept being the little spoon if you if you press your boobs against his back and ask really nicely 🤭

And he loves you stroking his hair and running your fingers through it 🥺

Netlix nights and pillow/blanket forts!!

Rainy days are a godsend. Staying inside all day under the blankets, with the soft sound of the rain falling outside and no-one to interrupt you – literal paradise

He makes mean hot cocoas and Irish coffees 😋 I feel like this man lives off Irish coffees 😂🤣

Wears a lot of black and grey sweatpants at home 😗 which highlight the outline of his dick just right, if ya know what I'm sayin' 👀

Doesn't like going out for dates and prefers staying inside and doing stuff together same, honeyy

But if you really like going out, he will somewhat begrudgingly agree to it and get all dressed up for you, just so long as he gets his fair share of home-dates, too 🤗

But if you also don't like going out... the two of you will basically never leave the house, except to get groceries in your pyjamas from the 24-hour convenience store down the road at one in the morning oddly specific, I know, but you get me

And sorry, but I don't make the rules

Well, actually, I do. But shush

We all know that Shouta cleans up *chef's kiss* So when you go somewhere ~fancy~ he always looks so damn fine 😩

But he has very little idea that he's hot he sees himself as a tired, walking dumpster fire🚶‍♂️🔥

Shouta will 100% turn into a crazy cat dude with 15+ cats if you don't stop him I never said you should, though 🙃

And is a 'minimalist texter' – basically, if he can't answer a text with 'yes', 'no,' 'maybe', or 'OK', then he probably won't answer it at all 😭😂

Especially if you try and sext him or send him your nudes while he's at work. He'll probably lecture you when he gets home and depending on just how much you turned him on, he might proceed to teach you a lesson...

But wear his shirt, and just his shirt or his hoodie and he's yours

Heart eyes, motherfucker 😍

And, depending on how you two are feeling that day, you may or may not end up getting dicked down on the nearest semi-flat surface right then and there 👀

But don't misunderstand. This is an incredibly tired man you have here, and his libido actually isn't through the roof sorry, ladies so this kind of thing isn't an everyday occurrence

But when he dicks you down, he dicks you down goooood

Shouta's not big on PDA, but makes up for it in private. We're talking hands and kisses all over your body he leaves nothing unloved 😏

And while he's not big on PDA, he is big on sneaky displays of affection or 'SDA', as I like to call it

Like subtly grabbing your butt for a second, or his hand on your thigh under the table at a dinner etc. especially around other people

But what really gets him going is slowly removing your clothes and taking you fully naked, spreading your legs wide and holding them open he likes the view 😍

He lowkey highkey worships your body 🙏 and will literally not shut up about how fucking pretty you are, and how fucking good it feels inside you his words, not mine 😳

Groans and growls a little when he's getting close/cumming especially when he's being a little rough and likes to cum together, but knows it's not always practical

He tends to be a gentle dom, but can get just a teensy bit 🤏 rough if he's too into it – but nothing outrageous

We're talking rough thrusts and a brutal pace, maybe holding onto you a little too hard and, waaahh, he gets so embarrassed if he leaves bruises

Is also into a little bondage, but again, only light stuff – restraining your wrists with his hands or his tie or his Capturing Weapon 👀 maybe blinding-folding you if you're okay with it

If you're not blindfolded, then I'm afraid he's all about that eye contact

Eating out your pussy? Eye contact. Pounding you into the mattress? Blazing eye contact. Rearranging your guts in front of the mirror? Fucking eye contact

And CONSENT, BABY. THAT'S WHAT HE'S FUCKING INTO 😌🙌💞

But all jokes aside – he's too used to taking without consent with his quirk, that he's kind of paranoid about it comes to sex but it's adorable and sweet, and honestly, still kind of hot

And speaking of eating pussy – goddamn does he like to please you. Like cream to a kitty 😛

Oh, and he just loves it when you suck on his fingers as he's pounding into you 🤤

And he likes to leave love bites in personal, inconspicuous places and sometimes on your neck

He's marking his woman 😌

When he gets suuuper horny, he likes to fuck you from behind, standing upright in front of the mirror. It's a specific kink he has of watching himself stretch you out as the length of his cock disappears inside you...

I can get behind that, lemme tell yaaa

I said he tends to be dominant, but female doms – fear not!

Shouta is quite flexible when it comes down to it and is kind of lazy, lmfao so he definitely has time for laying back, having the control taken away, and having his dick ridden

For him, it's really all about communication and what you're both comfortable with

I will say this, though: sometimes, his cat watches you while you're banging 😅😂

The first time it happened, you freaked out and refused to continue because – how could you??? But eventually, you just kind of got used to it 🤷‍♀️

The same way you've got used to it following you to the bathroom every time you go to take a shit 😭

So now, you just kind of laugh about it, which helps keep things a little lighter 🤗

After sex, he does like to snuggle, but you'll be lucky if he stays awake for more than 30 seconds it's one of the few times he actually can sleep well

If you're ever out and about, or even inside, and cold, he'll wrap you up in his clothes/scarf/blanket like a sushi roll like Eren wrapping up Mikasa in his scarf, all deadpan and everything 😐

It's not that often, but when he gets drunk, he gets all soft and emotional, and starts babbling about how he can't believe he got so lucky to be dating you, and that he's sure he hasn't done anything to deserve it mah heart

He's pretty sure he wants kids, but he doesn't feel like now is the right time, and is lowkey afraid that it's never going to feel like the right time

He also constantly doubts himself, wondering if he'd actually able to look after them and protect them the way a father should class 1-A got him second-guessing himself 🥺

Besides, it's not all about him. You clearly have a say in it too, and he doesn't want to force you into anything

Again: communication and comfort zones

Dating Aizawa definitely has its ups and downs, and it's not smooth sailing, but he's prepared to work for a life with you because he's found a connection with you that he hasn't feel with anyone else

He knows that you're both far from perfect, but hopes that, for once, you might just make something good, and make it last 🥰😇

© imo-chan-imagines 2020

[tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar]

Ice Cream Princess

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader

Summary: There isn't a day that JJ doesn't come to visit you at work. On the day he doesn't, you decide to visit him at work instead.

Word Count: 1,876

Note: A Stranger Things and Outer banks crossover imagine that no one asked for. Please give me feedback on anything but the title, I'm judging it and laughing at myself because of it. I hope you love it!

An ice-cream parlor opens up across the street of The Wreck. The owner quickly judges all of the teenagers that come in looking for a part-time summer job. Luckily for you, your older cousin Robin sweet talks her way - agrees to watch his daughter- to get Hopper to hire you on the spot.

Your favorite co-worker is Steve. Both of you share stories and talk about anything and everything. You're weren't too surprised to find he hang outs with "lil punks".

He has a childish side that comes out when it's you two in the shop. If a touron gives you a weird feeling and tries to flirt with you, Steve takes over like a protective older brother. You started calling him mom when he bossed you around the first time.

Last night there was a party held by the Pogues at the Boneyard. When Robin's girlfriend texts you saying that she woke up with a hangover, you agree with her that it would be best if you cover her shrift.

When you get to the shop on your bike, you park it next to Steve car and cringe when the annoying front door bell rings as you enter. "I'm surprised to see your face this morning."

"Good or bad surprised, mom?" He rolls his eyes as you walk past him and pat his shoulder.

He yells, "the worst!" As you make your way to the small back room and put your backpack in your locker.

You grab the lanyard Pope gave to you and trace the lil doodles Kiara drew on your nametag.

Clocking in, you wave at Hopper through his open office window. He learns further in his chair, arms across his chest.

"You work too much."

"You don't pay me enough."

Humming to the radio that's connected to the speakers that hang from the ceiling, you look over Steve shoulder to see which Playlist he's playing.

You mutter, "I hate that thing" when the bell rings.

JJ is leading everyone, arms flaring around as he jumps on top of the counter. He bends one knee underneath his other leg to sit more comfortably sideways and grins at you.

"You're ass is going to break that and you'll have to pay for it."

"Are you telling me I have a fat ass?" He puts a hand over his heart and fakes cries. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Princess."

You shove him off, chuckling when he almost doesn't save his fall and trip over his own two feet.

"So dramatic like always and Y/N is still my name." You point down at your nametag. "Y/N. Not Princess."

"What do you guys want today?" Steve asks.

JJ glares at him but smirks when you pick up a scoop. He leans over the counter and says, "I'll like a lick of that."

You tell Pope thank you for slapping JJ in the back of the head, making his gray and red snapback fall off.

He runs his fingers through his hair and you barely catch it when throws it towards you.

"You would look better in it than that." He reaches over to tap on your uniform hat wear.

You blush at the hidden complaint and slap his hand away.

"Stop flirting." John B says as he hands over JJ his ice cream.

Kiara slightly pushes him towards the table, they always sit at.

Steve smirks as he leans against the counter. "Princess?"

In the corner of your eye, you see JJ giving himself whiplash. You know Steve is on a mission to find a nickname for you, especially something that you hate as much as he hates 'mom'.

But JJ doesn't. "It's a long story."

"I'll love to hear it someti-"

JJ claps his hands together as the chair slides across the floor as he stands up. "Once upon a time, little miss Y/N dressed up as a princess one Halloween. There was a picture of proof that her mother gladly showed me. Ever since, I've called her Princess and one day she'll call me her Prince. The end."

Sarah 'awwws' and says, "That's actually really adorable."

"Thank you, I know." JJ says proudly and you both smile at each other.

─────

During your next shift, it's only John B and JJ.

"Well hello there boys."

JJ takes off his sunglasses off slowly and puts his arm on the counter. "Princess."

You try not to pay attention to how good his arms look with his gray tank top.

You're the one who breaks eye contact. You don't miss the little fist pump he does but you miss how his shoulders drop when you look at him after seeing how panic John B looks.

Oh, right.

"We need to get the biggest bowl of Sarah's favorite ice cream. Her monthly came to visit and John B, the sweetheart idiot he is, doesn't remember her flavor."

You make 'o' shape with your mouth. "Got it. It's the end of the world for him. Well lucky for you, I know it."

John B screams out, "I owe you one" as he grabs the cup container from you and runs out to the Van.

JJ puts money in the tip jar. "From future Sarah."

After you watch him put his sunglasses back on and the door bell rings when the door closes, Robin pinches your leg.

"Are you going to start helping me again with this or am I going to have to restock everything myself?"

Blushing, you say, "I'm not Steve."

She stops laughing after a few seconds to say, "I bet you that JJ knows his Princess favorite ice cream flavor."

"Shut up."

─────

Pope, Kiara, and JJ all give you a pointed look when they stop by the shop before seeing a movie. The movie you agreed to go to one minute but then the next you said "wait sorry, I have to work." and hanged up on JJ.

"I'm about to drag you and your cute stubborn ass out of here for once and all, Princess."

Kiara has a hand on her hip, when she says, "You need to take a break."

You close your eyes and throw your head back, annoyed that she's right. "You guys know how much I need this job and the money."

A look of understanding crosses JJ's face but he straightens himself and says in a stern voice, "You are also supposed to have fun with your friends once a while."

"I know that!" He doesn't flinch at you raising your voice.

Thinking he's used to it, your heart and face fall.

"I- I'm sorry. How about we all hangout tomorrow at the Chateau and relax? Or we can do anything you guys want to do. Let John B and Sarah know and-"

JJ strides behind the counter and pulls you in a hug. No one words are needed when you shove your face against his chest and catch your breathing.

Pope puts a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, JJ. We're going to be late."

"You know what? I'm actually in the mood for ice cream not theater popcorn. Go on without me."

Kiara tells you both goodbye and Pope mouths "whipped" and does the wrapped around a finger hand's motion as she pulls him away.

You look up at JJ. "You didn't have to do that."

"Do what?" His cocky grin becomes bigger when you roll your eyes before helping a costumer. He leaves the counter to sit at the table, hands on the bottom of his chin as he does silly faces from behind the stranger's shoulder.

─────

Steve looks up when he hears the bell ring and watches as JJ loses his step.

Before he can walk away, Steve says, "She will be back shortly. I sent her to the bank real quick for more change."

JJ lets the door close behind him. He takes a big breath in as he turns around. "You trust her that much, huh?"

"Don't you?"

JJ lets out a dark laugh. "It's different. You get payed to see her, I do it because I want to."

That's Steve's breaking point. "Okay, I don't understand why or how you started hating me the first time you met me but I think I can get a wild guess why. A attractive, couple of years older comes into her life. You're jealous over nothing, dude. I see her as annoying little sister. And yeah, I get payed to do this shitty job but when she's working too, she makes it fun."

"Are you done?" JJ is looking at anything but him.

"One more thing, don't waste anymore time."

Steve looks at the clock on the wall and figures you'll be back any minute.

"I have to get to work." JJ looks over his shoulder.

He opens his mouth but changes his mind, and closes it and walks out.

On the other side of the sidewalk, he doesn't stop when you call out his name.

──────

"Funny seeing you're here."

JJ slams his tray down on the table next to yours. "I work here."

He stops wiping it down and gets the sudden urge to squirt you with the cleaning product bottle when he hears you tapping your feet against the chair across on of your table.

When he looks around and notices there aren't a lot of people in the dinner room he sits down and huffs and puffs. "Why are you here?"

"What? You can come visit me at work but I can't?"

When you both notice another bus boy, you let JJ grab the nearest glass pitcher and pull you some water.

"Now you can't walk away and ignore me, like how you did a couple of hours ago."

"I'm sure Steve told you all about it." The biter in his voice makes you lean over the table to grab his hand.

He jumps but doesn't pull away.

"He told me that you came in the shop, you looked like a little lost puppy when you made eye contact with him instead of me. You guys actually had somewhat of a conversation, which, I'm surprised actually happened."

JJ smiles a little as you start spinning one of his rings. "Steve didn't tell me what it was about...at first."

JJ can't sit still.

He stands up and as he talks, he walks in pace. "He, he uh- shit. Fuck, okay. He got in my head. I couldn't talk to you cause I didn't want to say something that would ruin our friendship. I didn't even know how I would say it-to be honest, still don't but you're smart, I think you know where am I going with this-"

He stops talking, mid-sentence when you laugh. "JJ, just say it or I'll crush your ego by saying it first."

"I love you." He says it over and over again in the middle of the kisses after you say it back.

He stops when someone yells his name and tells him to get back to work.

You give him a quick peak and have to put your hands on top of his to move them off of your hips.

"I'll see you later, JJ. We can go watch a movie?"

"Sounds like a date, Princess."

[abarbaricyalp]

I looooved what you wrote for my first prompt!! I have another if you're down :D

How about Bucky starts talking about how hot/sweet/great he thinks Sam is in another language (not knowing Sam speaks it) but using an insulting tone so it wouldn't sound like he was complimenting him (possibly during an undercover mission, where Sam can't react to what he is saying) until Bucky goes on a "tirade" but really getting pretty graphic about what he wants to do to Sam or wants Sam to do to him, causing Sam to spit take or choke on his drink before Bucky catches on that he can understand and just dies on the inside until they finish the mission and Sam can respond <3 <3

Thanks again, Friend!

Always taking prompts <3

(never) Lost in Translation

Read on AO3

“Я вас любил безмолвно, безнадежно,” Bucky breathed into the cold air as he curled his fingers around the stock of his rifle and shifted his hips against the rooftop. “То робостью, то ревностью томим; Я вас любил так искренно, так нежно--” [I loved you hopelessly and mutely, Now with shyness, now with jealousy being vexed; I loved you so sincerely, so fondly--"I Loved You" by Alexander Pushkin]

“Huh?” Sam asked on the other end of the comm line.

“Just trying to stay awake, Wilson,” Bucky answered. “Maybe you can sit out here and give your mouth frostbite.”

“Give it another hour or so and I’ll warm you back up, Barnes,” Sam promised and Bucky could hear the smile in his voice, which was enough to stave off the chill for a while longer.

“Did you think I wouldn’t know who made a nest of jackets and my mom’s blanket next to my hospital bed?” Sam asked at two in the morning when Bucky slunk back into the hospital room and the mess he’d turned the two small chairs next to the bed into.

Bucky considered continuing to sulk in the shadows in silence. But it was the first time Sam was awake in nineteen hours and he was pretty fucking sick of the quiet at this point. “Sarah brought the blanket,” he said. He leaned forward to reach for Sam’s hand, curling his fingers around the bandages and splints gently.

“Yeah, but I know Sarah’s not sleeping in my room. It can’t have been so long that you felt the need to move in, man.”

“I’m not moved in ,” Bucky defended. “Just didn’t know how long it would be. And it’s fucking cold in this building.”

“Wouldn’t know.” Sam tried to shift in the bed and let out a gasp of pain.

“Yeah, you probably don’t want to move too much. Figured you could work that one out on your own, with that big ass cast around your ribs,” Bucky said. But his brow was drawn in in worry and he brought his other hand to Sam’s hip, arching it gently over the thin fabric of the gown.

Sam relaxed back into the bed as much as he could. “I hate sleeping on my back,” he said.

“Sorry, I’ll be sure they accommodate that next time your ribs are sticking out of your skin.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“Maybe a little,” Bucky agreed. “You’re gonna have to get over it though. You need to rest.”

“I’ve been asleep for a day,” Sam said. “Come on, can’t you believe I miss you?”

Bucky barked out a laugh and shook his head. “No, I don’t believe that at all. And you can’t miss me anymore than I miss you. I’m the conscious one.”

Sam preened and then his eyes drifted shut. Bucky squeezed his hand gently and began to hum under his breath until the flickering of Sam’s eyes settled down. “Que ce soit dimanche ou lundi / Soir ou matin minuit midi /Dans l'enfer ou le paradis /Les amours aux amours ressemblent /C'était hier que je t'ai dit /Nous dormirons ensemble,” he sang softly. Sam let out a soft breath and finally fell asleep. [ Whether it be Sunday Monday/ Evening ,morning, midnight, midday / Whether it be in hell, in paradise, /Love-affairs look like each other. /I said to you just Yesterday: /We shall sleep together. "Nous Dormions Ensemble" "We'll Sleep Together" Louis Aragon]

“I told you to cover Torres on the left!” Sam shouted as he landed heavily on the rubble of the street.

                                                                                       “أنت تعني الكثير بالنسبة لي” Bucky bit back. “You were in more trouble than he was. I told you to get out of the air.” [You mean so much to me]

 “I’m sorry,” Sam snorted. “Are you leading this mission? Are you Captain America all of a sudden?”

                                                                           “أنت تجعلني أريد أن أكون رجلاً أفضل” Bucky muttered. “I’ve always been the one with the brain cells when Captain America’s around.” [ You make me want to be a better man.]

 “For what it’s worth, guys, I’m fine,” Torres said. “Caught the bad guys. Didn’t get eaten. Alls well that ends well. Unless this is, like, foreplay or something for you two. In which case, I want to get back to the jet before you keep going.”

“Shut up, Torres,” Bucky snapped. “There’s a---thing behind you,” he added, exhausted and confused about what it was exactly that they were fighting. Torres turned around, too slowly, to stare at the limping creature of some underwater origin and Sam ripped the shield from his back to fling at the monster. With a squelch and a groan, it toppled over and the shield bounced back to Sam’s arm.

                                                                                           “إنك في غاية الجمال” Bucky breathed and rubbed his human hand over his face, smearing ash and sweat until it stung his eyes. “Torres, do an aerial scan for stragglers. Wilson and I’ll survey damage down here.” [ You’re so beautiful]

 “Oh, no, Wilson . You’re in trouble,” Torres laughed. He clapped Sam’s shoulder as he walked past and then shot into the sky when the area was clear enough to.

“You’re too hard on him,” Sam said as he started to kick over blocks of asphalt. “He’s a trained soldier, y’know. He’s not some helpless kid.”

 Bucky snorted and kneeled down to run his metal hand through a puddle of water on the ground, watching silver ripple across the current.                                                                  “مائة قلب لن يكونوا كافيين لحمل كل حبي لك” he said, and then, “He was never trained for those wings.” [ A hundred hearts would be too few to carry all my love for you.]

 “He helped build those wings. He trained with Exo-Skeletons. The wings are in perfectly capable hands.”

“Make sure clean up takes samples of the water,” Bucky said. “I think there are organisms in there,” he said as he stood up and wiped his hand on his pants.

“How hard did you just have to work, after Torres put foreplay in your head, to not say orgasms?” Sam teased, shooting an easy, if slightly bloody grin, at Bucky.

                                                                                “أنت إشراقة شمسي يا حبي” Bucky sighed and shook his head. “Let’s get home. You obviously have a concussion.” [ You are my sunshine, my love.]

 “Hey, just ‘cause I’m funnier than you and know your depraved mind well enough to say something like that doesn’t make me damaged,” Sam said, jogging to catch up with Bucky.

“Does he talk?” villain-du-jour asked, appraising what was supposed to be the Winter Soldier but was really just Bucky bored out of his skull.

“If you want him to,” Torres said with a shrug. “Most people don’t.”

“See,” Sam said in Bucky’s earpiece. “I told you he’d kill this.”

And, unfortunately, Torres really was killing it. Torres seemed to be afflicted with the same dramatic streak that Steve had, in that Steve was everyone’s best-friend-ray-of-sunshine until shit got real. Or the mission required him to play some shady underworld super-assassin dealer, apparently.

“I heard he malfunctioned with Zemo,” unidentified baddie said cautiously. “I heard the programming had been washed out.”

Torres reached over to cuff Bucky against the back of the head. “Does he look deprogrammed? Do you think I’d be standing here if he was deprogrammed?”

Bucky had to fight not to let a glare slide over to Torres. He kept his eyes and his grimace set straight ahead. He’d feel better if there was a rifle in his hands.

“It’s not my fault Baron Zemo didn’t have the balls to control the Soldier. I assume that won’t be a problem for you. But, hey, I could be wrong. In which case, I’ll just take him back. Putting him on ice is easier the less time he’s out.”

“I’m glad he never decides to be such a shit with me,” Sam said. The bad guy said something else and Bucky fully tuned it out. “Hey, Barnes,” Sam said in his ear. “What’re you wearing?” he teased. Bucky’s jaw jumped. “One day, we’re gonna see how quickly I can get all that tac-gear off of you. Or maybe just the top half. The rest of you looks damn good in black.”

Bucky bit the side of his tongue, listened to the asshole across the room talk about not being able to communicate to lapsed partners since he only spoke English, about wanting to send a message, about how many languages the Soldier knew and if he talked while breaking bones.

“Do you think we do better undressing each other on the jet or off of it. Sure, there’s turbulence, but we also have all that adrenaline pushing us on. Besides, I know you like things hard. You wouldn’t like me so much if you didn’t.”

“Soldier?” Torres said at his side. “A sample of your voice.”

“ I’m gonna throw my partner across that table as soon as we kick all your asses ,” he said in Russian. “ He gets pretty fucking quiet when he’s getting dicked down well. It’s actually the only time he shuts up. ”

The hapless moron across the room looked delighted. “What about French?”

“ You’d think getting him down on his knees would work better but it never has for me. He’s always gotta have the last word in edgewise. Lengthwise, as it may be. No fuckin’ hair to grab onto either. You’ve just gotta listen to him .”

“Spanish?”

“ Probably won’t stop in here. I’ll drag him back to our jet and do it all over again. Or let him do it to me. I’m really not picky when it comes to him. Especially not when he’s wearing the uniform he is right now. I like getting it off of him as much as I like how it looks on him .”

“ Damn, dude, I speak Spanish ,” Torres hissed back in Spanish. “ Spare my ears, please .”

The arms-idiot grinned like a kid on Christmas. “Yeah, that’ll do. Your money’s in here,” he said, sliding a briefcase across the floor.

“Ready?” Sam asked in the ear piece.

“ We never speak of it again ,” Bucky said to Torres. “ If you tell him, I’ll drop your ass in Siberia. ”

“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Torres said, gesturing over to the other man. Bucky went and got them, Sam coming down through a skylight and Torres taking care of the guards behind them.

“I was thinking about getting my own place down here,” Sam said. “Even if it’s just a one bedroom or something. You know, for when Buck’s here too.”

“Tu vas bouleverser les garçons,” Sarah answered. [You'll upset the boys]

“Huh?” Bucky asked, looking up from toying with a remote control airplane that had an unfortunate run-in with a tree.

“They’re still not in French classes?” Sam asked. “Isn’t AJ old enough?”

“He’s taking Spanish instead.”

“Traitor,” Sam said easily. “Cela n'a pas besoin d'être codé.” [This doesn't need to be encoded]

“Votre vie sexuelle fait.” [Your sex life does]

“Ha! Comme si.” [Ha! As if]

“Wait, you two know French?” Bucky asked. The airplane had been thoroughly forgotten.

“Sure, it’s one of two languages offered at our high school,” Sarah said. “Sam was obsessed with learning Creole so not only did he take French, he took AP French. And scored a five on the test. Hey, aren’t you a polyglot, technically?”

“What?” Bucky asked as dawning horror unleashed a flood of embarrassment through him. And, well, a bunch of other feelings too, which would require French to say aloud, apparently. He packed those away.

“I don’t know if there are qualifications, but I speak a few languages,” Sam agreed and he finally looked over at Bucky with a smirk. “English, French. A little Spanish. The Air Force gave us Russian lessons. I picked up Arabic overseas.”

Fuck, Bucky though. Merde. Maldita sea. Черт побери.

“He absorbs languages like a sponge,” Sarah said to Bucky. “AJ is pretty similar,” she added towards Sam. “His teacher says he’s the best in the class.”

“Of course he is,” Sam said. “He’s a Wilson.”

A timer went off and Sarah muttered lightly under her breath. “I’ve got to run and grab Cass from school. Can you stay here and get AJ off the bus?” she asked, already grabbing her purse and heading for the door.

“Bye, Sarah,” Bucky called after her before rounding on Sam as the door shut.

“Hey, you never asked,” Sam defended, leaning back against the counter. “And it never sounded like you wanted an answer when you were serenading me in French. Gotta wonder why you’ve got Russian poetry memorized though--Hey!” Sam yelped as Bucky crossed the living room to the kitchen and stood between his legs, hands on either side of his body on the counter.

“Ты должен был сказать мне раньше,” he breathed. Sam shivered against him. [You should have told me sooner]

“Pourquoi?” he asked, like he was in any way innocent. [Why?]

Bucky brushed his mouth along Sam’s neck, felt his pulse jump at the contact. “Tu sais ce que ça me fait,” he murmured. [You know what it does to me]

“Languages?” Sam asked as his hand found the small of Bucky’s back and then the rest of his spine, up to his shoulders, the seam of his metal arm, his ribs.

“You showin’ off,” Bucky corrected.

Sam hummed because he did know that. “It was more fun to watch you think you were getting away with something. You get real sweet when you think I can’t hear.”

Bucky nipped at his collarbone and Sam gasped out a breath, almost let it convince him to leave Bucky there, but eventually pushed him away. “I was serious about getting our own place. I will never emotionally recover if one of the kids walks in on me making out with you. I’m supposed to be typifying standards.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and pinched Sam’s side. “You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah, but a smart one,” Sam said with a grin. “Which is apparently your type.

And, dammit, it was.

“By the way,” he added, “Clint taught me ASL, so I know what you tell him about me too.”

Bucky groaned and threw himself back over the couch.

[the-unshaped]

CHAPTER ONE: WELCOME BACK TO BEACON HILLS

Chapter Text

"How's the first day back?"

Stiles Stilinski grinned as his oldest friend, Scott, slapped a strong hand on his shoulder. After what felt like a million years away from each other, he was back, his best friend standing beside him. It was a fantastic feeling.

Walking into the school was bizarre. He had felt nostalgia in the past but nothing to this extent before. Maybe it was because his last school was so much larger, but it seemed like every year they were making noticeable changes. Beacon Hills, on the other hand, was exactly how he remembered. The same white and black speckled linoleum floors, same painted mascot on the walls, same old lockers, same trophy cases lining the main hall.

Stiles was stoked.

Even the classes he'd taken so far, which would have ordinarily bored him since he'd learned a lot of what they were going over already, left him feeling almost giddy. The teachers didn't seem to share the sentiment, but fuck them. He wasn't going to let Finstock calling him Billinski a million times drag him down today.

Stiles and Scott had met up the day before, his dad surprising him with dinner and his childhood best friend as a gift for finishing all his unpacking, but it was even more exciting to know he was going to see him every day. They had talked at least once a week after Stiles finally broke and got Facebook eighth grade year and even more when they both had online gaming, almost every day. It was like they'd never stopped.

Stiles had been begging his dad to move back since the day they left, and he only got more persistent after his reunion with Scott, but no matter how hard he tried to convince him, no dice. That is until his dad's college friend, Adam Wilder, let him know that the Beacon Hills was offering full ride scholarships to the college of their choice to the top 5 graduates and was in need of a new sheriff. Not even John could refuse that kind of help. Despite his worry that he wouldn't be accepted as a transfer, he took a chance and put in an application. A month later and a million moving boxes later, Stiles was leaving his fancy Sacramento apartment and on his way home.

"Not bad, Scott. I've got Dad, my best bud, and my nightmares of a poorly-aged Lydia can finally be absolved because she is still as much of a goddess as the day I left, dare I say more. All is right with the world," he said, eyeing the lean strawberry blonde haired girl down the hall. Scott winced, and pulled at his lock, freeing it from the metal loop before opening it and shoving his math book inside. "I definitely missed this place. What more could I ask for?”

Scott scoffed and scuffed the toes of his shoes against the floor. "I can't imagine why anyone would miss this place."

Stiles eyed him, unsure if he was playing around or not. Leaving Beacon Hills, for him, felt like tearing off a limb, leaving something messy, jagged and bloody in its place. Sacramento hadn't been bad, per se. He made awesome grades and was in a club or two every year. He had some people that could pass as friends he hung out with occasionally, but it wasn't the same as the life he had in Beacon Hills. Also losing a limb, Stiles had survived the initial pain and adapted, but at the end of the day, he knew that it wasn't there and could feel the ache of its absence.

Stiles knew he was meant to be there. It was where he was born m. Where he learned how to tie his shoes and write his name. Where he and Scott made a terrible mess in the kitchen making treats for a fundraiser, and Melissa made them clean all day after school, scolding them even as she ate the last remaining cupcake. It was home.

The only difference between losing a limb and losing Beacon Hills was that there was always a voice in the back of his mind telling him that he could get it back, if only he could convince his dad. It was only a few hours away, and he would eventually be able to choose where he lived. Luckily he hadn't had to wait that long.

Stiles shrugged off Scott's dismissal. "I'm sure you'd miss it once you left."

Stiles closed his locker, and noticed Scott had gone quiet. He took a peek over his shoulder as he clamped his padlock shut and realized he had his eyes trained on an adorable brunette talking to a fierce looking blonde he had noticed earlier in their math class. Stiles looked between them a dorky smirk spreading across his face.

"You are so obvious, man. Your tail is practically wagging."

Scott's eyes shot up, eyebrows knit together. "What?"

"That girl. The brunette. You have your 'unrequited pining' look on your face," Stiles explained, shutting his locker door. Scott frowned, crossing his arms, even as he snuck another peek at her.

"It's not that obvious," Scott muttered.

"I've literally only been here for," he looked at her phone, then back up at Brennan, "three hours and forty-five minutes and I knew the moment you looked at her."

Stiles looked at Scott's downtrodden face then brightened. "Wait, is that Allison? Like love of your life, scary but amazing, Allison?"

The blonde glanced over at them, smirking at Scott. Stiles didn't seem to notice. Even if he had he would have no reason to suspect that she could hear anything he said, but Scott knew differently. He flushed, wrapping his arm around Stiles shoulder, whipping him around to face the lockers in a huddle.

"Dude," Scott hissed. "Keep it down."

"It is her! Holy crap," Stiles laughed. Scott just pouted, his eyebrows still pulled together.

"Yeah, yeah. You're brilliant. Can you shut up now?"

"Come on. You act like people are listening," Stiles said, craning his head around to look at the near bustling halls. "Trust me, we aren't that interesting."

"Speak for yourself. I'm plenty interesting."

"Oh yeah? Let my go ask how interesting you are," Stiles teased. "Yo, All-!"

Scott clamped a hand over his mouth, and Stiles was quick to retaliate.

"Did you seriously just lick me? How old are you? Stiles. Stop it!"

Scott dropped his hand with a scowl, wiping it on his dark jeans.

"I'll have you know, licking people could solve approximately 80% of the world's problems," Stiles said, hitting Scott suggestively. "Speaking of licking, how the hell did you get so built? I thought you sucked at sports."

Scott's scowl bled into a full blown grin, ignoring Stiles' sexual remark. "That was last year. A lot has changed. Now hurry up or we're going to miss lunch. And please try to control yourself a little, okay?"

Stiles gave him a questioning look, but didn't ask. He followed Scott through the halls, weaving through the people, trying to connect names to old familiar faces. Some people were easier to remember than others. He would catch flashes of memories from t-ball and baseball practices, or stories her dad had told him on the car ride here. He had only ever really been close to Scott before they left, but the familiarity was calming in a way he hadn't expected.

Stiles couldn't help but grin when they pushed through the heavy doors to the cafeteria.

The walls were a less than white white, dull and slightly grimy with age. They had long rectangular tables instead of the faux wood round ones at his old school, but honestly he liked these better, even if it was just a bit too much white all together for his taste. Too much like a hospital.

"Wow it hasn't changed at all," Stiles chirped. "I bet Mrs. Green still has that wild chin hair, too."

As if she could hear him, Mrs. Green looked up at him with a scowl. He waved at her excitedly, a lopsided grin painted on his face, and Scott shook his head in amusement.

"Hi, Mrs. Green!"

As they made their way through the food line, Stiles reminisced over the meatloaf and asked if they still had the breakfast pizza with white gravy and sausage balls he loved so much. Scott couldn't help but get secondhand excitement. It had been so long since he had felt normal like this. Not that he didn't like his life or that he didn't enjoy things the way they were, but having a friend that wasn't constantly caught up in his problems was nicer than he had expected it to be.

Stiles continued chattering excitedly up until the moment Scott sat down. At a table. With people. Very hot people. Stiles looked down at Scott with wide eyes, his mouth agape. Lydia Martin. Scott was friends with Lydia fucking Martin? How had this not made it into their text messages?!

Scott cleared his throat, obviously embarrassed.

"Guys, you remember Stiles, right? Stiles, that's Lydia, Allison, Isaac, Jackson, Boyd, and Erica. Cora normally sits with us but I think she-well, actually I'm not sure where she is today."

Stiles' eyes followed down the line, his face flushing. What the fresh hell? Scott was attractive in a totally platonic, nothing sexual way, and he would be blantantly lying if he said he hadn't noticed how fit he was now, but how the hell did they go from being the lanky dorks in class to Scott having supermodel-esque friends?

He immediately recognized some of the faces. Lydia, obviously. Scary hot blonde and Scott's crush, obviously Allison, from the hallway. Then, if his friends being hot wasn't weird enough, he realized with a start who the thin muscular guy was.

"Jackson. Jackson Whittemore? As in the Jackson Whittemore who shoved my Batman figure down the toilet?"

Stiles shook his head incredulously at Scott, like he had been personally victimized by the very thought of his seating partner, and Scott buried his face in his hands. Allison laughed, a musical sound that he had heard about in many different phone calls.

"You shoved his Batman down the toilet?"

Jackson smirked, shrugging slightly.

"Poor guy. So you were always a dick," Erica teased, peeking over the lip of her glass of water.

"We were like 6. I'm sure he's fine," Jackson said, leveling Stiles with a less than pitying glare.

Stiles muttered the contrary gruffly under his breath.

"You sure look tasty. Why didn't you tell us he was so fine, Scott?"

Stiles flushed at the blonde's words, not knowing how to comment to that. He looked to Scott for help, but he just shrugged as if to say, "she's always like this."

The man beside Erica, Boyd if Stiles recalled correctly, rolled his eyes, a knowing look on his face. He wrapped his arm around her and whispered something to her that made her giggle in delight, and Stiles was kind of scared to know what he said to make that noise come out of her.

Stiles, shifted back and forth on his feet, still standing awkwardly near the table holding his tray. He looked at the spot beside Scott, unsure. Out of everything he had prepared for today, this definitely wasn't it.

"You going to sit down Stilinski?" Jackson sneered.

"Actually I was thinking of enjoying my food standing up," Stiles shot back, biting into his roll dramatically. "I'd hate for anything else I love to end up in the toilet."

Scott grabbed the back of his jacket and pulled him down onto the bench with strength Stiles didn't know he had. He scowled but kept his mouth closed.

"Well, it's nice to meet you Stiles," Allison said. "Scott talks about you a lot. Like a lot a lot."

"Well isn't that a coincidence, because-" Scott jabbed him in the ribs as hard as he could under the table. Allison smiled bashfully and Lydia rolled her eyes.

"Ow! Stupid overnight muscles," Stiles muttered, rubbing his side. "Not fair."

"You know you aren't going to be eligible for Valedictorian or Salutatorian right?" Lydia asked suddenly, clamping her compact mirror shut. "The policy is that you have to be present for the entirety of your Junior and Senior year to qualify."

Stiles shrugged, trying to keep his overeager inner 9 year old self at bay. "Yeah my dad wasn't thrilled about that, but I told him I didn't care. My GPA is all that really matters. Well, that and my SATs and ACTs."

Lydia gave him an adorable half smile. "Its a shame. It will be nice to have some competition around, regardless. Scott says you're quite the diligent student."

Stiles gave Scott a look that he was too busy ogling to notice. That was strange. That was the second time they mentioned Scott talking about him, yet he knew nothing about any of them. "Is that right?"

Lydia quirked her head, looking between the two, and made a mental note of it.

The rest of lunch went by fairly smoothly, but Stiles couldn't really focus on the various conversations going on around the table, too busy trying to figure everyone out. He could tell that obviously Erica and Boyd were a couple, despite the remark about his attractiveness. Even surrounded by friends, and them frequently chatting with other people instead of each other, he could almost see the personal bubble they had around themselves, so thick it was almost tangible.

From what he could see, Allison and Lydia seemed to be best friends. He wasn't exactly surprised, pretty people always seemed to attract other pretty people, but the vibes they gave off were very different. They were constantly having silent conversations between themselves, checking for opinions as they listened to other people's stories and laughing at inside jokes together. Luckily for Scott, he noticed her eyes would stray over to him frequently, especially when he would start to laugh over something silly.

The most interesting observation seemed to be that while Stiles was away, Scott, Jackson and Isaac had gotten pretty close. Stiles didn't really remember much about Isaac, but he seemed nice enough. He was actually a lot like Stiles in that he was fairly smart, sarcastic, and generally nice to be around, but he had a air of newly self-built confidence around him.

Jackson was the opposite, but to Stiles' surprise, he wasn't as bad as he remembered. Jackson exuded cockiness, that he expected, but he could tell that Jackson was a lot less of a jerk than he used to be when he handed the rest of his food to Isaac before he even had the chance to ask for it. Stiles figured he would be the hardest one to understand, because nothing he said was actually what he meant.

Stiles' thoughts were interrupted when Scott tried to reel Stiles into a conversation about lacrosse, but Stiles was contented to listen to the three guys recap the season so far.

Stiles gradually started feeling a bit more comfortable than he had in the beginning, but something kept nagging at him in the back of his mind: why had Scott told his friends so much about him, yet Stiles was clueless about them? He had heard about Allison, mostly because that was all he talked about, but why hadn't he ever heard of his friendships with the others, especially after Stiles found out he was going to be moving back? They all seemed close. Really, really close. They talked about hanging out on weekends, going to movies, and playing video games all weekend, yet Stiles couldn't remember a single time Scott ever mentioned them.

It was strange. Stiles knew that it was crazy of him to make assumptions from a few passing comments, but something in his gut told him Scott was hiding something.

"Do you have any classes with us?" Isaac asked, holding out his hand expectantly. Stiles shifted so he could pull his schedule from his back pocket and handed it to him. Isaac and Allison looked over it intently, and Jackson snuck a peek, trying and failing to look like he didn't care.

"Chemistry with Scott and Isaac, Math with Scott and Erica, most of the classes with Boyd or Erica if not both, AP classes with Me and Lydia. How did you manage not to have a single class with Jackson?" Allison asked.

"Lucky I guess," Stiles grinned.

Jackson rolled his eyes and Scott elbowed him again. Stiles sucked in air through his teeth and rubbed it until the pain faded. #WorthIt.

"So Scott said your dad is the new Sheriff," Boyd said. It was the first time Boyd had spoken out loud.

"Yeah, he was a deputy here when we lived here before. I guess enough people remembered him from back in the day that when he was nominated, people accepted him."

"Did he tell you how the position opened up?"

Everyone at the table stopped, and eyes were on him. If they were trying to seem subtle, they had definitely failed. Fortunately, though, this Stiles had anticipated. He considered whether he should divulge his true opinions or keep his ideas to himself. After an encouraging nod from Scott, he shrugged.

"Dad told me what they are telling people happened, yeah," he said.

Boyd's flitted to Scott, then he forced a small smile.

"You say that like you don't believe the story."

"I don't."

Boyd looked at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to elaborate. Erica squeezed his arm gently, not tearing her eyes from Stiles, keeping her expression soft. Scott gave him a look and Stiles relented.

Stiles sighed. "My Dad is going to kill me." He looked up to the ceiling as if he were praying for strength to survive. "They are saying it was a mugging or something near the park. That the guy was at the wrong place at the wrong time, got his stuff taken and killed for his trouble."

"That's what I heard too. Sounds reasonable enough, right?" Allison asked, laughing nervously.

Stiles scoffed. "Sure, if he was getting mugged by Wolverine. I haven't seen the crime scene photos yet, but from the conversations I've heard the last few days about the absolute carnage left behind, I don't see how it could be just a simple mugging. They're missing something, they just don't want to admit it yet."

Stiles pretended not to notice Scott tensing beside him. It was no secret Scott wasn't a fan of blood, but he didn't want to embarrass him by pointing it out.

"What does that even mean?" Lydia asked.

"What does what mean?"

"Mugged by Wolverine?"

"Wolverine. You know. X-Men. Wolver-you don't-you don't know who Wolverine is?" Stiles asked, his hands flailing then falling flat on the table, his eyebrows furrowed in distress.

She gave him an incredulous look, her perfect curls bouncing as she shook her head. He ran his hand down his face.

Jackson handed Lydia his phone and her lips turned down. "Man in tights. Not bad."

Allison rolled her eyes and the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch.

"Nice to meet you, again, Stiles," Allison said again, grabbing her bag and pulling it over her shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, it was truly a pleasure. I need to borrow your calculator so let's go," Jackson said, ushering her away. Scott huffed beside him, and Stiles rolled his eyes. Scott was as oblivious as always.

*****

Everything was messed up.

Cora honestly couldn't decide which was worse, living states away with a bunch of strangers that she couldn't get along with to save her life, or finally being able to come home and dealing with all the frivolous drama that came with it.

Don't get her wrong, she was glad that Derek allowed her to come back home. She loved him and she was really glad that finally someone was starting to treat her like an adult, but having to deal with school and her brother's complicated Pack dynamics was stressful.

Being back home was annoying. Living in South America was worse.

Being away from her home, the last bit of family she had left, it had almost killed her. She didn't want to eat. She couldn't sleep. When she did sleep, it was interrupted by nightmares. Often times she would wake up in the dark, thinking the smoke had enveloped her completely. If that weren't enough, she felt more isolated than she had in her whole life. She was the only human in the Pack, which she was used to, but at least when she was home she was bonded with her family.

She sat in the library, head in her hands, trying not to think about all of the homework assignments that were piling up. Derek had said school was one of the conditions to her moving back in with him, but what exactly did that mean? What was he going to do when she got her grades back? Was he going to ship her back off like Laura had? Would he even feel bad?

She sighed. That wasn't fair. Derek had never wanted her to go, but when Laura decided on something, there wasn't really anything anyone could do to change her mind. As much as Cora didn't want to, she was going to have to talk to him. Good thing talking about feelings was a Hale family specialty.

When the bell rang for lunch, she rolled her eyes. As if her brother and his Pack didn't have enough to argue about, Scott's token human friend was supposed to have his first day today. Not that she wasn't curious what all the hype was about, but she didn't understand why Scott was fighting so hard to let his friend in on all their secrets when he was constantly pointing out how dangerous it was to let Cora stay here.

So, just to spite him, she was here, continuing to work on homework she didn't know how to do, and was too stubborn to ask for help with.

Before she knew it, lunch was over with only a little bit of progress to show for it. She walked begrudgingly to Chemistry, knowing that Harris was probably going to pester her about her revisions from their lab the previous week.

Cora walked to her spot, sitting down, dramatically opening her Chemistry book. Her up and coming best friend, Nina, nudged her with her shoulder has she settled in beside her.

"Did you hear there was a new senior?"

"Unfortunately," She replied icily, pulling a snack from her bag. Nina gave her an odd look. She interpreted it as "what the fuck is up with you?" despite the fact that Nina would never actually use those words. "Apparently he's going to be hanging around my brother's group."

"Oh," Nina smirked, knowingly. "The Hot Hale Harem?"

Cora almost choked on her granola bar, making Nina's smirk grow to a full on grin. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"You love me."

Cora rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help but laugh with her. Nina was different, but she honestly found it kind of refreshing. It was hard for her to remember to think about normal things like boys and shopping, but Nina didn't mind pulling her into her normie girl stuff.

"So, I was thinking," Nina started.

Cora took a deep breath. "No."

"You didn't even hear what I was going to say," she pouted.

"Fine. It'll still be a no, but continue."

"So you know how we have that test on Friday? I was thinking we could invite the guys to study with us."

(Find the rest on AO3 href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27811303"><strong>The Unshaped</strong></a> (16100 words) by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infernal_panda"><strong>Infernal_panda</strong></a><br />Chapters: 2/?<br />Fandom: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Teen%20Wolf%20(TV)">Teen Wolf (TV)</a><br />Rating: Not Rated<br />Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence<br />Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes<br />Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin, Jackson Whittemore, Vernon Boyd, Erica Reyes, Sheriff Stilinski, Melissa McCall, Peter Hale, Cora Hale, Laura Hale<br />Additional Tags: BAMF Stiles, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Pining, Underage Drinking, Fluff, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Romance, Friendship, Humor, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Supernatural Elements, mentions of abuse, eventually, Happy Ending<br />Summary: <p>After leaving Beacon Hills at age 8, Stiles never stopped feeling the indescribable pull, beckoning him back home. A new Sheriff position opening up gives him the chance to move back, and it’s everything Stiles ever wanted. He has his dad, his best friend, and he’s back where he belongs. </p><p>His first day back doesn’t exactly go as planned, and now he is finding that he was even less normal than he thought. </p><p>****</p><p>A Hale Pack fanfic with all of our lovable characters as they try to integrate Stiles into their wolfyhood and crazy monster-filled lives with Stiles as their unknowing magic friend, and a bit of intertwined fates to keep things interesting )

[r3b3lgrrrrrrrl]

A LunaTic and her Gunn (Part 82Xs1)

"Bridge Parties & Strippers"

@creatureofthen1ght-v3

@lovemythsworld

@crystalbaby12

Ashleigh runs into Pete first. He's furious and headed out of the venue.

"What the hell is going on?" She asks him.

"Dude..." He shakes his head.

Giving her a quick run down of the events between Colson, Luna and BeBe.

"BeBe's was here!?" Ashleigh asks shocked.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure she's STILL here. Luna fucked her up." Pete tells her.

"I don't doubt it... And can you blame her? Why would he even do that??" She asks.

"No... And I don't know. You seen 'em, they were all Booed Up OnStage, announced their engagement and not even an hour later, THIS shit is going on." He answers. "Let him know I went to see Kate.... He's on some fuck shit right now, so he probably won't even notice." Pete tells Ashleigh. Shaking his head before kissing her cheek GoodBye.

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

"Another mess to clean up..." Ashleigh sighs "Fucking Kells." She thinks annoyed. Even before Luna, there's always been constant chaos with him.

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

Curled in a ball on the floor clutching his balls, Colson opens his eyes. Pain is shooting through every nerve of his body. Focusing, he sees a bloody Bleta on the ground not far from him. Closing his eyes again, he groans as he rolls onto his back.

"Fuuuuck... That Bitch dick punched me so haaaard.... I wish Bleta would just go awaaaay...." He thinks of the second girl Luna has knocked to the ground in a violent rage. "In my defense... They shoulda shut the fuck up." He tries to justify their injuries to himself. "Oh FUUUCK... My balls..."

Colson opens his eyes again to Ashleigh standing above him. She has no sympathy.

"My balls, Ash..." He whines.

"I don't care, Kells...." She dismisses him.

"Fine. Then, at least get Bleta out of here. I can't deal with that right now. Please." He asks, looking up at her.

"Whatever." Ashleigh shakes her head as she walks away.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The room is still full. The Band, Crew, Girls, Vendors. There's a shit ton of people everywhere BackStage.

Looking around, the word LAWSUIT flashes through Ashleigh's mind. Thinking of Luna and the advice she's given her regarding spin control, Ashleigh puts on her Boss Bitch pants.

She signals The Band over to her. As they head her way, she looks up generic Non-Disclosure Agreements on her phone. She quickly downloads and fills it out, emailing it to Slim.

"Listen, we gotta clean this shit up. Slim, I emailed this to you." She says, showing him her phone. "I need you to print out, what?" She sighs, looking around the room. "Three hundred copies to be safe?" She asks out loud to his nod. "Everyone needs to sign one before leaving. Use your charm. Try not to make it a big deal."

"Gotcha, Ash." He agrees as his phone dings with the email.

"How many people are with BeBe?" She asks to their head shakes of I Don't Know. "Run me back the first three copies." She instructs Slim.

"Bet. I'll be back." He agrees, heading to The Bus.

Turning to Baze, AJ and Rook, Ashleigh directs them next. "I want you to keep everyone in here having a good time. Once Slim gets the NDA's, help him. Please. With charm." She asks as she reminds them of the key component. "One of you run up. See if there's any ready. I gotta get BeBe to sign first." She finishes.

All three nod in agreeance. AJ heading to The Bus. Rook and Baze to attend to the room.

"Help me get her out of here?" Ashleigh sighs again as she asks Benny.

"No problem G-H..." He teases her as he puts his arm around her shoulder.

"I'm gonna fucking kill 'em both." She laughs lightly, catching the Luna reference as they walk towards BeBe.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Colson has decided to play opossum. He can hear Bleta calling his name a few feet away but refuses to acknowledge her.

"Maybe if I just lay here, she'll think I'm dead... Ugh... I feel like I'm dead.... She destroyed my baaaalllls" Colson mentally cries to himself.

Still on the the ground. Still holding his whole junk. He stays perfectly still when he hears Benny and Ashleigh approaching. Peeking out of the sliver of one eye, they pass him. He hears Ashleigh speak.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"Hey... Are you okay?" Ashleigh asks BeBe as she and Benny help her up and hand her a towel.

"No. I think that psycho bitch broke my nose!" She cries through the cotton.

"Are you here with anyone?" Ashleigh pries.

"No. I came to surprise Kells." BeBe answers, looking at her bloody hand as the other holds her face together.

"Did he invite you?" Ashleigh asks.

"No!" BeBe looks up, angrily. "I wanted to see him because he owes me an explanation for this Brooklyn Cunt or whatever the fuck her name is... He's fucking me then blocks me a month ago and all of a sudden he's getting married?? What the fuck is that!?" She shoots a glare between Benny and Ashleigh. "Besides, the way he was speaking to me, didn't seem like he put a ring on anything." She says snidley.

This pisses Ashleigh off.

"So, what happened?" She asks the million dollar question.

"She came up talking shit to Kells so I told her she could get her ass beat. That's when she head butted me. Like a fucking goat. Who does that?" BeBe winces from snaking her head while her hand holds her nose in place.

AJ taps Ashleigh on the shoulder. He slips her a clip board with a pen and a few copies of the NDA.

"So, you threatened her and she protected her life?" Ashleigh manipulates BeBe's words. "I'm gonna need you to sign this." She says handing the clipboard over.

"What? No." Bleta says pushing it away.

"You just admitted fault. If you sign this no one can speak about tonight or sue you." Ashleigh does NOT know where these incredible lies are coming from.

Neither does Benny, but he likes it. Encouraging BeBe to sign the paper also, he throws Kells name into the ring. Overwhelmed and in pain, BeBe scribbles her signature.

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

Ashleigh isn't a lawyer but she knows that what they're doing right now is technically illegal. "Most American contracts are signed under some form of duress...." She tries to reassure herself. "Murica'!!" Her brain insists, pushing her on.

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

Face hurting, embarrassed and wanting to get out of there, Bleta shoves the clipboard at Ashleigh.

"Can I fucking go now?" She asks, irritated as she pulls the blood soaked towel from her wound.

"Yeah, come on, Benny and I will walk you out." Ashleigh says as they guide her outside.

Once in a cab, Ashleigh leans in.

"Some advice, woman to woman? Luna and Kells are something different. It doesn't matter what he said to you, I guarantee she'll be back in his bed tonight and they'll be fine tomorrow. Save yourself the heartache and let him go." Ashleigh says as kind as she can.

With more than just her face hurt, BeBe simply closes the cab door.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Still laying on the floor, Colson waits until the coast is clear before he stands up. Looking around, he can't find Luna.

He watches, confused as Slim, Rook, Baze and AJ walk around having people sign papers. Seeing Ashleigh and Benny walk back in, he heads over to them.

"Where the fuck is Luna?" He asks firmly.

"She split with Nikki and her friend Sam..." Ashleigh answers.

"Oh, yeah? Fuck THAT Bitch." Not caring what His Boys are doing, he turns and shouts. "YO FUCKERS, WE OUT. NOW!!"

Ashleigh sighs for the hundredth time in less then an hour.

"Follow them?" She asks Benny.

"That's my job.... You know, if they keep snappin' out and disappearing separately, you might wanna bring in Bullet..." Benny says, looking down at Ashleigh.

Bullet is Colson's other bodyguard. Ironically, his government name is also Thomas.

"You honestly think that when Luna's pissed, she's gonna let anyone follow her anywhere??" Ashleigh asks Benny as if he's silly.

Both of them already knowing the answer.

"Facts... Extra hands wouldn't be a bad idea with those two though, Ash..." He continues to make his case.

Sighing again, Ashleigh agrees to call Bullet. Clearly they can't handle Kells and Luna on their own.

Benny kisses the top of her exhausted, little head before he follows The Madness outside. Slim coming over to hand her a stack of papers.

"I think we got 'em all..." He breathes out. "I gotta catch up with them. Sorry you gotta deal with this bullshit, Ash!" He kisses her cheek before jogging off.

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

"It's my job... And my bestfriend." She thinks as she flips through the NDAs. Debating on if she should call Monica on Luna's behalf.

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

In the back of the cab, Luna's phone rings. It's Pete.

"Hey!" She answers. "Yes, I'm Okay. I'm with Sam." She replies to his questions. "I'll be fine, Petey!!" She laughs as he teases how THAT'S what he's worried about.

Pete then unloads onto Luna his feelings about Colson and tonight. Listening, she doesn't speak until he finishes.

"Don't be mad at him, Petey... I know why he did what he did. I made him jealous and he tried to do the same..." She explains to their friend.

Pete tells her how she's making excuses for him the way she used to for Justin.

"Pete." Luna never calls him that and he knows it. "It's not the same..." She trails off. Pete doesn't know about her affair with Tommy. "I need you to trust me. He wasn't right but he had his reasons." Luna partial explains.

Her words stop him. He's known Luna for a long time and knows she doesn't put up with being disrespected. Knowing that both she and Colson are extremely complicated individuals, he accepts her shut down with a promise of lunch. SOON. Luna agrees with a grin.

Pete and Luna end their conversation with Be Safes, Love Yas and A Definite Lunch.

Hanging up, Luna turns to Sam. She's wedged between her and Nikki in the back of the cab.

"Where we goin'?" She asks.

"Mothafucken' Bridge Party, B!!" Sam exclaims to Luna's excitement.

Luna turns to Nikki asking if she wants to change as she pulls a red scarf out of her bag. Drapping it around her shoulders, Luna's dressed in cutoffs, a tank, stockings and Docs. It's what she performed in. Always Bridge Party ready.

"Fawk NO!! I look FABULOUS, BITCH!!" She exclaims to both Luna and Sam's laughter.

"Yo. You said he had his reasons... Why?" Sam asks Luna directly.

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

Sam and Luna have known each other since 6th grade. Making Sam one of Luna's oldest friends. Being based in NY, Sam knows EVERYONE. Not just Nikki and Pete but Justin, Ashley, Mack, Frannie... Even Jackson. Sam being Luna's drummer in their band Dysfunctional Baggage, they'd seen a lot and been through a ton of shit together. Sam was who Luna first called when she found Justin. Not 911, not his mother or her grandmother. Luna called Sam. Rushing over, Sam had witnessed Luna break in a way she'd never allow anyone else to. Or probably ever will again. Luna trusting Sam beyond her life.

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

Before Luna can answer, they pull up to the corner Sam requested. Tipping the cabby, the three women jump out.

"THIS IS GONNA BE SO FAWKING FUUN!!!" Nikki exclaims, wrapping an arm around both Luna and Sam's laughing necks.

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

Hitting The Bus first, Colson changes. Slipping a cool, pink, silk shirt onto his body, he thinks of Luna.

"Bet she's wit fucking Tommy. Whore." He tries to convince himself before he heads out into his own recklessness. Knowing he's wrong.

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

The Bridge Party is raging. Making Luna happy to be home. Linking arms with Sam and Nikki, they skip down into the music and lights.

NYC's party scene is a culture all in it's own. Heading under the bridge, it's like a multicolored, twisted, high school reunion. Luna and Sam seeing people they love. Nikki running into others she hasn't seen in YEARS.

"Wanna get on?" Luna asks Nikki with a grin as she opens her mouth.

She has a blotter and three single stacks on her tongue.

"FAWK YEAH!!!" Nikki grins, ready for another Nix&Loons MessABout.

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

Colson and The Band are a Flashers, an elite gentleman's club in NYC. Not that they're gentlemen or anything.

Tossing bills everywhere. Asses all over him, Colson pounds drink after drink. He's trying to erase Luna from his mind. He's got about an eight ball left over from the half ounce from Philly. Pulling it out, he dives face first.

He's on a mission. Not necessarily to overcome as many women as he can like before but to forget One who is like no other. Standing with a beer and drink in hand, joint in his mouth, he leans down to pick up another shot.l

Wanting to erase ever meeting That Brooklyn Bitch.

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

Luna is living her best freaking LIFE!! And she doesn't give a FUCK. Music flows as she dances with Nikki and Sam.

"I HAVE FUCKING GLOSTIX!!!" Luna exclaims as she bounces to the side to dig in her travel bag.

EVERYTHING is in there. Clothes, drugs, makeup, things to play with, candy and SCARVES.

Luna ties a flowered one around her head as she brings back GloStix and lollipops to her grateful friends.

They continue to bop and groove. Luna is tripping her PUSSY off. Playing with the red scarf around her body as she dances with Sam and Nikki.

"WATER!!!!" Sam shouts after what feels like two beautiful lifetimes but is probably only an hour.

Nikki and Luna nod in agreeance.

Bridge Parties are the ancestors of WoodStock. The grandmother of a non-profit festival, if you will.

Making their way to the water table, there's ten old orange Gatorade coolers set up. The City knows what's needed to party.

Grabbing her water bottle out of her bag, the three friends stand, drinking water continuously. Raving over it's Holy Greatness.

They laugh and catch colors. Trails and magical objects. Keeping close to one another to not be lost upon their voyage.

Bellies full of life fluid, they fill Luna's water bottle before going to squat and pee. What does Luna have? Toilet paper and baby wipes because LIFE.

They pee together, alllllllllll the way at the end of the bridge. Nikki teasing Luna how she's an Old Lady when she has hand sanitizer too.

Still living in the real world, Sam reminds Nikki.

"Nah, Boojie. Remember... THAT'S how we roooooll!" Sam teases Nikki as she squeezes her friend. "Dirty hands, Bitch!!!" Sam shouts laughing.

"Ahhh... Get the fawk owf meeee!!" Nikki laughs, hugging Sam back. "Nah... That shit was good."

Nikki agrees with a smile. Her hallucinating soul, mind and heart floating back to the early days of her career and their friendships.

Together the three of them grab hands. Skipping into the lights like they have no worries or cares.

Slowing down, Luna remembers. "Yoooo... I have chalk." She grins as she reaches into her bag.

Plunking down right where they are, the three artistic friends begin to display their tripping minds. Like a Mandela. Once they're gone, it too will be. Shortly after.

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

Colson's leg is jumping. He's high as fuck and still irritated. Downing shots as a pretty blonde wiggles up and down him. She's doing nothing for him.

"Take you in the back, make you feel better?" She offers as she bounces her tits in his face.

"No thanks." He says, pulling his head back and shoving a hundred towards her.

Insulted, she rises off of him.

Slim's been watching His Boy all night. Taking this as his opportunity, he slides over.

"What's good, Dawg?" He asks his bestfriend as he hands him his pen.

"Shit, Man." Colson puffs on it hard.

"So... Tonight is nothing?" Slim leads.

"Tonight was fucked, Homie." Colson responds, hitting the pen again.

"Talk to me, Brotha..." Slim continues to lead Colson.

Leaning back, Colson hits the pen a few more times. He's trying to collect his angry, confused and as always, inebriated feelings.

"She seen Tommy today." Is all he says.

Colson's a lot like Luna. He doesn't like his things to be touched.

Slim nods. He knows it's a contentious subject with Colson and Luna.

"Why?" He asks.

"I don't know... We didn't get that far. She told me and..." He looks at one of his longest friends. "And I shoved her. Hard enough to break a mirror." Colson looks down as he says the last part.

"Shit, Man." Is all Slim can say.

"I know... I don't know why the Fuck she was with him though." Colson starts to get angry again.

"She didn't say why at all?" Slim asks, not believing that if Luna was gonna pull some shit, she'd be careless.

"A fucking business meeting or something.... I don't know." Colson answers.

"Dawg. Do you know who this Tommy cat is? Like really? Besides from Luna?" Slim asks, suddenly worried Colson doesn't know what he's gotten himself into.

Colson shoots him a dirty look. He remembers what Benny had said.

"Dawg. He's like THE BIGGEST hitter in NY.... You know Luna's got her hands in a lot of shit. Remember how she freaked out over the picture of them? It could be business. HIGH FUCKING BUSINESS, Homes." Slim sighs. "Look, I don't know up from down when it comes to LunaTic because that bitch is wild, but what I will speak on, is she ain't never done you dirty and I ain't never felt her motives as dirty. Even if she got dirt wit this Tommy cat. That was before you... You really think she fucked him and came back to you?" Slim cuts to the chase.

"Nahh..." Colson says with an irritation to his certainties.

Another girl walks up on them. Colson shrugs as he throws his arms out. The girl takes this as an indication to climb on top of him.

Never thinking he'd take a chick's side over his boy's, Slim shakes his head as he watches another girl slither upon Colson.

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

Luna texts Ashleigh, hitting her Google locate. Letting her know where she is in The City. She goes on to apologize for not bringing her with her, promising to be back soon, to hit her up if she needs to.

"I should've fucking grabbed her..." Luna thinks. "If anyone needs a fucking escape, it's her...." Luna deciding her and Ashleigh will have an official MessAbout.

Sam climbs onto the cement wall Luna's sitting on, she's lost her shoes. Nikki is dancing free in the night.

That's the thing about The City, you can be everyone and no-one at the same time.

Nikki's appreciating being no-one in this moment.

"So... You never answered my question..." Sam asks Luna.

"Hmm?" She hums.

"Why? Why would you even consider marrying him after we spent tonight under a bridge like we're 19 because he wanted to schmooze up on some twat?? Are you not trading a junkie for a whore?"

Sam's words cut deep, but not enough to phase Luna. A calculated woman who knows what she expects out of this life, Luna doesn't care to explain.

"Sammy. I tell you. You know I'm not without fault. Neither is he. But love is love and sometimes that shit makes people jealous and they retaliate. I fucked her up for her OWN words. Not his actions. He may have antagonized it but let's not act like he fucked that bitch on the middle of the floor." Luna tells her friend.

Both always one to call a spade a spade. Neither bullshit.

"You know murder was the case that they gave me." Sam states, eyeing her friend.

Even tripping balls, Sam is very much like Luna. She don't fucking play.

Bursting into laughter, Luna grips Sam. Squeezing her tight.

"Let's go find your shoes, Bro." Luna laughs.

Lacing fingers with Sam before they begin their hunt.

Nikki comes running up with one of Luna's scarves on her head. She attacks both her friends with a hug.

"I FAWKING MISS THIS, YO!!!" She shouts, pecking Luna and Sam with kisses.

Luna relates to one of her greatest friends. Unhappily for the first time ever. Her third eye realizing how much she hates being out of her element.

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

"I wonder if she'll come back..." Colson thinks as another random ass grinds against him. "Maybe I should hit her up... No. Fuck that. She fucked up first... Not me." He stubbornly thinks as he slides a bill into the g-string in his face.

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

Sam and Nikki are dancing within the crowd as Luna sits by herself. Finding a random lighter beside her she flicks it.

Giggling at the colors radiating off of her finger tips. She wishes Colson was with her.

Tripping out of her mind, Luna closes her eyes and imagines him bouncing around with her. She grins at the idea of his excitement. Then her mind jumps to red. The blood. The girl. The anger.

Luna whips her eyes open. Knowing how to stop a bad trip, she leaves the lighter where she found it. Jumping off the ledge, Luna heads into the crowd. Letting the beat take control of her body as she finds her friends.

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

Still slamming lines, Colson's not hungry when they leave the high class strip club.

As everyone one else gobbles down pizza, he continuously checks his phone. Leg bouncing maniacally off the floor.

He wants to know where the fuck Luna is. But like an Asshole, he won't contact her.

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

"Ahhhh!!! I haven't had THAT much fun in SO long!!" Nikki laughs in the back of their cab.

It's rounding out 6A. The sun is coming up. The day is done and Luna had a fucking blast.

"That's why I don't ever wanna be famous..." She groans, placing her head in her hand. "You're so fucking busy and miss out on all the cool shit... For what??? Your fucking name on people's lips??" Luna snidley complains.

"Not all of us can be born with a silver fucking spoon, Loons." Nikki cocks back.

"Shut the fuck up, Nix." Sam comes to Luna's light defense. "We both know Patti didn't raise Loons as a baller and even if she did, Loons don't give a fuck about that shit." Sam states with a knowing smile.

"Enh... You got some truth in that." Nikki smirks. "But royalty is royalty and you can't deny that shit."

Luna and Sam don't dispute the truth.

"I love your rich, white ass doe!!" Nikki laughs as she hugs Luna.

Their cab pulling up in front of her Upper Eastside buiding.

"BOOJIE." Sam laughs calling Nikki out.

"Fawk you!!" Nikki laughs as she hugs her friends GoodBye.

Sam and Luna heading back to The Bus.

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Walking onto The Bus, it's awake and aware. Luna grabs Colson by the collar of his shirt. Dragging him with her, she leaves Sam. Knowing she's been on tour before and that Boys are no obstacle for her.

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"Kitten.." Colson starts to say.

"Shut the fuck up" Luna states as she grips the back of his neck. Kissing him fiercely.

She may understand Colson's jealously but it does not excuse his shove. Luna has a strict Don't Hurt Me Unless I Ask For It policy. He broke that. And now, she'll make him pay.

Releasing him, she demands he strip as she pulls off her own clothes.

Colson listens. Pulling his shirt off and dropping his pants for her. Happy she's in their room but starting to grow pissed over Tommy again.

Luna shoves him on the bed.

Climbing on top of him, she kisses his mouth with anger as she plays with her folds. Opening herself enough for her to jam him inside her tight pussy.

Even furious, his girth is too much. Luna cries out from his cock as she tries to work him into her.

"Kitten.." He says again.

Clasping her hand over his mouth, Luna tells him to Shut The Fuck Up as she rides him to her pleasure.

Not one to be told what to do, even by Luna for too long, Colson losses his patience.

Grabbing her ribs, he flips her over on the bed. Luna wraps her legs around him as he drives into her.

"Tell me what to fucking DO..." He taunts huskily in her ear.

This infuriates her. Using all her strength, Luna flips him off her. Keeping his dick in place, she rides him like she owns him. Because she does. Placing her hand on his throat as she bucks against him, Luna demands Who The Fuck Does He Belong To.

He gasps out "YOU."

Colson is stronger than her. Gripping both hips, he easily tosses her back off of him.

On top of her, as her head hangs off the bed, he demands Who's Pussy Is This as he punishes her with his dick.

Hips jolting against him, Luna diverges. "NOT YOURS IF YOU DON'T ACT RIGHT!!!"

She bites his neck hard, causing him to whimper. Flipping him back over, Luna commands his body.

She fucks him strong and hard. The rage and anger from the last couple days only peeping out.

Pulling his hands to her ass and holding them there, Luna shifts Colson deep into her. Using his body until she's done with it.

Feeling herself cum, not caring but knowing he did too, Luna drops on to the bed beside him. He doesn't get the luxury of staying inside of her.

"Kitten..." He hums as he reaches for her.

"Don't fucking touch me." Luna spits out, swatting his hand away.

Just then The Bus jerks to a stop. It was only a two hour ride to NJ.

Luna climbs off the bed, throwing on her clothes from last night.

"Don't think we're fucking good. At all." She states before grabbing her bag and marching out of their room.

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Word Limit (1 of 2)

To be continued....