#and I don’t believe we ever know what she scored on the SATs but it would probably fall somewhere around there

[buffysummers]

Fun fact, Rory Gilmore, also known as the genius of Stars Hollow, only scored 70 points higher than Buffy Summers did on her SATs. So put some respect on Buffy’s name and stop calling her “ditzy” and dumb!!

[lqfiles]

SCORE THAT GOAL! — 36. basketball incidents.

(wc: 1962)

“jeno, please explain to me one more time why we are here?” haechan asked from beside jeno. his gaze was fixed on jeno’s side profile as he awaited the boy to answer the same question he had asked before. jeno sighed. “look, i just wanna cheer them on. can’t i be supportive?” jeno explained in hopes of getting haechan off his back. he looked at jisung who walked on his right, the boy totally in his own world.

“yeah right, just admit that you’re upset that the basketball club gets to have friendly matches against other colleges while you guys don’t.” haechan chuckled and picked up his pace, leaving jisung and jeno a few steps behind. jeno scoffed. “i’m not upset.” he assured jisung, wanting some sort of validation from him. jisung hummed, still occupied in his own thoughts. “if you say so.” he muttered. “i do say so!” jeno rebutted.

“you guys came!” chenle’s excitement grew when his eyes landed on his group of friends who entered the indoors place. ningning nodded. “of course! you were so excited it was cute. wouldn’t want to miss something that makes you so happy.” she explained and chenle shied away, a sudden embarrassment overcoming him. “i’m gonna ignore that cute part, thank you for making it. i’ll make sure to win.” chenle placed a hand on ningning’s shoulder with a happy grin.

“where is sungchan?” you asked, looking around the basketball court in hopes of finding the said the boy. “he went to go and buy some water for later. can you believe that he was planning on ditching this match? he must’ve lost his mind..” chenle revealed with great shock, a frown growing on his face which resulted in all of you smiling at him. “i don’t know why you’re surprised, he doesn’t even like basketball. you just wouldn’t stop harassing him about joining.” you laughed out.

“i wouldn’t call it harassment.. more like a.. friendly suggestion” chenle reasoned. by now the other team had entered the place too and you took that as a cue. “we should go and find a seat before they’re all taken, make us proud chenle.” mark announced, motioning for the few empty seats. chenle nodded, sending him a thumbs up before continuing to stretch.

“do you think they will win?” ningning asked mark and you as the three of you sat down. you smiled, looking over at chenle who had ran over to sungchan when he returned. “you think chenle will ever let them lose? over his dead body.”

“jisung, don’t look but the hawk is in the nest, i repeat, the hawk is in the nest.” haechan yanked jisung backwards, harshly whispering into his ear, making jisung stumble a few steps back. “what the hell?” he grumbled back. “haechan, what are you talking about.” jisung wiped the hot breath that lingered around his ear away with the back of his palm before he gave haechan a confused looked. “i said, the hawk, is in the nest.” haechan repeated slower this time, head nodding towards the direction of the benches further ahead.

following haechan’s gaze, his eyes found the first row that was taken by a few people. his eyes widened for a second. “mark is here?” jisung asked, surprised. haechan threw his head back with a harsh sigh leaving his mouth. “yes, and look who is next to him.” haechan grabbed ahold of jisung’s jaw, turning his head a few centimetres to the side.

jisung felt his breath hitch for a moment as you turned your head to look at mark, probably laughing at whatever he said. “the hawk is here.” haechan repeated once more. jisung shook his grip off his jaw, throwing haechan a small glare. “why are you calling her the hawk, don’t be weird.” jisung said and his eyes made its way back to you and your friends.

“gosh, have you ever heard of an analogy? sorry for offending you.” haechan responded back, turning agitated by jisung’s reaction. a mischievous grin grew on haechan’s face a few seconds after as he continued to stare ahead and jisung knew better than to let haechan speak any further after that. “no, don’t even do anything.” jisung warned but haechan shrugged nonchalantly, putting his hands in his pockets.

“whatever, i’m gonna go and take a seat with my good friend (—). jeno, stop sulking and come.” haechan snapped his finger in front of jeno’s bitter face. “stop glaring at the basketball players.” haechan rolled his eyes, grabbing jeno’s arm ready to drag him along. “what’s even fun about basketball?” jeno bitterly spoke and haechan dismissed it. “yeah yeah, tell me all about it.” haechan mumbled and the two walked away.

“no- guys..” jisung tried to protest but had been unsuccessful. his friends had already made their way towards the first-row seats, making sure to make their presence known to both you and your friends. jisung watched as they greeted the others before haechan pointed a finger towards jisung’s direction.

panic surged through him and his feet had started to move on its own. before he knew, he stood right next to haechan, dragging the boy back by his cardigan. “aaand zero, see! i told you it would take 7 seconds exact for him to get here.” haechan wiggled out jisung’s grip, taking a seat in the second row, right behind ningning. jeno followed, taking a seat behind mark. “the fact that you can predict that is insane. how many times have you annoyed him?” jeno questioned.

jisung stood dumbfounded at the opening of the rows, eyes wavering between all of them until they landed on you. you were already looking at him and smiled when your eyes aligned. “hi.” you greeted and jisung couldn’t stop his own lips from shyly tugging upwards. “hey.” looking down at the spot next to jeno, he realised it was right behind you. slowly lifting his head back up to see both haechan and jeno grin at him, jisung scoffed. maybe jeno and haechan did know how to play cupid after all.

you had turned your body sideways to face him, focusing all your attention on him. “so what brings you here?” jisung awkwardly started. you chuckled, tilting your head a bit. “well, two of my friends play in the basketball team. why wouldn’t i be here?” you teased and jisung felt himself tense. what kind of stupid question was that, he mentally scolded himself.

“and what brings you here, football player?” you asked him and jisung smiled before nodding towards the person on his left. “jeno wanted to watch and dragged us along.” he explained. it felt like the whole room had turned silent, even though that was the total opposite. you hummed, your gaze still lingering on jisung. he let out an awkward cough, averting his eyes.

“how’s your throat?” jisung asked softly, but loud enough for you to hear. “oh, yeah my throat is alright now. your scarf is really warm, i might never give it back.” you laughed and jisung copied, looking back up at you. his top teeth were shown as he flashed a quick smile. “that’s okay, you can keep it. you’ll probably need it more than me.” jisung told you. and it probably looks better on you, jisung thought.

“seems like chenle really is hard-carrying his team.” mark commented as the match progressed. it had been around 20 minutes and the score was 2-3. as expected, chenle was the star player, priding the school by not missing a single shot handed to him.

“he runs the basketball club like the navy, he thinks he’s the coach.” you explained, watching chenle run around the field, throwing his hands around so his teammates would send him the basketball back. for a friendly match, he behaved like he could take down anyone in his way any moment.

“i wonder how much longer this is going to last.” haechan yawned from behind you. you couldn’t help but crack a smile, craning your head to look at the boy who was slumped in his seat. “theatre boy can’t even pay attention for twenty minutes?” you joked and haechan groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically. “there are other things i can pay twenty minutes of my attention to. watching men sweat as they run around with a ball in their hand isn’t one of them.”

“right! just a stupid game.” jeno butted in, folding his arms. all of you had turned to look at him. “jeno.. please, give it up.” haechan rubbed a hand over his face. he was already extremely bored, he couldn’t deal with jeno’s bitterness at the moment. the rest of you laughed, turning back to watch the game while you kept your eyes on haechan for a bit longer.

“better be watching, chenle will definitely ask you to point out your favourite part of the match.” you grinned at haechan who frowned in return. “why would he do that? we’re acquaintances at most, i’m not here for him!” haechan asked perplexed. you shrugged and leaned back, about to turn around again. “he loves praise, don’t be surprised.” was the last thing you said before you turned around.

you barely had time to register what happened. all you heard was ningning screech, and all you felt was your body being pushed aside by your shoulders. you instinctively closed your eyes, expecting to feel your body land on the seat next to you. you never did, instead the grip on your shoulders stayed until you opened your eyes. you looked to your side, taking notice of ningning’s body leaning into mark with wide eyes.

“are you okay?” you knew it was jisung, yet you weren’t expecting to hear him right next to your ear. you turned your head further to the left, face only a meter away from jisung who had gotten out of his seat, almost crouching behind your seat. the two of you were leaned in an awkward position and jisung soon lost balance, falling on his shins while simultaneously letting go of your shoulders.

you sat back up, looking behind you to see the basketball that had flown past you to the empty space between the first and second row. you looked over to the court to see chenle with his jaw dropped. he quickly mouthed something but you dismissed it and stood up to look at the row behind you. “i’m fine, are you okay?” you asked jisung who had just gotten back up, dusting off his jeans.

“yeah.. that was embarrassing..” he whispered as some of the audience was still looking over at you two. you nodded, scratching your neck. “it really was yeah, thank you for that. i didn’t even see it.” you thanked jisung as the both of you sat back down. he didn’t respond back and you watched as he looked at your arms for a few seconds before nodding. you were convinced you saw a tint of worry in his eyes, but didn’t want to look too deep into it.

“it’s okay, next time, be careful- n-not that it’s your fault of course! but still, don’t get hurt, you know?” jisung stammered, a sudden fluster washing over him. he barely looked you in the eye as he spoke, instead watching of his knee bounce up and down. “thank you, i will be careful.” you bit back your smile, reluctantly turning around to continue watching the match.

“holy shit.” haechan muttered with wide eyes. “wow.. never mind, maybe i do have a favourite part from this match.” a smirk had grown on his face, a smirk both him and jeno sent jisung as they nudged him. “fuck off.” jisung retorted back, trying to control the way his body was heating up.

previous — master list — next

notes ; LONG CHAPTER, IM SORRY! tldr ; they all go to watch chenle and sungchan’s basketball match and a ball almost hits y/n but jisung saves you, yippie 🤗

TAGLIST ; @rksbae @222brainrot @severefireangelprune @violetvoo @prdshobi @kikookii @haechansbbg @en-dream @bbxnny-bbxtch @cvpidxo @jaeminslattes @90s-belladonna @softieluvsyou @wenjunblossoms @be0mluver @jeongintwt @myhaechan @love1again @ckline35 @cassie6392 @hibernatinghamster @starboys-gf @rllymark @mfaal @snflwrhaerecs4u @sunflowerbebe07 @ahnneyong @enhalovie @galacticpurpl3 @manooffline @luv4jeno @mikadorbs @1moo7 @ksywoo @ohdudehesflirting @savluvsmingi @finnydraws @invumi @crvzy-fujoshi @peterparkerluvvbot @hrjunluvs @i2kittenz @jisungji @http-peachie @jisyng @sweetcandycum @giaccolo @shotaroswifeyily @sinsgaybutthatsokay @be-my-sunrise @syzavxy @kyusqult @mxlly143 @o-schist @bigjishirt @snuglyjwi @hyunniesvlog @shuaadmirer

[ladykailitha]

A Love Connection Part 8

Can you believe we have finally reached the end? It has been an absolute blast going through this with all of you. With any luck (fingers crossed) Next week will also have another special story come out next Tuesday, the sequel to Icarus (metal band) so that I can get it out before Halloween.

In this we had the end of Steddie's date, the end of the episode and cute little reunion epilogue. (which may or may not have a 9-1-1 joke)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

~

Once they had walked off their breakfast and was getting hungry for lunch, Eddie was given a picnic basket and cooler by the crew and they drove out to the park for their picnic.

They sat on opposite sides of the park table as Eddie unpacked everything. There were turkey sandwiches with avocado slices and ranch dressing. There were sour cream and onion potato chips, brown sugar baked beans, and homemade potato salad.

He then pulled out black cherry soda from the cooler and his favorite beer. Steve was instantly endeared further.

“Your bestie is an absolute hoot, by the way,” Eddie said, opening the bag of potato chips.

Steve grinned around his first bite of sandwich. “She’s like that. I don’t know what I would do without her.”

“Not be on this game show for a start,” Eddie teased.

“I’m not surprised she told you about that,” Steve huffed in good humor. “Did she also tell you that technically the whole queer dating season is my fault?”

“You mean your absolutely brilliant and amazing idea?” Eddie said grinning back. “Too much wine and you get really cute, according to her.”

Steve buried his head in his hands and ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. I’m a silly drunk.”

“Well, rest in peace Garfield,” Eddie said, “your death has brought me the best boy I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. To Valhalla!” He raised his beer and Steve clanked his soda bottle against it.

“He was a good fish,” Steve said solemnly. “I have a cat named Odie now.” He pulled out his phone and flipped to his photos. He handed the phone to Eddie.

“He’s adorable,” Eddie cooed. “My uncle is a huge Garfield fan. He collects mugs and his most prized possession is a Garfield head one.”

Steve grinned. “I’ve people give me flack for naming the fish Garfield and the cat Odie, but fish don’t last long enough in Garfield to have names. And Odie isn’t an orange tabby, so that wouldn’t work for him.”

“Makes sense,” Eddie said nodding his head. He took a bite of his sandwich. “Much better than Subway. I had a lot of fun making everything.”

Steve paused mid bite. “Wait? Really?”

“Yup!” Eddie said. “The potato salad and beans are my uncle’s recipe.”

“They’re really good.”

Eddie blushed and hid behind a lock of hair.

They talked about Eddie’s uncle, Wayne and all of Steve’s kids. Then it was time to pack up. They played at the playground a bit just being silly.

“Now,” Eddie said, after tackling Steve to the ground, “I understand this town doesn’t have minigolf, but it does have bowling and an arcade that has managed to survive the digital era, so what will it be?”

Steve thought about it for a moment. “The arcade. The flashing lights at the bowling can give me a migraine.”

“Score!” Eddie cackled gleefully. “I was hoping for the arcade.”

It was that moment that he realized how close their faces were. He leaned down and pressed a sweet kiss to Steve’s mouth.

“Oh,” Steve stuttered when Eddie pulled back. “Wow. That was amazing.”

Eddie smiled widely. “An amazing kiss for an amazing guy.”

Steve knocked out Eddie’s arms and rolled them over, pinning the other man’s arms above his head. He straddled Eddie’s waist and looked down at him fondly. “Gotcha!”

Eddie surged up and kissed him.

Then there was a cough and Steve sprang off of Eddie, looking kinda sheepish. “I kinda forgot about the cameras there,” he said helping Eddie to his feet.

Eddie smiled, smoothing out Steve’s hair. “It’s all right.”

They got back into the car drove to the arcade. They played all sorts of games, they raced each other, played skee ball, Steve even shot a few hoops to win them extra tickets. Tickets they turned in for two matching tiger plushies.

“Hobbes,” Steve said pointing to Eddie’s, “and Tigger.”

“I approve!”

~

Dinner at Benny’s blew Eddie’s mind as much as Big Ma’s blew Steve’s. He loved everything about it. Including Benny.

Steve couldn’t remember having a date that went this well before in his life. They never ran out of topics to talk about and he was going to have to admit that he was falling a little bit in love.

Finally the date was drawing to a close and it was time for Eddie to ask his questions. They had gone up to the Quarry and set it up for them to sit on the hood of Eddie’s car on a blanket.

“All righty!” Eddie said pulling out cue cards. “First question, who was your first kiss?”

Steve smiled. “A girl named Alice. It’s when I learned it was strictly boys for me. Up to that point I had held on to hope that I was bisexual so that my dad wouldn’t kick my ass. Still dated women in a futile attempt to force myself. But once I got to college, I dropped the pretense.”

“Oof,” Eddie said. “I felt that. My dad was a homophobic asshole too. He came out of the woodwork briefly when I got famous enough to be in the news. But I sent him packing.”

“I think that’s what upset my parents the most,” Steve huffed, “was that I didn’t chose a job that they could depend on after they retired to mooch off of.”

“I hear you,” Eddie said. “Second question, have you played D&D?”

Steve burst out laughing. “No, I had sex in high school,” he said quoting that TV show.

Eddie held his hands to his chest. “Are you suggesting that I didn’t? For shame! Dishonor on you, dishonor on your cow!” He moved to get up but Steve grabbed his wallet chain and dragged him back down.

“You’re ridiculous,” Steve said, his cheeks beginning to hurt from all the smiling. “I like that.”

Eddie beamed at him. “Yay!”

Steve kissed him on the cheek and he blushed.

“Third question,” Eddie said shyly, “What’s your favorite cartoon series?”

Steve hummed as he thought about it. “Avatar: The Last Airbender. There is just something so good about that show.”

“Yes!” Eddie crowed. “Secret Tunnel, Secret Tunnel!”

Steve laughed. “Or when Sokka got poisoned by the cactus juice?”

“I loved that,” Eddie said, bumping their shoulders together. “What is your favorite quote?”

“Shit, shit, shit, fuckity, shit, shit, fuck and willy. Willy, shit and fuck and...tits,” Steve said with a completely straight face.

Eddie giggled. He stopped to look at Steve in shock and awe and then he giggled again. It just bubbled out of him. “Where the hell is that from? Clearly I’m not watching the right movies, damn.”

“The King’s Speech,” Steve said with a huff of laughter. “It’s about the Duke of York, who had a stammer and was suddenly made king of England when his older brother abdicates.”

“You’ll definitely going to have to show me that one,” he said with a grin. “It sounds fun.”

“It’s not all swearing,” Steve said with a giggle. “It was a scene about his speech therapist trying to get him to swear so that he understands it’s all in his head.”

“Still,” Eddie replied fondly. “If you like it, I still want to see it.” He cleared his throat. “Last question.”

Steve took his hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Who had the better date, me or Billy?” Eddie asked shyly.

Steve kissed him. “I’ll tell you that in terms of kisses, he only got two. A kiss at the questions portion and again at the door to my hotel room. Now, how many kisses have you gotten?”

Eddie’s eyes twinkled. “I think I lost count.”

Steve kissed him again. “Me too.”

“I hope I’m not being presumptuous,” Eddie murmured, “but I got you a present.”

“Oh?”

Eddie hopped off the hood and opened the trunk. He got out a large white box and brought over to Steve. He handed it to him as he clambered back onto the hood.

Steve opened it up and there nestled the white tissue paper was a lingerie set. It was pink chiffon and white lace. It was a babydoll top and matching bottoms. It wasn’t a thong for which Steve was grateful.

“Eddie it’s beautiful,” he whispered. “I love it.”

Eddie smiled broadly. “I’m glad.” He paused for a moment. “I have a small confession. I’m not a sports fan. The college basketball team was literally pulled out of my ass. I didn’t lie, I used to watch it with Uncle Wayne...”

“But you’re a nerd?” Steve teased.

“Yuck it up, pretty boy,” Eddie said dryly. “But, yes.”

Steve bumped their shoulders together. “I have a small confession too. Or maybe not so small, depending you.”

“Wha’cha got?”

Steve bit his lower lip and lift the box a little. “I’ve never done anything like this before. I wanted to see how Billy would react.”

“Oh.”

“But seeing it here, with you,” he continued, not looking up. “I want it, with you. I want to be your princess.”

Eddie carefully removed the box from Steve’s hands and moved off to the side. Then he tackled Steve again showering him with kisses.

“Come on back to my hotel room, sweetheart.”

“I’d love to.”

~

“Welcome back to the ‘Love Connection’,” Bob said. He had changed suits into a nice dove grey one with a silver tie.

Steve was off to one side, while the three Suitors were on a large white sofa.

“Eddie was a runaway favorite leaving the question round,” Bob continued. “Did Billy’s date go well enough for a second date?”

Steve shook his head. “He was charming and sexy, but I don’t think we clicked.”

Billy nodded his head back and forth. “I’d agree, I was hoping for someone a little more adventurous and daring. Someone with hidden depths.”

“Ouch!” Bob winced. “Please tell Eddie fumbled somewhere. Like does he drool in his sleep or have a vodka aunt who is way too invested in his sex life? Something!”

Steve laughed. “I’m afraid not. Eddie was goofy and silly and as one of my students wisely said, the right person for the right now.”

“Wise kid,” Bob said softly. “So overwhelming in favor of Eddie Munson?”

“Very much so!”

Bob turned back to audience. “And there you have it. Join us next time for Tina Peterson, and her three lovely Suitors, Daren, Emily, and Carol.”

~

When he got home, he had Eddie’s number and promise that Eddie would come down from Chicago to be with him, he just had to do a few things first.

The first episode wouldn’t air until October, so they had to be discreet, but it was nice to have someone he knew was waiting for him.

They had to do a little reunion filming to see if they were still together and if Steve wanted to change his answer.

“Steve welcome back to ‘Love Connection,” the host, Bob said cheerfully. “Why don’t you tell us about what’s been going on in your life?”

“Hey, Bob,” Steve said with a smile. “I’m actually glad to be back. I went on a sabbatical from work after the school year ended.”

“What’s a sabbatical?” Bob asked, cocking his head to the side.

“It’s paid leave,” he explained, “usually in colleges and the like, but basically for a year, I can take time off to focus on other things, but my job will still be there when I get back.”

“Nice.”

“I took it because I appeared on here,” Steve said wryly. “Nothing against the show, but it is a little racier than most schools like for their teachers. This way, the show will air and by the time all the dust settles I can go back to my job.” He shrugged. “If I want to. I haven’t really decided yet.”

“Smart,” Bob agreed. “Tell us about that adorable kitten of yours.”

They flashed up a picture on screen of Odie still tucked under his chin, but much bigger.

“Yeah,” Steve said with a grin. “We found that he’s probably a Maine Coon. Which if you know anything about the breed, biiiiigggg cat.”

“Will he get bigger?” Bob asked his eyes wide.

“Most likely,” Steve replied. “They stop growing at eighteen months.”

“Damn!” He turned to the Suitors. “Gentlemen. Welcome back.”

All three of them murmured their hellos.

“Let’s start with Tommy,” Bob said. “Tell us about what you’ve been up to.”

“I moved to LA and am working full time at a firehouse,” Tommy said with a blush.

The audience oohed as they flashed up a picture of Tommy in his gear with some of his fellow fire fighters.

“Congrats!” Bob said.

“I have a boyfriend, too,” Tommy said. “His name is Evan Kincade and he’s the one on the left of me.”

“Well then!” Bob said brightly. “That’s a first for our show. A discarded Suitor finding love on their own. Well done.”

Tommy blushed. “Thanks.”

“All right, Billy,” Bob said, turning to the man in the middle of the sofa. “Tell us about your last six months.”

Billy brought up one leg and showed off an ankle monitor. “Got into a fight in a bar over a piece of ass that I didn’t know was taken. So I’m teaching youths how to surf as part of my community service. That means I lost sponsors and couldn’t compete outside of LA. But I’ll be back at it next season.”

Bob and Steve share a concerned glance.

Steve is so glad he dodged that bullet.

“And Eddie,” Bob finished. “What have you been up to?”

“Moved to Hawkins to be closer to my uncle, Wayne,” Eddie said with a grin. “When I was working up in Chicago, we’d visit each other on occasion, but now that he’s thinking of retiring, he would really like me closer to home. And I do my producing from anywhere really, so I figured what the hell.”

“That must be nice for your uncle,” Bob said sweetly. “Added bonus of being in Steve’s backyard didn’t hurt either?”

Eddie laughed. “Those two are inseparable now. You’d have to use a crowbar to pry them apart. I also ran a D&D game for Steve’s kids over the summer. Kept it short, but fun. They all had a blast.”

“So are you two still together?” Bob asked, already knowing the question.

Steve smiled over at Eddie who blushed and nodded.

“We moved in together back in June.”

Bob’s eyebrows shot up. “I’ve heard of Uhaul lesbians but damn you guys move fast.”

“My lease was up,” Steve explained. “My best friend was moving in with her girlfriend of two years, and I didn’t want to stay there. So when Eddie got settled into a house in town, I moved in with him.”

“We scandalize our neighbors,” Eddie cackled with glee, “by being gay, democrats, and I’m a metalhead. All the ladies thought Steve was single and brought over baked goods. And only when the last one tried to seduce him, he kissed me in front of all them. Boy did they go running.”

“It’s been great,” Steve insisted. “Fences really do make the best neighbors.”

“Well there you have it,” Bob said. “A great success story.”

~

When they got home and curled up with Odie, Eddie asked, “Are you still mad at Chrissy and Robin for signing you up without telling you?”

Steve shrugged. “Maybe a little. I would have liked to have made the choice for myself, but I am grateful because I got to meet you.”

“I love you, Stevie,” Eddie said softly.

“I love you, too, Eds.”

~

Tag List: CLOSED

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @dreamercec @wheneverfeasible @themoonagainstmers @garden-of-gay @little-birch-boy

10- @ollieolive @dissociatingdemon @stripey82 @kultiras @micheledawn1975

[moni-logues]

Home Run

Pairing: Bangchan x reader (afab, she/her)

Genre: smut, basically pwp but there's a semblance of plot if you read the other pieces, friends-to-lovers

Word count: 2.2k

Content: protected sex, Chan pov

Summary: Different Spaces couple finally score a home run

A/N: when I wrote Different Spaces (over a YEAR ago? 💀💀) I fully intended for them to fuck, but apparently, no, they needed three whole drabbles to themselves. anyway, enjoy! Thanks to @amethystwrytes for beta-ing for me!

Different Spaces (1); Scoreboard (2)

* * *

“Please,” you gasped, voice still high and tight, breath caught in snatches. “Please, can we fuck now?”  

And the starting pistol was fired. You moved off the sofa and Chan moved with you, stumbling towards your bedroom, though he didn’t know why. Didn’t know why the sofa wouldn’t suffice, why it was somehow sullied now. Didn’t care. As long as this happened, kept happening, as long as he got to see you and hear you and touch you some more; his desire yawned open in his chest, awake and hungry. Let out of its cage. 

These past months, away from you, Chan had thought was for the best. His confusion and these feelings that he didn’t believe, didn’t understand, he didn’t want to face you with them. Didn’t want to face them at all. Because it wasn’t what you were. You were friends. That was all and he didn’t want to ruin it. Thought that he was sure to, somehow.  

But now it was a tangle of limbs and sticky skin against sticky skin. All sweat and salt and a kind of feverish urgency he hadn’t expected, hadn’t even dreamt of. He had kept his feelings on lock-down, thought they might go away if he didn’t prod at them, didn’t acknowledge them, but he couldn’t ignore them now: now with your mouth on him like that, with your hands roaming his body, as he swallowed your moan down his throat.  

This pent-up desire was free and he was dizzy with it. Tripping over his feet and tumbling to the mattress on top of you; making up for his clumsiness with kisses on every inch of skin his lips could reach. 

And you, asking, begging, again, one more time, still, even when his lips crushed yours and cut off your words; the second you broke free, you were saying it again. Fuck me. And he was going to, was about to, was pushing himself to his knees and then it hit him. 

“Oh shit,” he breathed, sitting back on his heels with a sigh, hands braced on his knees to try to catch his breath. 

“What?” you asked, similarly panting. “What?” 

“Condom?” 

“Fuck!” 

He watched you twist, your legs trapped between his, to scramble at your bedside unit. He watched your hand search and come up empty, drag open the second drawer and repeat its motions.  

“Do you have one?” you asked, head turned away, struggling to get to the bottom drawer without moving off the bed completely. 

“Why would I have one?” Chan asked back in a squawk though he wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt self-conscious, defensive even.  

“I don’t know; don’t guys carry them in their wallets or something?” 

“You’re my friend; wouldn’t it be weird if I came here with a condom?” 

You turned to look at him, then. Sat up, naked, still squared in with his knees either side of you. You looked at him. Blinked. 

“I don't know, dude, you tell me what the fuck we’re doing here, then.” 

And it came out harsh. Chan blanched. Because what were you doing? Were you really asking? Had this ruined it? Because he felt guilty that he didn’t have a condom in his wallet. Like he usually did. Always did, though he couldn’t really have said why. It was the same fucking condom he had in his old wallet that he transferred over to the new one. The same one that he looked at before coming here tonight. That he wouldn’t have thought twice about before—wouldn't have even remembered it were there. But it was you and something was different and something told him that he shouldn’t go to your place with a condom in his wallet as if he expected something. As if something could ever happen between you. It was presumptuous. It was arrogant. It was foolhardy. 

But nothing about the night had gone the way he had expected it to and now... That fucking condom. If only he had it.  

“Sorry, you’re rig-”  

Apologising on reflex, his chin dipping to his chest, because he’d only gone and fucked it up by overthink- 

Then your hand was on his face and your lips on his, your fingers sneaking into your hair.  

“It’s fine,” you murmured. “It’s fine.” 

And he didn’t know if it was, but you kept kissing him all the same, so he kept kissing you back. Was it fine if this was as far as it went tonight? His cock said one thing and his head said another. Maybe it was better this way, he thought. Maybe rushing headlong into sex would be a bad idea. Mayb- 

You pulled away. 

“I’ve got some,” you whispered, your urgency returning as you scrambled off the bed. “One sec.” 

Oh, thank god. He watched you walk away, the fingers of one hand encircling his hot, heavy shaft, unconsciously, automatically, unable to stop himself. Unable to stop his heart racing as he looked down and remembered your own fingers around him. The softness of your skin. The jolt of arousal when you had teased him, like you usually did but also nothing like that. 

You returned before he had time to think more and extracted one shiny packet from a box which you then let fall to the floor. There was something about you that was shy: lips a little pursed, eyes looking away. He knew you well enough to tell that much.  

“Forgot I had these,” you said quietly, still not looking at him as you knelt on the bed and made your way towards him. “Bought them earlier.” 

Chan’s shock made him laugh. 

“In anticipation of this...?” 

“No!” your denial was swift. “No, it wasn’t like that! I wasn’t planning anything! I just-” 

But he didn’t care. Was laughing because it was he all night who had been flustered by this. It was he who kept saying the wrong thing, wrongfooted all the time by the turn the night had taken. He enjoyed it being you. Enjoyed that the dynamic between the two of you didn’t have to be entirely different. You could still tease him. He could still tease you. 

“I didn’t plan this,” you said, performatively sullen, pouting. 

“But you want it, right?” 

You laughed and pushed him back towards the head of the bed, not bothering to answer with words. You made him sit, made him once again cede control of his cock to you; he let your fingers wrap around him, watched as you stroked him slowly, as your wrist twisted. His eyes fluttered closed for a second, just a second, and when he opened them again, you had the condom packet between your teeth, tearing it open with your free hand. It was boring, really—a mundane gesture—but his dick throbbed, a drop of precum leaking from the top as you spat the empty packet away from you. 

“You sure about this?” you asked, with the tip of his sheathed shaft at your entrance. 

He nodded eagerly, barely able to stop himself lifting his hips to push into you himself. Then he stopped nodding, flicked his eyes to you because why were you asking?  

“Aren’t you?” he replied, a swoop of doubt flying through his guts. 

You nodded back. 

“I’m sure.” 

A swoop of relief. 

“I’m sure.” 

And then he placed a hand on your hip and used his other to hold himself steady, so you could sink down on him, slowly, with a long moan stretching to the ceiling. And, truth be known, if he could have, he might have asked for a second, just a second, to get used to it. The feeling of you. All warm and wet and tight and your burning skin so soft, and your lips so sweet and your eyes dark and sparkling like the brightest night sky. And his heart hammering in his chest like time was running out; his blood boiling, reduced to a thick, sticky syrup that he told himself wasn’t love, not exactly, but wasn’t entirely not. Just a second to gather himself not just because you felt so good but because it was you. 

You didn’t give him a second. No sooner than you had lowered than you raised yourself up again; you set an impatient pace, urgent, running towards something at breakneck speed. Chan, too, then was running. Chan, too, was urgent in his kisses, in his praise, in the way your name caught at the back of his throat when he felt your walls squeeze around him.  

He wished he’d had longer to think about it. Because he hadn’t given himself the chance to imagine this, to get used to the idea of it, to think about how good you would feel, how sweet you would taste. He hadn’t had the opportunity to picture you in his head before you were right there in front of his very eyes. Real. More than real. A kind of hyperreal that made him able to smell the sound of you and hear your taste. He could feel every one of your gasps in his chest. He could moan out the taste of your skin. He could smell your hair and it would feel like satin.  

It would’ve been less overwhelming, he thought, if he’d given himself an imaginary dry run-through. He would be doing better if he’d had a second. If he got a second to get himself together, he’d be able to get over the shock of it. He’d be able to get a hold of his senses and- 

You slowed. Sank down on him, as deep as he could get, and took his face between your palms. Took his lips between yours then slipped your tongue between them. Rolled your hips and moaned into his mouth. It was the tiny bite of pain when your teeth sank into his bottom lip that brought him to his senses. Like the tug on his hair before, the little jolt was enough to bring him around and he pulled back, determined once more to make the most of this for you.  

“I wanna move,” he said, mumbling the words against your mouth in a final kiss before you slipped off him.  

The fact that you then knelt, waiting to be told where he wanted you, made his guts clench. He traced his fingers lightly over your face and then pushed at your shoulder, encouraging you onto your back. He slipped his hands beneath your ankles and lifted, your knees bending as your thighs reached your chest. 

“This ok?” he asked. 

You nodded, settling your ankles over his shoulders, then crossing them and using them to pull him towards you. He laughed, because it was just like you, to never let him get the last word, to never quite let him be in control. He laughed because he liked it, in this capacity even more than any other. In the seconds before he sank himself back into your hot, wet cunt, he imagined you testing him, pushing at that boundary because you could, because he’d let you, because he knew that you liked this as much as he did and if tussling for control was the game, he wanted to play. Even if he let you win. 

As he snapped his hips with his hands tight around your calves, as your walls spasmed and clenched around him, as his ears filled with the slick squelch of his cock in your heat, his head felt clearer. Still hyperreal but in a way that made sense. When he tasted the sound of his name on your tongue, it tasted right. When he smelt the brush of your soft skin against his like roses, he knew. All his anxiety about fucking it up, ruining your friendship, everything that he had been hiding from while he was gallivanting about the globe, it was pointless. It was wrong. It was useless noise in his brain. Because he’d always believed he wasn’t worth it, wasn’t worthy of you, wasn’t worthy of getting what he wanted. But there you were, beneath him, every bit what he wanted and more. Every bit his. 

*  

“You know there’s no going back now,” you said, lying on your bed, stretching your arms and legs long, still naked and glistening.  

“What do you mean?” he asked as he returned to join you, condom neatly disposed. 

You turned on your side to snuggle into him, pressed a firm kiss to his lips. 

“This,” you answered. “We’ve had sex now so you can’t turn around to me and say you actually just want to be friends.” 

He laughed. It was preposterous to him that you might think he would be the one to change his mind.  

“I don’t want to be your friend.” 

“Good.” 

Then you piped up again. 

“I never really liked you much anyway.” 

He chuckled, knew it was a joke; knew it because it was followed by a smile that was all syrup, that left a sticky sweetness on his mouth after you kissed him. 

“Fat chance I’ll believe that. Horse is out of the barn, mate; you just said it yourself: you can’t take this back.” 

“Fuck. I guess you’re stuck with me.” 

“I think I can live with that.” 

[apomaro-mellow]

Hot for Teacher(s) 10

Part 9

Shawn tried not to think too hard about his dad and his teacher dating. He knew his family was a little different than the others. Most people had two parents. But he’d never ask for his sire to show up. Never in a million years. He still remembered how bad it got. 

It made him a little wary of Mr. Munson. He didn’t think he’d ever hit his father. But sometimes pain wasn’t physical. Even when Billy hadn’t put his hands on Steve, the yelling had been horrible too. But Steve had been in love. And there had been a time when Billy cared for him. He’d told Shawn so.

Shawn couldn’t believe it. People in love didn’t do that kind of thing. People in love did things like go out on dates, gave each other gifts and scented each other nicely.

Like how Shawn could smell Mr. Munson on his dad. He probably wouldn’t have been able to tell who it was if not by his powers of deduction. They’d been sitting on his bed, his dad reading him a bedtime story. He didn’t bring up the scent, or how it made him feel nice. He just hoped Mr. Munson would stay around a while.

“Are you and Mr. Munson in love?”

Steve fumbled with the basketball in his hands and Shawn used the opportunity to steal it from him and go for a shot. He missed, but getting a steal from his dad was still nice.

“He and I are…dating, as you know”, Steve said, grabbing the ball as it bounced his way. “I think it’s a little too soon to be using words like ‘love’.”

“He’s over here a lot”, Shawn said.

Steve didn’t know how much he should read into that. Was Shawn saying he didn’t like Eddie being around so much? Did he feel like someone else was taking time away from Steve? It was hard to tell with his son sometimes what he was thinking.

“How come you always make me go out when he’s over?”

“I don’t always-”

“I know you’re going on a date every time I have a sleepover. And I’ve been having a lot of sleepovers lately.” Shawn’s expression was a little too mature for a child his age.

“First, don’t interrupt, it’s rude. Second, I thought you liked having sleepovers.”

“I do. I just don’t know why you don’t want me around Mr. Munson. I see him all day at school.”

Steve kept his body language nonchalant while dribbling the ball. “Well that’s just it. I figured you’d be sick of him. He’s at school AND at home?” He shot and the ball went right in. 

“If I score more than you, can we get ice cream?”

“Shawn, it’s January.”

“I want chocolate with gummy bears.”

Steve was still thinking of it a few days later when he had sent Shawn on yet another sleepover while he, Eddie, and Robin got drunk and gave powerpoint presentations on a subject of their choice. Robin was about ten slides deep into one about why TV shows sucked on writing lesbians on purpose but somehow made the most compelling character chemistry on accident.

At first, he’d been sitting close to Eddie, legs in his lap, playing with his hair but Steve had learned that Eddie never sat still for long. Every few slides, he’d jump up with an interjection and Steve knew if he didn’t want to flop off the couch, he’d better not get too tangled.

Robin was very open to discussion. Heated discussion but still. Steve finally cleared his throat when they started getting closer, hands moving wildly as they argued about the sexuality of Sandy the Squirrel.

“Hey, it’s Powerpoint Night, not debate night”, Steve said.

Robin gasped. “Steve! Can we have debate night. We finally have a third party to mediate.”

“What do you guys need a mediator for?”, Eddie asked.

“She has very strong opinions on salted caramel”, Steve said. “Your turn Eddie.”

Eddie got up, his presentation popping up as he cleared his throat. “Pluto’s Planet Status: Logic vs Sentimentality….”

Robin stayed the night, taking up the guest bed while Eddie went up to Steve’s room. He’d been inside before, but it always felt momentous. A space that not many had seen before and Steve was allowing him. They collapsed next to each other, limbs tangling through the night.

The next day, they got up, making a breakfast of sausage, eggs, and other greasy things to stave off any hangover symptoms. And before Eddie left, Steve asked a favor of him.

“Do you…mind scenting some of the pillows? Not for me, but for Shawn? I want to gauge his reaction to the idea of you becoming more…permanent.”

Eddie’s eyes got wide. “Do you want me to be more permanent?”

Steve bit his lip and nodded, moving in close to scent Eddie at his neck. “You’ve always smelled like safety to me. And now…you’re starting to smell like home.”

Eddie wrapped his arms around him, confirming that he felt the same. He wanted more of Steve’s scent around his own home. Eddie completed the favor, scenting the soft throw pillows on the couch. 

When Shawn got home, he had Steve spent most of the day inside, doing various things but when the sun set, they had a movie night. Steve tried not to look too giddy when Shawn grabbed one of the pillows and held it to his chest, nose pressed to it. His body language may have been neutral, but the happiness must’ve shown in his scent because Shawn started to cuddle up to him. His omega hindbrain was filled with thoughts he hadn’t allowed for a long time.

Good alpha. Safe. Perfect alpha. Perfect for pup. Need to scent pup. Need him scented by both. 

That was all Steve needed to move things up to the next step. He enacted it when picking Shawn up from school one day. He was mindful not to take up too much of Eddie’s time during dismissal, but Eddie always assured Steve that he’d rather talk to him than the other parents.

“What if you’ve got something important to tell them?”

“That’s what emails are for. And really, how many times can I say ‘your kid cried because someone looked at them’ or ‘ they’re chattier than a telemarketer’?”

Steve figured some things about being a teacher didn’t change all that much between the age groups. He built up his nerves to ask the question. He had already asked Shawn if it was okay and his pup was more than happy about it.

“You know, Shawn’s birthday is coming up soon. We usually go out and do whatever he wants. And we were wondering if you wanted to tag along?”

Eddie looked between them both, mouth agape and looking like he wanted to jump for joy, hug them both, and blast off like a rocket all at once. It really made Steve want to kiss him in front of all these people, parents, teachers and all.

“Hell yeah-I mean, y-yeah”, Eddie stuttered when he remembered where he was.

Shawn looked elated too and things couldn’t be more right.

And of course, that was when things started going wrong.

Part 11

Tags

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @aol19 @lololol-1234 @gregre369 @attic-cat-blog

@hippieg1rl420 @spectrum-spectre

[babydollmarauders]

KARMA— JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

part of the Midnights Fic List

summary: in which y/n’s ex-best friend has been gossiping behind y/n’s back saying that Jack should be with her instead, so y/n shows that karma goes both ways.

specific lyrics: “you’re talking shit, for the hell of it. addicted to betrayal.” and “ask me what i learned from all those years. ask me what i earned from all those tears.” and “karma is my boyfriend, karma is a god, karma is the breeze in my hair on the weekend, karma’s a relaxing thought”

warnings: toxic friendship mentions, light profanity

notes: this is pretty short, i didn’t feel like this one should be too long, i wanted it to be pretty simple just like the song

“did you hear about what Carley said last week?” i hear as soon as i sit down in my seat at brunch.

“no.” i shake my head. “what did she say now?”

“she was out with her friends, and Nicole and Jesper were sat by her at the restaurant; overheard her saying that Jack should be with her instead of you. apparently she’s convinced that he’s only pitying you and she deserves him because she’s ‘richer, prettier, and has more followers’.” Ryleigh says. “what a bitch! i can’t believe you were ever friends with her.“

“karma is a bitch, it’ll get to her one day.” i shrug. “she wasn’t much different when we were friends. claimed i ‘stole’ Jack from her because ‘she saw him first’, but he and i had already been dating by the time she saw him. we just hadn’t been public yet.”

“but, you’re literally the sweetest person i’ve ever met. i’m just saying, i don’t understand how you could’ve been friends with her for so long.” Darya chimes in, setting her mimosa down in front of her.

“i was friends with her since we were ten, she’s always been this way. a lot of my tears were from her hand. she insisted she would do things in the name of friendship and ‘bettering me’, but eventually, i learned that she was just a horrible person and i should stop excusing her actions. as i said, karma will get to her eventually.” i explain as i scan the menu in front of me. i know how Carley is. it doesn’t exactly surprise me that she’s talking bad about me, she used to do it even while we were friends.

“well, karma isn’t coming fast enough. that girl needs to be humbled soon.” Ryleigh exclaims and Darya nods in agreement. before i can respond, the waiter comes to take our orders and the subject changes.

**

i’m sat in glass seats at a Devils home game, waiting for them to come out for warmups. i switch between glass seats and the WAGS box every few games. i like hanging out with the girls but, i love to see the smile on Jack’s face when the Devils score. especially when he scores and he gets to look over at me and see that i watched and that i’m cheering for him. it’s not too long before warmups start that someone sits at the end of my row, and i look over to see Carley and one of her friends. i choose to ignore her and the looks i know she’s giving me. i have a right to be here, and she’s allowed to come to a game if she wants, i don’t control that. it’s when the warmups start that i have a problem with her. i’m looking down at my phone, texting Ryleigh when Jack skates by, banging a hand on the glass in front of me to get my attention. i startle, jumping in my seat and dropping my phone, and he laughs.

“hi baby!” i immediately recognize the voice yelling down the row. i look over to see Carley staring straight at Jack as he skates past her. he turns around, skating backwards and giving her a weird look before looking at me with a ‘what the fuck?’ face. i shrug my shoulders. what possessed her to make her think that calling my boyfriend ‘baby’ is okay?

i let the comment roll off my back, it’s whatever. i know that Jack has tons of fans, he’s talented, he’s hot, he’s sweet, he’s a total package, i get it.

“score a goal for me tonight, babe!” i hear her call out. that’s when my problem starts. and my anger only increases after warmups, when i overhear her talking to her friend. “eventually, he’s gonna realize how much better he can do than y/n. and i’ll be there with open arms when he does.”

i remind myself to stay in my seat. i’ve turned a blind eye to her glares, i’ve let her gossiping fall on deaf ears instead of making a scene or causing drama, and i know it’ll be worth it in the end. i was raised to remember that karma is a powerful thing, and that it goes both ways. you do bad things, something will knock you down a peg. you do good things, you’ll have good luck. it’s common sense. but apparently she didn’t get the message.

**

“babe, come look at this!” Jack calls to me from our bed. it’s officially the off season and Jack and i have been at the Hughes lake house for the past couple days. it’s been nice being surrounded by his family and even a few of our friends.

“what’s up, love?” i ask, walking out of the closet where i was picking out a cover up to wear out on the boat. i slip the sundress i chose over my head and pull it down over my bikini.

“come see what Bratter just sent me.” i flop myself down on the bed next to him, laying on my side and cuddling into him, an arm wrapping around his torso. he tilts his phone screen towards me and i read the text that Jesper sent him.

—

From: Jesper Bratt

took Nicole out to lunch and she pointed out a girl that she said is obsessed with you. said her name was Carley. heard her talking to someone, saying you guys were destined to be together 😂 even heard her say that y/n isn’t good enough for you? does this girl have nothing better to do?

—

“she really just won’t stop, will she?” my question is rhetorical but Jack answers anyways.

“she’ll get the message soon enough. i don’t want her.” his words make me furrow my brows but i nod anyways. “you ready to head out?”

“yeah, let’s go.” we stand from the bed, making our way out of the bedroom and down the stairs, meeting the others in the living room before heading down to the dock and onto the boat. i sit and watch as all the guys take turns wakesurfing, choosing not to participate and instead enjoying the summer evening air.

“babe! babe, c’mere!” Jack calls from the back of the boat, where he’s currently wakesurfing. i stand, walking over and bending over the back of the boat so i can hear him.

“look at you, superstar!” i chime, grinning at him. he laughs and shakes his head.

“no, i wanted to say that i wanna take you on a walk around the lake when we get back.” i admire his smile for a few moments, just nodding in response and watching his face all lit up with joy. this man makes me so happy.

i keep myself rooted in that spot until he decides he’s done and gets back on the boat, letting Luke take his place. he looks at me with a wicked grin and i know exactly what he’s planning to do, but the boat is only so big and he catches me quite easily. pulling me to him, getting me wet with the cold water dripping from his hair and body. i shiver and let out a squeal; halfheartedly attempting to push him away. i feel my feet lift off the ground as Jack moves over to the bench seats, sitting down and pulling me onto his lap.

“now my cover up is all wet!” i feign a pout, but all he does is laugh, placing a gentle kiss on the tip of my nose.

“i’ll make it up to you. promise.” he squeezes me tighter to his chest and i shuffle down in order to lay my head on his chest, getting the side of my face wet in the process, but i don’t care. “i love you.”

“i love you too.” i smile, turning my head slightly to lay a kiss on his chest.

*

when we park back at the dock, Jack lets the guys know we’ll be back up to the house soon and pulls his hoodie over his head. he slings one arm around my shoulders, holding me to his side, and sticks his free hand in his hoodie pocket. we continue to walk along the lakeside in silence, just enjoying the last moments of sunset and the sounds of nature. i stop Jack a few times in order to point out pretty birds or various other beautiful nature moments. i let go of him once more, stepping closer to the water and letting him fall behind me.

“Jack, look at the way the sunset is reflecting off the lake! it’s gorgeous.” i turn to look back at him, checking to see i have his attention, but when i catch sight of him, one knee on the ground with a ring box opened in his hands and a watery smile on his face, my hands fly up to my mouth.

“y/n, i texted Quinn right after i met you, telling him i just met the love of my life. at the time, i thought maybe i was over exaggerating, but then i got to know you, and i knew i wasn’t. these past two and a half years with you have been the best of my life, and i was hoping you’ll choose to continue that. y/f/n, will you marry me?” his voice wavers, laced with emotion, and tears spring to my eyes.

“yes. god, yes! a million times yes!” i exclaim and he takes my hand, slipping the ring in my finger as he stands and i pull him into a kiss. my hands hold his face to mine and he grips my hips. pulling away, i wipe the tears from his cheeks and then mine. “i love you so much.”

“i love you so much more, pretty girl.”

—

@itsmey/n just posted

Liked by @_quinnhughes and 26,372 others

@itsmey/n summer nights 🤍

karma is so good to me

Load more comments

@user1 THEY’RE ENGAGED?! THIS IS SO EXCITING

@_quinnhughes congrats guys! welcome to the family y/n

@itsmey/n thank you huggy!

@user2 OMG!

@jackhughes my forever girl ❤️💍

@itsmey/n so grateful for you

@trevorzegras congrats you two! happy for you guys!

@itsmey/n thank you, z! better clear some time from your summer golfing schedule next year!

[astoldbyaja]

Fire on Fire -Ch.2 -AU JJK-

Normal POV

Yaga sipped his tea silently as he sat across from Yoshinobu Gakuganji.

“She’s agreed to talk to us and let us study her, eh?” Gakuganji confirmed and Yaga nodded.

“Yes. As you know if she becomes uncomfortable for any reason then it all stops here.” he replied.

“She won’t have to worry about a thing. I just wonder how you can put so much faith in her. When Geto defected, he disappeared without a trace. We can’t allow someone like Hawthorne to slip away again. We should have agreed to their terms when she was here the last time.”

“She’s much older now more mature… We couldn’t put that much faith in her younger form” he said.

“Her cursed technique is that she can weaponize oxygen, meaning she can wipe out all curse users if she wanted. The fact she’s allowing us to study her makes me even more distrustful of her.” the elder replied.

“She is aware of your apprehension and that’s why she’s agreeing to let us study her. It’s better we do this now than back in 2006. She knows what will happen if she steps out of line.” Yaga told.

“You really think a sorcerer like Satoru Gojo can stop her. He’s the strongest sorcerer we have with his techniques. But if he knew exactly the kind of power she held… he’s more likely to work with her against us then destroy her for us.” Gakuganji told. Yaga was quiet.

“She believes in protecting non-sorcerer lives. The non-sorcerers who raised her, raised her with love and kindness. Let’s just focus on her being here now… I’d like to offer her a position as a teacher so she has something to do and can learn from us as well.”

“I think that can be arranged.” Gakuganji told.

Delilah’s POV

By the next morning, I was walking to the gates of the school. However, I was met with a white-haired man pointing dramatically at me.

“YOU!” he yelled out. I grinned as I walked casually toward him. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this! You and I have a score to settle!”

He positioned his fingers as if prepared to use a domain on me. I continued my gentle walk, approaching him calmly. His body was tight, eyes still covered by a black sash. I merely approached and when I was side by side, my face feigned confusion.

“I’m sorry… do I know you?” I asked innocently as I walked past him. His body fell over.

“WHAT! WHAT DO YOU MEAN DO YOU KNOW ME! HOW COULD YOU FORGET ABOUT ME ALREADY!” he whined immediately. I continued to stroll inside the school hearing his feet as he followed me. “Seriously, I remember you Delilah Hawthorn, born January 3, Capricorn, raised by Kylee and Liam Hawthorne, blood type AB positive!”

Oh I really got under his skin years ago if he went as far as to look into me like that.

“Sorry I don’t remember.” I replied and now he stopped right in front of me.

“Satoru Gojo!” he said. I just blinked.

“Hm, first I’m ever hearing about you. Anyways, Gojo is it, could you direct me to Yaga’s office.” I replied.

“There you are.” I see Yaga approaching, and I smile.

“Nice to see you again Yaga.” I replied earning me a small smile from the older man.

“Whaat you remember him!” Gojo blurted.

“Nice to see you again as well Delilah… Gojo don’t you have students to look after?” he asked. Gojo pouted and mumbled.

“Yeah yeah, they’re around here somewhere.” he said. I smiled at Yaga who led me to his office.

“Nice to finally have you back in Japan. I’ve spoken with the higher ups and we have decided that during your stay we’d like to offer you a teaching position here so you can study us and have a bit of freedom here as well.” he said. I shook my head immediately.

“I don’t know a thing about teaching. I’d much rather sit in the side lines and maybe study one of your teachers.” I replied as he opened the door to his office.

“I’m glad you think so because I have the perfect teacher for you to shadow.” he said. As we stepped in my eyes fell on none other than Kento Nanmi. My eyes fluttered as the man leaned up and looked at me through his glasses. He placed his newspaper down and stood up with a smile. “Delilah you remember Kento Nanami.”

I wasn’t expecting to see him here so soon, let alone be a teacher. Kento let a warm smile come over his face.

“Surprise.” he said, and I grinned and approached.

The three of us sat down and Yaga explained my position and that I would be shadowing Kento for most of my time here. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if they partnered us together as a means for him to watch me. If that was the case, I’m surprised they didn’t pair me with Gojo then. No Gojo would just ruin my experience here with his annoyance.

Kento just nodded as Yaga spoke and it felt like we were in some kind of big professional board meeting or something.

Now Kento and I were walking calmly down the hall, his professional stare gone and replaced with a warm gaze.

“I feel this was fate… us meeting again and being paired together for such an assignment.” he said. I smiled warmly up at him noticing the warmth in his eyes was still there just like when we were teenagers. I nodded.

“I agree. You know I often thought of you after we separated that day.” I said. His eyes locked on me, a look of surprise on his face.

“Really?” he asked, a slight shade of pink tinting his face. I nodded keeping my eyes forward.

“Yes. You never did tell me what brought you over for a visit that day.” I replied as he opened the door for me for us to exit the building. He stumbled over his words some.

“Yes well I…” was he really still this flustered after all this time.

I could see the familiar fountain in the distance and smiled as I moved over towards, eyeing the clear clean water that sprouted from the middle. I turned and looked at Kento to see him watching me with an obvious gaze. The same stone bench was there and so I had a playful idea.

“You said this was fate right. Maybe we were meant to be right back at this spot.” I sat down now on the marble stone, his eyes yet again eyeing my curls, my silver anklet that was still around my foot. I smiled warmly up at him.

“You told Gojo you weren’t hitting on me and if I remember correctly, I said that was sad for me… So, tell me Kento, what is it you wanted to say?” I asked.

The blush on his cheeks grew dark and he looked down clearing his throat some before slowly moving to play with his tie.

“I remember all too well what I wanted to say… I wanted to say that when I first saw you in the hallway, I thought you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen in my life. I- I wanted to ask you if you’d do me the honors of letting me take you out on a date. But unfortunately, there were too many distractions, and you had to leave that same day before I could ask.” he explained a hint of disappointment laced in his tone toward the last sentence. I could feel my face brightened at his words.

I would have never expected for anyone here to see me in that way. He wanted to ask me on a date? Even now knowing his intentions made me smile.

“Well, if you had asked me, I would have said yes. Like I said yesterday, I thought you were a very handsome boy.” I replied with a warm smile. Now his face was so pink he looked away immediately pushing his glasses to his face as if to hide his eyes.

“Thank you… if I’m not being too forward maybe tonight, I could take you out… on a date.” he said. I was happily stunned at his words.

“You’d still like to after all this time?” I asked. He looked at me now with a smile and nod.

“Yes. I still play that memory over and over in my head and even now I still think you are the most beautiful woman I have ever met, and I would be the luckiest man on this planet to be able to take you out… if that’s okay with you.” He said and I let out a gentle yet happy sigh.

“I would love to Kento.”

That night, I was in a black dress with my hair pinned up. My make up was very light and I only wore a gold bracelet. I had messaged Kento the address to the apartment was staying at and this time, I decided to leave my sunglasses off, my purple eyes shimmering some. There was a knock at the door, and I took a few even breaths and moved to open the door. Standing there in a nice cream suit was Kento Nanami. He too wasn’t wearing his glasses, and his breath seemed to hitch at the sight of me.

“Good evening.” I said with a warm smile, and he just looked me over and then up at my face.

“Good evening… you look absolutely stunning.” he said. I giggled some.

“Thank you, you look quite handsome yourself.” I replied moving to step out of my hotel. When I turned to face him, he held his arm up for me to wrap my own around him. I smiled and did so. Together we moved down the hallway.

“This is a very luxurious hotel. It seems the higher ups really want you to be comfortable during your stay here.” he said. I nodded.

“It would appear so. Did Yaga inform you of how long I would be staying here?” I asked. He nodded.

“Six months, but they’re willing to extend it if everything goes well with you here.” he said. I nodded watching as we moved out into the moon light. The valet brought his car around and I noticed it was a very nice and expense looking car. He approached the passenger’s side and opened the door for me with a warm smile. I smiled my thanks and got in wondering how this night between us would go.

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

VH - The Lowest Bar

Antihero entered the reunion room in the headquarters’ agency, looking everywhere with a wonder they didn’t try to hide. This room was generally used in time of crisis, and by the most powerful superheroes. They couldn’t believe they had finally made it. Shyly, they walked towards the huge round table.

On the other side, there was a little man, grinning as widely as they were. He was drinking something that Antihero supposed was tomato juice.

“Hiya, bud !”

That wasn’t the solemn greeting Antihero was expecting, but maybe it was better like this. They smiled back hesitantly.

“Hello. I, uh- I was supposed to see someone about the machine I’ve made.”

“Yup, I’m the guy.”

“I’m sorry, I thought I knew all the Superheroes of the agency. Are you one of them?”

The man chuckled:

“Sorta.”

Antihero hesitated. They were sure they’d never seen him before, not on the TV nor on the papers nor on social media.

“So you do...missions, fight evil?”

“More like incompetent dorks, but yeah.”

Feeling his interlocutor uneasy, he rolled his eyes and added:

“I do night shifts.”

“Oh, um, okay.”

Embarrassed, Antihero sat down. They were expecting for several people to show up, even perhaps the director’s agency, or at least someone they knew by sight. The man looked young, frail and well...unimpressive. At least he seemed very enthusiastic. He kept smiling at them.

“Shoot. Don’t monologue too long about it.”

Antihero gulped and placed the Machine on the table. The man’s eyes shone. He put away his red drink to examine it further.

“What a big thingie ! With all those pipes and these strings and...bits and pieces!”

“Thank you?”

“Yeah, can’t say I’m good with this electronic stuff. Old-fashioned family, you know. I like phones, though. Do you know that if you yell the word at it, it submits and gives you lots of bats pictures?”

“Yes.”

“You are a true expert, then. Go on, tell me.”

Antihero coughed a little:

“Well, I’ve found possessions of an ancient supervillain when I stopped a villain the other day. It was made by some mad scientist who thought she could scan the souls of people. Villain used it on his henchmen to see if they had what it took before hiring them.”

The man rubbed the bridge of his nose, appalled:

“Really? See, that’s what’s wrong with the world today.”

“Exactly! More and more villains have access to this kind of technology-”

“-And not bothering testing people themselves. "

The table shook under his fist while his other arm was waving, as if he could catch into thin air the words that would express his frustration:

"Where’s the creativity? Where’s the craft? You can’t just push a button to deal with your victims! You have to take the time to discover their phobia and make it happen! You dirty your hands and rip out their guts yourself! Otherwise, what’s the point? ”

“Err- I see you try very hard to understand villains-”

“Oh, it’s because I have lots of empathy."

He took a big sigh and added:

"But let’s get back to the subject. What about the machine?”

“Fortunately, my team took it and well-”

Antihero took a big inspiration, wondering how useful it was to explain the functioning of the complex mechanism to someone who referred wires as “strings”, and decided to go straight to the point:

“I won’t annoy you with details. Just know that it’s now programmed the other way.”

“Meaning?”

“It can now detect the people who are pure of heart.”

“Really? How so?”

“Well, all I do is switch it on, the person speaks up and shows his eyes to the scan here, the machine looks into their soul, and then it gives a number. The average human is around 50, but the best person ever could reach a 100, theoretically.”

“And we care why?”

“Sir! The applicability is huge! Imagine if in politics we could give our politicians this test! Or- Or to anyone who wants to be a hero! Or any applicants in any job, really.”

“Where does the number come from?”

“Oh, it’s a score based on every crime the person has committed or thought about committing.”

“A crime? So it’s based on the law?”

“Yes, mostly. That’s the most objective base.”

“How true. And those below 50?”

“Well…”

Antihero looked away:

“When making the machine, Supervillain has ordered for those who failed the test to be executed. So, um, there’s still a function for that, if the score is really bad. We couldn’t delete it, but we made it better. Now it’s quick and painless. It’s not automatic, but with worst cases, it can be a humane method of execution.”

“And your point of coming here is?”

“Well, to have your authorization to produce the machine, of course. Unless you have suggestions to modify it.”

The man giggled, stroking his cheek in reflection.

“Let me sum this up. You stole your thingie from a guy who couldn’t be bothered to test his own minions – honestly, that’s not that hard, you give them one person to execute and see how much they squirm—then you’ve based it on the law, which as you know never changes and is always right, but you couldn’t find the button to delete the killing function. Do I get it right?”

Antihero blushed, griping their elbows with their hands:

“There...there are certainly modifications to be made...you...you don’t like it?”

“Don’t like it? I love it!”

The man leaned towards them. He was still smiling. Antihero, who had raised their head, looked at his white teeth glinting in the artificial light. Without knowing why, they shivered. There was still a bit of red at the corner of his mouth. The stain looked a little too dark and thick to be tomato juice. Maybe it was a special protein drink.

The man licked his lips:

“That’s a great idea ! In fact, I insist that you use it on me.”

Antihero stared at him with his eyes wide open.

“I couldn’t…possibly…It’s still a prototype, you know.”

The man shook his head and stood up, opening a computer that he turned towards them:

“That’s my file. Look at this, if you're not convinced.”

The first thing Antihero saw was the percentage of success. It might have been the first time they'd seen a 100% – except of course for the newcomers, so they scrolled down to see the details. They gasped:

“Y...You stopped all this people? Villain, and Villain, and also Villain and oh damn...even Supervillain? And Supervillain?”

“Yep,” the man smiled nicely. “See? Total paragon of virtue here. Plus, I don’t go boasting in the news or anywhere else.”

Antihero looked at them with admiration.

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to-”

“Oh, that’s all right. Somehow, lots of people are unconvinced about my inner goodness. Let me try!”

Antihero beamed at them and switched the machine on. The man obediently stared at the machine and got closer than ever. For the first time, Antihero realized how his pupils were abnormally large. When he said the sentence Antihero told him to say, they were surprised at how sharp his teeth looked, and how two of them seemed- well- longer than before…

They shook their head. They probably just needed a little more sleep.

Then the machine burped. And clicked. And groaned.

“It didn’t give a number,” pointed the little man after a while, surprised. “What does it do, now?”

Antihero blubbered, their eyes wide:

“I- I think- it’s dysfunctional- it never did that before-”

“Oh, it sings, isn’t that nice! Is it programmed to play a funeral march?”

“I- We’ve never noticed this...It’s losing fluid…”

“No, no. I think it’s just crying black tears.”

After a moaning that sounded disturbingly human, the mechanism fell into a deafening silence. Then, the biggest pipe popped off. Antihero yelped as the machine opened in two, projecting black ooze everywhere. The man dodged in time, they did not. He shook his head as Antihero gasped, their eyes slowly filling with tears:

“Man, I must have been off the charts. My virtue stroke again.”

This time, Antihero definitively saw two long fangs that looked like tiny daggers as he added:

“Guess all the bastards will live! Too fucking bad.”

*

Vampire Hero is a recurring character. His job is to troll current villains. Check the Vampire Hero Masterlist or Tag for more snippets with him.

Or back to Hero x Villain Masterlist.

[mqsi]

Hi, could you do where Barça calls the reader, Pedri's girlfriend, to participate in a video with him (like that video with Pedri and Ansu where you only have 7 seconds to respond) I would like something funny and cute, please . Thanks

Hii, I hope I did a good job with this, it was kinda tricky to write🫶🏻

——————————————————————————

You just got back home from Uni and was waiting for Pedri to arrive so you can have lunch together. He soon walked in the living room, greeting you with a kiss and a wide smile.

“Is there a reason you’re so happy?”

“Yep, you’re going to Camp Nou tomorrow with me so we can film a video”

“What?” you asked, a bit confused by this statement.

“The team wants you to be in one of those videos Barca posts on youtube”You were excited but nervous as well because you didn’t know what to expect from this.

Tomorrow morning, Pedri and you drove to Camp Nou where a film crew and some other players met with you. You greeted everyone with a smile before being seated on one of the high chairs. Pedri sat beside you and it seemed as only the two of you will be in this video.

“Alright, we are doing never have I ever today” one of Barca crew members said.

You glanced at Pedri who was biting his lip and waiting for further instructions.

“I will read questions and you each have to answer. You’ll count on your fingers and the first who puts down all of them, loses”

You both nodded and the game started.

“Never have I ever used someone else’s toothbrush”

You made a face “Omg no” and turned to Pedri but he was looking at you and trying to suppress a smile. You watched him slowly put down one finger.

“Pedro, what?”

“IT WAS YOURS” he yelled and you turned to the camera with your mouth wide open.

“We were on vacation and I forgot my toothbrush so I used yours until I bought the new one next morning” he admitted and you just sighed “next”.

“Never have I ever lied about kissing someone”

You looked down at your feet and put a finger down, avoiding Pedri’s eyes.

“Why and who” he said laughing.

“You” you said turning to him, a slight blush covering your face. Pedri was smiling at you with his eyebrows raised.

“After our second date I told one of my friends that you kissed me cause she was telling me we’re not gonna end up together cause you were taking too long with the kiss”

“I was just shy!” Pedri defended himself “Alright enough of that, next”

“Never have I ever not worn underwear on a night out”

This one was done without any words, just you putting down a finger and Pedri side eyeing you, both of you knowing damn well how that night ended.

“Never have I ever forgotten where I parked my car”

Pedri put down a finger almost immediately, shaking his head left and right and you started laughing at the memory

“It was our vacation and we were searching for the Mini EVERYWHERE. It ended up being on a totally different end of the place. I guess this counts me in as well” you said, placing down a finger. The game went on quite long before you both came down to just one finger.

“Okay, last question, this one decides the winner. Never have I ever gone nude in public”

You shook your head no but Pedri yelled at the crew “NOT FAIR, that was intentional!”

Other boys that were watching this behind the camera started laughing hysterically.

You turned to your boyfriend “Pedro, is there something you need to tell me?”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell her bro” Gavi yelled from behind the camera and Pedri sighed, rubbing his forehead.

“Gavi and I made a bet one time about some goals I don’t even remember now. I lost and.. well had to run in the middle of the pitch here, naked. The whole team saw that INCLUDING Xavi”

By the time he finished the story, everyone including you was laughing and making fun of Pedri.

“Well, that makes me the winner” you said, celebrating the win with Pedri’s goal scoring celebration and kissing him on the cheek.

——————————————————————————

[jennyboom21]

In 2023 actor Sophia Bush made headlines when she filed for divorce one year after a storybook wedding. By the fall it was public knowledge that she was in a new relationship. With a woman. The internet seemed to be foaming at the digital mouth for a scandal, but to those who knew her, it was clear she’d never been more herself. Here, in her own words, Bush speaks to the power of finally learning to listen to her intuition.

In April of 2022 I was close to calling off my wedding. Instead of running away, I doubled down on being a model wife. In 2023 my now ex-husband posted a lovely tribute to our first anniversary on Instagram. When I saw it, I felt the blood drain from my face. Fans and friends were telling me how exciting this milestone was and how happy I looked. I felt nothing. Things hadn’t been easy at home, but everyone says marriage is hard, right? As the day wore on, I felt mounting pressure from strangers online waiting for me to post something—what a strange part of public life to have to navigate—so I sat myself down and chose a picture.

It was a black-and-white photograph of us running away from the camera. Yes, I see the bittersweet irony now. I wrote a really nice story about the people in that picture. Except it was just that: a story. I typed something about how incredibly happy I was and tried to drown out the familiar voice in my head. Make it look easy. Make it look perfect. If your smile is shiny enough, maybe no one will notice that up close all of your teeth are broken. But sometimes broken is just broken.

I hit post. And then I walked into the bathroom and threw up.

I believe in people and ideas so deeply—and those feelings are often so powerful to me—that I hadn’t realized I’d spent the last two decades moving through life showing up for others but often turning my back on myself. This time things felt different. Maybe it’s just cold feet, I told myself. Maybe I was too sensitive. Maybe this was the feeling you get when you settle down later in life and have to make space for another person. There have been moments in my life when it feels like the universe is screaming at me to pay attention. This was one of them, but I didn’t listen.

I kept repeating the adages we all know so well: Relationships are hard. Marriage takes compromise. You know the rest. And so I got married. We threw one of the greatest wedding weekends ever. We had an amazing time with our closest friends and family. It was truly one of the best parties I’ve ever been to, and we raised a ton of money for charity. I don’t regret any of that.

But after the wedding I found myself in the depths and heartbreak of the fertility process, which was the most clarifying experience of my life. It feels like society is finally making space for brutally honest conversations about how hard and painful any fertility journey is, but I kept mine private. I was trying to get through months of endless ultrasounds, hormone shots, so many blood draws that I have scar tissue in my veins, and retrieval after retrieval, while simultaneously realizing the person I had chosen to be my partner didn’t necessarily speak the same emotional language I did.

As I lost track of how many examination tables I had lain on alone, I felt something in me seismically shift. Six months into that journey, I think I knew deep down that I absolutely had made a mistake. It would take my head and heart a while longer to understand what my bones already knew.

And that’s why, when I got an opportunity to do a play in London, I had to go. I had to get out of our house. I had to get onstage. I had to get back in my body. Maybe that could shift things. Maybe that would jump-start the joy I’d been chasing. The play slowly began to put me back together. It was grueling, and it was also the most exhilarating experience. I loved every second of it.

But the book doesn’t lie. The body does, in fact, keep the score. When half of our company went down with a virus, everyone recovered fast except for me. I continued to decline. I would put every fiber of my being into my performance onstage, and then be packed in bags of ice as soon as the curtain closed. I spent multiple nights in the hospital, I was pumped with endless amounts of fluids, I underwent cardiac testing and organ monitoring. It was clear that my body was screaming and I had to listen. It was hard for me to accept. I was part of a team. But I needed to go home, where my doctors (and, truthfully, my health insurance) could get a better handle on my symptoms. My time in London was over. So was my marriage. It all came crashing down at once.

During the summer of 2023, I moved back into my empty home in LA. I was separated and preparing to file for divorce, and groups of women in my life started opening up about issues they were going through in their own homes. It seemed like every week there were more of us, including [former US soccer player] Ashlyn [Harris], whom I’d first met in 2019 and who was in the process of figuring out her own split from her wife. She’d been such a kind ear for those of us who opened up about our problems during a shared weekend of speaking engagements at a fancy conference in Cannes, and soon it became clear that she needed our ears too.

For those of us who had no solution in sight or Hail Marys left, having this community changed everything. We really wrapped one another up in support. It was tragic and hard. But it was also beautiful. There were moments of incredible sadness because no one signs up to get married thinking it’ll end. The days when we knew people needed to laugh, we sent inspirational memes and silly TikToks. We read books written by great therapists and shared emo quotes from poets. Our “Begin Again” Amazon shopping list, which we created for the ones moving out and starting over, has now been forwarded to so many other women.

I didn’t expect to find love in this support system. I don’t know how else to say it other than: I didn’t see it until I saw it. And I think it’s very easy not to see something that’s been in front of your face for a long time when you’d never looked at it as an option and you had never been looked at as an option. What I saw was a friend with her big, happy life. And now I know she thought the same thing about me.

It really took other people in our safe support bubble pointing out to me how we’d finish each other’s sentences or be deeply affected by the same things. When you’re so in the trenches of hardship—plus you have the added weight of having to go through it on a public stage—it can be hard to see anything but what’s right in front of you.

It took me confronting a lot of things, what felt like countless sessions of therapy, and some prodding from loved ones, but eventually I asked Ashlyn to have a non-friend-group hang to talk about it.

And that meal was four and a half hours long and truly one of the most surreal experiences of my life thus far. In hindsight, maybe it all had to happen slowly and then suddenly all at once. Maybe it was all fated. Maybe it really is a version of invisible string theory. I don’t really know. But I do know that for a sparkly moment I felt like maybe the universe had been conspiring for me. And that feeling that I have in my bones is one I’ll hold on to no matter where things go from here.

But there was a lot that quickly turned ugly too. People looking in from the outside weren’t privy to just how much time it took, how many painful conversations were had. A lot of effort was made to be graceful with other people’s processing, their time and obligations, and their feelings. What felt like seconds after I started to see what was in front of me, the online rumor mill began to spit in the ugliest ways. There were blatant lies. Violent threats. There were accusations of being a home-wrecker. The ones who said I’d left my ex because I suddenly realized I wanted to be with women—my partners have known what I’m into for as long as I have (so that’s not it, y’all, sorry!).

The idea that I left my marriage based on some hysterical rendezvous—that, to be crystal-clear, never happened—rather than having taken over a year to do the most soul crushing work of my life? Rather than realizing I had to be the most vulnerable I’ve ever been, on a public stage, despite being terrified to my core? It feels brutal. Just because I didn’t want to process my realizations in real time on social media and spell them out for the world doesn’t mean the journey wasn’t long and thoughtful and exhaustive.

It’s painful to be doing deep work and have it picked apart by clueless strangers. Everyone that matters to me knows what’s true and what isn’t. But even still there’s a part of me that’s a ferocious defender, who wants to correct the record piece by piece. But my better self, with her earned patience, has to sit back and ask, What’s the fucking point? For who? For internet trolls? No, thank you. I’ll spend my precious time doing things I love instead.

I don’t believe it’s my place to discuss details of Ashlyn’s circumstances or her children, but I will say that I am absolutely in awe of her relentless integrity. The way she prioritizes and centers her kids, not only in her life but in the core of her being, is breathtaking to behold. Falling in love with her has sutured some of my own childhood wounds, and made me so much closer to my own mother. Seeing Ashlyn choose to not simply survive, but thrive, for her babies has been the most beautiful thing I’ve ever witnessed a friend do. And now I get to love her. How lucky am I?

I sort of hate the notion of having to come out in 2024. But I’m deeply aware that we are having this conversation in a year when we’re seeing the most aggressive attacks on the LGBTQIA+ community in modern history. There were more than 500 anti-LGBTQIA+ bills proposed in state legislatures in 2023, so for that reason I want to give the act of coming out the respect and honor it deserves. I’ve experienced so much safety, respect, and love in the queer community, as an ally all of my life, that, as I came into myself, I already felt it was my home. I think I’ve always known that my sexuality exists on a spectrum. Right now I think the word that best defines it is queer. I can’t say it without smiling, actually. And that feels pretty great.

Would I have liked to make the public part of this journey a choice for myself, and not have it taken from my lips and set ablaze by gossip blogs and bottom-feeder online bots? Of course. I’m very aware, though, as we discuss bullying and harassment and being outed without consent—that I’m incredibly lucky this happened in my adulthood. I really love who I am, at this age and in this moment. I’m so lucky that my parents, having spent time with Ash over the holidays, said, “Well, this finally looks right.” I know it could have gone differently.

We’ve all learned about kids who have taken their own life after being outed or who have been killed simply for being who they are in a place or time that is threatened by their expressed joy. I am so lucky to be here, now. I have real joy. It took me 41 years to get here. And while I marvel at it, I will also make space for people’s pain. But I will not carry anyone’s projected shame. When I take stock of the last few years, I can tell you that I have never operated out of more integrity in my life. I hope that’s clear enough for everyone speculating out there, while being as gentle as I possibly can be.

After the news became public, my mom told me that one of her friends called her and said, “Well, this can’t be true. I mean, your daughter isn’t gay.” My mom felt that it was obvious, from the way her friend emphasized the word, that she meant it judgmentally. And you know what my mom said? “Oh honey, I think she’s pretty gay. And she’s happy.”

I finally feel like I can breathe. I don't think I can explain how profound that is. I feel like I was wearing a weighted vest for who knows how long. I hadn’t realized how heavy it was until I finally just put it down. This might sound crazy—but I think other people in trauma recovery will get it—I am taking deep breaths again. I can feel my legs and feet. I can feel my feet in my shoes right now. It makes me want to cry and laugh at the same time.

It is so, so scary to do the brave thing, to say, “I’m just not happy.” Especially if you’re in a partnership and you have to say it first. But if you do it, you get the chance to be happy. To find your joy. I turned 41 last summer, amid all of this, and I heard the words I was saying to my best friend as they came out of my mouth. “I feel like this is my first birthday,” I told her. This year was my very first birthday.

[enchxanting]

our love is god [ethan landry] pt. 6

read part 5 here || all parts

pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader

warnings: angst, discussion of suicide, obsessive compulsive behavior

a/n: this is sooooo lady macbeth coded. hope you enjoy!!

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

Dear Diary,

I go to the bathroom at least twice a period.

When I'm there, I make sure I’m alone. Then I do two things. First, I stare at myself in the mirror. I don’t break eye contact until I’ve sufficiently recalled the memory of Tara’s limp body in my peripheral vision as Ethan pulled me out of her room.

After that, I wash my hands at least three times, but it’s usually closer to seven. 

I left Tara behind four days ago. My hands are raw. I don’t know what to do. 

I can’t wash this feeling away. 

Still, it’s better than sending my SAT scores to San Quentin. Thank god for Ethan, because I don’t know what I would’ve done without him. “Sorry, officer, I accidentally poisoned my best friend after our huge public disagreement?” 

Sure, yeah, that sounds believable. I looked up the prison time for manslaughter, assuming the judge believes it was an accident, and I don’t have eleven years to spare right now. 

Talk soon.

Y/N

I close my diary and return it to my backpack for safekeeping. 

Mindy is still writing on the pieces of looseleaf the school counselor, Dr. Stone, provided her with. It appears that most people don’t keep a diary past the third grade, but some TED talk said that journaling can help process big traumas, and the school has been on that shit ever since. Luckily, they don’t ask to read the entries.

The school took away my friends’ and my free periods and sent us to the counselor’s office after the news broke of Tara’s “suicide.” Anika and Chad have to go alone, but Mindy and I have always had free blocks together. 

This group therapy has got to be some sort of cosmic punishment for what I did. Now I have to watch one of her oldest friends mourn, as if I wasn’t the one who let her die.

Mindy clicks her pen and slides the papers across to Dr. Stone. He takes them without looking, inserting them neatly into a file stuffed with previous entries. 

“Thank you, girls. I know that the past week has been… difficult, to say the least. I want you to know that this is a safe space, and you can freely share any emotions that this tragic event has brought up.”

Poor Dr. Stone. I know that he’s really trying, but there aren’t any emotions I can bring up that wouldn’t be incriminating. Guilt? Disgust? Fear? I sneak a glance at Mindy, who’s staring out the window. She’s silent, too.

Dr. Stone sighs. “I understand that this is all very new. Maybe we’ll feel up to talking tomorrow.”

The bell rings, and Mindy gets up without saying a word. I mumble a half-hearted “thank you” before following her into the hall.

“Christ, that shit sucks,” she says. “I hate fucking journaling.”

We turn down the hallway towards the gym, where Chad’s taking part in some sort of football conditioning at lunch. We’ve developed a habit of skipping halfway through the day to sit in his car. 

Mindy drops her bag and sits against the wall by the gym door. “It’s just so unfair,” she says. “I still don’t understand.”

I sit down beside her. “Don’t understand what?”

She’s quiet for a second. “I read the note. Tara said there wasn’t anyone left who cared about her. And that’s bullshit. I cared, and Chad cared, and Anika cared, and Sam cared, and you cared.”

Her eyes are brimming with angry tears. “Part of me is so, so fucking mad at her. Like, how could she leave us behind, after we made it out together? We were starting to get somewhere. She had that thing with Chad going, even if both of them were too dumb to realize. You were pulling in steady cash, thanks to me, so we could actually afford to get out of here. We talked about college in New York or something, far away from Woodsboro. There were all these goddamn plans.

“But mostly I fucking miss her, man. It’s barely been a week and I’m so… incomplete. And no amount of school counseling or journaling or whatever inspirational quote my homeroom teacher wants to share with me is going to fill the void she left behind.”

Mindy wipes away her tears. For the first time since we left Dr. Stone’s office, she looks right at me. 

“I know you had your fight or whatever the night before, and if that were me I’d be torn up about it. But seriously, Y/N, you had nothing to do with it. After everything with… Amber, last year, she needed a friend. One that she wasn’t trauma-bonded with, like Chad and me. And you showed up at the right time. She loved you, man.”

My head is spinning. I’m wracked with all sorts of conflicting guilt, grief, anger, whatever, and I can’t tell anyone about it. 

So I get up and start walking towards the nearby locker room.

“Wait, Y/N, what are you doing?” Mindy calls. I don’t answer.

I can hear her get up and follow after me, but it’s been at least two hours since I’ve gone to the bathroom. At this point, I don’t care if someone watches my regimen– I need to be clean.

Turning into the locker room, I make a beeline for the sinks. I get close to the mirror, close enough to make out my pores. and stare down my reflection. After that harrowing edition of a trademark Mindy monologue, it doesn’t take long for me to recall Tara’s face. I wash my hands once, twice, three times, four times.

“Jesus, Y/N, seriously, what are you doing?” Mindy watches from behind, her voice still shaky from crying.

Five times, six times, seven times, and it’s still not enough. I’m breathing hard at this point, but I can’t get enough air. There’s blood everywhere, all over me, my clothes, even on Mindy. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the showers. Perfect. I rush over to the nearest stall and turn the handle. 

I don’t undress before stepping under the showerhead, letting the freezing water overtake me.

taglist: @miawastakens

[thelittlestladylikesthis]

The Pink Rose, part 6

Part Six- July 8th/9th, 74 ADD

Pairing: Haymitch Abernathy x reader 

Word count: 2,780

Warnings: pet names, arguing, cursing, yelling

July 8th, 74 ADD

Haymitch invited [Y/n] to sit in on Katniss’ interview prep. After lunch, the three of them situated themselves in a triangle in the sitting room. Katniss sat down and hunched over to rest her elbows on her knees. Haymitch stayed standing and [Y/n] gracefully sat down, crossing her ankles. 

“What?” Katniss asked after an uncomfortable brief stare-down from Haymitch.

“I’m trying to figure out what to do with you,” he said, “How’re we gonna present you. Are you gonna be charming? Aloof? Fierce? So far, you’re shinin’. You volunteered to save your sister. Cinna made you look unforgettable. You’ve got the top training score. People are intrigued, but no one knows who you are,” 

“The impression you make tomorrow will decide exactly what we can secure for you in terms of sponsors,” [Y/n] added.

“What’s Peeta’s approach? Or am I not allowed to ask?” Katniss said stubbornly

“Likable. He has a sort of natural self-deprecating humor,” says Haymitch. “Whereas when you open your mouth, you come across more… hostile.”

“I do not!” Katniss almost yelled as her back straightened.

“Please. I don’t know where you pulled that cheery, wavy girl on the chariot from, but I haven’t seen her before or since,” nagged Haymitch.

“And you’ve given me so many reasons to be cheery,” she sneered back.

“Alright, knock it off you two!” [Y/n] demanded, “Katniss, you had to grow up fast and it shows- you’re an oldest child from the Seam. You know the struggle. You have your sister and… Gale? You probably feel comfortable in front of them, but being the center of attention is clearly a place you are not used to,”

Katniss nodded in understanding, “You seem to be pretty comfortable there,”

[Y/n] laughed, “I wasn’t always like that, and being used to it is not the same as being comfortable. Nowadays, I attract less attention if I dress pretty. If I were to show up for interviews wearing my normal 12 style, I think the Capital would riot. Such is the curse of being a beloved victor,”

“Exactly being a disliked victor is better,” Haymitch said proudly, “Besides, you don’t have to please us. we’re not going to sponsor you. So pretend we’re the audience,” he plopped into a chair. “Delight me.”

Haymitch conducted a mock interview with Katniss while [Y/n] took notes. Katniss tried to answer his questions in a likable way, but she was too angry with the whole thing. The longer the interview went on, the more her frustration began to show.

“All right, enough,” Haymitch said, “We’ve got to find another angle. Not only are you hostile, I don’t know anything about you. I’ve asked you fifty questions and still have no sense of your life, your family, what you care about. They want to know about you, Katniss.”

“But I don’t want them to! They’re already taking my future! They can’t have the things that mattered to me in the past!” she complained.

“Then lie! Make something up!” Haymitch almost yelled back.

“I’m not good at lying,” Katniss said.

[Y/n] spoke up, “You should work on that Kat-” 

“Because you’ve got about as much charm as a dead slug,” Haymitch interrupted. Realizing that might’ve been harsh, his voice softened, “Here’s an idea. Try acting humble.”

“Humble,” Katniss said quietly.

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” [Y/n] mused, “Yes, you can’t believe a little girl from District Twelve has done this well. The whole thing’s been more than you ever could have dreamed of. Talk about Cinna’s clothes, how nice the people are, how dazzling the Capital is. If you won’t talk about yourself, at least compliment the audience. Gush- these people love themselves and what they have- use it- make them look like fools.”

Even this didn’t work for Katniss. The next couple of hours proved that she couldn’t gush, be cocky or arrogant, funny, sexy (that pained [Y/n] to even try), or mysterious. Somewhere between arrogant and funny, Haymitch started drinking. [Y/n] tried to slow him down, but he wouldn’t listen “I give up, sweetheart. Just answer the questions and try not to let the audience see how openly you hate them.”

“He’s right Katniss-” [Y/n]

“Of course I’m right!” Haymitch shot before reeling back in at [Y/n]’s quick death glare.

She turned back to Katniss, “I was you once- but I made them like and they gave me things that kept me alive in that arena. Medicine. A bottle of fresh water. A blanket. We don’t know what your arena is, but securing sponsors is the most prepared you can be,”

Katniss sighed and nodded in understanding.

July 9, 74 ADD

Cinna, Portia, and Effie joined Haymitch and [Y/n] backstage after making up Katniss and Peeta. Peeta wore a striking black suit with flame accents to keep the theme going. Katniss wore an impressive gown designed by Cinna. The whole thing was covered in fire like jewels that looked like flames when she moved. The girl on fire. The gold accents painted on her skin shined and looked beautifully tasteful in contrast to her gown. Haymitch, [Y/n], and Effie were all dressed up for the occasion. Effie’s lavender dress matched her tall floral high heels and towering curly wig of almost the same hue of purple. Haymitch’s suit was clearly new and he wore a lapel pin that resembled a flame. [Y/n] wore a black jeweled dress that hugged her curves and, to Katniss, looked difficult to breathe in. [Y/n] was the coal supporting Katniss and Peeta’s flames. Effie and Cinna had made it very clear that this was a time for impressions. 

Just before the tributes were paraded onto the stage, Haymitch and [Y/n] walked up behind Peeta and Katniss. Haymitch almost growled as he said, “Remember, you’re still a happy set of kids from District Twelve. So act like it.”

Katniss turned around and opened her mouth to say something, but all she saw was Haymitch and [Y/n] walking away interestingly close together. She furrowed her brow in confusion as Haymitch guided [Y/n] by placing his hand gently on her lower back just above her rear. Katniss couldn’t hear what he whispered to make [Y/n]... giggle?

[Y/n] and Haymitch joined the rest of “Team Twelve” (as Effie coined them) in the backstage waiting area to watch the televised version of the interviews. Peeta looked amazing and Katniss did better than expected- but [Y/n] could still tell she was uncomfortable.

Every citizen of Panem is tuned in to watch their tribute. Caesar Flickerman, the interview host of more than forty years, bounced on stage in an Effie-like fashion. He didn’t appear to have aged in the last four decades. Same full face of makeup. Same hair in a tall bouffant that he dyed a different color every Hunger Games. At least in [Y/n]’s lifetime, he’d always worn the same ceremonial suit of midnight blue. Impressively, it was dotted with a thousand tiny lightbulbs that twinkled like stars. This time, Caesar’s hair was powder blue and his eyelids and lips were coated to match.

Caesar told a few jokes and once he had everyone’s attention, introduced the female tribute from District 1: a provocative looking girl in a see-through gold gown.

“I will never understand the sexualization of teenagers,” [Y/n] whispered to Effie.

“Oh it’s just the fashion,” Effie dismissed.

Every 3 minutes, a buzzer sounded marking the end of the interview and time to move on. Haymitch told [Y/n] to wake him at District 10 and rested his head back. [Y/n] smacked his chest lightly and told him to be an adult. She proceeded to keep Effie at ease by commenting on Katniss’ sitting posture or the effort being made to not look like she’d stepped on something smelly. Tribute after tribute they watched each interview intently and [Y/n] took notes as if she were trying to decipher each one like a puzzle.Some tributes were interesting, a few may have prompted a yawn or two. Twenty-two tributes later:

“Help me say welcome to the lovely Katniss Everdeen: the Girl on Fire!” Caesar shouted.

Katniss walked onto the stage and shook Caesar’s outstretched hand. [Y/n] and Effie gave each other small smiles as Katniss successfully walked out in heels and a gown without tripping.

“So, Katniss, the Capitol must be quite a change from District Twelve. What’s impressed you most since you arrived here?” Caesar asked with an ear to ear grin.

Haymitch clicked his tongue after Katniss had a delayed response of “The lamb stew,”

Caesar laughed, “The one with the dried plums?” Katniss nodded as the crowd joined Caesar’s enthusiasm, “Oh, I eat it by the bucketful.” He laughed as he held his stomach.

“Now, Katniss,” he said, “When you came out in the opening ceremonies, my heart actually stopped,” he turned to the crowd, “Did any of you experience this as well? My heart stopped- What did you think of that costume?”

Much to Team Twelve’s surprise, Katniss smiled, “You mean after I realized I wouldn’t burn to death?”

Caesar and the audience were in stitches, “Yes. Start then,” says Caesar. Katniss was exceeding expectations.

“I thought Cinna was brilliant and it was the most gorgeous thing I’d ever seen and I couldn’t believe I was wearing it. I can’t believe I’m wearing this, either- I mean, look at it!”

The crowd oohs and aahs as Katniss shows off the skirt of her gown. [Y/n] realized how much coaching of his own Cinna had done when Katniss spun in a circle.

“Oh, do that again!” Caesar demanded. 

Katniss lifted her arms and spun harder allowing her skirt to fly outwards, covering her in the same flames from the ceremony. The audience broke into cheers, applause, and enthusiastic screams. When she stopped spinning, Caesar gave her his arm to steady herself and begged her not to stop.

“I have to, I’m dizzy!” she giggled, matching his energy. 

“So she is a teenage girl,” Haymitch whispered to [Y/n].

Katniss struggled to take a step from the dizziness so Caesar wrapped his arm around her shoulders, “Don’t worry, I’ve got you. Can’t have you following in the footsteps of the wrong mentor.”

The crowd was in an uproar of laughter as the cameras found Haymitch and [Y/n]: one now famous for his drunken stage dive at the reaping, and the other famous for being a deadly beauty. Haymitch and [Y/n] waved the cameras away good-naturedly and [Y/n] pointed back to Katniss.

Caesar laughs and brings the crowd back in as he and Katniss returned to their seats, “So, how about that training score. Eleven. Whatever happened there?”

The cameras find the Gamemakers and Katniss says, “Um ... all I can say is I think it was a first.” The Gamemakers are laughing and nodding in agreement.

“You’re killing us- details! Details!,” says Caesar.

Katniss looks to the Gamemakers, “I’m not supposed to talk about it, right?” One of them shouts down that she can’t say anything so Katniss looks at the crowd, “Sorry. My lips are sealed.”

Caesar moped then grew uncharacteristically quiet and serious, “Let’s go back then, to the moment they called your sister’s name at the reaping and you volunteered. Can you tell us

about her?”

Katniss gave a small exhale. “Her name’s Prim. She’s just twelve and I love her more than

Anything.” The crowd was silent with emotion.

“What did she say to you? After the reaping?” Caesar asked.

“She asked me to try really hard to win.” 

“And what did you say?” 

“I said I would try. I would try and win for her,”

“And try you shall,” Caesar said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze as the buzzer sounded, “Sorry we’re out of time, folks. Best of luck, Katniss Everdeen, tribute from District Twelve.”

The crowd doesn’t stop clapping and cheering until Katniss is seated backstage. They pause for a moment until Peeta is introduced.

[Y/n] followed Katniss, “I am so proud of you- that is how you get sponsors!’ she said as the crowd laughs at something Peeta said. They missed Caesars question, but heard Peeta ask if he smelt like roses. The crowd cannot contain themselves as Peeta and Caesar sniff each other.

“Seems we won’t have trouble getting things for either of you,” [Y/n] smiles.

Caesar’s voice comes through the backstage TV, “So Peeta, tell me, is there a special girl back home?” Peeta shakes his head side-to-side as he denies having anyone, “Handsome lad like you? There must be a special girl. Come on, tell us?” Caesar sounds like he’ll die if Peeta doesn’t start talking about someone.

Peeta sighed, “Well, there is this one girl I’ve had a crush on forever,” Caesar got a knowing grin on his face, “But I’m pretty sure she didn’t recognize me until the reaping.”

[Y/n] mused as the crowd collectively expressed sympathy, “Ah, he’s taken a sympathetic angle,”

“She have another fellow?” Caesar asked sadly.

“I don’t think so, but a lot of boys like her,” Peeta said.

“Well, you go out there, and you win this thing, and she’ll have to go out with you!” Caesar said encouragingly.

Just loud enough for everyone to hear, Peeta said, “No, I don’t think winning will help too much,”

“Oh? Why not?”

Peeta’s cheeks lit up to match the flames on Katniss’ dress. Everyone- [Y/n] and Katniss included- leaned forward in anticipation of his answer, “Because… because... she came here with me.”

The cameras lingered on Peeta’s heartbroken expression. Suddenly, they are fixed on Katniss and [Y/n], mouths open in shock. Katniss closed her mouth and looked down so the cameras couldn’t see her expression and [Y/n] wrapped an arm around Katniss, trying to appear sympathetic.

“Oh, well that’s bad luck,” Caesar’s expression was full of genuine pain and mirrored on the crowd- half of whom had started crying.

The interview finished as Caesar consoled Peeta and wished him well. The crowd clapped and cheered as the last tribute left the stage. [Y/n] knew Katniss was not blushing from being flattered- the girl was embarrassed. That was [Y/n]’s cue to rush Katniss upstairs. They were back on the twelfth floor for barely a minute before Peeta and Haymitch stepped off another elevator. Before anyone could react, Katniss angrily lunged and slammed her hands onto Peeta’s chest. He stumbled and crashed into the wall. Haymitch shot forward and forced Katniss away from Peeta.

“What the hell was that? You had no right to say that about me!” Katniss yelled.

Haymitch shouted for her to stop as she loudly challenged, “You wanna train alone and now you have a crush on me? Let’s go! Right now!”

Cinna and Effie stepped off the elevator as [Y/n] angrily told Katniss to “knock it off”.

“You’re a fool,” Haymitch said with a disgusted tone, “That boy gave you something

you could never get on your own.”

“He made me look weak!”

“He made you look desirable! And let’s face it, you were about as romantic as the goddamn dirt until he said he wanted you. Now everyone wants you. The talk of the Capital: the star-crossed lovers from District Twelve!”

“We are NOT star-crossed lovers!” she shouted.

[Y/n] felt the room get more heated, “Katniss-”

“It’s a television show!” Haymitch interrupted angrily.

“Haymitch, shut up!” [Y/n] yelled- the room grew quiet as everyone stilled in shock by the angry sound, “You!” she pointed at Katniss, “Be grateful that you have people who care about you and let go of your goddamn ego. You!” she pointed at Peeta, “Don’t say anything else about your feelings for her until you’re in that arena and don’t listen to Haymitch for emotional romantic advice. And YOU!” she stood up straight and faced Haymitch, “Go to your fucking room and sober up! I cannot take this dysfunctional group for the rest of the night!” [Y/n] stormed off to her own room.

Everyone was shocked to silence for a few minutes. Katniss was surprised and had been having a hard time imagining [Y/n] as anything but a glamor woman. Haymitch and Peeta looked at their feet like schoolboys who’d just been told off. 

Effie broke the silence, “Well she didn’t need to curse,”

Haymitch, Cinna, and Peeta groaned at the comment and left the room. Effie announced that she needed to leave and bounced into the elevator, leaving Katniss alone in the entryway. 

Masterlist

[baelpenrose]

Nihilus Rex 35: Escalation

Nils crosses one of his first major lines here. That plan about swatting a hate church comes to fruition. TW for gun violence. Also we're gonna repeat the disclaimer that we feel increasingly obliged to as Nils keeps escalating. Especially since this is probably one of the few actually imitable atrocities he commits. Hey, I know I harbor a massive hate for evangelical churches but don't do this in real life. It's awful, and just like in this chapter? It will hurt innocent people. Afterverse Studios does not endorse anything with this kind of collateral damage. The hate preachers may deserve it, the families they're brainwashing don't. Do not do this. If the morals don't convince you, the legal rammifications might. You will get caught. Nils & Co. have villain protagonist powers, you don't.

Co written by @canyouhearthelight.

Do you believe in God?

Written on the bullet

Say yes to pull the trigger

Do you believe in God?

Written on the bullet

And Cassie pulled the trigger

“Cassie”, Flyleaf

Nils

It was a few days after the party, and the preparation for the SWAT attack was ready. Gray had been in constant contact as we’d prepared the attack to turn the churchgoers against the government, give the Christians an actual persecution to be afraid of - and escalate the armed contingent against the police.

Now, I sat in our little abandoned mall, behind a wall of VPNs, and prepared to ignite something that set fire to my veins with an excitement I couldn’t believe I felt at what I was about to do.

Shot up gay clubs. Kids kicked out of their homes. Kids committing suicide because of peers and parents who couldn’t accept them. People dying, the word “faggot” or “dyke” or “tranny” the last they’d ever hear.

Today, retribution. 

Somewhere, some spoilsporting part of my mind recognized that I was about to cause a mass shooting, and I could hear a voice that sounded suspiciously like Father Rivera’s speaking that old proverb. Something about how those who make use of the devil's tools shall, by degrees, come to serve his ends.

They should have listened to you then. Today their tools are mine. 

I keyed off the bot that started the SWAT call. Pre-recorded. A hostage situation in the church. Then another. Another. VPNs would cluster the calls as coming from that area. After about four or five, with more and more 911 calls that rapidly hung up, I terminated the bot, and waited, my eyes on the screen.

“Keep an eye on online chatter, everyone. Things are about to get real exciting.”

The church’s own livestream let us watch what unfolded. SWAT burst through the doors, and the pastor found himself interrupted. A fanatic right wing pastor who had spent years swearing the deep state would eventually come for Christians, who swore up and down that Trump would save them. A gun toting flock, allowed to carry in church. Cops charging in, keyed up to fight.

I didn’t see who fired the first shot. I don’t know that anyone did. I don’t know that history ever would know, as we never figured it out.

What mattered was that in minutes, the screen was consumed with a brutal firefight between an armed SWAT squad and dozens of armed church goers. Before anyone was doing more than reacting to the chaos,  three of the dozen armored officers and a score of the churchgoers were down, some silent and some thrashing and screaming, blood covering them. As the Evangelicals were diving behind the pews and shooting, they began catching other churchgoers in their shooting, randoms getting it in the backs, the legs. A flashbang caught a section of pews on fire, and the pastor caught a round high in the chest, gore spattering the wall behind him.

Lash looked away, turning so she couldn’t see the feed from even the corner of her eye.  She hunched over her laptop, pointedly focusing on online chatter.  “Mass shooting reported… Nothing about SWAT, which is wild.”

I didn’t take my eyes away from what we’d - I’d - done. “Give it a sec. News will have to break the story. Bishop - what are you seeing? And can you seed anything? Ghosts of Ruby Ridge, maybe?”

Gray’s voice came over the call. “No need. Already there. Bunch of people screaming about how this is why they need guns in church, government coming after worshippers. There’s already a few militia types moving towards that church to fight SWAT if they can get there in time.” His voice was smug. “I thought you were full of shit, but you weren’t kidding. The perfect gambit to give the right what it needed to finally decide playing nice with police was making them weaker, not stronger.” 

My attention snapped. “Bishop, monitor police bands.” This was gonna get real good, real fast.  At this point the SWAT team was falling back toward the exit, though it was apparent that more damage had been done in the church by its defenders than by the SWAT team - something that would be left out by the online reports - the ones that would be believed by Gray’s crowd, the side we were going to be using for our muscle.

Bishop snapped up. “Police closing on location, more SWAT, normal officers.”

I took a breath. “We may have brought more fire that we intended on this one but no sense in stopping now. Drop away from live feed - follow comments. We don’t need to draw attention to the fact that we were paying attention.” I disconnected from the live feed and switched to news coverage - it was supposedly a “breaking story” and CNN was already scrambling to fill the air with as much talking-head-speculation as they could to draw eyeballs for ratings while they waited for reporters to get to the scene and for facts to come in.

“Left wing chatter is coming down pretty harshly.  The kindest thing I’m seeing is ‘thoughts and prayers’, escalating all the way to ‘how are those guns in churches working for you’ and ‘at least no one will protest these funerals’,” Lash updated from her view. “The trolls are out in force.”

Gray snapped. “Better than the lack of guns at most left-wing gatherings usually go, apparently.”

“Not really. This entire plan relied on undisciplined shooters in the crowd starting a firefight, which wouldn’t have worked in a left wing crowd.” Bishop said, mildly.

I listened to the arguments among them for a second, then snapped back. “Police are reporting they had multiple localized calls about a hostage situation in the church and are already looking into this. They state they are still looking into who fired on them.”

Gray smirked. “Of course. That’ll do them a world of favors in a community that believes the government lies like it breathes and knows most mass shootings are false flags. Who just survived a government attack on a place of worship. Them being told a terrorist who hates them took advantage of their weapons to get them to fight the police, and that it wouldn’t have worked out if they’d been unarmed? They’ll just believe that’s obvious government attempts to manipulate them into disarming. Thanks for the suggestion, Bishop.”

Lash smacked her headset to mute it and started muttering in at least two languages I didn’t understand.  I was still pretty sure she was either swearing profusely or wishing a lot of ill on Gray.

I muted myself and turned to Lash. “Okay, that keeps our pawns in line, but this is gonna keep the FBI on us, or on our general direction - this is the second time police and right wingers have fatally drawn down because of some kind of digital manipulation. FBI lady is gonna come around here again. We need to have Weasel trussed up and ready for her when she gets back. And we need to be ready for whatever bullshit she’s gonna pull on either of our families. Let the skull collecting enthusiast worry about the gun nuts for a minute.”

She turned to me. “We still haven’t solved for how we are planning to frame or hack the ‘King of Icebreakers’.”

“Socially, at a guess. Behold, our mark: A single, college age man, who would be a reasonably attractive twink but for his repulsive personality and lack of personal hygiene. Technically brilliant. We have multiple instances of stochastic terrorism in the last few months - and by right wingers who spend too much time online. Some of whom clearly acted out of a sense of personal despair and a desire to make a mark on the world. What other instances of stochastic terrorism does this sound like?” 

��Elliot Rodger,” she answered, immediately realizing where I was going with it. “It’s Isla Vista all over again.”

“Right. Now, with shit this high profile, especially if they didn’t already get us for the banks, the higher levels of the Bureau are probably looking for a way to close the case - that whole thing with the Anthrax back in 2002, when there was no way to figure it out but they needed an answer. It got pinned on a dead man inside the Bureau who no one liked, despite the fact that weaponized Anthrax was a closely guarded Soviet secret that American intelligence never quite reverse engineered. And, wouldn’t you know it, Weasel’s icebreaker was used for the bank job. We just need to socially hack him through some other means to get him to stick his neck out, a little, in a place where FBI lady might see it. The rest takes care of itself. Weasel’s a coward - he’ll dust himself in a panic when the fibbies come for him. Guilty party dead, no further attacks, peace and victory in our time. We’ll lay low and launch more attacks later - and they won’t be looking for the same pattern.”

Lash drummed her fingers, thinking. “While we lay low, we should take the time to expand our network to other countries.  Keep doing small hacks here - the kind of stuff we did before that just didn’t hit the radar - but also scale so they don’t seem as connected.  You got anyone overseas?”

“Uh…One in Japan, one in the Netherlands, two in India, a German, and I had one in Algeria but haven’t heard from her in ages.” I left it at that, leaving unsaid that anyone in this business who suddenly went silent in most of the colonized world had probably been caught and wouldn’t be back.

“North Africa, Mumbai, Philippines, and China.” She offered in a distracted tone. “Clean water initiatives invite those types, surprisingly.”

“The German and Japanese guys are both ‘ethics in tech’ types who really wanted to work on preventing surveillance technology. Both Indians were people who liked the stuff I was doing with education access - neither originally came from money. Side note, whatever we do here still needs to get enough notice we can keep recruiting - I need on the ground left wingers so our eventual plays here have people who answer to you, so we’re not just stuck with minions who break shit for Gray.” 

“Keeping that in mind and already have feelers out.” Shaking her head to snap out of her daze, she looked at me with laser focus. “Pronatalists, yes or no? We need to decide that early on, because they are growing in non-religious tech spaces.”

“Of the ‘people should have resources to reproduce instead of being barred from doing so because of poverty’ type, sure, of the ‘I need 80 children for my ideology, religion, race, or whatever so that my particular neurosis can be soothed or politically dominant’ not only no, but no in a phrasing that implies we think everyone doing that should be sterilized.”

“We’ll have to closely vet them… if you throw a rock in a Pronatalist crowd, you’ll hit one of each.  Probably the same person, to be honest.”

Bishop groaned as he stretched. “Advocating for access to housing and resources to have big families is going to draw them in.  You’re going to get them either way.”

I grunted. “Same bucket as Gray’s goons, I suppose. Problem for tomorrow.” 

I slapped my headset. “New shit, Gray?” 

“I’m already playing. Check the boards.” 

I groaned internally and pulled up the boards Gray frequented. Same trick - new accounts. One account was clearly meant to be the idiot - playing up the heel leftist, who was mocking the victims for being stupid enough to have guns in a church.

Another was playing a conspiracy theorist who was claiming that he’d heard a left wing terrorist had done this as a false flag to get the right and the government to fight each other because the heavily armed church would shoot at the cops and the cops would shoot back. A third person was already arguing with that, pointing out that the government was already auditing that church’s taxes, and the deep state had never liked pro-Trump churches. 

A fourth guy was saying the police were sick of the right getting wise to false flags and were going to try to make up a ‘false flag’ narrative for them to buy into that would end in them seeing guns as an exploitable weakness. Unsurprisingly, this was the most popular comment - a bunch of responses about how already they’d heard rumors that a terrorist had tried to set up the fight to get cops and churchgoers killed. 

I seethed for a minute that he’d gambled on that - then reflected that it had worked. Using nothing more than something that would be counted as wild speculation in court, plus police reporting, he’d turned the crowd’s hostility back on the government.  I was surprised it was working, on one level - you’d think they’d go in on ‘cultural Marxists used us and the government against each other’ but then I realized why they wouldn’t. Not one of them would ever accept that they’d been fooled or tricked. 

And I was perfectly happy to see Gray making himself useful. Making the truth a joke but in a way that would make these people useful to us. Picking up enough momentum we could hijack these people and make them ours. Beginning the countdown to retire himself from relevance. I was perfectly aware that keeping him around too long increased the risk of this whole plan going wrong, of him corrupting our goals, and I needed to make sure he was dealt with well before things really got going.

“Alright. Fibbies next.” 

Bishop shook my shoulder and gestured at the newsfeed. “Hey, Nihilus,” he said, carefully emphasizing my handle as though to remind me to tailor my reaction. Gray was still listening. “Prelim casualty figures.”

I looked at them. 

Sixteen dead, thirty-three injured. One of the dead and eight of the wounded were children.

“Oh, God,” I heard Lash gasp.  “They were babies.” Before I could say anything, she was on her feet and out the door, all equipment left behind.

I felt like I was falling, but I forced myself to not react. What had we done?  What had we just done?

[wonik1ss]

JAY & Y/n | teaser : dear, reader

SYNOPSIS : two people with complete different life’s learn about each other with the help of a small little read book

a/n : are you ready to rumble

While you weren’t the most talkative at times you were still a very nice and caring friend. So instead of getting a book, or a baking lessons for you your dear friend Lily got you an empty red journal.

“Lily be honest your on drugs right?”. While you didn’t want to nod your head at your friend Natty’s question you did. After 8 years of being friends you would think Lily would now what kind of gifts her bff would want.

“Hey you didn’t let me speak yet!”

“I have a great idea on how you can get out of your bubble!”. Natty rolled her eyes and you titled her head. It wasn’t odd for Lily to come up with ideas on how to get you out and about making friends. It’s just none of them were.. this weird.

“I told you we should’ve left our friendship with her in elementary school”. Now it was Lily’s turn to roll her eyes as she picked up the book and faced her two friends.

“I was thinking that you could create a game with the book! By leaving a note in it and leaving it at library or something to make a new friend! And if you don’t like them you can just end it and nothing bad will happen!”

“I can’t believe you’ve gone insane.. I knew you hanging out with bae was a bad idea!”. You circled your room in a tizzy as Lily sighed watching.

“You know.. it’s not that bad of an Idea..”. Surprised by Natty’s response you almost broke your neck while turning to face her.

“The one time I actually need your back up you agree with her?”. Natty nervously smiled and put her hands on your shoulders, as you stared blankly at her.

“Don’t you want to make more friends? And go out to.. carnivals, beaches and maybe even I don’t know a party?”. You rolled your eyes at Natty as Lily got closer.

“Maybe just try writing it and if you don’t like it we won’t do it?”. You sighed as you grabbed the red journal and a pencil and sat at your desk.

dear, who ever is reading this

Are your tired of your life right now? Because I am.. or obviously I wouldn’t be writing this.. Anyways.. since your probably still reading this you I’ll tell you about the little game we are going to play. I mean if your up for it.. turn the next page..

“You see this is why I asked you to write my college letter!”. Lily gently hit Natty as you laughed and continued writing.

Now since you have turned the page I’ll get into the game. In this game of getting to know each-other we won’t just ask about each other about things we will dare each other. Like for example if you want my name you’ll have to the most deserted cafe in town to get it by eating there driest dessert. Now go grab a snack there and start the game already!

“Ok there !I don’t like it so now we burn it and never talk about this again!”

“WAIT! just keep it! I mean just case!”. Natty nodded while Lily looked at you with pleading eyes.

“Ok but you owe me a muffin!”

meanwhile…

On the other side of town a certain jock named Jay had just won another soccer game.

“You know I would have almost had it if you just didn’t steal the- “

“Heeseung we all know you were to busy staring at Karina to score the goal”. The rest of the group laughed as Heeseung rolled his eyes.

“Good game guys”. Karina said staring at her phone while Heeseung stood love struck.

“Ya I can’t wait to see you against the Ateam next week!”. Ning Ning said as she smiled at all the eleven boys but mainly the seven in-front of her.

“Thanks Ning but you didn’t have to congratulate these simps- I mean wimps so we could talk”. Ning Ning laughed at Sunoo as Heeseung and the rest of the enha boys glared at him.

“I know but I also wanted to know if you all were going to come to Gigi’s party! I know no one will go if the enha boys don’t!”. Sunoo smiled as he said yes and the two plus Karina left.

The seven boys got there name ever since they made the Enhypen it Enha club to do nothing for a whole period. With no teacher or anyone else caring since they got a lot of money for the highschool.

at the party…

As Jay pulled up to the party while everyone tried to leave his car he locked the doors.

“I swear to god if one of you throw up in my car one more time I’ll kill you all”. They all nodded as they got out but one boy ran up to the door.

“No promises grandpa!”. As Ni-ki opened the door and got lost in the party Jay sighed as Jake chuckled.

“I’ll keep an eye on him don’t worry just make out with a girl or something”. Jay smile as he watched the rest of his group went inside the party, while he waited outside. Until he heard some commotion coming from car behind him.

“Please Y/n just be a bad teen for once!!”. Natty said as Haneul giggled and Julie stepped out the car too.

“Stop trying to pressure the girl and get inside the party before you break her arm”. Natty sighed and let go of your hand at Julie’s words as you smiled and took her hands.

“Don’t get to drunk, stay away from all men and make sure Natty doesn’t get an std”. Now Haneul and Belle giggled as Natty rolled her eyes again.

“Roll them any father and they’ll get stuck there!”. As Julie said that Natty went into the party flipping her off.

“Now get home safe Y/n I’ll see you tomorrow! Also make sure Haneul doesn’t stay up to late at the sleepover she has a test tomorrow!”. You nodded as Haneul frowned and waved goodbye as you went to get into the car.

You looked to see a guy looking right back at you, but it was to dark to see, the guy who was going to start your little game with you and maybe a life too.

teaser : dear, reader

masterlist | entry 1 !

taglist ! OPEN for now you can ask anytime to be added, by commenting or asking :)

[jargonautical]

A queen in hand

Vintners Street, Alfriscombe, 1816

THE NIGHT’S GAME was nearing its end.

It was seldom enough that these five could come together, rarer still that it should be a social occasion rather than a crisis. The empty bottles along the dresser neatly demonstrated how ably they’d responded to the call, along with the neat stacks of coins and the jewel-bright cards heaped in the centre of the table.

At the edge of the pooled candlelight their host sat almost invisible, only the amber gleam of the liquor in his glass idly swirling as he watched the play. At last he leaned forward and picked up his own cards, running a fingertip thoughtfully along them before selecting a single card to lay down.

“You sneaky bastard.”, the sculptor muttered. “Have you been holding on to that queen the whole time?”.

“I always aim to have a queen in hand.”. The observation was accompanied by a tight smile, an allusion that the others understood all too well. “Would anyone care to counter?”.

To his right, the smith fanned out his hand again and reviewed each card in deep concentration, sweeping his fair hair back off his brow impatiently. “I believe I am out.”, he said at last. “I do not recall you having such skill the last time we played.”.

The scribe returned from the dresser with their glass freshly filled and the bottle in hand. “He’s been getting some practice lately.”.

They should know too, since they’re the one called in to tally up the aftermath and see things drawn up all right and tight. Not saying the baron couldn’t be trusted to keep track of his losses, but it never hurt to have some neutral third party keep score. If young Lord Vernon could have seen the grin that flashed between his recent opponent and his bookkeeper now however, he might well reconsider where he’d placed his trust.

The finder started gathering up his winnings. “Almost enough to buy myself a manor.”, he said cheerfully. “Something tells me there’ll be one on the market soon.”.

That raised a shout of laughter even from the disappointed losers.

“Job’s nearly done then?”, the sculptor asked eagerly. “’Bout time you left this benighted mud puddle to its own devices. I never understood why you didn’t just raze the hall to the ground and be done with it.”.

“There were the children to consider.”, the finder reminded him. “Besides, I tend to prefer a longer game.”.

“Is that some kind of cipher for doing nothing? Because that’s it looks like from here.”.

“He always looks like he’s doing nothing. Right up until he pulls a queen from his arse.”. The smith smiled to show no hard feelings and raised his glass in a toast. “To our finder, who I have every confidence will make things right.”.

“To our finder.”, the sculptor repeated, raising his glass but not drinking. “How much longer though, is all I’m asking?”.

“I have my instructions.”, the finder said mildly. “When the last of them goes into the ground knowing nobody cares who they ever were, that’s when I’ll be done. You know how she is.”.

It was as if the shadows around him grew momentarily colder; his companions exchanged meaningful glances at the mention of the ‘she’ he carefully didn’t name.

The sculptor alone seemed blind to the mood change. “What instructions, though?”, he prodded. “She said to ruin ‘em, right? Don’t look like they’re ruined to me.”.

The scribe opened their mouth to correct him, but subsided at a slight headshake from the finder and let him answer for himself. 

“She told me to bring them to nothing. What that looks like, how long it takes, that’s my business. You want I should come down to your workshop and instruct you on slip-casting?”.

The sculptor shrugged and set his untouched glass back down. “Ah, there’s no arguing with you. I just miss how things used to be, don’t you? Time was this place was a proper playground - you recall that time Carney’s dog got loose on the moor? I still hear them telling their children not to play up there or the ‘beast’ will get them.”.

“Excellent stock, that one. Could have sired a whole pack.”, the huntsman agreed. “But no more hunt means no more hounds. I too have my instructions.”. He tipped his glass a fraction in the finder’s direction before taking a sip.

“What, so you just gave up? Seems a waste.”, the sculptor sneered.

“More of a waste to create the beast and then give it no outlet for its talents. Would be cruel to constrain it so.”. There was a note of patient reproof in his tone; this conversation had evidently been had before.

“Some things can never be made the same.”, the finder said pointedly, though whether he was talking about the hounds and the hunt or something different wasn’t clear. “We mend what we can and tolerate what we cannot. Isn’t that the way?”. A subtle nod around the table invited them all to pick up his cue and divert the topic to something more neutral; they swiftly obliged, turning with relief to news from Home and other gossip carried by those few of their kind that still travelled this way.

By the time dawn crept over the rooftops the finder was alone again, the end of his day overlapping the sound of the bakers behind his tiny lodging beginning theirs. He took a deep breath in and held it, looking about the room and considering. Maybe his friends were right. Maybe he’d done enough.

On the other hand the deeds for the bakery and the several properties either side laid even now in a secure lockbox behind the dresser, surrendered by the young baron in lieu of his gambling debts. He already spent more time here than at home, and he’d long since established to his satisfaction that the border could be watched equally well from  either side. He wasn’t entirely joking about the imminent sale of the Manor House up on the hill, either. That grand property might be beyond his touch right now, but the departure of the last Vernon from this region would cut the unseen link and leave this little town entirely without a guiding hand.

More to the point though the world was changing, what with wars and civil strife and a distant government looking to wring every last penny from a population ill-equipped to provide it. It made it so that mysterious strangers - and travellers and tinkers - got asked far more awkward questions than used to be. If he was going to be here at all, he’d need a base to call his own.

[apomaro-mellow]

Part 3

"You guys really don’t have to do this.”

“Yes we do”, Robin and Eddie said in unison.

Every once in a while Steve wondered if he had a type and this was not helping things. But he knew he’d never be able to stop them, so he just threw his hands up and went into the kitchen to finish helping Ms. Henderson.

“I can’t believe you made that book club homemade brownies”, he said as he wrapped a plate in plastic. “I mean, after what Sheila said...”

“Oh I can’t afford to burn any bridges there”, Claudia said. “Or else I’ll have to go back to the women’s bible study group.”

They both shuddered at the thought.

“Besides”, she continued, “It won’t be all bad for long. I’m planning a coup.”

Steve’s eyes widened. He didn’t know when he became the type that thirsted after book club drama but that’s the kind of guy he was now. Before he could ask her to spill the details, Dustin called from the living room that they were starting. He returned to the living room while Claudia took her brownies and was out the door.

“Your mom is going to war, did you know that?”

“I know, I gave her the idea”, Dustin said while shuffling some index cards in his hands.

“I think you’ve got more important things to worry about now”, Robin said.

“Seconded”, Eddie said.

Eddie and Robin sat on the couch next to each other. Dustin had a whiteboard with both of their names, ready to be tallied up with scores. And a handful of question cards, custom made for the occasion.

“This is ridiculous”, Steve said, standing behind the couch and leaning forward, hoping to talk some sense into everyone.

“I think you’re forgetting about the strange correlation between relationships and this game”, Dustin said. “Ever since that first round at the cabin, you and Eddie got together, Mike and El broke up, and now Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle are in this weird, trio thing.”

“And while correlation doesn’t always equate to causation, this game seems a pretty decent measure for how well you know a person”, Robin said.

“And the stakes are too high to give this up”, Eddie said. He and Robin had been fighting over shotgun rights in the car as well as the prime real estate that was Steve’s lap.

Seeing an opportunity, Steve leaned in close to Eddie. “If I promise you a ‘good time’, will you give up the game?”

“You’re playing favorites again”, Robin complained.

Steve covered Eddie’s ears. “He’s just easier to bribe. You’re too pricey, Rob.”

“Hey, I heard that. You callin’ me cheap?”, Eddie accused.

“Can we get started with the game, please?”, Dustin brought them all back to the task at hand.

“Get ready to lose”, Robin started.

“Not on your life, Bucks.”

“Alright. First question: How does Steve spend his days off.”

“A jog, a big breakfast, then he spends the rest of the time lookin after you guys”, Eddie answered.

Robin looked at Steve incredulously. “You jog? On your days off? Steve, I think we might need a jock intervention.”

“It’s not just a jock thing. It’s a I can’t believe how many times I’ve had to run for my life thing.”

Dustin put down a tally for Eddie. “Next question: his go-to dancing song.”

“Take On Me!”, Robin nearly shouted.

Eddie raised a brow at Steve.

“It’s good head bopping music!”, he said defensively.

“Said the human bobblehead”, Robin teased.

“His worst date?”

They answered at the same time. “Lina Williams.”

Steve groaned. “I regret telling either of you now.”

“Who is Lina Williams?”, Dustin asked.

“Bad kisser.” “Chatterbox.” “Compulsive liar.” “Kind of a klepto.” “Won’t take a hint.” “But also never stops dropping them.” “Also a name dropper.” “Bad at head-”

“Okayokayokay”, Dustin stopped the duo’s back and forth. “That was more than I needed to know.”

The next few questions they both answered correctly as well. “Where is his grandma from?” “Describe his hair care routine.” “Favorite thing to cook?”

Steve looked at the scoreboard. They were still tied. He sat down between them and laid his arms against the back of the couch. “You know, I don’t see two competitors. I see two people who care about me very much and just want my attention.”

That made Robin pause. “When did I become the kind of girl who fought for Steve Harrington’s attention?”

Eddie stared into the distance. “Yeah...when did that happen?”

“Yeah, he kinda creeps into your heart, don’t he?” Dustin grinned. “Like a little stray.”

Robin nodded. “Like a little, wet stray.”

“Like a little, wet, sad stray.”

“Okay, feelin’ less loved here”, Steve said.

“Well let me give my stray a collar then”, Eddie smirked. “‘Cause I’m never lettin’ him go.” He leaned in the kiss Steve on the lips but then quickly went to his neck.

“Eddie!”, Steve protested in shock. “Eddie~”, he breathed out next, this one less of a protest.

Dustin covered his face and began voicing his own protests, as did Robin.

“We gotta have a rule for this, right?”, Robin said before removing herself from the couch.

“Yep”, Dustin said, still not uncovering his eyes. “We’re gonna bring it up the next time we have everyone. These two are not allowed within five feet of each other.”

“Dustin, make up your mind”, Eddie said when he came up for air. “Do you want me and Steve to get along? Or be apart?”

“This is like the wish you get from a genie. Or a monkey’s paw”, Dustin lamented.

“So are you two fine with calling it a draw?”, Steve asked.

Eddie and Robin shared a look.

“I call indefinite shotgun rights”, she said.

“Then that means his lap is reserved for me”, Eddie replied.

“Okay. Now that that’s settled”, Steve adjusted his position and Eddie immediately sat in his lap while Robin got comfortable at his side. “Dustin. Tell me about this book club coup.”

Dustin didn’t hesitate. “My mom’s gotten fed up with Sheila’s crap, right? And she’s not the only one. So she and like two other moms are going to...”

Steve didn’t know exactly when they’d all changed. Because there was definitely a time in his life where if you told him he’d be sitting in Dustin Henderson’s home, listening to the drama of middle aged moms, while cuddling up with a band geek and the school freak, he would’ve thought you were insane.

But somehow, someway, here he was. And there was no place he’d rather be.

END

Tag Team

@cassaloopa

@thefreakandthehair

@bidisastersworld

@eddiemunsonswife

@mixsethaddams

@lightwoodbanethings

@darkwitchoferie

@thebig-smoke

@captain-daryn

@hagbaby420

@bribopper

@mightbeasleep

@beeing-stuupid

@kill-me-in-my-dream

@onionanddeadgaywizards

@silversnaffles

@ineffablecolors

@urmomsbestie31

@shinekocreator

@thegingervulcan

@hotluncheddie

@spectrum-spectre @archerwithmanybows @henderdads @menamesniall @bornonthesavage @grtwdsmwhr @vi-the-best-you-can   @kardinalkalamity @leather-and-freckles @resident-gay-bitch @goodolefashionedloverboi @snowstar2368 @alienace @martzja @fangirltofangod @saramelaniemoon @lexyvey @ape31 @gay-stranger-things @beautifully-useless @freddykicksasses