#and I was using my moms electric bike so I was going really fast and it brakes really well

[gestippeldedieseltreinworm]

I love how you can see where I fell with my bike today lol

[animalistic0]

The Spider Deity

You know the saying, everything will work out? What they don’t tell you is that it doesn’t always work out in your favor. Let me start from the beginning, so you’re caught up to speed. 

Now I know most stories start with, years ago, or when I was a child. Those are most definitely outdated, but this did start years ago, more specifically when I inherited my maternal grandmother’s farmhouse. I was eighteen at the time, and starting college that fall. It was my first time living on my own, and more importantly, the house was all paid off! It had a recently redone well, and solar panels. As you can tell, my grandmother was a self-sufficient woman especially after grandfather died and most of her children moved away. My mother was the only one to stay with grandma, of course, I also stayed. Lardie, my grandmother refused to rely upon electric and water companies as she believed that she shouldn’t have to pay for electricity, water, or even food. Oh, which leads me to inform you that she had not only a garden but a farm on the property. Which I also inherited, from a large garden holding fruits, vegetables, and grain, to the animal pens holding sheep, chickens, cows, and even pigs. There was also a field for horses, but the last horse she had died two years before she did.  

As for why I inherited it and not my mother or her siblings, well my mother died when I was ten. It wasn’t really traumatic, it was more sad and stupid than anything. My mom, Linda, (yes my grandmother was a big L-name fan which I’ll explain in a moment,) died by a flashlight. Now I know you’re wondering how a flashlight can kill someone, well this is where it gets more stupid and sad. She was a huge bike-riding fan and was riding to the store one evening, and instead of strapping the flashlight to her handlebars, she put the flashlight in her mouth. (Why? I don’t know, I never got the chance to ask her, as she’s dead.) You see where this is going. I should also mention she never wore a helmet either. Okay so, with the flashlight in her mouth and no helmet on, she was going downhill and everyone knows how fast you go downhill, well as she hit the bottom of the hill in some freaky coincidental accident, from what we can assume her front tire hit a pebble and flung her off. She landed face first, her flashlight crushing through her skull. Now doctors assume she would have lived if she didn’t have the flashlight in her mouth, though she would have definitely had some nasty scars, but that’s how my mom died. My grandmother banned me from riding a bike at night after that, like at all, to the point that when the sun started to set she’d lock the bikes up. She also took me in because my father had never been in my life. (A long story for a much later time.) 

Now, my aunt Lucy and my uncle Lee, (see the L-name obsession), weren’t really involved with my mom or grandmother after they moved away and had their own families. Uncle Lee didn’t like the whole self-sustaining lifestyle my grandmother lived, and well Aunt Lucy she um, well she took Grandpa’s death really hard, saying she couldn’t be around us because the memories were too hard. So it was just a few folks that knew my mother through work and school, and of course grandmother and myself who attended her funeral. Now because my grandmother was my legal guardian and my aunt and uncle weren’t involved, that’s how I inherited the farmhouse.  

Grandma died at eighty-six, peacefully in her sleep from a stroke. She was sick for the last few months but refused to get help, she passed just four months after my eighteenth birthday. She was thirty-six when she had my mother, and was seventy-eight when she became my legal guardian. Now you’re almost all the way caught up, just a little bit more context. 

Now this is when the chaos begins. Now I had never moved out of the house so there wasn’t really any moving I had to do when I inherited the house. However, I did have to clean out Grandma Lardie’s room. Which wasn’t too difficult, she didn’t have much, I should also mention she was a minimalist but did keep every gift that I had given and made for her. I couldn’t find it in myself to part with her stuff, but I also couldn’t bring myself to keep staring at it. So I moved it into the attic and kept her room closed. 

Now see, having spiders around or inside a farmhouse isn’t abnormal, so when I noticed a spider here or there I shrugged it off. Especially the select three I had found in different corners of the attic while I was putting grandma’s stuff up there. They weren’t harming me, in fact, I started to notice fewer other pests, especially the bugs I hate. Like mosquitoes, flies, or even cockroaches. So if I saw one, depending on my mood I’d either just leave it be or capture it only to release it outside. 

Now, I can hear the people who have arachnophobia judging me, but again it’s normal to have spiders around, especially in a farmhouse, but don’t get it mixed up. We don’t, well usually don’t get an infestation of spiders, but like I said earlier not everything works out in your favor. Now while I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed, I’m also not the dumbest, however, the following events would disprove me having any smarts, though it could also be explained as me being oblivious. As they say, “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” and after hearing how my mother died, well you get the picture. 

The first sign that I missed that perhaps there was an issue came a week after I had moved all of Grandma’s belongings into the attic. It had been a rough day and I wanted to seek out the comfort of my grandmother. So I visited the attic. Okay, looking back there is no excuse for me not acting or thinking it was anything but abnormal, but at the time I shrugged it off. So, you know, how I mentioned there were three spiders when I moved Nana Lardie’s items into the attic? Well, a week later when I visited it had to be somewhere of around fifty spiders. I know, I know! But, the arachnids weren’t strawn about any of Nana’s or mine items, they covered the ceiling and the higher areas of the walls. They didn’t bother or hinder me from getting anything or from chilling in the room. So I ignored them. 

The other sign that I missed was the quickly growing number that kept appearing in the attic. Every time I entered the attic it seemed like the spiders had multiplied and covered even more parts of the attic. Still they never, or at least I never found them on our items or even traces that they had been around the items. There was also always room, untouched where I could maneuver to and fro from our items. 

By the third sign, I should have done something, but at the time I was still oblivious. Now the third sign wasn't anything big, like them growing in numbers in the first two signs. Sign three, well it sounds odd, but I would find small ‘gifts’ wrapped in web where I would sit when I came into the attic to feel Nana’s presence. By gifts I mean, coins, pebbles, pens, and I even once found a Hershey's Kiss (wrapped in foil and webs.) Now looking back I can understand how odd that is, but legitimately I don’t think I ever really processed that it could have been gifts or offerings from the spiders. 

In fact, it wasn’t till the fifth sign that I think the idea of “this is a problem” crossed my mind. I’m jumping ahead though, the fourth sign was minor, it was basically individual spiders that would get close, in my line of sight, and they’d start dancing. You know like their matting dances but different. Most of the time I didn’t see or I didn’t acknowledge them, I mean it's not like they were speaking to me. Ah…. Now that leads to sign five even perhaps a sixth sign. It’ll make since when I tell you. 

I didn't understand the spiders at first, I mean who would? I also was slow to realize that the spiders were getting smarter, in other words, evolving. Eventually, though, I noticed tiny items on some of the spider's heads, similar to hats, I should also mention I noticed them around the same time I thought I was hearing voices. Turns out, probably as you've guessed, it was the helmets allowing the spiders to speak to me and me to understand them. Crazy I know!

Now you’re almost caught up to speed, but there are still a few key points I need to mention. The hat thing came first, or it’s the first time I really paid attention to the evolving spiders. Now at first, I heard simple words like, “food, shelter, communication, preach, god”, and so on. Again, I thought I was going crazy until this eight-legged jumping spider landed on my shoulder and bowed! I mean like an actually bow, like this little fella held out its two front legs upwards and out as it lowered its body and spread out its other legs. I was shocked of course and was about to flick it off my shoulder when I noticed the hat and then a soft voice called out, “My lorrrrd!” 

I paused my finger before it could reach the arachnid and answered with a shocked, “Excuse me?” Though, I don’t think the spider understood what I meant because it gently tapped my shoulder with its left front leg before bowing again, its voice dragging the words almost like how an evil villain would. “My lorrrrd, please don’t be angry.” Let’s just say I fled the room like I needed to charge my phone that was on one percent and the charger was in the other room. I avoided the attic for the next month, as I tried to wrap my head around what had happened. 

People always say that aliens will come to Earth, but what if the aliens are from Earth, are beings that we have always underestimated? What if everything we grew up knowing and believing just evaporated before our very own eyes? I mean talking spiders, what are the odds or even the chances? 

Now, you’re all caught up to speed. You may be wondering, well what happened? We’re about to find out. It’s been a month since the talking spider incident and the handle on the door to the attic looked haunting and the anticipation of what waits behind the door is enough to make me want to turn around. But I allowed this situation to get here and now I must face what awaits.

The scene I open the door to is quite the sight, It’s nothing like actually seeing it, but I’ll try my best to do it justice. Around the four walls of the attic are legit, like professional-made, web murals of well, me!  These aren’t small murals either, imagine the Statue of Liberty, but for spiders, that’s how large these four portraits were. Below each mural was an altar that held private items of mine that I had put in totes and boxes because I didn’t have room around the house. At each altar there was a framed picture of myself, and surrounding the framed images, were trinkets and even old toys of mine. However, what really surprised me, was the newest items, like a TV remote, a hairbrush, even a toothbrush, and my favorite spoon, all of the things that had gone missing in the last month. 

Now the altars weren’t even the craziest part. You know those little-scale model cities that some adults have in their homes? Imagine that but everything is made of webs, and hundreds if not thousands of spiders milling around.  Surprisingly the area I used to sit at was left untouched, and so was Nana’s and my items, of course minus the trinkets that they had taken from my boxes. 

I heard them before I truly saw them. Thousands of voices all chanting the same things over and over again. “It’s her! Our lord, she’s back. Our lord is alive. All hail our deity.” The words rolled off all their tongues like a purring vibration of those spinning light-up wands. 

And that is how I not only came to realize a growing spider civilization but came to rule it.

And as all stories must come to an end I must end this here, but remember this, this is only the beginning...

You realize you should’ve done something about the spiders in your attic before they multiplied, gained intelligence and started a civilization. Recently they started worshipping you as their deity.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 12,601 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: pre-apocalypse Warnings: language (duh, it's me), violence, domestic violence A/N: This one got LONGGGGG woo! Protective, badass Daryl is just so. damn. good. Summary: Daryl has long had a crush on Y/N, a waitress at the local dive bar. When things start to go bad with her boyfriend, he suddenly finds himself solving problems for her.

Your name: submit What is this?

Your friend nudged you gently with her elbow as you started to move past her with your tray. “Hey. Who’s that?” she asked, nudging her head in the direction of the door. Two men had just walked in. They were regulars at the bar where you’d been a waitress for a long time. Your friend, however, had just started working there a couple days earlier.

“Oh, the Dixon brothers,” you said, skirting past her to load your tray up with the next round of drinks.

“Are they trouble?” she asked, giving you a sideways glance. You had to laugh at that question. The bar you worked at was a total dive and most of the clientele were unsavory characters. It was frequented by a lot of the biker gangs that road the highway causing trouble.

“Everyone in here pretty much is trouble,” you said, loading the row of beers on the bar top onto your tray.

“Even Mark,” she said, her tone dripping sweet because she knew it would annoy you. You rolled your eyes.

“Even Mark,” you agreed. You’d met your boyfriend at the bar while you were working. You hadn’t been dating that long, only about 3 months. He was a member of one of the biker gangs, but you’d grown up around people like him and the rest of the bar patrons your whole life. You were used to the whistles and catcalling and even the occasional ass-grabbery. Most of the time you felt perfectly safe at work with Charlie, the bartender, watching over things and quite frankly, most of the men tipped you generously. You just chose not to think about where they got the money. You didn’t come from any money at all, and you’d gotten a job as soon as you legally could to help your mom pay the bills. She had already been working two full-time jobs trying to keep your family afloat. Even before you’d been able to work officially you took every babysitting or lawn mowing gig you could find. Your dad was a good man, kind and loving, but an alcoholic. He’d had a work accident when you were just a baby and had chronic back pain from it. He was still young when he finally succumbed to his alcoholism.

And you’d just kept working.

“Well, that younger brother is cute,” your friend said, drawing your attention back to the two men who’d just walked in. “What’re their names?”

“Gimme a minute and I’ll introduce you,” you said. You rounded the bar and took the beers on your loaded tray over to a table of boisterous bikers and handed them out. By the time you got back up to the bar, the Dixon brothers had wandered over.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite girl,” Merle grinned at you, leaning his forearms on the bar. “Whatchu doin’ lookin’ that good up in here? You lookin’ to start a fight?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling at him. “Merle, you can knock off the sweet talkin’. It’s not gonna get you free booze.”

“Who said I even come in here for the booze?” he flirted shamelessly, shooting a wink at you. This time you did laugh appreciatively.

“Uh huh. Well, since you’re at the bar and not in my section, I can get away with ignoring you all night,” you joked. “Charlie will be glad to take your order.” You glanced at the younger Dixon brother who seemed to be quite purposefully keeping his eyes on his hands as he fiddled with a discarded beer top. “How are you, Daryl?” His blue eyes shot up to meet yours. “Doin’ alright?”

Daryl nervously licked his lips and nudged his nose up in a single nod. His heart was hammering away in his chest.

“Good. That’s good,” you said, giving him a wide smile. Daryl’s heart jumped. Fuck. He always felt completely out of control when you smiled at him like that. Half the time it shut down his ability to engage in any sort of conversation and seemed to make his body start malfunctioning. “Well, listen boys. This is my friend Rachel. She just started workin’ here a couple days ago so I expect you to go easy on her.” Rachel smiled at them and said hello. “This is Merle Dixon and his brother Daryl.” You caught sight of one of your tables trying to flag you down. “Merle is the one you need to watch out for. He’ll try his hardest to charm you right out of your skirt, even if it never works,” you joked. “Right, Daryl?”

The younger Dixon brother hardly responded, except that his blue eyes flickered up to your face again for a moment before you breezed away. He looked up again as Charlie wandered over and asked what the Dixons wanted to drink. But Rachel cut in with a smile.

“You’re busy, Charlie. I’ll get it,” she said. She was eyeing Daryl and he felt it, glancing up at her. She was definitely attractive and definitely interested in him from what he could tell, but Daryl was so hung up on you he couldn’t have cared less. “What can I get you?” Rachel asked, leaning on the bar top, giving him a small smile.

“Gimme a bourbon, honey,” Merle said. Daryl hadn’t responded. His eyes had wandered back over to you where you were chatting with a couple regulars in a booth nearby. Merle hit him on the arm.

“Just gimme a beer,” Daryl drawled, pulling his eyes off you.

The way the younger Dixon brother’s gaze was fixed on you wasn’t lost on Rachel. “Sure thing,” she said, setting about grabbing the drinks. She handed them out. “So, what kind of trouble do the two of you get up to?” Rachel asked. The question was directed at Daryl but he was staring down into his beer, apparently in deep thought about something, so Merle answered instead.

“Any and every kind,” Merle laughed.

Daryl’s eyes were on you again, flickering between glancing your way, watching you smiling and laughing, and staring back down into his beer. Rachel gave the two one final smile and parting look and rushed back over to her section where someone was flagging her down. Scribbling a few notes on her pad about the order, she happened to fall back into stride with you as you both headed up toward the bar area again. You had a break for a couple minutes and hung out by the window where the cooks sent the food out.

Rachel leaned up against the counter. “I think Daryl is taken,” she said.

You gave her a questioning look. “Really? Why? I’ve never seen him in here with anyone but his brother.”

Rachel laughed. “That’s not exactly what I meant.” You stared at her, puzzled, and she rolled her eyes at you. “Y/N, he can’t keep his eyes off you. I was trying to flirt with him and he barely looked at me.”

“What? No, come on,” you laughed. “They’ve hung around here for years and he’s never said anything. I mean, I was single for a long time.”

“That doesn’t mean anything! I saw the way he was looking at you,” Rachel said. “He seems a bit shy or something. It’s not a surprise he hasn’t said anything to you about it. And besides, now you’re dating someone.”

You shrugged. “Well, he’s—he’s just a bit quiet. I don’t think—”

Rachel turned as the cook slid out the food for one of her orders. “I’m telling you he’s got it for you. Bad.” She lifted her tray. “You’re in denial. Like you usually are when someone likes you,” she laughed. “Just trust me on this.”

As Rachel breezed away, you glanced back at the two Dixon brothers at the bar. Daryl was aimlessly spinning his beer glass in his hands, staring down at it, but a moment later he glanced up and his blue eyes caught yours. He seemed a bit startled that you were looking his way, and you offered up a small smile. Daryl gulped and ducked his head. A jolt of electricity ran through him again. Fuck. Now she’s dating someone, dumbass. Give it up. She doesn’t want you.

The rest of your shift was busy and there wasn’t much time to sit around and chat. Around dinnertime was usually when the most customers rolled in for a greasy pub meal and some alcohol to lubricate their boasting. Then the dinner crowd hung around and became increasingly more intoxicated. It was about nine when your shift was up and you pulled your apron off and stowed it behind the bar. Merle was playing pool but Daryl was still just leaned up to the counter, keeping to himself. You were about to engage him in some small talk when the door pushed open and your boyfriend walked in. He immediately spotted you and gave you a nod and a smile. You grinned back at him, grabbing your purse from underneath the bar. “Hey, I’ll see you later, Daryl!” you said brightly.

He nodded and managed to give you a small smile, really just one twitch up of one corner of his mouth. His eyes followed you through the bar and he watched over his shoulder as your boyfriend’s hands landed on your lower back and you arched up onto your toes to kiss him. Daryl felt a swell of jealousy in his chest and a hard pit form in his stomach. But he simply turned away and raised a finger to Charlie and asked for another beer.

Your boyfriend Mark walked you out into the parking lot and you stopped next to his bike. “Hop on. Let’s go home,” he said.

“I’m starving. I thought we were going to grab something to eat?” you asked.

“No, come on. Let’s go home,” he said.

You thought there was something a bit different in his tone but you brushed it off. He’d been riding all day. He was probably just ready to be done and wanted to relax. But a couple minutes later, you could tell something was definitely wrong. He was speeding far faster than he should be through town, especially with you behind him. You held tighter to him and leaned forward. “Babe, slow down a bit,” you said.

He didn’t. He took a turn fast and your stomach flipped at the feeling. “Seriously! What the hell are you doing? Slow down!” you yelled over the rumbling of his bike’s engine.

He still didn’t. It was like he was getting a kick out of your fear. If anything, his speed increased. Every turn he took you felt like the bike was about to skid out. You were getting pissed. “Slow the fuck down!” you demanded.

This time he did. But soon he turned into a parking lot and stopped completely. You released your hold on him and he climbed off. A second later he had a hold of your upper arm with a grip like a vice. “Ow!” you protested as he hauled you off his bike. You almost fell as he tugged, losing your balance as you lifted your leg over the bike. “What the fuck?!” you snapped at him, ripping your arm away and staring at him in disbelief.

“If you don’t like how I drive my own goddamn bike, you can fuckin’ walk home,” he growled angrily at you. He was glaring at you with some serious rage in his eyes.

Who the hell was this person? And where was the boyfriend you knew? That’s when you realized. You stared at him, your jaw dropping partially open. “Mark… are you—did you start using again?”

He stared defiantly back at you. “I don’t see how that’s any of your fucking business.”

That was a confirmation if anything. You felt another swell of anger. He’d had substance abuse problems before you’d met but he’d assured you he was clean and was planning on staying that way. “Actually, I think it is my business,” you retorted.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. He marched over to his bike and opened the saddle bag, grabbing your purse out and tossing it to the asphalt carelessly. The contents spilled out and rolled on the ground. “Fuckin’ walk it off,” he said, hopping back on his bike and starting it again. You stared in disbelief as he roared away from you.

“Shit! What the hell?!” you yelled as the sound of his bike roared away. You sighed heavily and stared down at the items that had spilled out of your bag, crouching to collect them and stuff them back where they belonged. You straightened up and glanced around at the secluded and dark lot and deserted street. You could walk home, but it would take you a while and you didn’t particularly like the thought of being out where you were alone. You felt vulnerable, like you’d be the perfect prey for some passing scumbag. You hugged your arms across yourself and decided to walk to the nearest gas station and see if you could call someone to give you a ride. Your mind was spinning over what had just happened. He’s using again. Fucking great. You’d have to end it. That was that. After your dad, you steered clear of anyone with a substance abuse problem, and the personality change in Mark was already so apparent and immediate you knew things would, in all likelihood, just get worse.

You walked along the dark sidewalk, just hoping no one would come along and mess with you. It was only a few blocks to the nearest gas station and you fixed your mind on just getting there. You looked over your shoulder as you heard engines approaching and groaned internally. Please just let them ride past. But you could tell immediately that they were slowing. You kept your head down and just kept walking until you heard voices yelling back and forth over the rumble. Glancing over again you saw that it was Merle and Daryl Dixon.

Merle gave you one final parting glance and roared off but Daryl pulled alongside you at the curb and shut off his bike.

“Hey. Are ya okay?” he asked in that sweet southern drawl of his.

You glanced at the earnest expression on his face. His blue eyes were slightly narrowed as he peered at you and his brow was drawn down. You nodded. “I’m fine,” you said. But your tone didn’t even convince you.

“Ya shouldn’t be out here at night on your own. Thought ya were with yer guy,” he said, a slight question in his tone.

You shuffled your feet a little anxiously. “I was but—” you shook your head. “I’m fine. I’m just gonna walk to the gas station and see if I can call someone for a ride,” you said. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Mmm.” Daryl pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth for a moment. “I can give ya a ride. I ain’t got anywhere to be.”

You considered him thoughtfully for a moment. You had the overwhelming sense that you could trust him, and maybe it was the openness of his expression or the genuine tone of his voice. Normally you would have bucked at the idea of someone you didn’t know very well learning where you lived, but you’d known Daryl for years. At least, known him on some level. He never started trouble in the bar, although he often got sucked into it because of Merle. A lot of times Daryl was one of the few trying to break it up when it happened. Mostly it just seemed like he hung around with Merle for lack of something else to do. And, sure, sometimes he drank too much and he could be a little hotheaded, but you always had the sense from his rugged but quiet exterior that underneath he was sweet. He chatted with you shyly, asking questions about how you were and your life, but he never pried and he never acted inappropriately toward you or any of the other staff. Daryl Dixon had never once grabbed your ass and that was more than you could say for most of the regulars… Finally, after some consideration, you nodded. “Okay. That’d be great. Thanks,” you said.

He nodded, nudging his nose up. “Hop on.” His heart jumped as you accepted his offered hand for assistance and slid in behind him. It jumped again when he felt your arms lightly loop around him. “Where to?” You explained the route to your house and the bike roared to life underneath you. You held on a little more tightly as he pulled away from the curb.

Your mind was whirring over what you needed to do about Mark. You knew you wanted to end it but you had just witnessed how unstable he was at the moment. Lost in your head, it seemed like mere seconds when Daryl started to slow and you looked up and realized you were already home. The lights were on inside and Mark’s motorcycle was parked in the driveway. Daryl shut his bike off and you climbed off, straightening up at the curb and glancing at him. “Thank you. Really,” you said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I can’t even tell you how much I appreciate it.”

His blue eyes were soft on your face and one corner of his mouth twitched up as he nodded again. “S’nothin’. Anytime.” His eyes drifted over to the motorcycle in the driveway and that little smile faded. His brow furrowed as he glanced back at you. “Ya sure you’re alright?” He sensed there was something going on. Afterall, he’d seen you leave with Mark and yet there you’d been, abandoned on the side of the road…

You gulped. Your heart started racing. You hesitated for a moment. “Um… Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks again, Daryl.”

He had an uneasy feeling but what could he do? It’s not like he could invite himself to hang around. He chewed his bottom lip anxiously for a moment and then nodded. “Alright. I’ll see ya around,” he said, starting his bike up again. He watched you turn and walk up the drive and front walkway. At the top step you glanced back at him and waved. He nodded and revved the engine as you slipped inside.

_ _ _ _ _ _

When Daryl made it back to the shitty motel he and Merle were calling home at the moment, paid for with stolen credit cards and hustled pool money, Merle was kicked back on his bed getting high. Marijuana smoke was thick in the air.

“Oh, you’re back quick, baby brother,” he smirked. “You must be a two thrust and done kind of guy,” he said with a laugh and a goading smile.

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Shut the fuck up, Merle,” he growled, not in the mood for his brother’s bullshit. He pulled his leather jacket off and tossed it down on the chair in the corner before flopping down on his own bed.

“You tellin’ me you didn’t bed that girl?” Merle said, sitting up. “You’ve been pining after that pretty little ass of hers for years. Why the hell did you offer to drive her home if you weren’t gonna fuck her? What the hell was in it for you?” Daryl’s jaw clenched and he glared at his older brother.

“You’re a worthless piece of shit, sometimes, ya know that? Why don’t you just shut the fuck up?” Daryl spat back at him. He flopped down on his pillow and turned his back on his brother. He could hear Merle laughing to himself again and then the volume on the TV clicked up. Daryl was glad to fall asleep, admittedly thinking about how you smelled a little like lavender and vanilla and remembering the feeling of your arms around his waist.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The next day, Daryl and Merle were back in the bar at the usual time. Your friend Rachel was behind the counter loading her tray with drinks, but as Daryl scanned the room for you there was no sign of you. Maybe you were on a break. He grabbed his usual spot at the bar and Merle was already sweet-talking Rachel again.

Daryl flagged down Charlie and ordered a bourbon. “Hey. Y/N on break?” he asked, hoping it sounded casual.

Charlie shook his head, grabbing a bottle and pouring Daryl’s drink. “No. She called in sick today,” he said with surprise. Daryl’s brow immediately furrowed.

“Sick?” he repeated. Charlie nodded and let out a laugh.

“I know. I think it’s the first time since she’s worked here,” he said. “Except the food poisoning incident a few years back,” he added with a laugh. “But, hell, we were all sick after that.”

Daryl nodded and mumbled a thanks accepting the drink from him. He couldn’t remember ever coming in and you not being there on a day you usually worked. He felt that hard pit form in his stomach again. The night before had seemed off to him in the first place. Seeing you walking alone along the road in the dark like that… What the hell? He knew the kind of people who moved through this little shit town. That wasn’t fucking safe. Your fucking boyfriend had been with you. Why had you been alone? And the way you’d answered him when he’d pressed you to make sure you were alright… you’d hesitated. Daryl downed his bourbon in one big gulp and flagged the bartender down again.

And now you weren’t in today. Your boyfriend’s bike had been in the driveway. He anxiously chewed on the side of his thumbnail. Maybe you really were just sick. But he had a feeling you weren’t. What the hell are you gonna do? Show up at her damn house like a fuckin’ stalker?. Daryl knew there wasn’t anything he could do and he hated that.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The next day Merle was sleeping off a bender so Daryl rode over to the bar alone. He didn’t even want a damn drink. He just wanted to know that you were okay. That annoying pit was still in his stomach. It was still early when he came in so things were slow and there were only a couple townies nursing beers in the corner. He sidled up to his usual spot at the bar. First glance around the room revealed you were conspicuously absent.

“Daryl. What can I get you?” Charlie asked, wiping down the bar top purely out of boredom.

“Just gimme a beer,” Daryl said, tossing a few bucks down. “Shit. Hold that for a minute. I gotta take a leak,” he drawled. He headed down the hallway that led to the restrooms and took a piss, deciding he needed a fucking smoke before he went back for his drink. He was trying to ignore the anxiety swirling in his stomach that you weren’t at work again. He pushed through the back door, digging in his pocket for his lighter, but he glanced up when he sensed someone standing nearby. “Hey,” he said, realizing it was you. You were leaned up against the wall, a lit cigarette dangling between your fingers. You seemed almost to shrink away when he noticed you. “I didn’t know ya smoked,” he said surprised.

You exhaled, your knee bouncing a little anxiously. “I don’t. Usually.” Your body language was closed off, entirely unlike you.

As Daryl looked at you his unease grew and was quickly replaced with the seeds of anger. You had sunglasses on and it seemed like you were purposely trying to keep your face turned slightly away from him. His eyes landed on a bruise on your upper arm and he stepped toward you, eyes narrowed. “Ya weren’t sick yesterday,” he said. He could clearly see individual finger marks bruised into your arm.

You kept your eyes turned down toward the pavement and took another drag on your cigarette. You could feel Daryl’s strikingly blue eyes scrutinizing you now. What the hell could you say?

He moved slowly, like he was worried he would startle you, but soon he was in front of you and you couldn’t avoid his eyes any longer. There was a split in your lip and it was a bit bruised and puffy. That seed of anger in Daryl’s chest burst into a flame. “What happened?”

You pulled your eyes away from his, grateful that they were still hidden behind your sunglasses because you could feel humiliated tears burning in them. “I’m fine.”

Daryl wanted nothing more at that moment than to lift your chin and look you over, put his hands on you gently the only way someone should. But he stopped himself and sighed and shook his head, leaning back against the wall beside you and finally lighting his cigarette, casting sideways glances in your direction. “He put his fuckin’ hands on ya,” he said softly. There was a growl in his voice.

You gulped.

“What the hell happened?” he pressed again. “I knew somethin’ was off when I dropped ya off. I could fuckin’ feel it. I shoulda—”

“No, you did plenty,” you said, straightening up. “It’s not your problem.” You finally lifted your sunglasses and put them up on your head, turning to look at Daryl. Now he could see the swollen puffiness and bruising around your eye and cheekbone. He thought there was a shadow of a bruise over the bridge of your nose too. You’d clearly tried to lessen the appearance with makeup but it was still very obvious in the bright sunlight.

Daryl felt another burning wave of rage. “He done this to ya before?” he asked. Now he was wondering how many days you’d been at work with fresh bruises hidden beneath your clothes. If he had known—

You shook your head. “No. No… He—he started using again.” You sighed and leaned your back against the wall. “He was driving all crazy when we left the other night and we had a fight about it and he threw me off his bike and left me there. That’s why I was walking out there alone when you spotted me. I knew he’d started using immediately. I’d never seen him like. He was like a different person.” You ground the butt of your cigarette out against the brick wall and tossed the it into the dumpster a few paces away. “After you dropped me off I confronted him about it. I told him I didn’t want him around me or in my house. He denied it and then got angry… I—I just got out of there and ran to my neighbor’s and she called the cops.” You couldn’t find it in yourself to look at Daryl. You felt humiliated and ashamed of the whole thing. “They arrested him,” you said, scuffing a shoe on the ground. “So, that’s that.”

“Shit, ‘m sorry,” Daryl drawled. “I wouldn’ta left ya there if I’d known—”

You let out a wry laugh and caught his blue eyes. “Yeah, well… I wouldn’t have had you leave me there if I’d known. But there was no way to know he was going to hit me and—” The sight of the bruises on your face sent a jolt of anger through Daryl every time he looked at them.

“Ya don’t deserve that. ‘M real sorry ya went through it,” he said again.

There was a softness and heavy regret in his voice and it caused your eyes to flicker up to meet his again. You nodded. “Thanks.”

“So, the prick is in jail?” Daryl asked. You nodded. “Good,” he said, tossing his cigarette down and grinding it under his boot. “And he best be glad for it ‘cuz if I see him around here I’mma kick his ass.”

You shook your head at him, a questioning look on your face.

“What?” he prompted.

Maybe Rachel was right. Maybe Daryl Dixon was taken. “Nothing,” you said, shaking your head. “Probably should get back,” you said. Daryl pulled the door open for you and you both breezed back inside.

Things returned to normal for a few days after that. Same old regulars, same old drinks, life went on. But since Daryl’s obvious care and concern for you and Rachel’s comments you were suddenly noticing how you seemed to blush so easily around him… And every time you caught his blue eyes your heart jumped a little in your chest. Maybe it had always been that way and you were just allowing yourself to notice it. You’d always thought he was sweet and handsome, but nothing beyond that had been on your radar. Now that you were tuned in you seemed to be picking up on frequencies you hadn’t registered before.

One day you rushed into the bar, running late and obviously a bit harried. Charlie shot you a look as you tied your apron on. “I know! I know… I’m sorry,” you told him. “My car is on the fritz. It keeps overheating and—anyway, I’m sorry. I’m here,” you finished, grabbing your order pad and a pen.

Merle and Daryl were sitting in their usual places at the bar and you could feel the younger Dixon’s bright blue eyes on you. “Hey—I—I can take a look at it if ya want,” Daryl drawled, looking a little abashed that he was offering.

“Really?” you asked, perking up immediately. “That would be—amazing. Honestly, I can’t spare the cash at the moment to take it to a shop and—”

“‘S’no problem,” Daryl said, spinning his beer glass in his hand and ducking his head again. “Ya just say when.” You grinned widely at him and his heart fluttered.

“Thank you so much. Um, do you have any time tomorrow afternoon? I’m off work.”

Daryl nudged his nose up in a nod. “Ya. Sure.”

“Great. Thank you, Daryl,” you said.

Merle watched the exchange with some interest and then got that usual cocky smirk on his face. “Well, why don’t I come by too? While my baby brother services your car, I can help service somethin’ else,” he said, his tongue darting out to lick over his bottom lip. He chuckled at the sassy and disapproving look on your face in response.

“Keep dreaming, Merle,” you retorted, rolling your eyes at him.

“Oh, I will, darlin’.”

The bar was busy that night, but you still found yourself talking with Daryl whenever you had a spare moment. He seemed to be a little less shy the more you spoke, and you found yourself smiling and laughing more than you could remember in a long time. And it was becoming very difficult to ignore those pesky butterflies in your stomach and that warmth in the apples of your cheeks as you talked with the handsome biker and caught his blue eyes.

That night you had trouble sleeping, and as you tossed and turned you couldn’t stop thinking about Daryl and were finding yourself anxious with anticipation for the next afternoon when he said he’d come by. He’s just being nice. Don’t read into it. You had this nasty habit of talking yourself out of thinking anyone was interested in you. Rachel was good at calling you out on it. You subconsciously bit your bottom lip and rolled to your other side. But maybe he really was interested in you… You were realizing you were definitely interested in him.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The sound of a motorcycle rumbling up in front of your house and then going quiet brought you to the front window. You peeked out and saw Daryl climbing off his bike. Your heart jumped.

He watched you breeze out onto the front walk and the smile you were giving him was intoxicating. You shoved your hands into your back pockets a little nervously and met him on the driveway. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he said, shifting his weight anxiously from one hip to the other. You were just in jeans and a t-shirt but Daryl still thought you were the most beautiful goddamn thing he’d ever seen. “This the problem car?” he asked, jutting a finger the direction of your car.

You nodded. “Yep. I swear I can’t go two blocks without the damn thing overheating,” you explained.

“Hmm,” he hummed, walking around to the front end. “Pop the hood,” he murmured. You walked around and opened the driver’s side door and pulled the hood latch. Daryl lifted it and was immediately bent over the engine, already peering at this part and wiggling that. You came around to stand beside him and Daryl was finding it hard not to glance over at you.

“Thanks again for doing this,” you said. “You really didn’t need to offer.”

Daryl shrugged. “‘S’nothin. Can’t have ya breakin’ down. That ain’t safe,” he said.

You felt a rush of heat in your chest at his protectiveness. “Well, can I at least get you a beer or something while I totally take advantage of your free labor?”

Daryl turned and one corner of his mouth twitched up. Ugh. Your heart jumped at that boyish smile. “It’s yer day off. Don’t ya think ya’ve brought me enough drinks over the years? We ain’t at the bar.”

You laughed lightly and shrugged. “I don’t mind. It’s literally the least I can do.”

“Ya gonna have one? I ain’t a fan of drinkin’ alone,” he drawled. You nodded. “Alright. Sure.”

“Great,” you smiled. “I’ll be right back.” When you came back with two cold beers in hand, Daryl was leaning over the engine compartment in deep concentration. You allowed yourself to notice his broad shoulders and strong, toned arms and found yourself subconsciously biting your bottom lip again… Your face flushed. You practically needed to shake yourself out of it. “Here,” you said, offering him one of the beers.

He straightened up and accepted it with a nod. “Thanks.”

You leaned over the engine and peered down at what looked to you like an unknowable mass of metal. “Any luck yet?”

He took a swig of his beer and shrugged. “Well, your radiator seems fine. Coolant level is good, no signs of a leak. Might be a bad water pump. Or could be a few other things I’ll check.”

“I’m just hoping for something cheap and easy to fix,” you said with a laugh.

One corner of Daryl’s mouth twitched up again. He loved your laugh. He never got tired of hearing it. “Ya, I got my fingers crossed for ya too.”

“So, how’d you learn all this stuff? Your dad teach you or something?” you asked curiously.

“Nah. My old man pretty much only ever taught me what not to do,” he muttered, leaning on the edge of the engine compartment and ducking his head a bit.

You felt your heart sink. You sensed something vulnerable there, something painful. “Mmm. I see. Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I—”

Daryl’s eyes immediately shot up to your face. “Nah, ya didn’t pry. S’alright.” His blue eyes were still fixed on your face and Daryl let himself drink in the sight of you in this new context. It felt so comfortable, so natural just talking with you, even when he neared things he never revealed to anyone. He wasn’t used to that, but he could get used to it. “Nah, I taught myself. Mostly trial and error. There’ve been times I’ve had a whole lotta nothin’ to do so,” he shrugged.

You nodded, your eyebrows lifting. “I’m impressed,” you said.

He shyly ducked his head again, hoping you wouldn’t see a red flush in his ears and cheeks as he felt them grow warm. “Pfft. It takes that little to impress ya?” he joked.

“No! Come on! Give yourself some credit! I mean it! I have absolutely no mechanical mind at all. As far as I’m concerned, an engine is a magic device that runs on belief,” you laughed shaking your head.

“Nah, c’mon. It ain’t that complicated. The engine just converts energy from the burning gasoline into work. That’s what turns the wheels. You’ve got the cylinders, right? See, your car here is a 4 cylinder. There’s a piston inside each of those cylinders that moves up and down and it’s connected with a rod to the crankshaft and that’s what turns the driveshaft which makes the wheels go. The pistons move down when oxygen and fuel are mixed and ignited. Cuz the gases expand, right?”

You stared at him blankly for a moment before a wide smile grew on your face and you laughed. “Listen, I understood everything you just said in principal but—” you shrugged vaguely, “if you asked me to explain it back in two minutes it’d already be out of my brain. Just let me be impressed with you,” you said.

Daryl nudged his nose up in a nod, an amused look on his face. You thought maybe his cheeks were even a little pink as he took a swig out of his beer and turned back toward your car. “Alrigh’. I’ll try,” he said. “Ain’t used to nobody being impressed with my dumb ass.”

“Hey! Dumb ass should never be applied to you!” you argued, giving him a stern look.

“Mmm.” He ducked his head again and tried to ignore the way his heart skipped a beat at your words. “Your house, your rules, I guess,” he drawled.

You leaned over the engine next to him again. “That’s right. Now please fix my damn car,” you said with a laugh.

And Daryl did just that. By the time he was wiping his hands on a red rag that had been dangling out of his back pocket and putting the tools away, you were shocked to see that the afternoon was gone and it was now officially evening. You’d stayed on the driveway with him the whole time, talking easily about everything and nothing at all, not noticing how the hours slid by. “I don’t even know how to thank you for this,” you said as he shut the hood. The handsome biker shrugged.

“Ya don’t need to. S’nothin’.”

You sighed and gave him a look, shaking your head. “You really are way too modest.” Daryl ducked his head shyly and shrugged again. “Well, it’s getting late. Um, did you want to stay for dinner? I was gonna cook something.”

He pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth and chewed it anxiously for a minute, hardly believing you’d just offered that. He wanted to say yes, but part of him talked back. She’s just bein’ nice. She feels obligated… “Nah, thas alright. Ya probably are sick of me by now,” he said finally.

You shook your head again. “Except I’m really not, Daryl.”

His eyes snapped over to your face and he hesitated again but his nerves got the best of him. “Nah, thanks but—I should go. Gotta check up on Merle, ya know?”

You nodded but couldn’t help feeling disappointed. “Sure. Okay. Well, hey, raincheck then. You can come over some other time. I’m a good cook,” you said. “I mean, when is the last time you had a homecooked meal?”

“Uhh—” He tried to remember if he’d ever had one…

“That’s too long,” you said. “You just say when and we’ll make it happen.” You gulped and touched him lightly on the arm. His blue eyes left your face and flickered down to the point of contact between the two of you. It was electrifying and when your fingers slipped from him, he really wished they wouldn’t. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Daryl, thanks again. I really mean it. Now I won’t piss Charlie off tomorrow. I’ll actually be on time again.”

“Yeah. No problem. I’ll see ya,” he said, gathering the small bag of tools he’d brought over.

You grinned at him and felt your cheeks color. “I hope so,” you said. He gave you a somewhat baffled look and shyly murmured another goodbye. You watched as he climbed on his bike and sped away. The last thing you caught sight of were the angel wings on the back of his jacket and you thought of how wonderfully fitting that was. Even if Rachel was wrong and Daryl wasn’t taken with you, you were starting to realize you were now completely taken with him. And you didn’t know how you hadn’t seen it before.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The next day at work started off insanely busy. Customers seemed to be coming in earlier than usual and you were slammed far sooner than you expected with food and drink orders. But after an initial rush, things slowed way down, and that was about the time that the Dixon brothers wandered in and took their usual seats at the bar.

Daryl looked for you immediately out of habit as he walked in and was surprised to meet your eyes which were already on him. You broke into a small smile and Daryl’s heart jumped. As soon as you could, you came over to say hello.

“Hi,” you said with an even wider grin, leaning on the bar top.

“Hey,” Daryl returned.

Merle was looking between the two of you, noting the smiles and intense eye contact. He laughed. “You two do more than fixin’ a car yesterday or what? Huh?” He nudged his elbow into Daryl hard, whose jaw clenched. The younger Dixon gave his older brother a look which could properly be described as a death glare.

“Shut the fuck up, Merle,” Daryl growled.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” you said to Merle, straightening up, shooting him a smirk.

“Ahh, come on. I’m just teasing you. I know my baby brother ain’t really man enough to—”

“You know, I think I know what you were about to say and I’m gonna tell you I have a very hard time believing that to be true,” you interrupted, leaning toward Merle over the counter, your voice taking on a tone that was soft but dangerous. “I think you might need to reevaluate who the real man is between the two of you.” You straightened up and shot Daryl a warm look that made his throat constrict. “Be nice,” you scolded Merle, “or I’ll ignore you for good. You’ll be stuck listening to nothing but Charlie’s same stupid jokes.”

Daryl watched in disbelief as you breezed away across the bar and he tried to gulp at the tightness in his throat.

Merle was staring after you too, obviously looking you up and down, and he let out a low whistle. “She’s way too good for you, little brother.”

Daryl nervously ran his tongue over his bottom lip and simply let out a hum of acknowledgement. Don’t I fucking know it.

Since things were so slow, you had plenty of time to chat with Daryl at the bar. Merle eventually wandered away to play some noisy rounds of pool with some fellow bikers and you were glad for his absence. Daryl was so much more relaxed without his brother sitting beside him and making snide or sarcastic comments…

“How are ya doin’?” Daryl asked pointedly. “I mean since… ya know, that night. Ya gotta go to court?”

You avoided his eyes now, feeling that same wave of shame cresting again as you thought about your asshole of an ex-boyfriend and what he’d done to you. “Not sure yet,” you said. “I think the lawyers are still doing their legal maneuvering. Depends on if he pleads guilty or not.”

Daryl felt suddenly anxious about broaching such a sensitive topic with you. Yeah, that’s what she wants to think about, dumbass. “‘M sorry. I shouldn’ta asked. Ain’t none of my business,” he said urgently.

“No! No, it’s okay! I, umm, I appreciate it actually… It’s—I’m okay,” you said. “I feel safe knowing he’s in jail.”

“Mm,” Daryl agreed with a nod. “They get… evidence? He gonna stay there ya think?” He was seized by a sudden and unexplainable intense worry. He knew plenty of asshole men like your ex and most of them didn’t give up easily and they didn’t take any perceived slight lying down.

“Well, I had to go to the police station afterwards and give a statement. They took pictures of everything. And I went to the hospital, so they have the reports…” You trailed off for a moment. “They got statements from my neighbor who called 9-1-1.”

Daryl nodded. “If ya ever need anything, ya just gotta ask,” he said seriously.

He watched the worry on your face soften as you nodded. “Thanks, Daryl.” God, he loved the sound of his name leaving your lips.

Your shift was over and you gathered up your purse from the back and dropped off your apron and order pad behind the bar, saying goodbye to Charlie. Daryl was still sitting up at the bar and Merle was playing pool, so you were glad to have a brief exchange with the handsome biker again without his obnoxious older brother around. “Well, I’m exhausted,” you said. “At least I can go out to my car and know it’ll get me home without a problem now.”

Daryl nodded. “Can’t have ya broken down somewhere this time of night. ‘Specially by yourself.”

“Right. Well, I’ll see ya, Daryl. And I mean it about that homecooked meal!” you said with a smile.

He nudged his nose up in a nod and watched you disappear through the door into the parking lot. He raised a finger to the bartender. “Gimme a double whiskey.”

Charlie was just sliding the drink over when Daryl thought he heard something from the direction of the door and he spun on his stool. It looked like someone had partially opened it, but nobody came in and nobody had gone out and the door slammed closed. He stared at it intensely for a moment, unsure why the hairs on the back of his neck were suddenly standing on end. Probably just the wind or something…

It was just then that he heard a scream from outside in the parking lot and Daryl was immediately on his feet and out the door. He saw red as he took in the scene. Your fucking douchebag, abusive ex was trying to force you into a car and you were struggling with him, fighting as hard as you could. Your purse was on the ground beside your vehicle a distance away and Daryl could see drag marks in the gravel where he’d obviously surprised you and dragged you away. He had a firm grip on your upper arm and with the other hand had a fistful of your hair. You were struggling with everything you had, yelling and fighting, but he was a lot bigger than you. It was a battle you would have lost, despite your tenacity.

But Daryl was a blur of action. Rushing him, he swung a fist and punched him hard across the face. You fell hard to the ground as his grip on you disappeared completely. You scrambled up and out of the way as best you could, but you were dazed and having trouble breathing through your panic. You suddenly realized that there were terrified tears pouring down your face. You were trembling.

Daryl was pulling Mark up by the front of his jacket and slammed his fist into his face again. Your ex dropped to the ground hard. He was still on the ground when he kicked Daryl in the shin, knocking him off balance. Daryl landed on his back in the dirt. “Mark, stop!” you screamed. You watched in horror as Mark pulled out a knife, the same one he’d told you he had when he jumped you, the same one you had briefly felt in the small of your back as he demanded compliance. Mark started moving toward Daryl’s prone figure. You felt your face blanche completely. But Daryl was faster and a better fighter and he was back on his feet in no time, keeping clear of the knife as Mark swiped toward him with it. Charlie and the other bar patrons had come out to see what was happening and the bartender had rushed back inside and was now on the phone with 9-1-1. You were screaming at Mark, trying desperately to reason with him, but he might as well have been totally deaf for all the attention he paid you.

Daryl took an opportunity and knocked him back on his ass again with a good punch and then kicked the knife out of his hand. It skidded away on the gravel and you breathed some small sigh of relief. Daryl landed over him and was punching him repeatedly in the face as police lights flashed brighter and sirens droned louder. The cops had arrived. “Daryl!” You rushed forward. “Daryl, stop! It’s okay!” You grabbed his shoulder and he immediately froze, fist cocked back, knuckles bloodied, chest heaving. Another moment and there were cops rushing over and pulling him away. One officer immediately led you a short distance away and you watched helplessly as both Daryl and Mark were put in handcuffs and then taken away in squad cars practically before you registered what was happening. “Wait—he didn’t—No, it was Mark. He—Daryl was protecting me! He—he tried to take me and—" You were trying to explain, trying to get the words out but it was all jumbled and rushed.

“Ma’am, slow down. Take a breath! Slow down! Okay. It’s okay,” the officer coached you.

“It wasn’t his fault!” you said urgently. Just then an ambulance pulled up and the EMTs jumped out. They raced over to you and you could tell by the looks on their faces that you must be a mess, red-faced and crying. You had no idea that you were bleeding from a laceration in your forehead where Mark had bashed your head into the car as he tried to force you inside. You had no idea that your neck looked raw and red, already revealing broken blood vessels and the obvious start of bruising from his hands around your throat. There was almost a visible hand impression on your upper arm where he’d grabbed you. “You—you took both of them but Daryl didn’t—”

The officer and the EMTs continued trying to calm you down. You glanced over your shoulder and noticed that most of the patrons had skipped out as soon as they’d heard the sirens, or perhaps as soon as Charlie had run for the phone. There were only a couple left and of course Charlie as well being questioned. You rounded on the cop again. “Just take me down to the station! I’ll give you a statement and then—then you have to let Daryl go! He didn’t do anything wrong. He saved me,” you gasped, the full weight of what had happened still not hitting you.

“Ma’am, you need stitches,” one of the EMTs told you gently. “Come on. We need to go to the hospital.” His partner pushed the cop back who was intent only on questioning you.

It was like all of a sudden, the adrenaline in your bloodstream vanished and you were exhausted and the pain started to set in. You glanced back over your shoulder and met Charlie’s eyes, he nodded and gave you a worried look before you turned back to the cop and the EMTs. “My—my purse is—” you gestured to where it was lying beside your car.

“We’ll have someone bring it to you after we get photographs, okay?” the cop said. You allowed yourself to be guided into the ambulance, shock starting to set in.

The doctors in the ER wouldn’t let the police question you while they patched you up and you were grateful for that. Besides, there was no chance of what had happened fading in your memory. To the contrary, every bit of it was burned in your mind despite how fast it had all happened. But you needed a goddamn minute to process it. He was out. How the fuck was he out of jail? And why the fuck hadn’t anyone warned you? You’d just stopped beside your car, ready to put the key in the lock when something hit you hard in the head from behind and you remembered dropping to your knees, stunned and with black vision. You’d heard his voice and made a break for the door into the bar. You’d actually gotten your hand on the handle and pushed but you were grabbed and pulled back violently. And then you’d just fought as hard as you could, tooth and nail. You knew if you got into that car, there was a good chance you were going to end up dead. He wasn’t in his right mind.

It was hard to believe this was the same Mark you’d been in a relationship with. He’d never been the least bit violent toward you, but the drugs… as soon as he started using again, he was a different person. But even then, even after he’d beat you up, you never would have expected this.

Once you’d been treated and released at the hospital, you found yourself sitting in the police station with a little Styrofoam cup of tea clutched between your hands, and some cop’s coat draped around your shoulders. The interview room was uncomfortably cold, but the numbness of shock and disbelief superseded the sensation of the chill air, though you were vaguely aware that you were shivering.

A detective came in and sat across from you at the little table and you looked up at him as he settled into his chair. He sighed heavily and leaned forward, readying his pen over his notepad. “I’m Detective Peters,” he said, checking his watch. “It is Thursday, April 28th, and 10 minutes past 11.” You’d given a statement just days earlier. You knew how this worked. You knew he was marking the date and time for the recording that the little, inconspicuous camera up in the corner was taking. “Alright, Y/N. I’m really sorry to see you again so soon under these circumstances.” He was the detective who was handling your domestic violence case too.

“Yeah, well, so am I,” you said, gritting your teeth a little. The numbness receded a little and was replaced by anger. “How the fuck is it that he was out of jail? He tried to kill me. How was he out? And why didn’t anyone contact me?” you demanded.

“He bonded out. And, yes, I’m sorry… we should have notified you. But we never considered him to be this much of a danger.”

“You never considered him to be this much of a danger?” you repeated incredulously. “We discussed a protection order. I don’t think that implies that everything is peachy.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He paused. “But we need to go over everything that happened tonight and get a statement from you.”

“I’ve already been questioned three times,” you said, exhausted and exasperated. “Why did you arrest Daryl? He saved me. He’s the reason I’m sitting here right now instead of being… I don’t know, maybe dead in a ditch somewhere. Are you still holding him? Is he still here?”

“It was chaos when the officers got there. We need to get everyone’s statements to sort this all out, okay? We didn’t know who was the aggressor or—”

You sighed heavily and shook your head. “Fine. Let’s just do the statement.” You walked him through everything that had happened and consented to have more pictures taken of your injuries; the laceration on your scalp, the bruises around your neck, the handprint on your arm, the scrapes and bruises and cuts on your knees. By the end of it you were so tired you weren’t seeing straight, but the detective stood up and you glanced up when you sensed he was looking down at you.

“Wait here just a few more minutes. I’ll be back,” he said. He left you alone in that little room again and you slumped forward, resting your head on your arms at the little table, completely spent and hurting all over. You weren’t sure how much time had passed when Detective Peters came back in.

“Y/N? Follow me,” he said. You obeyed and walked blindly after him through the station until he unlocked a heavy metal door and pushed through into a room lined with a couple holding cells.

You perked up and breezed past him, scanning the room for Daryl immediately. He jumped up from where he’d been slumped on a metal bench in one of the cells as you rushed over to him. He met you at the bars. “Are you okay?” you asked him urgently. You ignored the twinge in your forehead from your stitches as you furrowed your brow.

“Me? Are ya kiddin’?” he drawled, peering down at you with nothing but concern. “Are you?” His stomach twisted at the sight of your injuries.

You knew you couldn’t get any words out through the bubble of emotion caught in your throat so you only nodded. The clinking of keys behind you drew your attention and you stepped back as Detective Peters moved forward. He slid a key into the heavy lock and turned it, sliding the cell open and gesturing to Daryl that he could exit.

“I’m sorry about throwing you in here,” the detective said. “Everything in your statements matches up, so you’re free to go, with my thanks.” He extended a hand toward Daryl who eyed it with distaste for a moment.

“I don’t want yer thanks. I want ya to do a goddamn better job. This was too fuckin’ close. Never shoulda happened,” he spat. The detective looked regretful and nodded, dropping his hand back to his side.

“Daryl,” you said softly, gently grabbing his arm, trying to reroute the conversation. You were just grateful that he was no longer in a cell. Daryl’s eyes met yours and his expression softened immediately.

Detective Peters sighed. “I’ve got one of my guys waiting to drive you both home. Y/N, they have your items for you up front too. Again… I’m really sorry. But I can assure you that Mark won’t be getting out anytime soon after this.”

“The fuck is wrong with the damn laws? Girl almost had to die before ya’ll got up off your asses,” Daryl spat angrily again. You gently touched his arm again and he relaxed some, glancing down at you and sighing.

As you were settling into the squad car to be driven home, Daryl felt your eyes on his face and he glanced over and took in the wide-eyed expression underneath the fresh stitches and bruises. “Hmm?” he prompted you.

Your heart pounded in your chest. “Could I—I’ve got no right to ask you for anything after what you’ve already done but… could I ask you for another favor?” you said quietly.

Daryl stared back at you intently, feeling suddenly nervous under your eyes. If you’d asked him for the moon at that moment, he would have fucking figured out how to give it to you. He nodded. “Course.”

You wrung your hands nervously. “I’d feel better if—if you’d stay at my place tonight. I know it isn’t rational and that he’s—he’s locked up but I’d feel safer. But if that’s too much to ask I completely understand. You’ve already done more than enough and I—”

“Ain’t no problem. I’ll stay,” he said simply. You thought of him as safety. He didn’t think anyone in his life had ever seen him that way.

You felt a wave of relief and it was visible on your face. You shut your eyes briefly, again feeling beyond exhausted and hurting almost head to toe. “Thank you,” you breathed. “Thank you.”

Daryl nodded and ripped his eyes away from you. You leaned forward and gave your address to the cop and in no time you were both climbing out at the end of your driveway.

You stood at the front door and dug your keys out of your purse. Daryl noticed how much you were shaking as you tried to fit the key into the lock and his face contorted with concern. “Here,” he said gently, his hand enclosing over yours and taking the key from you before slotting it into the lock. His heart jumped at the contact and he did his best to ignore it. Now wasn’t the damn time.

“Thanks,” you murmured, accepting the keys from him again and pushing inside ahead of him.

Daryl softly shut and locked the door behind the two of you and stood a little awkwardly on the front mat. You moved stiffly across the front room and into the kitchen, clicking on the light. Daryl heard you shifting some things around before you returned with a cloth in one hand and a small bag of ice in the other.

You nudged your head toward the couch and he anxiously chewed on his bottom lip but obeyed and took a seat. You sank down beside him, your eyelids heavy with exhaustion, but he knew better than to argue as you pulled his hand over toward you and dabbed at the dried blood across his knuckles. They were split and puffy from their repeated connection with that prick’s face. Worth it. When you were satisfied that they were cleaned up enough, you laid the cloth and then the ice across them and glanced up at his face.

There seemed to be something you wanted to say, something in your expression that took Daryl aback, but before he could decode it, it vanished and you just looked defeated and weary. Daryl swallowed his nerves and nodded at you. “Go on to bed. I’ll be right here all night,” he said.

You gave him another long look before nodding and climbing to your feet with no small amount of effort. “Thank you,” you said, and you hadn’t meant for it to come out in a whisper, but it did. He only nodded back before ducking his head and avoiding your gaze, feeling a little overwhelmed. You managed to trudge to your bedroom and practically poured yourself into bed, still in all your clothes. Feeling safe, knowing Daryl was out on the couch, you sank into a heavy sleep almost immediately.

The next morning you awoke early with the birds, stiff and aching. You clutched a hand to your head, wincing when it landed flush onto the stitches in your forehead. “Fuck,” you muttered, climbing out of bed. You went straight for the bathroom and took some painkillers, pausing to run a comb through your hair and wash your face. You tenderly touched the bruises on your neck and your arm and frowned. You looked a proper mess… You felt a wave of shame and embarrassment before struggling to shove those feelings down. You changed, feeling a little better, and quietly moving through the house, heading for the kitchen and the coffee pot.

Daryl was laid out on the couch, still fast asleep and your heart jumped at the sight of him there. He had his head resting on one of the throw pillows and was stretched out, legs crossed at the ankles, hands resting on his stomach. You couldn’t help but smile at how boyish he looked asleep and there was a wash of heat running through you as you finally tore your eyes away and padded softly into the kitchen.

Coffee brewing, you pulled ingredients out of the fridge and went about making some breakfast. In the other room, Daryl woke up to the sound of you cooking and the smell of bacon. He sat up and shifted on the couch, stretching and feeling a little self-conscious that you had obviously walked through and seen him asleep. He hastily ran his fingers through his hair, trying to smooth down any craziness that might be going on.

Your voice from the doorway into the kitchen drew his eyes. “Hey. Morning.”

You had a goddamn smile for him. Despite what you’d gone through the previous night, you were smiling. At him.

“Hey,” he returned. “Ya get some sleep?”

You nodded and stepped out into the living room, a mug in your hand. “I did.” You were sure your face was coloring pink. “Thanks for staying. Um, do you drink coffee?” you asked, gesturing with the cup in your hands.

He nodded. “Sure,” he said, climbing to his feet. You met him halfway and pushed the mug into his hands. The ceramic was warm and Daryl looked down at the spirals of steam curling away from the surface.

You disappeared for a moment and returned with your own mug. “I’ve got breakfast cooking if you’re hungry,” you said, sinking down onto the now empty couch. Daryl gulped and took a spot at the other end from you.

You took a sip, annoyed at how fast your heart was racing as you looked at the handsome biker on the other end of your couch. “How’s your hand?” you asked him.

He pulled it off the mug and flexed and curled his fingers a few times. It was deeply bruised and the knuckles were definitely still swollen. “S’fine,” he drawled. In truth it hurt, but far less than looking at what was left on your skin from what you’d endured. “How are ya?” A shadow darkened his face for a moment with worry.

You nodded a little hesitantly. “I’ll be okay. Took some painkillers so…”

Daryl pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth and chewed on it anxiously for a moment. “‘M real sorry any of this happened to ya. Ya don’t deserve that.”

You gulped nervously. “Thanks…” You gave him another little smile, this one a little sad, but it seemed like your face brightened quickly again as you looked at him. He ducked his head.

In truth, Daryl couldn’t believe this was real. He’d pined after you for years, subsisting purely on a quick smile here and a word there as you simply did your job. If someone had told him a month earlier that he’d be sitting your house with you sipping coffee he would have thought they were batshit crazy. This was a long way from waking up in that dingy, smoky motel room with Merle bitching about needing another fix even before he could throw the blankets off. He’d never dared to think he would have anything like this, anything nice and normal. Not that he really had it… But even if this was a temporary, singular event it was doing something like filling him up and showing him that life wasn’t all just shit.

You were studying him as he seemed lost in thought, occasionally taking a sip of coffee, and you watched some anxiety cross his face. “C’mon and eat something with me. It’s the least I can do,” you said, nudging your head in the direction of the kitchen. Daryl glanced up and nudged his nose up in a nod before following you in.

You grinned a few minutes later as you sat across from each other at your little kitchen table and Daryl ate ravenously. He was suddenly self-conscious as he realized you were staring at him and he hastily wiped his mouth on his sleeve, but you only leaned your chin on your hand and continued looking at him with that little smile on your lips. It didn’t seem to belong there when you had fresh stitches and bruises. “Hmm?” he prompted, sensing there was something on your mind.

You shrugged and finally looked back down at your own plate. “Nothing. This is—this is nice,” you said.

Daryl gulped. “What is?”

“I don’t know. Just… this. Breakfast with you.”

Daryl’s heart jumped but he nodded in agreement, trying his hardest not to give in to the thoughts of self-doubt and inadequacy. It was nice. It was more than nice. He felt like he had fallen through a wormhole into an alternate reality.

You set your mug down and gave him a long look. “I’m a little surprised you weren’t scared away,” you admitted. “I wouldn’t blame you if you had wanted to just distance yourself from the girl with the psycho ex… Go back to me just being your waitress at the bar.” You twirled your mug in your hands, looking anywhere but at him.

Daryl’s brow furrowed and he studied your somewhat ashamed expression. “Nah. None of this is your fault. And—anything I can do to help, I’ll do it.”

Your eyes shot up to his face and this time his blue eyes held yours steadily. You didn’t know inside he was reeling. The atmosphere between the two of you felt suddenly thick and heavy, charged with electricity and hopeful expectations. Right when you were about to say something, or maybe do something the phone rang and you were startled out of that bubble of tension. You jumped a little and laughed abashedly before going to answer it.

Daryl let out a breath he hadn’t been holding and climbed to his feet, grabbing the dishes and piling them into the sink simply for something to do while you were on the phone. It was a quick call and when you turned around Daryl was rubbing a hand a bit nervously over the back of his neck. “Well, thanks for breakfast. I should probably get goin. Get outta yer hair’,” he drawled. He was sure you’d had enough of him by now.

“Oh,” you said. Wait, did that sound like disappointment?

Daryl gulped. “Ya should rest today. Take it easy,” he said. You nodded and wrung your hands a little nervously.

“I’ll try,” you said. You followed him out into the front room and watched as he pulled the door open and stepped outside, glancing back at you over his shoulder. “Thanks again. For… saving my life and staying and…” you trailed off.

Daryl was very aware that his heart was racing and that there suddenly seemed to be an expanding empty space between his lungs as he got ready to walk down your steps. “Yeah, uhh… don’t mention it. I’ll see ya.”

You gave him one final small smile and he turned away, giving you a clear view of the wings on the back of his vest. Something about the sight of those jolted you out of your hesitation and into action. You squeezed your eyes shut and swore under your breath, stepping out onto the stairs and touching his shoulder.

Daryl turned back in surprise and saw you looking a little wide-eyed and breathless. “Ya alright?”

You gulped down your nerves and looped your arms around his neck, your eyes closing as you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, one of your hands moving to clasp his face, feeling the angles of his jaw and the stubble on his skin. It was soft and sweet, but your nerves got the better of you and you pulled back, anxious to take in his expression. He was on the step below you so his blue eyes were even with yours and you thought they were a little searching or maybe a little stunned.

His hands were suddenly on your waist, and it made him flush with heat, his eyes flickering between yours. His heart was pounding so hard and so fast he was worried you’d hear it. “Uhh… are ya sure this is a good idea right now?” he asked in that sweet southern drawl of his.

He watched a faint smile cross your lips and you nodded, your arms around his neck still. “Yeah. Best idea I’ve had in a long time.”

Daryl didn’t need any more encouragement. One of his hands pressed into the small of your back and pulled you into him while the other floated to clasp your face and tangle into your hair. Your lips crashed together, needy and sweet at first but building in heat as you both realized how long you had wanted this and how much better it was than you had even hoped. You smiled into his lips and pulled him more tightly into you, pressing your body against his. Daryl’s lips softened against yours and his hand smoothed through your hair to the nape of your neck as you pulled back just enough to look into each other’s eyes.

“Come back inside,” you breathed, running your fingers through his hair.

His eyes closed at the sensation and he nervously licked his lips. “If ya want me to.” He needed to hear it for it to be true, for this to be real.

You grinned at him, biting your bottom lip. “I want you to. Daryl, I—I wanted to kiss you last night. As soon as you were out of that stupid jail cell, but… I didn’t want you to think I was only doing it because I was—scared or concussed or something… So, come back inside and spend the day with me... Please?”

His expression softened and his lips curved in a small smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He nudged his nose up in a nod. “Alright,” he said, understated for the wild happiness and disbelief he was truly feeling. You were solid underneath his hands. His palm was flush to your lower back and you were leaning into him. “Anythin’ ya want.”

You shook your head at him and gave him a fond look. “Just you.”

[jeonsjiddies]

Not Afraid | jjk (m)

Summary - Jungkook helps you change your flat tire, and teaches you how to let go.

Word Count -  3816

Pairing - Jungkook x reader

Genre - smut

Warnings -  dom!jungkook, fingering, bondage, breast play, oral (f recieving), dirty talk, rough sex

a/n: another re-write from a previous fandom. :)

Driving home from university on a hot Tuesday afternoon, you sang along to the radio at the top of your lungs.You sped down the highway (still following the speed limit- for the most part. Didn’t most cops give a 5mph grace?) when your car started shaking and swerving. You put your flashers on and pulled over underneath an overpass bridge. You got out and realized you had a flat tire. 

“Crap,” you mumbled, pulling out your spare from the back and staring at it.

You didn’t know how to change a tire. You groaned, kicking the stone wall in frustration. You heard a hissing noise from behind some chipped off stones, and out jumped a snake. You screamed, fumbling away from it. Suddenly, a tall man in a black leather jacket appeared. He fearlessly grabbed the snake by the head so it couldn’t bite him, and walked it over to a grassy area, tossing it free.

“Are you oka-” he began when you threw yourself at him, hugging him. 

Your hands then pressed against his chest. 

“Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you,” you rushed out.

Being pressed against him felt so good. Your hands slid down his chiseled abdomen slowly, mesmerized. You jumped back to reality, your gaze flickering up to his face, startled. You stood there, frozen, gazes locked together, your hands splayed across the top of his jeans. 

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry,” you squeaked, cheeks heating up as you stumbled away from him and his amused expression. 

“Oh, don’t mind me. I was enjoying the show,” he smirked. 

You almost died right then and there. From this new angle, you saw his deliciously tanned skin, deep brown eyes and razor sharp jawline, but soft, round features. He was gorgeous, erotic, he was…

“Jungkook?” you gasped, recognizing the boy from school. 

“Hey, Y/N.” he grinned.

“Oh my gosh, hi!” you smiled. “What are you doing here?” 

“I saw you were having car trouble and I stopped to make sure you were okay.”  

You and Jungkook weren’t exactly friends, but you were one of the few people  who didn’t treat him like trash, so you were friendly in classes and the hallways.

“I got a flat tire. I have a spare but I don’t know how to change it.” you sighed.

“I can help you with that. Do you have a jack?”  

“Uh…” you looked in the back and shook your head.

“I do, at my place. Come on,” he motioned to his bike. 

He handed you a helmet and you climbed onto the seat behind him, clutching his torso for dear life. Jungkook’s  body felt so good to touch, it made you hold on a little tighter than necessary. He wasn’t even going that fast. He rode down the highway, turning into his apartment complex. You hopped of the bike, your whole body still vibrating from the purr of the engine. 

“Whoa,” you swayed.

“First time?”  

You nodded.

“I’m honored to have been your first ride,” he smirked, making you blush at the implied meaning.

That bike wasn’t the only thing you wanted to ride…  He grabbed the jack from inside, while you looked around.

“Got it,” he said, suddenly standing behind you, his body head radiating onto your back, breath fanning against your ear. 

You visibly shivered, causing him to chuckle.

“Let’s go, princess.”  

You climbed back on the bike, more aware of his body between your legs than before. He rode back to your car and jacked it up, using the tools he’d brought he took off the old tire and put on the new one. He eased your car back to the ground.

“Good as new,” he beamed, “I’ll follow you home just to be sure that it’s all safe.”

“Thank you, Jungkook. You’re amazing,” you gushed.

He blushed and nodded, crawling back onto his bike and following you to your house. He got off the bike and walked up to you.

“Check your tire pressure in a couple days but other than that it seemed to drive fine.”  

“Okay. Do you want a drink or something?” you gestured to your house. “You really saved me today and I just want to repay you.”

“Sure,“ he smiled.

You led him inside, giving him some iced tea.

“Hungry?” you offered him a plate of cookies your mom had left out when she’d gone to night shift. 

“Thanks,” he smiled, taking one and biting in. 

He closed his eyes and let out a low moan that melted your insides. You pressed your thighs together.

“This cookie is orgasmic.” Jungkook told you, and you just giggled nervously.

“Oh, I forgot to give you the grand tour,” you grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the kitchen. 

You let go as soon as you realized what you’d done and showed him the downstairs before heading up the stairs.

“Last but not least, where I sleep,” you said, sitting on the bed.

“Nice.”  

“You’re the first guy that’s been up here,” you admitted.

“Oh, another honor of being your first,” he winked.

You covered your face, laughing.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“But didn’t you, Y/N?” the corner of his lip tugged upwards as he stalked towards you, almost like a predator closing in on its’ prey.

Your throat went dry as he placed his hand on your knee, leaning closer.

“Y/N?” your mom called up the stairs, “honey whose motorcycle is outside?”

Jungkook froze, your eyes popped open wide.

“She’s supposed to be at work.”  

“I’m not supposed to be here, am I?” 

You shook your head.

“Shit,” he mumbled, glancing at the window.  

“Don’t go. I have a plan. Come on.” 

You led him downstairs and stopped in front of your mom.

“Y/N, what-” she stopped and stared at Jungkook,  “Who are you? Why is he here? What were you doing up there?” she accused.

“Jungkook helped me change my flat tire and I didn’t have any cash on me but I wanted to repay him so he followed me here so I could get into my savings jar.” 

Jungkook nodded, furthering your story by pulling out a stack of one dollar bills from his pocket.

“Oh, well thank you… Jungkook…” your mom smiled wearily.

“It’s really no problem, Mrs. Y/L/N.”  

“Would you like to stay for dinner? As a thank you? I got off work early and I was going to make steak,” she offered.

“I’d like that,” Jungkook smiled. “At home it’d be me and a frozen dinner.”

“A growing boy needs a home cooked meal,” she clapped, “if you go back into your room, leave the door open Y/N.”

Your whole face felt hot  and you just nodded, dragging Jungkook up the stairs.

“I’m so sorry,” you groaned.

“Don’t be, she’s sweet.”  

“If you say so,” you mumbled.

You and Jungkook hung out in your room, talking and laughing and getting to know each other better. He told you how he became interested in tattoos, even learning how to tattoo someone himself, though he hadn’t had time to do it professionally with school. Tou told him that you’d never done anything half as exciting as that. The both of you kept moving closer unconsciously, until you were sitting cross legged on your bed, knees touching. You bit your bottom lip nervously. Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut.

“Y/N, it’s taking every bit of self control I’ve got not to attack you right now, please don’t make this any harder than it already is,” he groaned.

“Attack me?” you asked.

Jungkook lowered his voice, giving you a dangerous look. 

“You don’t even know what you’re doing to me, do you? From the moment you touched me at the bridge, I’ve wanted you. Even before that. You’re so kind to me, so pure and sweet. But I see the way you look at me. The way you want me. Then you bring me to your bed and you tease me, but I can’t have you. Your mom is downstairs. If she weren’t here right now, I’d have you screaming my name, begging me for more, I’d fuck you so good you’d be limping for days,” he growled, voice barely audible.

You sucked in a breath, using every ounce of willpower you possessed not to jump on him.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you babygirl?” he purred. “You want my hands all over you, my tongue-”

“Y/N! Jungkook! Dinner,” your mom called.

Your face was hot from Jungkook’s dirty words, and he had to adjust himself before going downstairs. 

“I’m starved,” he smirked, “but I really just want dessert,” he whispered in your ear, nibbling it before walking away. 

You nearly fainted, but you followed him down to the kitchen.  You sat next to him at the table.

“Wow Mrs. Y/L/N, this looks amazing,” Jungkook smiled innocently. 

You  pressed your legs together desperate for any kind of relief. Jungkook smiled, placing a hand on your bare thigh under the table. Your eyes widened, and you looked at him. He just smiled politely, eyes focused ahead on what your mother was saying. Your dad came in and introduced himself. Your parents made idle conversation, they asked questions, but you could barely pay attention with Jungkook’s fingers dancing on your skin, so close to where you wanted him, but not close enough. As you were explaining the events of the day to your father, Jungkook’s fingers found their way past the hem of your shorts. You choked on your water.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook feigned concern.

“I’m fine. Wrong pipe,” you coughed, gripping his knee as a warning, pushing your legs together. 

He easily spread them apart again, because, did you really want him to stop? His fingers slithered past your underwear, teasing your slit. 

“This steak is so moist,” Jungkook grinned.

“Thank you, Jungkook,” your mom smiled.

You rolled your eyes, until he slipped one finger inside you. You bit down on your lip to avoid moaning. Jungkook didn’t even glance your way as he added another, pumping in and out of your heat seamlessly. His arm was barely moving. His thumb  rubbed circles around your clit, and you jumped a little. You dug your nails into his leg as his skilled fingers started moving faster, curling and hitting all the best places, making the electricity in your core build fast. You whimpered quietly as he shifted the angle, hitting your G-spot again.

“Are you okay, honey?” your dad asked.

“Yea-yeah. I just… ohhh.. My head hurts,” you moaned out.

“Do you need to be excused?” your dad asked.

“No…” you choked out breathlessly, “I’m okay.” 

“Okay,” he gave you a concerned look and started asking your mother about her day.

Jungkook leaned over and whispered hotly in your ear.

“Such a naughty girl, you don’t want to get caught do you? But it feels so good, doesn’t it? My fingers deep in your soaking pussy.  You act so innocent, I knew you’d be a dirty girl for me.” he purred quietly, so only you could hear. 

“Jungkook,” you gasped quietly, warning him that your orgasm was quickly approaching.

“Let it go baby, but be quiet.” 

He smirked, quickening the pace of his fingers. You covered your head with your arms, biting down on one to stifle the loud moan that left your lips as you rode out your high on Jungkook’ fingers, shaking from the explosion deep inside your core.

“Y/N?” your mom questioned.

“I think it’s a stress headache,” you croaked out. “Maybe I should go lay down. I’ll walk Jungkook out.”

“Okay honey, feel better. Nice to meet you, Jungkook.”

“Pleasure was mine.”  

“Come again soon,” she told him and he just smirked at you.

“I will.” 

Once you got outside, you hit his arm. 

“You’re such an asshole!” you hissed.

“You loved it.,” he laughed. 

You tugged on his shirt and he stepped closer to you.

“There’s more where that came from baby girl. I’m gonna show you how good I can make you feel,” he growled  “if your parents weren’t watching us from the window, I’d kiss you.”

“Now you’re scared?” you scoffed.

His eyes darkened and he pulled you against him roughly, kissing you hard and fast, making you dizzy. His tongue battled yours and his hands gripped your sides, grinding you into him. It was like a grenade had exploded in your mind, almost as good as the orgasm. He pulled away and licked his lips suggestively.

“I’m not afraid of anything, baby,” he winked, jumping on his bike and riding away.

Over the course of the next few weeks, all you could think about was Jungkook. Jungkook’s lips on yours, his fingers, daydreaming about other areas of his anatomy… All you wanted to do was to see how he could keep his word but he had other ideas. He loved to rile you up, then leave you wanting more, saying “it will be worth the wait baby.” Jungkook would sneak up behind you in the hallway, covering your eyes, whispering in your ear with that husky voice “guess who?”  and you like to tease him too.

“Tae?” You pretend- guessed.

Jungkook spun you around in a flash, pinning you against your locker, capturing your lips in a hot, jealous kiss.

“Does Tae kiss you like that?” Jungkook growled. 

“Well now that you mention it…” 

“Oh you’re so in for it,” his fingers dug into your side and you let out a shriek as he tickled you. 

“Jungkook! Jungkook!” You screamed, laughing. 

“That’s right baby, scream my name. Just how I like it, ” he joked, pulling you into a seemingly innocent hug, if it weren’t for his hot breath murmuring dirty things in your ear. 

You went weak against him and he pressed his hard on into your hips, to help keep you up and also to tease you. You whimpered like an injured puppy, grinding against him, but he pulled away. 

“Mmm… so hot for me baby,” he cooed, “maybe if you behaved and didn’t tease me, I wouldn’t have to tease you.“

“I’ll stop I swear,” You promised. 

He grabbed your ass, pulling you in for a fast kiss. The warning bell rang and he took your hand innocently, walking you to class. This hot and cold had shivers running down your spine. He kissed your forehead and went to his own class. 

Later, as you cuddled in his bed, you finally broke. 

“Babe, you’ve been teasing me for weeks. I want you,” you whined. 

“Okay.” 

“Really? Okay?” you gasped. 

“Yeah, but I want you to beg for it. Beg for me,” he smirked, “tell me how badly you need my big, thick cock in your little wet pussy. Tell me what you want me to do to you.” 

His eyes were dark and dangerous and you were already dripping as you sat up on your knees, looking up at him. 

“Jungkook, please,” you begged, too desperate to be embarrassed, “Please I need you inside me right now. I need to feel your hands on me. I can’t stop thinking about how good your fingers felt inside me. You’re all I think about, I’m going insane. Fuck, please.”  

“Mmm.. that’s it baby girl. You want me to make you feel good?” he purred. 

“Yes, please. Fuck Jungkook, I’m literally begging you. I’ll do anything,” you whimpered. 

“Anything?” 

“Literally anything. I need you that badly.” 

“Strip,” He instructed, standing up and walking over to his closet and pulling something out. 

You did as told without hesitation. Some might call you whipped, but it was more like sexual desperation. You’d been allowed to have a sample, but you needed the real thing. You’d been teased and provoked for weeks, and you were ready to burst. 

“Lay back, baby,” He said softly, and you did.

He pulled out a pair of handcuffs from his pocket, smirking at you.

“Are you ready?”  

Your eyes went wide and you nodded, moving your hands up to the headboard so he could cuff them. 

“Now, this is going to be different, but I want you to stop thinking so much and just feel what I’m doing to you. Can you do that?”  

“Yes,” you breathed out in excitement . 

He pulled out a large bandana, covering your eyes with it and securing it around your head.  You couldn’t even see any light filtering in through the fabric, it was just darkness. You heard Jungkook’ belt buckle and assumed he was undressing. You felt his body hovering over yours. 

“Mmm… you look so fucking good all tied up and ready for me. I’m going to make you feel so amazing baby girl,” he licked a stripe from the sensitive space below your ear down to your collarbone, nibbling gently. 

You felt something soft tickle your breasts, causing your nipples to perk up. The strange soft object was ghosted across your alert nipples and you bit your lip and shivered. 

“Do you trust me to take care of you?”  

You didn’t skip a beat, “yes.” 

“Good girl.”  

Everywhere the soft tickling sensation went, Jungkook lips followed close behind. He sucked on your breasts, teeth gently tugging on your erect nipples. You groaned quietly. His wet mouth on your sensitive skin was almost too much. He licked a bold line across them, blowing cold air on the wet skin, and you shook in anticipation.  Jungkook treated your body like a temple, worshipping every inch of your skin, telling you how flawless you were, how much he craved you. His mouth slowly, tantalizingly slowly, worked its way down your body, leaving little love bites, kissing and licking and teasing. You felt the soft tickle on your heat, so ready for his mouth to follow, but it didn’t. He teased your slit with the soft touches and kissed your mouth tenderly. 

“I wish you could see how beautiful you look, all open and ready for me. You’re a fucking goddess, y/n. I bet you taste so good, so sweet,” he told you, nibbling on your bottom lip. 

Your mouth fell open in awe at how his words affected you, how even a simple kiss had you writhing, how not being able to see made everything so much more intense, or maybe it was just Jungkook. Jungkook’s mouth left yours, and you missed his body heat pressed against yours until you felt him press soft kisses at your entrance. Finally, he was where you needed him. His tongue darted out unexpectedly, licking and swirling against your sensitive clit. You moaned quietly. His fingers snaked their way into your dripping core, curling just right, just like they had that night at dinner, only better. 

You arched your back off the bed, trying to handle your fingers in his hair, but your movements were halted by the cuffs. Jungkook fingered you quickly, pumping in and out hard and fast, but his tongue danced slowly on your little nub, the different tempos making your head spin. You were already close, his magic fingers working inside you, his delicious tongue bringing you so close to the edge. Your high crashed over you and your breath hitched, you couldn’t even make sound, just sucked in your breath as the most amazing feeling washed over you. 

Jungkook continued working on your pussy until he knew your high had come back down. Your breathing was labored and he grinned, loving what he could do to you. You felt completely spent, and you thought that was the end of it, until you heard a foil wrapper being opened. You weren’t sure if you could handle anything else with how sensitive your clit felt, but you sure as hell weren’t going to pass up this opportunity. Jungkook lined himself up at your sensitive, dripping entrance. He reached up and took off your blindfold, and the first thing you saw was his gorgeous face smiling down at you, meeting your eyes. 

“I wanted to be able to see your eyes for this part.” He told you, leaning down to kiss you gently, slowly sliding inside of you. 

You gasped, feeling over sensitive and wanting more at the same time. Jungkook moved slowly at first, letting you adjust, then he started going faster. The faster Jungkook snapped his hips, the louder you moaned, Jungkook encouraging you obviously. 

“That’s it baby, let it out, I want the neighbors to know who’s making you feel this good.”  

“Fuck, Jungkook, oh…” you nearly screamed “faster please please please.” 

Jungkook pumped in and out of you faster, rougher, causing the headboard to smack against the wall with a loud thud each time. Your whole body rocked along with the force of his thrusts, and you thought you might actually faint. You were flying, soaring, floating, you couldn’t describe it. You were in another world with Jungkook deep inside you, filling an empty space inside you that you didn’t even know existed. It was like you were incomplete until this moment, and Jungkook became a part of you, closing the gap. Your high was coming again, even more intense than the last. You could barely breathe, you couldn’t even get his name out of your mouth to warn him, you couldn’t do anything but feel the ridiculous ecstasy, bliss, delicious feeling that swallowed you whole. 

You screamed out, the most intense orgasm of your life surrounding you in immeasurable pleasure. Jungkook came soon after, and slowed his pace after riding out your highs together. He collapsed next to you, breathing as ragged as your own. You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak for a moment. You glanced over at him, looking like a snack- no, a five course meal- skin shimmering with sweat. He was perfection and you couldn’t believe he was really here, that you’d really just had sex with him. But it had been more than sex, it was hot and sensual and overwhelming and erotic but it was also two souls intertwining, like coming home after being gone for so long. It was like you belonged there with Jungkook, and you were finally where you were meant to be.  

“Jungkook?” You asked breathlessly.

“Hmm?” He looked at you, worn and sleepy. 

“You’re fucking amazing.”  

“Fucked you that good?” he laughed. 

“Gosh yes, but like… all of you. You’re an amazing person. I’m really glad I met you.”  

He gathered you up in his arms, kissing the top of your head and holding you close. 

“I’m glad I met you too, y/n. You’re incredible,” he cooed. 

You didn’t even try to get up for hours, you knew your legs wouldn’t work after the pounding you’d just had, but you didn’t want to move anyway. The only place you wanted to be was wrapped up in Jungkook’ arms, where you were safe and cherished and not afraid of anything. 

[hunflowers]

The Aftermath

Word Count: 3.7k

Requested? Yes, and you can too, here :)

A/N: here she is, the little piece of the puzzle y’all have been waiting for. it’s a small part two of 1964, and it’ll take place just after their reunion at the end of the story!! i hope you enjoy it, because i missed writing my babies a lot and i hope you love them just as much as me.

pls, reblog the fics you read or heck even if you see it on your dash; it means a lot <3

good luck and have fun, in that order *nose boops*

“Happy Birthday, Rose.”

No one can explain the phenomenon of joy processed through the body and soul as Harry spoke those simple words into the air to Y/N.

It can only be described as a chill shooting down her spine, flaring goosebumps on her skin, her mouth running dry at the sight of him, or maybe the way her eyes glossed over with a glistening sheen. Pure joy.

As if she didn't already feel transported back to 1964 when sharing her many stories with her eager to learn granddaughter, she certainly did now. Seeing Harry's face, the same features that made her swoon all those years ago - though a little mature now - made her feel like she was her twenty-one year old self all over again.

It felt like a movie, as if the two of them shaped back into their younger statures, adorned in the style from way back when, embodying a world of black and white that would explode into color. Hannah and Eleanor disappeared into the future, and all there was, was Harry and Y/N like how they once were.

Before she could process what she was doing, Y/N was scurrying across the wood floor, walking the fast she has in a while, throwing her arms around Harry’s shoulders and burying her face into the crook of his neck. She could feel the rumble of his chest as he laughed, easily reciprocating the love by engulfing her in a hug, pulling her impossibly closer.

The smell of the roses swarmed Y/N’s nose, tingling her senses in the best way possible. Her brain was overpowering as it continued to be overwhelmed by the events happening, still trying to understand how Harry, her H, was in front of her.

Pulling away a few moments later - but not completely unraveling herself from his hold - she looked up at him, looking at her favorite shade of green that she tried so hard to recreate yet always failed. “Are you really here?”

“Yes! He is, Nona!” Ellie cheered from behind her, causing everyone to gape at her while also laughing. He’s really here, in her arms, breathing the same air as her.

Maybe he wasn’t a dream, after all.

Looking back up at him, Y/N smiled softly, bringing her hands up under his jaw, using her thumbs to caress the soft skin that was lined with a little bit of stubble. “I missed you,” she whispered, almost like it was meant to be a secret.

With his own little grin, Harry placed his own free hand on her cheek, using his thumb to swipe the tear that managed to escape her eye without her noticing. Instinctively, Y/N leaned her head to rest in his palm, a reflex she never seemed to have shake.

Harry didn’t have to say anything back for her to know that he felt the same way, if not more. His actions always spoke a lot louder than his words, and it also seemed that old habits hardly seem to die, even so many years later.

“Okay,” Hannah cleared her throat, trying to gain the attention of the two older folk for the first time in the last couple of minutes. “We’re meeting Aunt Carmella and Uncle Frank in twenty minutes.”

The duo separated, heat rising to their cheeks as they realized just how close they had been for those moments. Harry offered her her bouquet of roses, to which she took gratefully and scurried off to find a vase, uttering a quick, “I’ll be right back.”

In reality, yes she went to find a vase, but Y/N also needed a second to recuperate, inhaling deeply to get her heart to start slowing its rapid pace. Fifty-five years since she’s seen him.

Fifty-five.

It was a lot to comprehend. She was convinced she’d never look at him, hold him, appreciate his existence ever again. One thing is for sure, she never did stop loving him.

Y/N placed her hands down on the counter she placed her roses on, leaning her weight onto her hands as she felt the emotions roll over her like waves crashing on a beach. Her insides felt like mush. She was experiencing the come down after getting off a rowdy rollercoaster, like those she used to go on on Coney Island whenever she visited New York. Electricity shot through her veins as if she had been succumbed to the consequences of the electric chair - yet it wasn’t painful. In fact, she felt alive.

“Mom,” Hannah spoke from behind her, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin. Y/N didn’t realize she had been so lost in her own thoughts for a few moments there. Raising her hand to her chest, she turned around and let out a breath, before smacking her daughter in the shoulder.

“You can’t do that to me, Han. I’m old, I could die from a heart attack.”

“Don’t even joke about something like that,” Hannah rolled her eyes. But quickly the annoyance dissipated as she remembered why she came into the kitchen in the first place. “Are you okay?”

Y/N pursed her lips, giving her a simple shrug. “Yes and no. It’s not easy being reminded of... the love and pain I felt. How did you even find him, anyway?”

Hannah sheepishly smiled, “Aunt Carmella...”

Y/N scoffed, knowing it was exactly like her friend to be secretive about something so monumental like knowing where Harry is and how to contact him. She couldn’t determine if it was a good thing that Carmella kept this information from her, but deep down she knew it was.

As soon as Y/N gathered her wits, the foursome were out the door and on their way to lunch. They had decided to drive two separate cars, and after a bit of begging, Y/N let Harry drive them in his rental. Though, along the way it was a bit of rocky journey. “First time driving on the right side of the road,” was his excuse.

In the car ride, Y/N took the time to truly admire the man she once laid beside at night, trying to wrap her head around the fact that he was next to her again. She wondered if in his old age he would turn wrinkled and decrepit, maybe using a cane or having a hunch back. It only seemed fitting that he beat all of those stereotypes and looked like he had the health of his younger self rather than a seventy-six year old man. He’s timeless; just like their love.

When they finally met up with Carmella, it didn’t take Y/N long to scold her friend for keeping such a humongous secret from her, and working in tandem with her own daughter and granddaughter. All the Italian woman did was shrug before latching her arms around both Harry and Y/N’s frames, pulling the three of them close for a long-awaited, reuniting hug that felt like home.

“Il trio è tornato e meglio che mai. questo merita un brindisi,” [The trio is back and better than ever. This deserves a toast] Carmella cheered, clapping her hands in giddiness as she waved the waitress back over to order the most extravagant wine.

Leaning down to whisper in Y/N’s ear, Harry muttered, “And I still have no idea what she’s saying.” Y/N bumped his shoulder with hers, shaking her head gently as a small smile snuck up onto her lips.

Lunch was shared with many laughs and old stories - all per the request of Ellie. She was eager to keep learning and eager to see her nona so happy.

When lunch was over and they were all saying goodbye, Ellie practically all but pushed Y/N to go with Harry so they could go somewhere private. Hannah of course condoned her daughter’s behavior, but also told her mom it was for the best they catch up without either of them around. They needed to be alone.

That’s how they ended up at the park downtown, where Y/N used to frequent often when she used to run in the mornings or whenever she needed a spark of creativity for her next painting. 

Once Harry placed the car in park, the stagnant tension between them only rose as neither of them jumped to get out of the vehicle. They simmered, absorbed, melted into the atmosphere, basking in it before they flipped it on its head to talk about what they both had been avoiding.

It was an unspoken truce to get out of the car at the same time. The sun was winking at them through the clouds, luring them to venture deeper into the park, just like it used to. Almost as if the star was just as excited as them to be back in each other’s lives. The saying is if walls could talk, but what about the sun? Or the moon? Both kept Harry and Y/N’s moments inside of them, stored deep in their cores right next to all the other love that happened in their line of vision.

Out of instinct, the two locked hands. And they didn’t seem to mind. It felt like a magnet pulled them together, and it would take a lot of force to break them apart.

As they walked along the paved path, being passed by those on bikes or joggers, or really even anyone that walked faster. They weren’t in any sort of rush, because moments like these aren’t meant to be fast paced. They needed to simmer, absorb, and melt.

Harry decided to be the first to speak up, surprising both of them considering, well, his past. “I see the artist life treated you well.”

Slightly turning her head to face him, she laughed softly, shrugging her shoulders. “I guess it did. You predicted it.”

I can’t wait to buy your art one day.

Harry gazed down at his feet, humming a response. He didn’t have the proper words to respond to her allusion to his letter. Hearing the twinge of spite sitting on top of her words was enough for him to gauge that his letter was a sore topic for her. And rightfully so, because even he hasn’t completely forgiven himself for not giving her a proper goodbye.

Coming up on a patch of grass that was half hidden beneath a large oak tree and half in the glory of the sunlight, Harry and Y/N decided to take a seat. If they were going to throw themselves into the past, might as well go all the way and lay in the grass like they did in Florence. Albeit, they wouldn’t actually lay down because it would’ve been impossible for either of them to properly get up.

They rested their backs against the large trunk, looking out into the field and watching little kids play around as their parents kept their distance off to the side with other parents. Y/N found it near impossible to not snap a mental picture of what was in front of her, cursing herself for not bringing her camera with her. It was a beautiful day, and one she wished to remember. Not because of the dreadful conversation that was bound to swallow her whole or the man sitting beside her, but because of the landscape.

What a waste of a beautiful day.

Now, it was her turn to break the silence, because she knew he wouldn’t. He may have once, but that was all he could probably handle. “Tell me about your life, Harry. Please.”

Letting out a breath of air he didn’t realize he had been holding in, Harry twiddled with his thumbs in his lap. “Got two kids. Ben and, uh, Rose.”

Ouch.

“Five beautiful grandchildren.” He spoke shortly and to the point, finding it very difficult to open up the can of worms that is his life.

Once Harry got the call from Carmella that he was going to surprise Y/N for her birthday, he couldn’t get on a plane any faster. The idea of being face-to-face with her again after so many years was daunting and normally he found it difficult to escape his confined box of reality. But that was the thing about Y/N, she always made things seem less terrible to him.

England is his origin and where his family resides, but it hardly felt like home anymore.

His marriage with Nancy balanced on its very thin, tight rope for thirty years, but they both knew it was bound to fall off. Once he returned from Italy, it was like he was a soldier returning from war, because he in no way was the same man who left for Italy when coming home. But, they pushed on, because it was what they were meant to do.

They had two wonderful kids and they seemed like the picturesque family they were planned to be. Behind closed doors, they were anything but. He and Nancy fought a lot and their kids seemed to loathe him for reasons still unbeknownst to him. He supported them and loved them like any parent would, yet it felt like they joined everyone else in his life that wanted to keep him silent. Everyone except one person.

Once his and Nancy’s divorce was finalized, the kids couldn’t be more thrilled. All they needed was a solid reason to drop their father out of their lives. As the years went on they slowly worked him back into their day-to-day routine, but not really. Only for the sake of his grandkids was he in their lives.

It was especially hard living his life knowing his own creations couldn’t stand him just like everyone else, and that was exactly why he couldn’t agree faster to get on a plane to America.

“I officially retired last year, so m’not really doing much these days. Actually, I picked up drawing again if y’could believe it. Haven’t touched a pencil for artistic purposes since... well, since then.” Their heads remained forward, not a single glance made towards one another because it felt easier this way. 

Y/N listened intently to the drawl of his voice, engraving the words he spoke deep into her mind, right next to the dusty ones he spoke fifty-five years prior. Everything and anything he’s ever said rests idly on little bookshelves in her brain, collecting dust the longer she takes to go back and hear them over. It was nice to add new additions to her collection. “That sounds lovely, H.”

His heartstrings pulled at the use of his nickname, something only she would call him. He was only Harry to any one, both by his choice and because every one else was too prim to call him something else.

Y/N took notice to how he mentioned nothing of Nancy, and paired that with the fact he wasn’t wearing a wedding band on his most intimate finger. She thinks maybe he did it out of courtesy to not beckon any unwarranted anguish and pain for her sake - because that’s exactly why she didn’t wear hers.

When she went to put her flowers in a vase in the kitchen, she slid her engagement and wedding rings off her finger and set them down gently on the counter, not wanting to clash her two separate lives.

That’s why she had to ask about her. She couldn’t keep going if she didn’t have any sort of answer to her wondering questions that she’s had for the past five decades. “How’s Nancy?” Y/N didn’t care to actually know how she is, she just wanted to know their story.

The leaves above them blew in the suddenly apparent wind, threatening them that what they were about to indulge in was like a storm on the horizon. It was bound to come and impossible to avoid. “Dunno. Haven’t spoken to her in a couple of weeks.”

This opened the door to many unanswered questions in Y/N’s mind, sending her down on spiral of want and need for an explanation that he didn’t seem keen on giving. This closed the most important door, flooding her with relief she didn’t realize she needed to feel just a little less pain sitting next to him.

Not knowing just how to pose her next question, Harry beat her to the punch, halting her thoughts in her tracks. “We’re divorced.”

Divorced. A strange concept. Y/N never imagined divorcing her husband in all of the years they were married. It seemed trivial and time-consuming and led to no greater purpose in her mind. She could either be miserably alone, or miserable with a man by her side. The latter seemed the most comforting.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’m not. We weren’t meant to be,” he chuckled, laughing not because it’s actually funny, but because Y/N knew they weren’t meant to be. It was obvious. “Just meaningless pieces in my parents puzzle.”

Hearing his broken words that he used to rant about all those years ago resurface, Y/N couldn’t help reaching for his hand again, clasping it between both of hers and holding it in her lap. It didn’t matter how many years had passed, because it was certain his parents were still a sore subject. She wanted him to know that she never forgot the hurt they put him through, and that she will always be on his side. Always.

Diverting the attention away from himself, it was Harry’s turn to pour salt into a wound he knew would sting harshly. “Did you uh, ever get married, Rose?”

When Carmella had managed to get his number a couple years after Italy, they kept in contact nearly every week. A lot of the time their topic of conversation would revolve around Y/N, and what ever new information Carmella could relay. One thing he refused to know however, was if she ever got married. He didn’t need to know, nor did he want to. But now, he supposes he does. 

“I did. He passed in February.” The 1st. Coincidental, maybe ironic. “He was a good man.”

Silence. It was nice Y/N was able to settle herself with someone deemed to be good. It’s what she deserved. But Harry didn’t want to know anymore.

Silence. They kept their heads forward, but over time Y/N’s head slowly ended up resting on Harry’s shoulder. Their hands stayed latched and their bodies radiated each other’s warmth. Y/N felt cold though. Rehashing their pasts slowly brought them closure, but it in no way healed the pain that rested heavy on her heart. “I wish things could’ve been different for us, Harry.” They deserved different than what they were given. Why do soulmates exist if they can’t be together? 

A love like theirs is folklore; unsure if it ever existed, but meant to be told for generations. “We were special don’t you think?”

“We were everything,” Harry murmured, squeezing her hands, then planting a gentle kiss to the crown of her head.

Y/N laughed again at his allusion, but she wasn’t laughing because it was funny, but because it stung like a wasp. Over and over again. “I’ve still got that stupid piece of paper, y’know. Your letter. Saved it all these years because it was all I had.”

The little anger she had left inside of her began to bubble up. Though it didn’t last very long as tears welled in her eyes, just like when she picked up the stupid paper for the first time. Grief stampeded her stomach like a herd of frightened elephants, bruising her deeply as the pain she felt from that day made itself known in the present.

“You didn’t say goodbye. Why didn’t you say goodbye?”

The wind picked up as the clouds in the sky completely covered the sun in forecast, hovering over Harry as a reminder, just in case he didn’t already know the pain he caused.

Pulling Y/N close to his chest, he let her cry, knowing it was best to not say anything at all. She wasn’t legitimately asking why he didn’t, but it felt good to get the question off her chest. So he let her cry, his own tears pricking his waterline, balancing on the edge before tumbling over and down onto his cheeks.

Just when the sun began to come out from its hiding spot, the two subsided their emotions, calming down just like the leaves above their heads. The storm had passed. All that’s left now is the aftermath.

“We don’t get forever, Rose. But we have each other now.”

Something tells them though that despite how many physical years they may have left with one another, they’ll always have forever. The thought rests easy on their minds.

With just a few more minutes of sitting in the grass and simmering, absorbing, melting, the duo decided it was time to get up. They were going to put the past behind them, starting with the fact that maybe they were too old to be sitting in the grass like they used to.

Laughs and giggles were exchanged as they both tried to get to their feet as gracefully as possible without drawing any attention to themselves. They were a heap of giggles and optimism as they retraced their steps back onto the pathway, heading back to his car.

It almost seemed like déjà vu the moment a speedy bicyclist zoomed past Y/N, nearly grazing her left side. She moved out of his way just in the nick of time, but haphazardly fell into Harry’s arms, who always seemed ready to catch her even in the most abrupt of times.

It all happened so fast yet also so slow, running parallel to the moment this exact occurrence happened fifty-five years ago. Their whole day ran parallel to their pasts, so it was only inevitable that that same electricity sparked through their bodies again.

They gazed into each other’s eyes the moment her body felt safe, that same magnet pulling them close enough that their mouths were only a few inches apart. Not a single word was exchanged as their breaths mingled together and their fingers gripped each other forcefully.

Remembering when she told Ellie about their first electric moment, Ellie immediately questioned if the two of them had kissed because it seemed like the perfect moment. Disappointingly, they didn’t.

She would hate to disappoint her granddaughter again.

So, this time they did.

It was the perfect moment, after all.

[nicknellie]

Ok, so obviously Luke’s relationship with Emily was very strained before he left home. But what about with his dad? I present to you, headcanons about Mitch and Luke Patterson’s father-son relationship, featuring trans!Luke.

(I tried to keep this light-hearted but it didn’t really work so... I’m sorry.)

Luke and Mitch were always close

I’m talking all the usual father-child activities: Mitch taught him how to swim, how to ride a bike, took him to his first sports games, they went fishing once (but Luke fell in the lake so they never did it again), they go camping together, everything and anything

Luke wasn’t the best behaved child growing up though, so his parents were always trying to think of things that would calm him down or at least distract him

It was Mitch’s idea to buy Luke his first guitar

Mitch used to play acoustic guitar and thought it would be a fun thing to share with Luke, and it might help him be better behaved

The first time Luke played he wanted to give up immediately because he couldn’t do it on the first try

Mitch sat him down and taught him everything he knew (very patiently, because little Luke was not willing to learn)

Eventually he got the hang of it and loved it to pieces

It made Mitch so proud to see his son enjoying himself so much

Mitch was the first person Luke spoke to when he was questioning his gender

He was ten or eleven and knew next to nothing about gender identity, so he went to his dad because he had been so good at explaining things in the past

Mitch was as supportive as you could imagine - as soon as Luke felt ready, the two of them headed out shopping to buy new clothes and things

Truth be told, Mitch didn’t know a lot about gender either, but he made it his mission to research it until he felt that he knew enough to be truly supportive of Luke

After Luke had also come out to Emily, the three of them went to their first pride event - Mitch didn’t think he’d ever seen Luke smiling quite so brightly

(Luke wrote My Name Is Luke and played it to Emily as his way of coming out - she was also incredibly supportive, and Mitch cried)

Luke asked for an electric guitar for his fourteenth birthday

Emily wasn’t so sure, but Mitch was the one to persuade her that it could be a good idea

“You know how much he loves music, it’s not as if it’ll be a waste of money.”

Luke, of course, adored his electric guitar

He’d put on “shows” for his parents, which were really just him sat in the living room, blocking their view of the TV, singing covers of his favourite songs

Then he met Reggie, Bobby, and Alex one by one, and they formed Sunset Curve

This is when things started to go downhill

Emily didn’t want Luke in the band - not because she didn’t want him to enjoy music, but because she had a lot of misconceptions about rock musicians and things like drugs and drink

When the arguing started, Mitch was stuck between a rock and a hard place - agree with his wife or agree with his son

He could see both sides of their argument and whenever they argued he either tried not to get involved or tried to calm it down

Neither tactic really worked

It hurt him to see his family falling apart

After the first big argument between Emily and Luke, Luke stormed off to his room

Mitch spoke to Emily first

“If he’s enjoying it and staying safe then what’s the problem?” he asked her

She had sighed and said, “I just don’t want him to get hurt.”

Later, Mitch hesitantly knocked on Luke’s door

Luke said, “Go away,” but Mitch ignored him and walked in

“If you’re here to tell me that mom’s right and I should quit the band then you can save it, I’m not leaving.”

“I wasn’t going to say that. You want to go somewhere? Get something to eat, just go on a drive? You can’t stay in your room all day.”

When Luke didn’t reply, Mitch said, “Just the two of us.”

They went to Luke’s favourite fast food restaurant and Luke’s mood brightened steadily

Mitch listened to him gush about the band, talk about all the gigs they had lined up, laugh about his friends’ antics

He didn’t think the band could be dangerous or a bad idea, not when Luke so clearly adored it

The fights only got worse - it became routine for Mitch to calm Emily down first, then go and take Luke somewhere

They went to the cinema, crazy golf, the beach, museums, the planetarium, haunted houses in October, Christmas markets in December, or they would just wander around or go on a long drive

Whatever Luke needed to take his mind off it, Mitch was happy to help him

It got to the point that after an argument Luke would be stood by the door with his coat on, ready to leave

We know Luke and Alex dated for a bit in the nineties - Mitch was the first person Luke told when they got together, and he was the shoulder Luke cried on when they broke up

Mitch was just arriving home from work the night Luke ran away

He could see his bike disappearing around a corner, and Emily was falling apart

She explained everything - Mitch held himself together; he thought Luke would come home eventually

He blamed himself a bit; he felt he was the one who had taught Luke that if an argument got too heated it was alright to just leave

After three days, he started to worry

He called the police, told them of a missing person

“Please, it’s my son. His name is Luke Patterson, he’s been missing since Wednesday night. Apparently he hasn’t been in school either. My wife and I... we miss him so much, we just want to know he’s safe.”

He and Emily made missing person posters together, along with the ones issued by the police

The ink on most of them ended up smudged after one of them cried on it

Mitch took out newspaper ads in the hopes that somehow Luke would see it

(Luke did see the ads, he just never responded to them - he would tear them out of the newspapers and keep them in his pocket because it felt like that way he had a bit of his parents’ love with him)

He and Emily went to Reggie, Alex, and Bobby’s houses to ask them if they’d seen Luke - on Luke’s request, none of them really gave a straight answer

One night, Mitch was looking out of the living room window

He thought he saw someone in the bushes

He wondered - hoped it could have been Luke

When he did a double-take, he saw that no one was there

He decided it was a trick of the light

On the night of Luke’s death, the police showed up at the Pattersons’ house, lights flashing, sirens wailing

Luke had been missing for months - of course Mitch and Emily assumed the worst

Of course they were right

They identified the body together

Mitch cried as Emily hugged her son - that probably wasn’t allowed, but she did it anyway

Emily whispered something to Luke but Mitch couldn’t hear what it was

Mitch said goodbye afterwards

He smoothed down his son’s hair, closed his eyes, straightened his jacket, held his hand, hugged him gently

Silently, he thanked Luke for everything he’d given him and done for him, for making him a better person and teacher and father, for being so perfect

That night, Mitch picked up his own old acoustic guitar for the first time in years

He played a lullaby he and Emily had sung to Luke as they tried to get him to sleep as a baby

He played the first song he’d ever taught Luke

He played a few of Luke’s original songs, the ones he’d liked so much that he’d learnt them himself, without telling Luke

He played the guitar at Luke’s funeral

But he didn’t play again after that

He remembered his son in other ways: framing hundreds of photographs and hanging them around the house, volunteering at a youth group on Friday nights, switching career paths and training as a teacher

One year, for Emily’s birthday, Mitch named a star and gave her the certificate

He had called it Luke

“Our boy was always going to be a star,” he told his wife, “and now he really is.”

[jenanigans1207]

What You Gave Me

A chill creeps down Reki’s back as another breeze blows by,

He can see Langa glancing at him out of the corner of his eyes, can see Langa watching as Reki tries his absolute hardest to stifle the shiver that threatens to wrack his whole body, The sun was high in the sky, brilliantly bright and not doing a damn thing to warm him currently. It was one of those deceptive days— the ones that looked beautiful and warm and were actually far colder than they had any right to be. It had been so nice the last few days, too. Reki had just assumed that today would be nice too, another day filled with balmy breezes and the warmth of the sun soaking through the back of his shirt.

He had been wrong. Very wrong.

The shiver wracked its way down his spine.

“Reki.” Langa stops walking, his board tucked under his arm as he turns to look at Reki who continues to fight— and lose— a valiant battle against the chill that’s trying to sink all the way to his bones. “You’re cold.”

“I’m fine,” Reki says, despite the fact that he clearly is not fine at all. 

Langa sighs and it’s all the response he really needs to give. He fixes Reki with one of his patented stares— one of the patient ones that mean he’s absolutely willing to wait for Reki to break and just admit what’s going on. Unfortunately for Langa, Reki is well versed in this look by now, having received it from him plenty of times in the months they’d been friends, and he wasn’t about to crumble underneath it. Making his point, Reki plastered a broad smile on his face and met Langa’s gaze directly, holding his shoulders tight so the cold didn’t ruin the image he was trying to project. With a roll of his eyes, Langa relents. But he sets his board down and then drops his bag next to it, leaving Reki to just stare in confusion as he finally pulls his own jacket off and holds it out to Reki.

“Here.” 

“I’m fine,” Reki repeats, gently pushing the jacket back towards Langa. 

“You always say that,” Langa lectures, stepping close enough to Reki that he’s able to sling the jacket over Reki’s shoulders without any fuss. “And you’re always lying.”

“Why does everyone always say that?” Reki laments as the jacket settles across his back, warm to the touch. Already he can feel the chill of the early spring air dissipating, dissolving away under Langa’s touch, the softness of his jacket, the tenderness of the gesture. 

“Because it’s true,” Langa replies. He takes a step back and resumes staring pointedly at Reki.

“I’m just a little cold. But that doesn’t mean I’m not fine.” Reki concedes finally as he reaches for the collar of the jacket, intending to pull it off and offer it back to Langa. “Besides, I don’t want you to be cold, too.”

“Reki, I’m a snowboarder.” Langa’s hand shoots out to cradle Reki’s wrist, stopping him from removing the jacket. “It gets much colder than this in Canada. I promise I’m fine.”

They stare pointedly at each other, Langa’s hand still warm but gentle against Reki’s wrist. Reki wants to protest further but he knows that Langa has a fair point. In fact, it’s rare that Reki ever even sees Langa in a jacket at all outside of the one required for their school uniform. In all the time they’ve known each other, Reki really doesn’t think he’s ever seen Langa cold. It takes a long moment before Reki finally sighs, pulling his own bag off of his shoulder before slipping his hands through the sleeves of Langa’s jacket. Langa is taller than him so the jacket hangs loosely off of his frame, but it’s comfortable and warm like an embrace and Reki finds immediately that he likes the feel of it. The fit of it is even better than the fit of his own jacket and he thinks he’d gladly wear Langa’s jacket forever if he could.

And then he promptly cuts that line of thought off, ducking his head as he grabs his bag off the ground again, hoping the dusting of pink he can feel warming his cheeks can pass as a result of the cold air still biting as his exposed skin. “Thanks, Langa. It’s just colder than I expected today.”

“I see that.” When Reki shoots him a look, the corner of Langa’s mouth quirks up into a smile. “I was starting to think you didn’t actually have arms since I’d never seen them.”

“I don’t always wear a hoodie,” Reki interjects, both of them slinging their bags back over their shoulders and resuming the walk to their classroom before the final lunch bell rang. “I do have other shirts.”

“You do,” Langa agrees mildly, the smile still firm on his lips. “You just wear them over your hoodies.”

“You’ve definitely seen my arms before,” Reki replies, shoving Langa gently away.

Langa returns to his side immediately, like a magnet pulled back to its opposite half. He’s barely even gone and then he’s suddenly back in step with Reki again, the edge of his smile turning a little smug. Reki still likes it, though, and tries not to think about that fact while Langa is teasing him mercilessly. “I’ve seen you in short sleeves, but your arms are usually covered in bandages then.”

“I’ve broken my arm once!” Reki splutters as they head down the stairs, their shoulders brushing as they stand close enough to allow other people to pass on the other side of the stairs. It’s not technically true, he’s broken his arm more than once, but only once while Langa has known him.

Only once where Langa has had the chance to delicately bandage his arm for him, lecturing Reki the entire time about being reckless and not properly caring for himself. Only once where his fingers skimmed the inside of Reki’s wrist, right over his pulse, before the bandage followed, locking that touch in. Sometimes, like right now, Reki can still feel the electric jolt of that touch, the way it was filled with so much concern. He tries not to think about it often but it’s becoming harder with each passing day. Ever since they had repaired things, ever since Langa had really found his voice and started saying all the things that crossed his mind, Reki found himself unable to think about things that weren’t related to Langa in one way or another.

“When I met you, you had your arm broken,” Langa replies, reaching for Reki’s wrist again and holding his arm up between them as if that could possibly prove his point. Reki swallows, the inside of his wrist tingling at the memory of Langa’s fingertips.

Reki pulls his arm back out of Langa’s grasp and slides his hands into the pockets of Langa’s jacket, the tingling shooting all the way up his arm. “It was probably not broken anymore by that point.”

“Just how fast do you think bones heal?” Langa laughs, shaking his head. A few of the longer pieces of his hair fall into his eyes when he glances over at Reki, but they do nothing to block the brilliant blue of his eyes or the fondness that’s there, mixed right in with the affectionate exasperation that Reki is so used to seeing.

“My bones are very strong,” Reki says stubbornly, but he knows that he’s smiling, too. He sinks into the moment, lets it surround him and wraps him in a warmth that far exceeds that of Langa’s jacket. It’s been a while since Reki felt this at ease with anything— even himself— and he relishes in the fact that Langa is still here, still teasing him, still laughing at him but with absolutely no bite whatsoever. The only mark his words leave behind is a faint blush on Reki’s cheek. All the cracks that have been in Reki’s heart lately are completely repaired as Langa smiles back at him, his eyes sparkling with that mischief that Reki has found very intoxicating since the first day.

“That’s probably because you break them so often,” Langa replies, and he’s already pulling away to try and get out of Reki’s reach, his smile broad now. 

They round the last corner and by the time Reki is jamming his elbow into Langa’s ribs, Langa is already laughing again— a quiet huff under his breath that’s far more pleasant than the day outside. Reki’s so caught up in it, in his own laughter that comes freely, he doesn’t even get a chance to dodge Langa’s elbow as he returns the favor, nudging Reki in the ribs. And then they’re tripping over each other, falling together instead of apart, and Reki is nearly breathless by the time they finally stumble through the classroom door, the entirety of the class glancing up at their arrival. Reki doesn’t notice, his entire focus wrapped up in Langa as they finally manage to separate enough to sit down.

“You’re the worst,” Reki says as he slides back into his seat, depositing his board and bag on the ground at his feet.

“Ouch.” Langa slides into his own seat, his smile betraying the fact that he puts absolutely no stock in Reki’s words. 

It only takes a second for Langa to dig his notes out of his bag and straighten up and suddenly the two of them are dissolved into their own world again, completely oblivious of the things around them until class starts. So, if the rest of the class exchanged glances at Reki in Langa’s jacket, at Langa’s brilliant smile that they don’t get to see nearly as often as they should, well Reki doesn’t notice. He’s too busy leaning across the aisle that separates their seats and doodling something in the margin of Langa’s notes.

—x

The sun is barely still in the sky by the time Langa drops him off that night.

Reki climbs off the back of Langa’s bike, exchanging goodbyes quickly before hustling through the door because he’s definitely late for family dinner. Reki had tried to plead with Langa, to get him to attend family dinner too because there’s no way his mom could ever be mad at Langa, but Langa had already promised his own mom that he’d be home tonight for dinner and didn’t want to leave her alone. So, Reki’s only choice was to try to sneak through the door quietly and pretend he’d been there the whole time, distracted by something else and definitely not running around town with Langa until the sun was almost completely below the horizon.

He opens the door as slowly as he can, glancing over his shoulder at Langa who nods at him in good luck before taking off towards his own house, shrinking until he’s a speck that’s faded into the few remaining tendrils of red and orange that still paint the horizon in a beautiful picture. Reki creeps through the door, kicks his shoes off, and is just about to shut it behind him when he hears footsteps in the hallway that tell him he’s absolutely busted.

“Where have you been?” Reki doesn’t have to look at his mom to know she has her hands on her hips.

He lets out the breath he’d been holding and hangs his head, “I”m sorry mom, I—“

“And what are you wearing?” She asks, more kindly this time. Reki still isn’t looking at her, but he can hear the smile in her voice and the edge of something that he can’t quite place his finger on.

Startled, Reki looks down at his outfit only to realize that he’s still clad in Langa’s jacket. 

Langa had been right, he was perfectly fine in the cooler temperatures, and skating after class had certainly only warmed him up. A brief image of Langa, flushed cheeks and chest heaving as he cheers for Reki when he finally lands the newest trick he’s been practicing flashes through Reki’s mind, but he tries to stifle it. The point was that Langa hadn’t asked for his jacket back once and Reki hadn’t even considered giving it back because Langa hadn’t looked cold and— well, he’d actually completely forgotten he was wearing it. It was so comfortable that somewhere in the middle of class, Reki had forgotten that he wasn’t just wearing his own hoodie. Sure, this hoodie smelled like Langa and now that Reki was alone in his own home, he really realized just how true that was. But he’d been within a few feet of Langa all day long, he hadn’t really realized—

“Oh.” Reki glances up at his mom and hopes that he isn’t blushing, hopes his expression doesn’t betray all of his thoughts, He’s been having so many of them lately that he’d like to think he’s getting better at hiding them but he has a sneaking suspicion that he’s actually getting worse at keeping his thoughts off of his face. “I forgot my hoodie today so Langa let me borrow his jacket.”

The way his mom smiles in response is very fond and far too knowing and if it weren’t for the fact that Reki could tell just by the tilt of her lips that he was no longer in trouble, he’d hate whatever he thought she saw in his statement— or perhaps written across his face. “He’s a very kind boy. You should’ve invited him in.”

“I did.” Reki finishes shutting the door finally, just to have a reason to stop looking directly at his mom. He tries desperately to school his expression into something neutral and puts the questions he has about his suddenly racing heartbeat to the back of his mind, He can wonder about that later when he’s alone. Wondering about it now when his mom can see everything is a dangerous game that Reki has no intention of playing. “But he had to get home to his mom.”

“Well, let’s hope you didn’t make him late to his family dinner.” The bite is gone from her chiding and Reki knows he deserves it anyway so he just mumbles another apology and trails his mom into the kitchen, sliding into his spot at the table and not meeting any of the glances she throws his way while they eat.

—x

Once dinner finally ends, Reki escapes to his room as fast as he possibly can, barely putting the last dishes away before he’s all but sprinting to his room to get some distance from his mom and the looks she’s been sending him. He shuts his door with as little force as possible and finally flops down on his bed, letting out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding all night. His heart continues to thunder away in his chest, racing with just the mere thought of Langa and whatever dots his mom seemed to be connecting. He didn’t really have to work hard to dissect the meaning of his mom’s looks— she’d been sending them to him for a few weeks now, and only when he mentioned Langa. 

And yeah, okay, Reki knew what she was implying and if the way his cheeks constantly heated up under those looks was anything to go by, he’d say she was right. And if that wasn’t a good indicator, he could certainly look at the way he felt around Langa— the tingling in his wrist that he could call up at any moment with just a mere thought, the buzzing he felt throughout his whole body whenever he made Langa laugh.

He remembers it clearly— and often— the night at the skate park when they had finally reconciled things and had a chance to say their peace. When Reki had sat up, his body aching from the impact with the ground, only to find Langa laughing bright and brilliant, laughing in a way Reki had never seen before— well he had felt the entire world shift, then. It was like something inside of him had changed, like something had clicked into place and suddenly a lot of the answers he had been looking for were there in Langa’s laughter, in the kind words Langa said, in the touch of his hand. All the things Reki had been seeking, missing, longing for, all of it was there in Langa.

And it wasn’t that those things hadn’t been there before, but that Reki just hadn’t really realized it. 

So yeah, he knew what his mom was implying every time he said Langa’s name, and her eyes softened at the corner. He knew what she was thinking when she told him to invite Langa over more often, to let him get to know the family. It was a pretty clear line she was drawing and Reki couldn’t even deny it. The most he could ever do was duck his head and tell his mom that Langa was busy, but that he’d promised to come over as soon as he could. And then he would bring Langa home on days when they had homework to do instead of skating, or days when they were too tired or sore to stay out all night. And his mom would greet Langa at the door as if she were just greeting a second son as if he already had a solid place in this family— and he did. Reki’s sisters loved him and Langa was unbearably great with them, listening to their stupid stories that had sixteen detours before they got to the point. He’d ask questions, too, giving them a chance to say more. And when one of Reki’s sisters had given Langa a picture she’d drawn, Langa had taken it like it was the most precious thing he’d ever been offered and then later sent Reki a picture of it hanging on his wall.

It wasn’t just Reki that had these— these feelings about Langa, it was his whole entire family. 

It was like Langa just belonged here, right next to Reki. In that time that they’d been fighting, when Reki had felt entirely lifeless, nobody really asked him what was wrong. They saw the Langa-shaped hole in his life and they had all the answers they needed to why Reki had been behaving the way he was. 

Reki sighs and digs his phone out of one of the pockets of Langa’s jacket, clicking into his conversation with Langa out of habit more than anything else. He can agonize over these thoughts later, it’s not like they have a deadline. He’s been agonizing over them for weeks now anyways. 

Sorry, I forgot to give you back your jacket.

He sends the text to Langa and then closes his eyes, dropping his phone and waiting for it to thump onto his chest. It does, but it comes with the distinct sound of his phone hitting something else and suddenly Reki feels two things pressing into his chest instead of just one. 

Confused, he sits up and unzips the jacket, patting it down. Sure enough, over the left side of his chest, there’s something rectangular. Thin enough that he hadn’t noticed it all day but now that he’s aware of it, he wonders how it didn’t catch his attention sooner. Reki checks the outside of the jacket but there’s nothing there. Carefully, he pulls the jacket open and sure enough, there on the left side is a zipper practically hidden in the seam— a secret pocket. Confused and concerned that he damaged whatever was in here, Reki opens the pocket and reaches inside.

He hears his phone ding from where it’s now resting next to him on the bed, but he doesn’t care for the time being. His hand closes around cold metal and then he’s pulling Langa’s iPod out from the pocket and looking down at it. He remembers when Langa had first found his old iPod again. He’d been so excited to show it to Reki, offering Reki the second earbud as he played through the songs of his past and told Reki some of what those songs meant to him. He had an entire snowboarding playlist that he used to listen to on the slopes and when Reki listened to it, he loved every second of it. The entire feeling of the playlist was how Reki felt when he was skating next to Langa— the heavy beat of his heart, the weightlessness of going fast, the freedom, and the joy of sharing it with someone else. That was Reki’s favorite thing that Langa had shown him. And sometimes in the morning, when Reki first met up with Langa, he’d see Langa pull the earbuds out of his ears and tuck them away before raising his hand in greeting.

So really, it doesn’t surprise Reki to find this in here.

Smiling, Reki picks his phone back up and glances at the text from Langa.

It’s okay, you can keep it as long as you’d like.

Warmth blooms in Reki’s chest as he drops his phone without replying. Instead, he picks the iPod back up and reclines against his pillows, unlocking it and hopping into Langa’s playlists. He knows Langa won’t mind if he finds out that Reki was listening to his snowboarding music. Plus there’s one song in there Reki keeps asking Langa about and Langa can never remember the name of it. 

Reki’s smiling to himself, nestled in Langa’s jacket, the scent of Langa surrounding Reki in his own bed, the intimacy of that thought not lost on him, as he clicks into Langa’s playlists. He starts to scroll down by default, knowing that a snowboarding playlist has to be something Langa made a long time ago and therefore would be lower down on the list when something catches his eye. It takes Reki’s mind a second to register it and then he’s scrolling back up to the very top.

And there it is, staring back at him.

The first playlist on Langa’s iPod.

The playlist that’s titled simply: Reki.

Curious, and with his heartbeat in his throat, Reki clicks on the playlist. It opens up to a list of songs, a lot of which Reki recognizes as songs he’s mentioned loving before. He sees his top three favorite songs right at the start of the playlist, and that makes sense to Reki. Maybe Langa had just made this playlist to get to know Reki better or to help remember the kind of things Reki liked. It would make sense, and Reki couldn’t deny that he kept a similar mental list of all the things Langa had mentioned liking in passing.

But as Reki continues to scroll down the playlist, the songs start to change. Now he’s staring at a bunch of songs he’s never mentioned— some of which he’s never even heard of— but the ones that he recognizes all have one common theme: love songs.

For a moment, everything freezes and Reki thinks he must be seeing things. His finger trembles as it hovers over one of the songs, one earbud already in his ear. He can still feel his pulse in his throat, but now he can feel it in his fingertips, too, in his toes. Each breath feels like it’s shaking him apart completely. Carefully, he clicks on one of the songs.

And yeah, that’s definitely a love song.

Reki can feel his face turn as red as his hair as he listens to the warm melody of the song, as he lets the declarations wash over him. He closes his eyes, burying his face in the front of Langa’s jacket, and just listens, wondering how these singers managed to find the words for these feelings when they’ve been expertly eluding him for weeks now. How do people get up the courage to say these things? Reki thinks he’d never have the guts for that, thinks the mortification of it would be the sort of thing he’d never survive. 

But still, there’s something tempting about it. There’s something so honest and raw in these songs, something that strums all of Reki’s heartstrings and makes him ache. Just listening to them would’ve had him thinking about Langa anyways because he hears all of his own deepest desires, his most secret thoughts spoken aloud to the beat of these songs. But knowing that Langa picked these songs and put them on a playlist that was titled with. Nothing other than his name makes Reki feel— he doesn’t even know. But it feels pretty close to that mortification he was imagining earlier but it’s mixed with happiness and maybe a little giddiness. He suddenly feels like he could skate laps around the entire town and it would do nothing to dull the energy he feels pulsing through his veins.

He tries to calm himself down, tries not to let himself hope but, well— Langa’s a pretty direct guy. He may not have always been great at communicating his thoughts but the things he’s said, he’s always meant. And the fact that he would create a playlist like this, the fact that he had to hand-select these songs to be on here couldn’t mean nothing. It just couldn’t. Langa didn’t do or say things that were untrue or deceptive. If he crafted a playlist under Reki’s name and filled it with Reki’s favorite songs and love songs— that was deliberate.

Blown completely away by this, blown completely away by the fact that he didn’t see this, either, even though it was objectively right in front of his face, Reki can’t stop the smile from spreading across his face. 

It was just like with his own feelings— they had always been there but it had taken Reki a long time to see them. Langa and his feelings had always been there, too, and Reki sees that clearly now. He remembers all the things Langa said to him, thinks of the times Langa has worried after him and his injuries. Reki remembers the touch of Langa’s fingertips to the inside of his wrist, feels his pulse spike at just the thought of it, and immediately, he knows what he has to do.

—x

It’s Saturday, but that doesn’t stop Reki from getting up early and heading out to meet Langa. They have the whole day they can spend at the skate park and Reki absolutely intends to do just that. His fingers tremble as he slides his arms into the sleeves of Langa’s jacket, zipping it up over one of his T-shirts. His whole family is still asleep so he sneaks out the window, the wind whipping at his hair and his exposed neck as he rides down the ramp and heads to their usual meeting spot. 

As soon as Reki turns the last corner, he can see Langa already waiting there for him, dressed in his usual short sleeves. Reki tries to swallow around the lump in his throat, tries to hold onto the conviction he had found last night while listening to Langa’s playlist for him. It turns out it’s much easier to be confident in his decision when he’s alone in his room under the blanket of night. Because now, slowing to a stop so he can look up and meet Langa’s blue gaze, he feels all of that courage shriveling up.

What if he misread everything? What if Langa knew someone else named Reki?

“Good morning, Reki.” Langa smiles at him, raising his hand for a high five and Reki knows that he has to do this.

He raises his own hand, completing the high five, and offers his own smile that he knows is wavering a little around the edges. “Good morning.”

Langa scans down Reki’s body and Reki knows that he’s looking at the jacket. That’s the key to Reki’s plan, the lynchpin for how he’s going to bring up what he needs to bring up and Langa is taking the bait perfectly, “Keeping the jacket?”

“Yeah. Can’t let you know I have arms.” Reki jokes, his voice feeling unsteady. If Langa notices, he doesn’t say anything, but he does laugh at Reki’s joke and it’s just the right amount of encouragement Reki needs to follow through. Carefully, he reaches into the jacket and opens the secret internal pocket, pulling out Langa’s iPod. “But I’m not keeping this. I figure you’d probably like it back.”

“Ah,” Langa accepts his iPod, glancing at it. “That explains why I couldn’t find it this morning.”

“Yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean to take it from you.” Langa shrugs in response, clearly unbothered by the whole thing, and goes to put the iPod in his pocket. And this is Reki’s moment, he knows that it’s his moment and yet he’s practically paralyzed by fear. 

What he has with Langa is too precious to him to ruin. Maybe it would be better if he just swallowed his words and left them unspoken. If Langa really felt the way that playlist implied, Reki could leave it to him to say something first, and then he could just kiss the confession off of his lips. That would be easier, and significantly less terrifying. But Reki had known he was a coward when it came to feelings last night and he’d put a failsafe into place, something to force him to act today. 

He reaches out and catches Langa’s wrist before he can finish putting the iPod away.

Langa looks up at him, the edges of his hair catching the light and making him look like he’s glowing. His beauty has always been ethereal, but it’s never been more true than this moment. “Reki?”

“I, uh—“ Reki swallows. The words stick in his throat. He needs to say something because he can’t risk Langa finding out on his own. He can’t let Langa just discover it and leave him with all these questions. The words are out of Reki’s mouth before he has a chance to overthink it any further. They come out clumsy and a little slanted, but he says them nonetheless and that’s what matters. “I also made a playlist on there.”

Langa’s eyebrows rise in surprise.

And that— that was Reki’s failsafe. He had made his own playlist and filled it with his own love songs. And he’d titled it with nothing other than: Langa.

It was the existence of that playlist that spurred Reki on. Because he really couldn’t let Langa find it when they weren’t together, when Reki didn’t have a chance to explain. And there was no hope that Langa wouldn’t find it at all. It would last until tomorrow at the latest before Langa went to listen to something and found the new playlist staring back at him. And he’d have a million questions, Reki was sure of that. Reki had been sure of that last night, too, which is why he’d made it. Because he knew it would be the only way to guarantee that he didn’t brush this off or try to avoid another conversation about feelings.

Because conversations about feelings scared the shit out of him and made him feel like hiding under a rock for a week, minimum, but he knew what he wanted— Langa— and he knew the only way to get it was to suck it up and talk it out. 

Langa pulls the iPod fully out of his pocket again, the movement dislodging Reki’s hand from his wrist. As Langa lifts the iPod to look up the playlist, Reki looks down at their feet, his cheeks burning, He hasn’t even said anything yet, Langa hasn’t even seen the playlist, and already the mortification is so strong that he wishes the ground would just open up underneath his feet and swallow him whole. 

Feelings have never been Reki’s forte.

Reki hears Langa’s intake of breath and then there’s a pause that lasts the length of three racing heartbeats. And then, finally, Langa says, “Reki?”

And now is the moment that Reki needs to explain, to lay it all on the line, to tell Langa what he probably should’ve told Langa that day in the skate park when they’d made up and Langa had said so many of the things that he needed to say. Now it’s the moment where Reki gets to tell Langa that his life changed for the better the day Langa picked up his skateboard, the day their paths officially intertwined. He gets to tell Langa that everything hurts when they aren't together and that Reki’s life is only complete when he has Langa by his side. He gets to tell Langa that his family loves him, that he loves him, that all he wants is to never be separated from Langa again.

Except, Reki’s not a singer or songwriter and words are not that easy. So he starts simple and really hopes he just gets enough momentum to say the rest.

“I’m sorry.” He starts with and he’s not sure if it’s the right or wrong way to begin this sort of thing. “I found your iPod last night and I went into it to find that song I’m always asking you about and then I found your playlist— the one with my name and all the— all the—“ love songs, Reki doesn’t say because he doesn’t think he’d be able to without losing whatever thin shreds of sanity he still had left. “And it just made me realize that maybe I really have been stupid this whole time because I—“

Oh god, Reki, come on. Just say it, just say the rest of it. Put an end to it and just put the words out there. Reki tries to encourage himself, tries to force the words to dislodge from where they’re trapped between his ribs but everything fails him. His sentence trails off into nothing, the meaning he’s trying to make clear hanging invisible between them, and Reki wishes he could kick himself.

The silence stretches on and pulls taut between them. One wrong move and it will shatter completely.

“I’m sorry, Reki,” Langa says finally, and there’s something in his voice that has Reki snapping his eyes up to Langa’s face, despite the overwhelming fear he feels about what he’s going to find written into the lines of Langa’s expression. “I never told you because I didn’t want to burden you with it. If you want to make fun of me, I understand.”

“Make fun of you?” Reki feels like he’s falling, like he has nothing to catch himself on. He feels dizzy. “Is that what you think I’m doing? You think I’m making fun of you?”

“Well, you made the playlist—“

“To try and tell you I feel the same way!” Reki cries, throwing his hands into the air. “I made the playlist so you would know that I feel all those things too!”

And, well, that’s one way to do a confession, Reki supposes, It’s a lot clumsier than he’d intended for it to be, absolutely no nuance whatsoever, but at least the words are out there. At least now, if nothing else, he knows that he was honest, even if it was a bit blunt and rough around the edges.

Langa is looking back at him, eyes wide. Reki stares back at him but all he sees is blue. Brighter than the sky, deeper than the ocean, the kind of blue that he’d let himself get lost in. The kind of blue he has already let himself get lost in because that’s the real truth of the matter— he’s been wrapped up in Langa since the first day they met.

Langa showed up in his life and filled a vacancy Reki hadn’t even realized was there. Langa had shown up and completed all the parts of Reki’s life that didn’t seem like they added up perfectly. It wasn’t until he met Langa, until he first saw Langa tape his feet to a skateboard with all the reckless abandon that Reki himself was known for that he realized all those parts of his life had been off balance because they’d been needing someone to complete them. All this time, Reki needed someone to jump into crazy adventures with him while also looking out for his safety. He needed someone to listen to him ramble on forever, someone who asked questions and added to his thoughts, someone who shaped him into a better, smoother version of himself. And Langa had shown up and done all of that without any hesitation, like it was what he was meant to do. Langa had done all of those things so naturally that Reki hadn’t even realized it was happening. 

“You—?” Langa is still staring at him and Reki still doesn’t have any additional words.

So, he does the only thing he can do, he repeats himself and hopes that Langa will read between the lines the way he always has. “I feel the same, yeah. And I— I didn’t know how else to tell you.”

Reki isn’t quite sure how he expects Langa to react to the confession, but he knows it’s not the reaction he gets. Langa’s free hand reaches out and tugs Reki forward by the collar of Langa’s jacket that Reki is still wearing, meeting him in the middle with a searing kiss. Reki tries to kiss back, to pour everything he needs to say into it, but before he gets much of a change, the board under his feet shifts with his changed stance and suddenly he’s tumbling into Langa and Langa is falling backward and they’re crashing to the ground together, a pile of limbs as Reki lands halfway on top of Langa. 

It takes a long second of groaning and throbbing elbows before they’re able to disentangle themselves enough to actually look at each other. Reki meets Langa’s gaze again, just in time to watch Langa erupt into laughter, throwing his head back and blinking his beautiful blue eyes closed as his shoulders shook with it. And then Reki was laughing too, full, deep laughs that took away all of the tension he had been feeling. Because this whole thing had been a certifiable disaster but it had also been perfect somehow, and even though his elbows still hurt, he found that he wouldn’t change a single thing about this moment. 

“Langa,” Reki says when they finally tone their laughter down enough to get actual words out. Langa opens his eyes again and Reki finds that this time, the words finally fit, finally come to him the way he’s been begging for them to. “I really like you.”

This time, when Langa reaches for him, Reki knows what to expect. He goes willingly, leaning in until their lips are practically touching, feeling the shape of the words as Langa whispers, “I really like you too, Reki. So much.”

And somehow this kiss is even more searing than the last as Langa pulls Reki down the remaining distance. With solid ground underneath him, Reki is able to actually lean back into the kiss, to pour everything into it that he’d been trying to put into the first kiss. This kiss is arguably so much better than their actual first kiss, but Reki doesn’t care. He loves both of them equally because both of them give him Langa, warm and solid pressed against him, Both of them give him Langa’s hand warm on his cheek, Reki’s fingers tangling into his hair, the racing heartbeat beating against his ribs like drums. He loves them both because both of them mean that Reki didn’t misinterpret the signs.

It may have taken him a while to get here, but he got here regardless and when he did, all he found was Langa waiting for him with open arms. 

When they finally separate and haul themselves off the ground, Reki dusting the dirt off of Langa’s jacket, the world feels different and yet exactly the same. Reki isn’t sure how to phrase it, but this time he doesn’t think he really has to. He’ll still spend a bunch of nights pondering over it though, he figures. For now, he’s happy to just climb onto his board again, to accept the earbud Langa offers him, and to listen to the playlist he made to express his emotions as he skates perfectly in sync with Langa to their favorite place, the place they share together. And as the day progresses, he’s happy to steal some kisses between tricks, to feel the brush of Langa’s fingers against his cheek, his neck, his wrists. 

For now, Reki’s just happy. And he’s pretty confident that he’ll stay that way for a long, long time. 

[mmvalentine]

Let Me Touch You Pt 6 | Feysand

High school AU. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 7

The next time Rhys and Feyre were alone was when they had all and gotten back to Mor's place, only for Mor to suddenly remember she was supposed to be in tutoring at the library today and had to leg it back to the school.

Rhys had started making more of a point to walk home with them. He used to make a beeline straight out of his last class and beat them home, but now he hung back on the days Feyre studied with Mor. At first, Mor had looked at him weirdly, and he had asked Feyre if she minded. She shook her head, blushed, and tried very hard to be cool about it in front of Mor.

Now they were left standing in the doorway, Mor's dust still settling, and Feyre didn't know what to do. Without a third person, the electric hum settled itself back over them. Feyre rubbed her arms as it crackled over her skin.

"Well, I guess I'll just go home then," she said lamely. "Don't," Rhys said. "I'm your friend too, you know." You are? Out loud, she said, "Okay," and put her bag down in its usual spot. Rhys put his hands in his pockets.

"Did Mor ever give you a tour of this place?" he asked her. "No, but I imagine it'd take a week." Rhys laughed. "Nearly. Do you want me to show you around?" Actually, Feyre did want to see the rest of the house. She had pretty much only been in the foyer, kitchen, and Mor's room.

So Rhys walked her around- up the spiral staircase, down long corridors, into plush sitting rooms that had such rich colours Feyre's fingers itched for paint. And then into his bedroom.

Feyre stared around the room. She thought maybe it'd be dark like his wardrobe, sparse and monochromatic. But it was so warm in here. The walls were a creamy colour, and the curtains were pulled back so that late afternoon sun poured in. Rhys' bed was in the corner, with soft looking, dove-grey sheets. He had a big wooden desk with a laptop on the close edge, the rest of it scattered with paper and coloured pencils. On the far wall leaned an acoustic guitar. And dotted through the room, on shelf edges and table corners and hanging on the arm of a lamp, were little clay sculptures.

Feyre tried not to smile at them, but they were so funny. Little alien creatures, faeries, fantastic animals with pointed ears and bat wings. Some had been brightly painted, but most were glazed simply in a light eggshell colour. She loved them.

"So... yeah, this is me," Rhys said. He stood with one hand in the pocket of his jeans, and the other on the back of his neck. The contrast of this serious, black-clad trouble maker with his whimsical, funny room made Feyre laugh out loud. She clamped her hand over her mouth as soon as it escaped.

"What?" Rhys asked, uncertain now. "Nothing," Feyre said. "I just... didn't expect your room to look like this." "What were you expecting, metal posters and weed smoke?" "Well... yeah, kinda." Now Rhys grinned. "Okay, okay, I'm still cool. Come on, I'll prove it to you."

He led her then back downstairs, through the house and into the garage. He flicked on the lights, and gestured for Feyre to walk through. With Mor's parents gone, it was mostly empty, save for a dusty, old looking, black and silver motorcyle. Feyre’s jaw dropped.

"Is that yours?" she asked. "It was my mother's, I'm fixing it up." "Woah," Feyre said. "Your mom must have been so cool." "You know, I was going for you thinking that I'm cool but yes, she was super cool." Feyre stepped forward to get a closer look.

"Can you ride it?" "Yeah, it runs okay." Feyre had to admit. This was pretty freaking cool.

"Do you want go for a ride with me?" Rhys asked. Feyre balked. "What like... right now?" Rhys grinned. "Sure." And dammit Feyre really, really wanted to. What eighteen year old girl didn't, right?

xxxxxxxxx

Rhys couldn't believe it had worked. He was for sure hoping that the motorcycle angle would earn him some points, but he didn't expect to be here, zipping her into his spare jacket.

And fuck if she didn't look drop-dead sexy wearing it. Rhys had to take a deep breath to stop his fingers shaking as he pulled the zip up her body.

You're putting her in clothes, not taking them off her, he reminded himself. Still, between her looking adorable in the oversized leather, and the clothes being his that she was now wearing, the effect was... destabilising. Rhys handed her a helmet and gloves, too, and then hauled on his own gear before stepping over the bike.

"Okay," he instructed. "See those pegs there? Those are for your feet. Yep, that's it. And you'll have to hold onto me, and and try let yourself lean with the turns and not away from them. Does that make sense?"

He looked back and Feyre nodded, then slipped her arms around his waist. A broad grin spread over his face at the thought of her little body curled around his, and when she shuffled closer, he was half delirious. He gunned the engine.

In the end, it was all over way too fast. They went for a ride through the town and into the city, then looped back to the house to pick up her bags before he dropped her home. Feyre stepped off the bike, took the helmet off and if the image of her shaking out her gorgeous, pear-scented hair hadn't stopped his heart, the adrenaline-flushed smile as bright as daylight that was painted all over her face would have done it.

He packed away the jacket, helmet and gloves as she removed them, and before she went through her front gate she gave him a swift kiss on the cheek that had him in absolute ribbons. That strange, heaviness in the air that she always brought lifted as she walked away, but now it just made him feel untethered.

Rhys watched her walk into the house, then turned around and rode home. The whole time, his mind replayed the squeeze of her arms around him and the press of her chest against his back through the leather, and by the time he got home he was going out of his fucking mind. He walked straight past a mid-sentence Mor, into his bedroom, and locked the door.

****

Alright alright that's enough of this fluffy filler shit we about to escalate. I don't know about this chapter but the next one is my favourite.

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-babies @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @teddytdr @thebonecarver

[funsizearsonist]

Bleeding Ink (Luke angst)

Summary: Luke’s songwriting takes a hit when he gets hurt. He thought emotions made a song better, but he got the proportions wrong. or “Maybe have a little song with those feelings”

Category: Angst 

Fandom: Julie and the Phantoms

Paring: N/A

Word Count: 1,559

Warnings/Includes: Like 1 swear, some mentions of an argument, and some descriptions of ~sadness~

A/N:  I hope you like this! I'm still very new at writing fanfiction so as always, constructive criticism and any feedback in general are much appreciated!! Hope you like it!! 

Mandatory Thanking of the Betas: Thank u for supporting me on this @theolivekiddo!! I probably wouldn’t have posted it if not for you because I have no confidence and I thought it was ~bad~ :P I’m still not so sure it’s good but u convinced me to post it so that’s something I guess

AO3 link here

Please don’t repost my work without my permission, in part or whole. My work can also be found on AO3 under the same username. Thank you!

Jatp taglist: @n0wornever, @calamitykaty, @unsaidmegan, @morganayennefertyrell, @link-102, @crybabyddl, @willex-owns-my-heart (I’m hoping it’s ok to tag y’all bc u said in a post here that you’d like to be added to taglists but I can take you off anytime, just send me an ask :))

Taglist for everything <3: @theolivekiddo

Bleeding Ink

Luke wouldn’t ever admit it to anyone, but he’s not quite the carefree troublemaker people think. The band knew, of course. He never had to tell them, they just knew. Probably because they were his family, they knew pretty much everything about each other. And now Julie knows, too. That’s about everyone he can come up with, besides Willie and maybe Flynn, that he actually knows now, so it looks like his secret is safe. The issue is the carefree part. Because Luke may be a hell of a troublemaker but he cares a lot.

He cares about his family, even through their ups and downs. He cares about his friends, his band; they’re pretty much a family to him too. And he cares, so so much, about music. Music has been there his whole life. Mostly rock, his favorite, but he can appreciate pretty much any kind of music. He’s listened to music throughout his whole life. It made him feel better when he was sad, widened his grins when he was happy, and kept all the in-betweens interesting. 

He only loved music more when he started writing it. Luke started writing music late in middle school, but he would probably kill you if you knew. He always thought it was good he started early to get it all out of the way. It wasn’t really music yet, just putting down words without having anything to say. He still thinks they were less of lyrics and more like pages of word vomit. The old notebooks from that first year or so are probably still lying around somewhere, but Luke would rather look forward than back at all of that. He puts meaning into his music now, and Luke thinks it’s only ever gotten better, especially working with Julie. Except for a short period in the middle where it definitely got worse. 

The thing is, Luke puts emotion into every one of his songs. He thinks you can’t have truly good music without putting at least a little bit of heart in it; and Luke cares so much about all of his music he can’t honestly help it. Writing music has helped him understand his feelings, and it’s his biggest way of expressing them. Usually though, he doesn’t really need music as an outlet or anything. He loves playing the songs he’s worked on, all the emotions that go with them. The electric energy in Now or Never, the reassurance and connection in Bright, the determination and fearlessness in Stand Tall, all of his songs had pieces of himself in them. But he writes them because he wants to, not because he needs to get anything out. Most of the time, at least.

There was only really one instance in Luke’s life where that wasn’t the case. Where he was so overwhelmed with emotion that he had to get it out onto a page before he could move on. Dying and coming back as ghosts, making friends with the girl who brought you back and being able to play music again, only to find your only surviving bandmate stole your old songs, and the whole Caleb thing probably should have done it. The thing is, Luke (and Alex and Reggie) got put through that rollercoaster so fast that he could barely make out emotions from the jumbled blur, much less put them into music. Before he could even say “What the hell is going on here?!” Luke was writing new songs. For their new band with Julie, no less. And he had pretty much gotten past all that drama already, somehow. It probably had something to do with Julie. After all, “No music is worth making, Julie, if we’re not making it with you.”

The time that really got to Luke, was actually part of how he ended up playing up music anyhow. It all started when his mother got him a guitar for his birthday, happy to support his interest in music. Perhaps she didn’t understand quite how deep the interest ran, because she might never have gotten it if she had. He was immediately captivated by it, and within a week Luke had the basics pretty much down already. It didn’t take him long to get even better, and to decide to form a band with some friends. He went home that night, blood pumping fast with excitement, and told his mom the news. It didn’t go over quite as well as he thought.

His mother had already become a bit apprehensive about how much Luke had come to like the guitar, but she had decided not to say anything as she thought it was just a harmless hobby. But then Luke came home and told her he was in a band, and all the fears rushed to surface and spilled over. She never should have had that much of a reaction or been so harsh, but it was all because she cares about Luke. She is his mother after all. And he had already been falling a bit behind on schoolwork, spending all his free time working out new songs with his guitar. That would only get worse if he joined a band, not even considering his future and the bandmates he wanted to play with, and where they wanted to play music, and all sorts of other concerns that came out when Luke told her about the new band.

It really hit Luke hard that his mother was instantly full of criticisms. Couldn’t she just be happy for him? He came home all excited and she instantly twisted it into hurt and anger, which turned their discussion into more of a fight, or at least certainly didn’t help matters. He’s not quite sure anymore exactly what was said that night, but he got the memo- “You can’t ditch everything for a band when you live in this household” - so he lashed back with some venom of his own, and left. It didn’t even take a whole night for him to regret it. 

Biking away with basically only his guitar, the thing that mattered most to him but his mother hated most. Luke only took a good few minutes of furious pedaling to realize that he had no idea where he was going, and he was exhausted. All the fight drained out of him, all the adrenaline faded away, he was just hurt. No more energy to be angry, all the white noise of yelling in the argument cleared from his head, and he couldn’t believe his mother said all that to him. He was so excited to come home and tell his family about his new band, just earlier that evening. It already seemed like so long ago. He felt a little bad about the things he said back to his mom already too, but it was still very clear to him that they were in retaliation. If his mother hadn’t exploded at him for chasing his passion, it never would have happened. He ends up deciding to crash at the Molina’s place. After all Rose did say they could use the garage whenever they wanted. Luke was already almost drowning in this dread about everything that happened, and he was still too tired to really realize it. He just decided to knock out.

It hit him full force in the morning. Luke woke up in an unfamiliar room, confused for about half a second, before getting hit by a tidal wave of “oh, shit.” 

Fighting with his family is what really managed to upset him. Nothing in Luke’s life had ever hit him that hard before. That’s when his songwriting really hit a low point for a bit. He wrote Unsaid Emily once he had gotten himself together as a way to  conclude his feelings on the matter, and a way to say “I’m sorry” to his mom without actually saying it right to her. He wrote the song to summarize everything he had to say about what happened, but he tried to leave most of the emotion out of it. He learned his lesson about not putting his feelings about it all into song.

In the few weeks before that, his writing was closer to the state they were in middle school. Except this time instead of having nothing to say, he had too much he needed to get out, and he didn’t know how to make it into proper lyrics. He poured too much emotion into them. Instead of being a wave of energy over a crowd, they’d be more like a tsunami, too overpowering. Luke was just writing them for himself at that point, even the band wouldn’t see those songs, much less a stage. 

The one thing he could come up with to say on it, looking back, is that’s the thing about being hurt. You have too much to hold inside of you so you bleed your soul out onto paper in ink, but instead of making it beautiful, it just makes the pages dark. All the feelings are just as ugly when you put them down on paper, and once they’re no longer caught in your chest, you don’t want to have anything to do with them. But their ink still stains your hands, and you know they may be gone but you can never forget them. 

End A/N:  I wrote this all at like 3 AM so I wasn't really focused on the quality of the writing and more so the narrative, hope u don't mind that. It doesn't really?? Have a point?? I don't think I was going somewhere with it I just wanted to express my thought on how Luke would be doing. Let me know what you thought! If this wasn't written in the dead of night how could it have been better? What parts did you like about it? If you don’t want to give feedback, that’s fine. Just please reblog or maybe comment if you enjoyed it, don’t just leave a like. Thanks for reading!

[poptimus-prime]

Here is what the kids call my highly disorganized, half-baked list of stuff that could have been done with Jack to make him a better character.

@yeetmetothehell I am sorry if you are disappointed by my ideas.

“Optimus was more like...Jack.” OK…so show us that.

In my opinion...Jack seems like he was intended to be written to be almost a parallel to Orion’s journey to becoming Optimus Prime, at least how he is used in the plot. Jack is described as “smart and responsible”, which can also be read as “hardworking and responsible” and really this can be achieved in narratively using a few points, IMO:

Long hours in his room/the library studying outside of work and school. 

Filling out the background of the garage more with sketches/print outs of motorcycle blueprints (to keep the idea that Jack really wants a motorcycle and show hints of extreme dedication, but they’re kept in the garage rather than his room to metaphorically show that distance he’s put between himself and what he wants)

“Man of the House”/”Grew up too fast” (This will be discussed more later but TL;DR “I’ll handle the electric bill this month, Mom”)

Somewhat fragile work/school/life balance that Jack somehow perfectly maintained before meeting the team

Orion was very physically passive. Jack seems to be intended to be written as passive but it comes off as an apathetic reluctance that Orion doesn’t possess (Orion may not believe in violence but he clearly wasn’t unwilling to communicate his thoughts; it’s how he got the title of Prime in the first place.) However, Orion had to learn to become more outspoken over time probably, so we can keep him as being aloof/reluctant at the start of the series.

“Man of the House”/”Grew up too Fast”

It’s no secret Jack came from a nonconventional home; June is very explicitly portrayed as a single mother with a dad nowhere in the picture. However the situation surrounding Mr. Darby is unknown. The way June talks about it makes me personally feel like Jack’s dad either ran out or divorced June and doesn’t bother with his kid. Dysfunction in the family really just goddamn changes you TBH. (can confirm bc hi, I come from a dysfunctional home) Sometimes you just grow up super fast. Jack probably spent his childhood missing his mom as she worked shifts at the hospital and seeing how lonely and hurt she was. He maybe went out and got a job the first day he could and helps with smaller bills (“I’ll handle the electric bill this month.”), or maybe other expenses like groceries and his own phone bill. June probably makes enough to comfortably support her and her son, especially given her job and the cost of living in rural ass desert Nevada. But Jack still does this anyways--it’s how he copes with his issues after what happened with his dad. Doubling down and trying to be what he thinks is the bigger man because his dad couldn’t be fucked. 

This would make the disruption him letting the bots into his life creates more staggering; June doesn’t expect her son to pay bills, but the sudden change in behavior (skipping out on work) would be a cause for concern because sudden shifts like that are Usually Signs that Something is Very Wrong. Especially because Jack is usually responsible and open with his mom; he would have told her if he was gonna cut hours at work, theoretically.

Jack feels like he has to constantly put his own wants aside to contribute to his household. Even if June doesn’t force this expectation upon him, it’s a feeling that he will have, especially if he watched his dad just abandon him and June. Maybe he has resentment towards his dad for this and that is causing some anger he’s keeping tightly under wraps? And maybe the bots give him an excuse to do something he actually wants to do for once or some excitement in his life and that’s why he goes along with it? Lots of options, people!

Clothing Choices: The Hoodie™

You are going to have to deal with me being a whore for costuming choices and what they can mean. The show has a problem with the humans wearing the same shit every time they’re on screen and I’d love to rant about all of them (yeah yeah I get it saving money) but I’m focusing on Jack right now. Give Jack a hoodie 2020. A grey one or some other dull and drab color. And make him actually always wear the hood (except like in scenes where he is working bc workplace dress codes obviously) As time progresses, the drab hoodie is changed to a more vibrant color, but he still always has the hood over his head. And then, at a pivotal moment, the boy takes the hood off. (You could even throw in Miko cracking a joke about Jack actually having hair if you really wanted TBH.) Why this? The narrative is that Jack is constantly holding himself under wraps because of his self-imposed responsibilities. As he starts to become more into his own, he decides to express himself more with brighter colors, but still has some reservations. When he takes the hoodie off, that’s when he’s fully realized himself in this process and thus completes the parallel.

Actually make him interact with Optimus in a meaningful manner.

Arcee can still be his guardian in the field and I think working on strengthening their relationship is vital. But also, if you’re gonna make Jack the confidante holding the key to Vector Sigma, there actually has to be...meaningful interaction. Optimus asking Jack what he’s so engrossed in reading and Jack explaining the book he’s got with passion before shutting himself up and saying “it’s kinda dumb though” or something. And Optimus just responds “I don’t think it’s dumb, tell me more.” Coaxing him towards more self-discovery and expression. Optimus maybe sees more of his old self in Jack and starts attempting to be a quasi-paternal figure without really thinking about it because he is, after all, Dadimus. Jack maybe lashes out about how he doesn’t need Optimus to be his dad and that makes the space between them tense for a while. Eventually Jack comes to apologize and maybe there’s an important Talk.. Just a few ideas I will expand on later. I feel like forgiveness and lack thereof is a good theme--I know I was held back for a long time because of how convoluted the concept of forgiveness is with family.

The Character Arc

 So, what would Jack’s character development throughout the events of season 1 be? My basic idea for a Jack arc that mirrors Orion’s self-realization and coming into Prime-hood without being a carbon copy is essentially: 

Jack is portrayed as a responsible, hardworking, studious teenager who constantly turns down chances for fun and excitement to handle his responsibilities. Has clear dreams for after high school and for his own personal life; but he’s constantly contemplating and changing his mind about whether he will or not because he’s extremely dedicated to helping his mom and all that. However, he still gets super curious about Arcee and gets swept up by her in the Vehicon chase, and he still has whispers of courage and protects Raf during the altercation. He first tries to ditch Team Prime because he’s concerned about his responsibilities, but eventually returns because he’s drawn to the opportunity to finally go buck wild for once in his life (even if he spends his time being hesitant about everything.) His hesitancy and dedication to severe self-imposed responsibility is a result of his inability to move on from what his dad did to him and his mom; he’s under the impression that he 1) Has to forgive someone to move on, and thus 2) He cannot move on because his dad isn’t there to bother to say sorry and take on his position as Dad. In essence, he becomes less the character telling Miko to stop and more the character being pushed by Miko to be more adventurous. In lulls in action, Optimus starts to take interest in him when he notices his constant hesitance to express himself and is just being dragged along rather than going willingly. Has a conversation with him about a book Jack’s reading, which Jack attempts to shut down because it’s “dumb and childish,” but Optimus urges him to continue. The idea that June knows about Arcee as a bike and Jack explaining that he bought a motorcycle as a fixer-upper for dirt cheap can stay. (He probably still is saving up for his motorcycle.)

The longest portion, after Optimus starts interacting with Jack on a level of bonding and gently coaxing him to be himself— Jack becomes more outspoken and he’s shown as curious, analytical, quick witted, and has a deep sense of justice. Being young and craving a childhood lost to his trauma and self-imposed obligations to help his mom with running the household, he suddenly starts spending more time at the base pursuing hobbies and going on missions rather than studying and work, which concerns June. She tries to press Jack, and is met with what can be described as typical teenage headbutting that gets progressively worse. She grounds Jack after the fight, MECH takes her, the rescue happens. (That makes sense to stay in this narrative IMO.) Around this time, Optimus has effectively started becoming Jack’s own Alpha Trion—teaching him things that he’s picked up that he may feel apply to Jack. Jack interprets one of these lessons as Optimus trying to be “dad” and he’s not having it. Makes it VERY clear that he does not need a dad (“didn’t need one before and sure as fuck don’t need one now”) and definitely snaps at Optimus, which then pushes his progress in the arc closer to the end. He eventually comes back to apologize, and Optimus forgives him. He and Optimus have a heart-to-heart about one of the hardest lessons Optimus has had to learn—how to let go of the past without forgiving those who have hurt you and refuse to make amends, so that you may determine your own future. It’s very clear he’s talking about Megatron, even though he never says his name. Jack takes this lesson to heart.

His final bit of development before the hood removal thing probably happens during the events of “Rock Bottom” and reinforces that hard lesson, right when he’s faced with the option to off Megatron. Maybe there’s some taunting about how Optimus preaches softness and forgiveness too much when Jack refuses to kill him. Jack gets angry, and he’s about to fucking do it. But then he stops, takes a breath, and says “Optimus doesn’t preach forgiveness, he preaches moving on from those who refuse to move on themselves. He will never forgive you, but he’s learned to live on despite what you’ve done.” Soon after this, when Megatron comes to the base, Jack takes off his hood, stares Megatron right in the face, and says “This is not forgiveness, Megatron. Don’t you forget that.” Later, when Optimus gives him the key, he tells him something along the lines of “you have grown since we’ve met, Jack, and even though there is still a long way for you to go...” he hands Jack the key. “...Remember that even I am a work in progress.”

Anyways this is again, half-baked. And needs lots of polishing. But it’s something.

[doomtwinkie]

So, I’ve not posted here in a while, and… I don’t even know where to begin. I think most everyone’s lives have gotten a bit intense and problematic over the last eighteen months or so, but… yeah, I’ve been feeling it pretty hard and it’s kinda wrecked my ability to create.

I’ve spent the better part of the last eighteen months trying to keep my elderly mother safe from the virus. I wore a mask before they were mandated, wore gloves, wiped down everything that came into the house, scrubbed my hands with chlorhexidine wash, got vaccinated as soon as I was eligible; I may or may not have googled the legality of turning the water hose on people who were continually confused by how far away six feet was. I ranted, I stressed, I got a crash course in vegetarian cooking when supply issues and store limits made finding food I could safely eat difficult (because food allergies/intolerances.) I did the best I could with everything.

And I succeeded. Neither one of us got covid. But then, toward the end of this past July and straight on through August… things just went to shit.

My mom passed away a month ago. Cancer, most likely, even though they were never able to get a biopsy or further testing done (basically, it grew like cancer, it behaved like cancer; but as far as what type it was, or where it started… I’ll never know.) She died almost exactly one month after they found the mass. Everything just happened so fast. I’d always heard horror stories of people suddenly getting sick, finding out they have cancer, and then dying a matter of weeks later; but, I never thought it would happen to someone I love.

Also? It’s hell. I don’t know how else to describe it.

The pandemic affected her care, too. Her last month on Earth was miserable. She was in and out of hospitals with no visitation policies, struggled to get beds, being given bad news and put through painful procedures (arterial blood gas tests, chest tubes, catheters, etc.) while she was completely alone. By the time they finally did let me in to see her (and mainly because they needed me to make medical decisions for her as she was no longer able,) she was dying. We had no time, no chance to really talk, or even say goodbye. All I could do is hold her hand until the end came.

My life is in shambles right now. I’m no stranger to grief - I lost my dad when I was 16, my grandmother at 19 - but this has been something else. There’s grief from the loss; there’s the trauma of being separated from her in her time of need; there’s the trauma of literally watching her die. I was closer to my mom than I ever was any other family member and I am crushed beyond belief. Nothing feels right at the moment. I’m still in shock. I still wake up in the morning expecting her to be there. Everything just happened so damned fast.

I’m exhausted, too. I’m basically doing nothing but focusing on self-care and slowly trying to clean and downsize things. I’m the only one left to take care of her final business, too (but that’s on hold until I get death certificates back.) I still need to move, and I’m hoping I’ll be ready to do so in about 5-6 months. Our hopes of renovating the old trailer I bought is likely not happening now. I’m probably going to try to resell it and buy a used RV to live in (the land is paid for, there’s a septic, water lines, etc. All I lack is an electric pole.) I bought an e-bike to help me get around on good days, set up grocery delivery, etc. I’m doing the best I can for now.

I’m trying to get back to doing some art and writing, as it’s always been a very potent act of self-care for me, but… things might be weird for a while. And very slow. I don’t know what form my art will take, there may be more crackfic since I seem to write it better when I’m sad, etc. Just… bear with me, I guess?

[artificialqueens]

Come Home to My Heart, Chapter 2 (Lemyanka) - Plastiquedoll

read on ao3 ✨| chapter 1

A/N: hiii, this is chapter 2 of this lemyanka childhood friends, friends to lovers, idiots to lovers whatever you wanna call it. I really wanted to play with the time skips to show different parts of their lives together throughout the years so this is a continuation from chapter 1 a few years later. thanks for reading <3

-2-

At the age of thirteen, there were many things Priyanka loved. The list included: electric blue glittery nail polish, writing her name with a golden pen, pop music and girl groups-especially Britney Spears and The Spice Girls-, any movie with Lindsay Lohan in it, acting in the school productions -especially if she got the main role-, sleepovers over Lemon’s house where they secretly watched The O.C., seeing films with Lemon without an “adult” with them, re-acting scenes of the Cheetah Girls movie with Lemon…

She was at Lemon’s a lot.

The thing was, Lemon was the only child of her parent’s marriage, her parents both worked, and most of the time she had the house on her own. For Priyanka -who lived with her siblings and her parents and couldn’t spare one second of privacy at her own home- it was like paradise. They did everything together, on the weekdays they did homework together and afterward, they would lay in the blonde’s room reading magazines and cutting pictures of celebrities and clothes they liked, or listen to a new CD they had been saving for weeks to buy for hours until they knew the lyrics by heart.

Her room had yellow walls -big shocker- and it was covered in posters and pictures with Priyanka, white carpet on the floor, and a mix of Barbie dolls and makeup over the boudoir. She also had a large single bed only for herself with like a million fluffy pillows they had shared more than once.

Lemon had ballet classes three times per-week and Priyanka had rehearsals with the drama club but those were the only moments they were apart. Being childhood friends, their parents got into the obligation of sending them to the same primary school after finishing kindergarten and now they would attend the same secondary school once summer was over.

It was a warm day of summer, Lemon rolled over her bed and showed Priyanka an item she liked, Crazy in Love by Beyoncé played on the radio while the other girl was trying to cover a pimple on her chin with some foundation she had bought in the mall.

“You’re going to make it worse.” Lemon made her remove her hands.

“It hurts, it’s like a little red dot full of hate.”

“Use toothpaste instead.”

“Does it work?”

“Allegedly.” She shrugged. “I read it somewhere.”

“Okay… What did you want to show me?”

“Look at these,” she pointed at a picture of Hillary Duff. “I need those shoes.”

“That’s a pump.” Priyanka said, unimpressed.

“But it’s pink and yellow. How you don’t like the gradient in the colors? I’m in love.”

“Can you even walk with heels?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course I can. When you’re short like me, you gotta have some options.”

Priyanka couldn’t argue with that, for her age she was already one of the tallest girls in the classroom. Sometimes she disliked being that tall, she felt like a little deer that couldn’t control its feet, wobbling around awkwardly.

Her best friend flipped a few more pages.

“Look! It’s a poster of Ryan Gosling from that movie… The Notebook.” She sounded excited.

Right. They were supposed to be excited about handsome muscle guys but there was something about it that didn’t click with Priyanka. She thought maybe she was just too young to get it, that when she’d grow older she’d get the feeling but until then, she had become very good at pretending.

“Oh, he’s so hot.” She hoped Lemon didn’t notice the fakeness of her voice.

“I know, right?” She giggled. “Do you want his picture?”

“Ah… you can keep it… I already have Leonardo DiCaprio’s and that’s just too many white guys.”

“Alright.” She picked a pair of scissors and started cutting the actor’s silhouette. The pair of dark-framed glasses she had on kept sliding down her nose bridge.

Priyanka smiled fondly at it.

“I’m home!” It was Lemon’s mom that had just returned from work.

Lemon jumped out of the bed and stood in the door’s frame. She looked even smaller in that oversized t-shirt of the Powerpuff Girls and shorts she wore as pajamas. Her hair was tied in a messy ponytail that brushed her shoulder blades.

“Hi, mom.” She yelled. “Priyanka’s here!”

“Hi, Priyanka!”

“Hello, Mrs. Baptsita!”

Priyanka adored Mrs. Baptista, she was a little wacky for Lemon’s taste but it was because she was younger than most moms with kids their age. She liked Priyanka and she supported their friendship since kindergarten, called them the Ketchup&Mustard duo since that Halloween they had matching costumes.

“Is she staying for dinner?”

Lemon turned around. “Are you staying for dinner?”

Priyanka shrugged. “Sure.”

“She is mom!”

“I’m making spaghetti!”

“Sound good!” She turned back to Priyanka again. “I hope you like spaghetti.”

“You know I do.”

Just a couple of minutes later, they heard the sound of Mr. Baptista’s car at the entrance.

“That’s my dad.” Lemon pointed.

“Hello, I’m home.”

“Hi, dad! Priyanka’s here.”

“Hi Lemon drop, hi Priyanka!”

“Hello, Mr. Baptista!”

Lemon grinned but not even five minutes later than her father’s arrival, the vibe of the kitchen changed and it was clear by the sound of their voices, her parents were arguing. Another argument…

“I swear to God… this is the third time this week."

Lemon sat on the edge of the bed and buried her face in her hands. She looked tired.

Priyanka gently touched her knee offering some comfort. Lemon pulled a weak smile that faded as soon as the voices increased in volume.

"Hey, I have some extra cash, wanna get some pizza?” Priyanka offered.

Lemon bit her bottom lip and nodded. “Let’s go.”

Lemon changed her shorts for pants and put on a pair of sneakers, then she grabbed her keys and both of them were out of the house. It wasn’t that late yet and there was a pizza place a few blocks away they could get on foot; they walked in silence until Lemon’s house was behind, then the blonde let a big sigh out of her chest.

“Pri, I can’t do this…” She sounded fragile as if she was holding the pieces together trying not to break with all her strengths.

Priyanka ran her arm over her shoulder and held her when she seemed about to fall.

“It’s okay, I’m sure they are going to work it out.”

Lemon snorted. “They started going to couple’s counseling and it got worse, they have pretty solid arguments to fight now.”

Priyanka covered her mouth holding back the laughter. “Sorry.”

“You dumb bitch.” Lemon shook her head.

They walked hugged like that the rest of the way, ate greasy pizza with extra cheese, and returned to a sepulchral silent house. Priyanka laid on the bed next to her, so close yet so far. If she extended her hand just a little more, she could touch her shoulder, make sure she was okay but for some reason, she couldn’t. Yet, she hoped that being there for her friend was enough then.

On the other side, Lemon had her eyes wide open, unable to drift off when her mind was going through a million different scenarios. Everything could only go downhill from there.

They didn’t know at that moment but the worst was yet to come.

She dashed out of the house as soon as she got the phone call, barely having the chance to put on a helmet before grabbing her bike. Priyanka was still catching her breath by the time Lemon opened the door.

Her face was bathed in tears, her eyes completely red and she couldn’t stop crying not even to explain what had happened. Priyanka had a vague idea judging by what was said on the phone but it wasn’t until she saw her friend she knew it was bad. Very bad.

Lemon wasn’t the most physically affectionate person in the world but she let Priyanka hug her and cried it out on her chest. They sat on the porch until the blonde began to calm down and could explain it better.

“Pri, they… they are getting divorced. It’s all happening so fast.”

Priyanka held her hand and squeezed it lightly. Lemon looked at her hand and then at her face, her eyes flooded with tears again.

“Hey,” The brunette tried to comfort her. “I’m so sorry, I know you love them both and they love you very much but this is probably for the best.”

“No, Pri, you don’t understand. They are… separating for real. They talked about lawyers and My mom she…” Lemon sobbed. “She wants us to move out…”

“Oh, I mean, that’s normal like-”

“…to New York.” Her voice was weak, defeated.

It took Priyanka a moment to process the newly acquired information.

“New York?!” She repeated in disbelief.

“Apparently, she has a job offer there, and… they think it’s for the best to put some distance between them.”

“I get the ‘moving out thing’ and the distance but that’s a completely different country!”

“I know! That’s what I said. Tell me I’m right, she’s out of her mind.”

“But wait, when does she want you to move out? What about school?”

“She thinks it’s a good idea if we go before the new semester starts so we can settle in and…”

“No, the new semester starts in two weeks… What about your dance lessons? Your life here?”

What about us?

“She said there are plenty of dance academies over there… That I would do fine. I hate it. This doesn’t go with the plan we had.”

Priyanka and Lemon had a life plan since they were ten, sealed with a pinky promise. They were going to graduate high school together and go to university in Toronto where they both would be roommates throughout college. It was their way of being together, to accomplish things in the company of the other, a sign of their unbreakable friendship.

“Wait but… what about your dad?” Can’t you stay with him?“ There was a hint of hope in Priyanka’s voice.

Lemon stared at the wooden floor of the porch for the longest time before looking back at her friend.

"I can’t. My dad travels a lot for business and while he’s going to remain here… my mom gave me no choice. They even said that it’s either New York or some boarding school in Quebec.”

Lemon surely had gone mad about it for her parents to threaten her like that, it didn’t sound like the Baptistas at all.

“This can’t be…” Priyanka shook her head. The tears felt warm on her cheeks.

“We’re leaving next week.”

“No…no, that’s… that’s too soon. You can’t leave… who’s going to help me buy a new outfit for the first day? Who’s going through the first day of school with me?”

“I hate to think about it. They really think this is for the best and then decide to drag me to a different country for the first year of school… «You have to be reasonable» they said, but they are the ones that come with these ideas out of blue.”

It was too sudden it made Priyanka felt dizzy; she couldn’t even begin to imagine what her friend was feeling like.

She squeezed her hand again. “It’s going to be okay.”

“You keep saying that but-” Lemon shook her head.

“Because it is going to be okay. I promise you, we’ll still be together, and… maybe we don’t get to attend the same high-school but we can still go to college together, the plan can still work out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Completely. You’re my best friend in the world; nothing is going to change that.”

Lemon smiled for the first time after getting the news of her parents’ divorce.

“Thanks, Pri.” She went for a hug and was received with open arms.

They hugged for a while without saying a single word, in that situation, words were unnecessary.

The day of Lemon’s moving, ironically the sun was shining and Priyanka kept reminding herself that in different circumstances they’d be at the park with their bikes or at the local pool but no, she was heading to her best friend’s house to say the last goodbye.

Priyanka hadn’t cried in front of her since that day on the porch but she had cried a lot when no one was seeing her. She was sad, upset, and mad about the situation but she didn’t want Lemon to leave with a sad note. So she went ahead and planned a week dedicated to her best friend, to enjoy the things they loved the most.

They had made each other friendship bracelets with their names –Priyanka was red and orange and it had a little golden star hanging next to her name; Lemon’s was pink and yellow and a butterfly next to hers- they had movie nights and sleepovers, karaoke sessions and dancing marathons every day until that awful day arrived.

Priyanka rode her bike like she had done millions of times before. There was a «FOR SALE» sign hanging outside and she hated it with all her soul. There was a truck parked outside as well with many boxes stacked inside and some furniture pieces they were taking to New York. Lemon was sitting on the porch’s stairs with a backpack on, the scene was oddly familiar and for a second time stopped.

She didn’t notice Priyanka’s presence until the brunette touched her shoulder.

“You’re here.” She said and did her best to smile.

“Where else I’d be?”

Lemon stood on her feet and hugged her, Priyanka hugged her back.

“Promise me you’re going to wait for my calls every week… and that you’re not going to have another best friend… ever.” Lemon sobbed on her shoulder.

“I promise it.” Priyanka patted her back in a calming gesture.

“I’ll visit on holidays, my dad is probably going to get a shitty apartment but still, I’ll be here.”

“I know you will.”

Lemon let go of her embrace. “Thank you, Pri. You’re my best friend in the world.”

“I know, right?”

The blonde giggled. “You’re so stupid…”

“Luce, get in the car, it’s time to go.” Her mom called her as she carried one last box.

“I have to go now. I already said good-bye to my dad; he had a flight to catch early but… It feels so empty without him here.”

“Lemz, I’m sorry.” She hugged her one more time. It was quick but it lingered. “Take care and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do in New York.”

“That sets the bar very low, don’t you think?”

Priyanka laughed. “I’ll miss you like crazy.”

“Me too.”

Lemon’s mom waved in their direction, the car was already on and the truck was closed and packed.

“Well, I guess this is our goodbye for now.”

“Count the days because I’m going to be back in no time, okay?”

She nodded.

“Love you, Pri.”

“Love you too.”

And with that said, Lemon started walking toward the car. It was painful to watch her leave but Priyanka didn’t want to look away, she wanted to remember it all until they could meet again.

The car started moving but stopped abruptly as Lemon opened the door and ran back to where Priyanka was.

“Lemon, what…?”

“I almost forgot, I was supposed to give you this the first day of school but…” She was out of breath. Suddenly a brand new CD of Spiceworld was on Priyanka’s hands. “You were so sad when your sister broke the one you had worked so hard to buy and I thought…”

Priyanka was hugging her again. “Oh, Lemon…”

“Please don’t forget me.”

Her mom honked at them, the truck was already hitting the road.

Lemon walked back and this time, she left for real.

[inrainprose]

2.

Prev. -- Next -- Masterpost

Sasuke lands with a soft hush in front of the Honen-in temple. He had to put shoes on, but that doesn’t make it any more pleasant to bounce on the ground, so he takes to hovering again. His cloaking is decent enough that the humans won’t notice. It doesn’t matter anyway – there is no one there.

The wind dies down. Sasuke is alone.

They chose a secluded temple – or secluded enough, compared to the bigger and more crowded ones – but still, this is closer to any big city than Sasuke has ever been. Even if he can only see trees and bushes, even if he can only hear birds and the soft trickling of a water source nearby, he still knows, still feels that this place has nothing to do with his mountain. The human-made currents easily overpower the natural ones here. The electricity, the communication lines, all those signals they send each other, are much stronger than the trees’ conversation and the wind bustling around the leaves.

Sasuke shakes his head – it wouldn’t do to get homesick already. He hopes someone will be here soon. He needs the distraction.

A few minutes pass, enough for him to start worrying that they didn’t get the time or the location right, to tie and untie the chords of his hoodie into good luck knots several times. Until there is a rustle in the leaves, until the chill in the air is gone and…

“Hi!”

The fox is young. He looks like a teenager, like Sasuke does. They don’t assume an adult form unless they are over a century old – or so it goes for tengu anyway. What about kitsune? Sasuke should have studied more.

“It’s Sasuke, isn’t it? Sorry I’m late, the bus ran into traffic. I should have brought some luck but we’ve been saving it to get good weather for the Inari-sai… It’s Sasuke, isn’t it? My mom sent me to welcome you! Did you wait long?”

His hair is blond, sticking up in all directions, catching the sun in fiery reflections. Sasuke can see his ears and tails flicker in and out at the corner of his eyes. He counts four tails – only one tail over being able to assume human form, though there is no telling how long ago that was.

His clothes are a bit… Sasuke can only say gaudy. There is a huge, colorful depiction of a cintamani, a wish fulfilling-jewel, printed on his yellow t-shirt. He is also wearing a ratty pair of cargo shorts and equally ratty sneakers, also of many colors, though not the ones of the shirt.

Sasuke wonders how well he blends in among the humans, before admonishing himself for his rudeness. The boy is more experienced than he is in this – if this is how he dresses, then surely it is not an issue.

He also sports a huge smile, stretching high on his cheeks and full of pointy teeth. It would feel a bit threatening if the fox didn’t look so genuinely happy to be here. His whiskers are etched into his cheeks, even in his human form. His voice is high and changing, like a song. Oh. He is talking.

“…really sorry! I’ll make it up to you, please don’t tell my mom, she’ll get mad at me. She told me to leave in advance, but Kiba came by with a jinmenken and his face looked just like our old school teacher and…”

“I didn’t wait long.”

Sasuke half expects the boy to miss it entirely, but he shuts his mouth and beams again, relieved.

“Cool! Let’s go then. My mom is waiting for us, but later I’ll show you around! It’s your first time in Kyoto right? Is it okay if we take the bus? I’ll buy you a ticket. Usually I take my bike but well… Oh! We should get you one!”

They start to move down the stone path and Sasuke has a hard time keeping track of what the boy is babbling out. He talks fast, with an accent Sasuke has never heard and some words he doesn’t recognize – he can’t say if it’s because they are local idioms or just refer to human things he doesn’t know. The bus, he knows, and he can’t say he looks forward to it. At least the boy seems content to do all the talking, so Sasuke follows him in silence.

They pass a blooming jinmenju, its hanging face-shaped fruits laughing softly at them, but otherwise the forest seems scarce of spiritual presence. He wonders if they hide well or if they have just deserted this spot – the path gets busier as they go down, growing loud with footsteps and conversations.

They will go through the grounds of Ginkaku-ji, the boy explains, one of the most visited in Kyoto, especially during spring.

Sasuke has never seen so many humans at the same time.

The widest groups to go up his mountain would be just enough to fill one of those dreaded buses. As they near the temple’s entrance, they cross paths with dozens of people of all ages. There are even foreigners, with their light skin and hair, saddled with heavy backpacks, clutching at maps and opening round eyes all around them. He shifts uncomfortably under the few gazes that land on him.

It is an odd relief to spot the otoroshi perched on the main gate to the temple, its long hair dangling over the edge of the rooftop as it peers at the passerby. In broad daylight and with so many people, it won’t punish any of their missteps, though Sasuke imagines they are numerous.

“It enforces temple rules,” the boy comments. He points at a sign, on the side of the gate. No picking flowers and other vegetation, no feeding the koi and birds, no flying drones, no littering, no shouting,…

“Are those sacred?” Sasuke can’t help but ask. Otoroshi protect the sanctity of the temples and give a good scare to those who disrespect it. But few of these people come here to worship.

“Sacred enough to him,” the boy shrug. He waves at the otoroshi, earning a widening of its toothless grin.

“The one living in my mountain was very different,” Sasuke adds, thinking about the abandoned shrine laying below their own temple. Its residents had longed deserted it, leaving the otoroshi to guard it against intruders. They would hear the loud “thump” of the yokai falling from the torii gate at odd hours of the night, signifying it had to scare away yet another wandering human. It was more and more frequent lately.

“Oh, that’s right, you’re from the Hira mountains, right? Were there many spirits leaving up there with you? I guess the ones from the city are quite different…” “Have you never been to a more…”

He doesn’t find the word. A more worthy place? More pleasant? Fortunately, the boy doesn’t seem to catch on his hesitation. He barrels in – he seems good at it.

“Nah, never left Kyoto much. We hike up around here all the time but I guess it’s not the same.”

Sasuke finds it sad. But then again, he has never set foot out of his mountain himself, and maybe the boy would find that sad.

It occurs to him them, that he’s been calling him “the boy” and “the fox” in his head. That he didn’t get his name.

.

Notes - Ginkaku-ji is a big popular temple on the ouskirt of Kyoto, Honen-in a much smaller and less known one that is not too far.

Jinmenju are trees with fruits shapes like human head that just laugh at you when you pass, and jinmenken are dogs with a human face.

[eldritchsurveys]

1062.

Have you ever started reading a book and wondered if you’d read it before? >> IDK where on earth Lane got this survey from but it is long as balls and I’m taking it as a personal challenge at this point lmao. LET’S GOOO I’ve never had this experience, no. I don’t always remember the content of books I’ve read, but I at least remember the experience of reading them, I guess?

What has been bothering you a lot lately? >> Oof. I don’t know how to explain it here so it makes sense to the average reader, so I won’t bother making sense. I want Bruni to be a real, external entity, so badly, but if he’s not then I need to know. I need to know if I just created him, because I needed to, so I can come to terms with that and figure out what to do about it. I’ve also been bothered lately by just... my inability to form connections, to feel the way I’m supposed to feel about other people. Knowing why I’m like this (and knowing that it’s not some inherent flaw of mine but a direct result of not being emotionally taken care of when I should have been) only helps a little. I feel like there’s no way I’ll ever be able to fix this, and my only truly fulfilling relationships will be Inworld, forever. (I guess that’s better than nothing, though! At least Inworld exists.)

What (or who) have you been missing lately? >> ---

Are you trustworthy? >> I mean, I guess. I don’t know what anyone would be trusting me with.

Did your parents teach that white lies were ok? >> No, even a white lie would have gotten me punished.

Have you ever hallucinated? >> Yes.

Do you sleep with your door open or closed? >> Closed, to keep both the cat and noise out.

What flags do you have in your room, if any? >> None. Sparrow has a pretty neat gay flag on her wall and a regular gay flag on her lamp.

What (or who) is the best thing that ever happened to you? >> Hm.

What is the worst decision you ever made? >> *shrug*

Do you miss college? >> I’ve never been.

Have you ever called a teacher “mom”? >> No.

What is your favorite arcade game? >> In the Groove.

Do you feel neglected? >> Not now. But I sure do feel the ramifications of previous forms of neglect.

What school subject(s) are/were your best? >> ---

Are you allergic to grass? >> Nope.

Do you remember to water plants? >> Sometimes. I managed to kill a spider plant, though, so I’m kind of discouraged when it comes to plants. I’ll let that be Sparrow’s thing, I’m apparently unfit.

What season is your birthday in? >> Spring.

Name 3 creative people you know. >> ---

Name 3 YouTubers you aspire to be like. >> ---

What color was your first car? >> ---

What year did you graduate? >> 2004.

When was the last time you saw the person you currently have feelings for? >> ---

Have you ever been scammed? >> Nah.

Are you allergic to pollen? >> No.

What style of wedding dress do you like best? >> Sparrow’s was pretty neat.

Are you over your first love? >> ---

Do you talk on the phone a lot? >> I never talk on the phone.

Would you rather call or text? >> Obviously text.

Do you always answer your phone? >> What do you think?

When was the last time you went to a party? >> I guess January; the get-together after Elle’s wedding was pretty much a party.

What was the last thing you ate? >> Beans and rice.

What’s the last book you checked out from the library? >> I haven’t checked a book out in a while. I heard about a book recently and it wasn’t on Scribd so I decided to check Libby just on a whim (I’m used to the books I want to read never being available as ebooks in this library’s meager collection) and they had it. So I might check it out. I feel kind of anxious about doing it because my reading habits have been so erratic lately and I’m like “but what if I don’t read it fast enough?” which, like, you know, I just... renew it... but no one said anxiety had to be fuckin logical, you know.

Do you have a twitter? If so, what was the last thing you tweeted? >> No.

Who was the last person you talked to on the phone? >> ---

What’s the last thing you cooked on the stove? >> Eggs.

What color is the cover of the last notebook you used? >> ---

Who was the last person you know to have a birthday? >> Uh... Sparrow, I think.

Who sent the last e-mail you got? >> YES! Magazine.

What song is currently stuck in your head? >> Just some FFXIV music because I just got done playing about an hour ago.

Do you have a favorite shape? >> No.

What color are the sheets on your bed? >> Light grey.

What time do you usually go to bed? >> Between 10 and 11p.

Do you ever use coloring books? >> I’ve done so, but I haven’t lately.

Are you planning on watching the Olympics? >> No.

Do you pronounce the word “often” with or without a “t” in the middle? Hmm. Now that I’ve said it to myself in a few different contexts, it seems I do both. If it’s a one-word answer, like in response to “how much do you get high?” then “often” has a t in it. If it comes in the middle of a sentence and is not the focus, it does not have one. < Yup.

Have you ever been on a trapeze? >> No.

Do you enjoy popping bubble wrap? >> Sometimes. I saved some from a recent package just in case I get the urge, lol. It’s on my desk right now.

Are there any waterfalls near where you live? >> I don’t think so. The landscape isn’t exactly varied here.

Do you like seafood? >> Yes.

Have you ever had to wear a uniform for anything? >> Parochial school.

If so, what did it look like? >> IDK, man, it was a long time ago.

Do you personally know anyone who is an author? >> No.

Do you own a Polaroid camera? >> No.

Do you enjoy baking? >> No.

What’s your favorite type of flower? >> Sunflowers.

Last time (if ever) you were on an airplane, where were you going? >> I was coming home from Houston.

Do you know anyone who is left-handed? >> Sure.

What is something you think is underrated? >> ---

Around what temperature do you consider it to be too hot outside? >> It’s not so much the temperature as the level of humidity, how sunny it is, what time of year it is, etc. There are multiple factors that go into how I experience temperature and the number on the thermometer is only one facet of that.

In what ways do you expect your life to be different one year from now? >> ---

How often do you travel outside of the state/province you live in? >> Not often. Before it was just because it’s expensive and also Sparrow would have to take off work and stuff, and now it’s because of those reasons and also the pandemic.

What’s a hobby you used to have, but don’t anymore? >> ---

What has been your favorite job you’ve had so far? >> Selling merch for local bands at shows.

What’s your favorite kind of salsa/dip to go with tortilla chips? >> Chunky medium-hot salsa.

Do you wash your car by hand or drive through a car wash? >> ---

Where is the farthest north you’ve traveled to? >> This is probably the farthest north I’ve been.

Farthest south? >> I think New Orleans is farther south than Houston, but I don’t feel like looking it up to confirm (or be proven wrong).

East? >> Long Island?

West? >> Colorado.

How often do you run the dishwasher? >> Every couple of days, when it works. (We’re waiting on Maintenance to come fix it, but of course they’re taking their sweet time.)

Do you wash your face at the sink or in the shower? >> I use micellar water, so I just do it in my room. Otherwise I’d do it in the shower because I hate using the sink for that.

Name a stereotype about your gender that you don’t fit. >> Are there agender stereotypes? I haven’t heard of any.

Name a stereotype about your age that you don’t fit. >> Uh... I don’t have kids? Idk.

Do you have any unusual decorations in your home? >> If so, they’re not unusual to me, so...

Do you have any uncommon kitchen appliances, such as espresso machines, waffle irons, etc? >> We do have a waffle iron (Sparrow got one for her birthday). I’m not sure what other kind of appliances are uncommon. Are rice cookers uncommon? I can’t imagine why they would be, they’re so convenient. Unless you just don’t like rice...

What did your parents major/minor in in college, if they went? >> ---

Has either of their careers influenced what career you chose or want to pursue? >> ---

What is the highest level math class you’ve completed? >> Uh... pre-calculus? I don’t remember, man.

How old were you when you learned how to ride a bike? >> I don’t remember. Somewhere between five and eight, I guess. Sounds right.

How old were you when you learned how to swim? >> ---

How do you react when someone is rude to you? >> It depends on the situation.

Have you ever had a friend who was too clingy? >> No.

What kind of natural disaster is most common where you live? >> Blizzard, I’d imagine.

Why is your least favorite season your least favorite? >> ---

Do you have a Netflix account? >> I do.

Have you ever had an animal get into your attic? >> ---

Where is your favorite place to go on vacation? >> I guess New Orleans.

How long does it take to get there? >> About half a day, including layovers and shit. No direct flights from GRR to MSY.

When was the last time you started a “new chapter” of your life? >> ---

What room in your home do you spend the least amount of time in? >> I don’t really know. I was gonna say Sparrow’s room, and then I was gonna say the kitchen, and then I was gonna say the half-bath... I think the half-bath is probably the most reasonable answer?

What is the last random act of kindness you did? >> ---

Do you do anything to reduce the amount of electricity you use? >> I don’t have to reduce it, I barely use any to begin with.

Are you usually open to trying a new food that you aren’t familiar with? >> Yes.

Do you listen to Panic! At The Disco? >> Yes.

Have you ever had a kinky dream about a celebrity? >> Probably. Not necessarily because I wanted to, sometimes dreams just do weird shit like that.

Is there a song you can’t stop listening to atm? >> No.

Has anyone ever told you that they loved you, and you couldn’t say it back? >> I guess that’s a way to put it.

If your Facebook status doesn’t get any likes/comments, does it bother you? >> ---

Which friend do you confide in most? >> ---

Do you wear a cross? >> There’s a small cross on my left earring. But I don’t wear, like, a religious cross.

What is your opinion on Arby’s? >> I’ve only had it once, and that was on the way back from Colorado that one time, when the Greyhound stopped at Arby’s. I don’t remember what the food was like, though. Not even sure why I remember that we stopped there at all.

When you have your own kitchen, how will it be done? >> I mean, this kitchen is “mine”? I don’t live with parents or anything, so...? But I don’t have a choice in how it looks or anything, I didn’t build it.

What is your favorite doughnut? >> Apple cider doughnuts, always.

Do you have a hot tub? If so, where is it located? >> No.

Did you read the Twilight series, or jump on the bandwagon after the movie? >> I read the first book ages ago, didn’t care for it, forgot about it (until it blew up in popularity, of course).

What is your favorite party game? >> ---

Do you or your parents rake your yard? >> ---

Were you pro-Obama? >> I didn’t have an opinion at the time, I was busy trying to survive.

What is your favorite scent from Bath & Body Works? >> ---

What was the last illegal thing you did? >> I don’t remember. Probably something like jaywalking. Or watching Bill & Ted Face the Music on an illegal streaming site. 

Who did you last go to the movies with? >> Sparrow.

What color was the last vehicle you were in? >> Silver.

Do you have any family members in the military right now? >> ---

Is there a ceiling fan in the room you’re in? >> Nope.

When was the last time you wished time would move faster? >> I don’t know.

Are there any owls in your room (as decor, of course)? >> Nope.

Have you ever heard voices? >> Not... in that sense. Like obviously I hear the Inworlders’ voices, but... not quite the same thing, I’m guessing.

Do you believe in angels and demons? >> I have not encountered those kinds of angels and demons. I usually use those words as like... shortcut terms rather than references to the actual Christian concepts or whatever.

Who is the worst neighbor you have ever had? >> ---

Did your Barbies go on dates? >> I don’t recall the specific nature of the social playacting I did with Barbies.

If you’re not straight, who was the first person you came out to? >> I didn’t “come out to” anyone.

Where did you meet your first crush? >> ---

Do you remember the first time your first crush ever said hi to you? >> ---

Do you ever go places with wet hair? >> No.

Who is your favorite little girl? >> ---

What do you want the most in life? >> That’s complicated.

What is a decision you’ve made that changed your entire life? >> I don’t know, man.

Do you ever wonder what kind of person you’d have turned out to be if a certain event never happened to you?  >> Absolutely.

When you’re home alone, do you still shower with the bathroom door closed? >> No. I’ve also showered with the door open even when Sparrow was home, I just usually don’t because it’s not necessary (I just use my phone flashlight in that case so it’s not pitch dark and I don’t kill myself in there). But when I’m alone I just leave the door open for the ambient light. Why don’t I use the bathroom light? Because I have Problems and Disorders. Next question.

If you could have anyone’s singing voice, whose would you choose?  >> I like my own.

What are your top 3 favorite genres of music?  >> ---

Where did you buy your dishes from? >> We generally don’t buy dishes. All of our dishes are from either Sparrow’s sister or the wedding registry.

Do you think Mars will be colonized in your lifetime?  >> I doubt it.

What’s the most expensive thing you’ve bought that turned out to be a waste of money?  >> ---

What’s something you’ve bought that turned out to be way more useful than you anticipated? >> I don’t know.

Have you ever been on a ship?  >> I’ve been on a ferry and a regular boat. Not a ship.

Do you ever take intentional breaks from checking/posting on social media?  >> Just like... off days, I guess. Sometimes I need time to do other stuff and it’s easier to do that when I don’t have the internet wide open and ready to distract me.

Who was Van Halen’s better singer - David Lee Roth, or Sammy Hagar? >> I don’t have a preference.

Which fictional character has the most memorable quotes?  >> *shrug* ???

What’s a class you did not take in school, but now wish you had?  >> ---

Have you ever been to either of your parents’ workplaces?  >> ---

What do you think of the ‘Healthy At Every Size’ movement/philosophy?  >> I don’t have any thoughts about it because I don’t know what exactly said philosophy entails. The phrase itself doesn’t give me enough information to start forming an opinion around.

Have you ever been bitten so hard that their teeth marks were there after? >> Yeah.

Ever been given a hickey? (Love bite)  >> No.

Ever gave one?  >> I don’t think so.

Are you more of an outgoing type or shy type?  >> ---

Do you think it’s weird if guys wear make-up like eyeliner?  >> .... No.........

Are you self conscious? If so what are you self conscious about?  >> I’m self-conscious about being Weird(tm), having Issues and Problems Disorders, and having differing opinions about things that lots of people think a certain way about.

Are you flirty at all?  >> No.

Are you racist at all?  >> I might have perpetuated racist speech and behaviour, sure. I don’t think that means “I am a racist”, I think that means I’ve learned some fucked up shit from other people and hopefully I’ve learned better by now.

Would you ever date a disabled person? (Be honest)  >> ...

If you found a baby randomly by itself what would you do?  >> Call the authorities, I guess. Like... idk??? That’s such a weird situation to be in.

Would you rather adopt or have your own child?  >> ---

What would you class as cheating on someone?  >> I don’t have a personal definition for cheating because the concept does not apply to me or how I do relationships.

Do you try to be politically correct? >> No.

What’s your favorite kind of sea critter?  >> I’m not sure. There are a lot of cool ones.

Have you ever tasted locally-made honey before?  >> Yep! <3

As far as earrings go, would you rather wear hoops or studs? >> Neither, I like the earrings I have.

Do you find P.E. humiliating, or think schools shouldn’t teach it?  >> I found it obnoxious and boring and a waste of time, but that doesn’t mean schools shouldn’t teach it. I just had a bad time with it for my own specific reasons.

Do you recycle?  >> No.

Are you interested in current world issues?  >> Not particularly.

Do you think you are mature, or immature?  >> ...

What kind of career are you interested in? >> ---

Do you own a pair of sunglasses?  >> I own two pairs. I really want a better pair, like an actual good pair of sunglasses and not just cheapo pairs.

Do you use bobby pins, hair clips, or elastic hair ties? Which?  >> No.

How badly do you get acne? (If at all)  >> I don’t.

What’s the best way to cope with a breakup?  >> ---

If someone dislikes you, what is most likely to be the reason?  >> I said something that ticked them off? I don’t smile enough? IDK, dude?

How many text messages do you have in your inbox atm?  >> ---

When was the last time you had a difficult decision to make?  >> I don’t remember.

In school, what subjects do/did you find the most difficult?  >> English.

Do you still speak to the person you had your first kiss with?  >> ---

Where did you meet the last person you swapped numbers with?  >> ---

Who was the last person to add you as a friend on Facebook?  >> One of Elle’s friends that I met at her wedding.

Who was the last person that asked if you were okay?  >> I don’t remember the last time someone asked me that.

What does your handwriting look like?  >> I don’t know how to describe it.

Do you use any products on your hair, other than shampoo and conditioner?  >> I use a tea tree oil on my scalp and that’s about it.

Who were your best friends in primary school? >> ---

Do you still speak to any of them? >> ---

What was the last thing you bought from a vending machine?  >> I don’t remember the last time I used a vending machine.

What color hair did your first crush have?  >> ---

What type of shoes do you find the most comfortable?  >> No shoes.

Are you more masculine or feminine?  >> ---

If you could design your own mug, what would you put on it?  >> I don’t want to design a mug. I like the ones I already have.

What is the best beach you’ve been to?  >> I’ve only been to the NY ones...

What is one thing you physically can’t do?  >> Run a marathon.

Have you ever been to a funeral? >> Yes.

Have you ever visited your state’s capitol building?  >> No.

Have you ever visited your nation’s capitol building?  >> No.

Do/did you have a favorite seat in church?  >> ---

What is your favorite park?  >> I still really love Central Park. And Prospect Park, too.

Have you ever felt an earthquake? >> A very minor aftershock, once.

Do you chew gum regularly?  >> Not anymore, not after Orbit ruined my favourite kind. :(

Where did you go on your first train ride?  >> I think that was to North Carolina when I was 17.

Do you know anyone with a dual citizenship?  >> No.

What sports teams do you root for, if any? (Extra points for Boston fans.) >> ---

Do you dunk your cookies in milk?  >> Nope.

What is something you are confident about?  >> ---

Have you ever been physically addicted to a substance? What?  >> No.

How do you feel about needles?  >> I don’t have any feelings about them, they don’t affect me either way.

What is your favorite accent to listen to?  >> ---

What was the reason you last got dressed up?  >> Halloween.

Have you ever been the subject of cruel rumors? What were they?  >> Maybe at some point, but I don’t remember now.

Do you prefer loose or form-fitting clothing? What about on your preferred gender?  >> I prefer looser clothing. Not baggy, per se, just looser.

What do you do when you are really, really mad?  >> I don’t know, I haven’t been that mad in so long I have no idea what I’d do.

Would you rather go naked than wear fur?  >> Fuck no????

Do you put a line through your 7’s? What about your Z’s?  >> Nah.

What is one thing that someone could do to you that is unforgivable?  >> *shrug*

Are you able to forgive and forget? >> Mehhhh.

Do you like cold pizza? >> I really do not.

What is your favorite fruit?  >> I’m not sure, I like most fruits.

What about your favorite fruit juice, if it differs from solid fruit?  >> ---

Do you like broccoli and cheese? >> No! Leave broccoli alone, christ.

What about potatoes and cheese?  >> Not really?

Have you written a letter by hand, lately? To whom?  >> No.

Toaster or toaster oven?  >> We only have a toaster, but I would love a toaster oven.

What are you most known for?  >> ---

Do you have any reputations? What are they?  >> Er...

Do you wear band shirts? What band was on the last one you wore?  >> I do. I’m not sure what the last one I wore was.

Do you own any hats? Describe them.  >> I have a plain floppy beanie and I have one that says “I don’t need no body” and it has a dancing skeleton on it, lol.

What about masks, you got any? Describe those.  >> Yeah, I have a raven masquerade mask. I forget why.

What was the last thing to leave you speechless?  >> I don’t remember.

Do your parents like your friends? If they don’t, why not?  >> ---

Have you been called a bad influence?  >> I don’t think so.

Describe your favorite pair of socks.  >> I don’t have a favourite, per se, but here’s a fun pair I have: they say “eat, drink, and be spooky” or something very similar and have a fun Halloween design on them.

Have you experienced any life-changing news, events, etc, lately?  >> No.

Have any self-done piercings?  >> Not anymore.

Ever pierced someone else?  >> No.

Do you get distracted easily?  >> By things like sound and motion.

Is talking to strangers enjoyable for you, or stressful?  >> It can really go either way. Sometimes it’s just neutral.

How do you feel about getting new neighbors? >> I don’t care. They’re probably just going to be loud asses too.

How many ceiling fans are in your home?  >> Zero.

Do you tweet your life away? >> I don’t tweet at all.

How do you feel about shameless self promoting? >> I don’t care?

When reading words. like. this. do. you always pause after the periods?  >> Yeah.

What about screaming when reading something IN ALL CAPS?  >> Yes, which is why I hate when people type like that. There’s a popular blogger on this website that makes all their posts in all-caps and I will never fucking understand it. Like, their content is fun sometimes but I can’t really engage with it because I hate the shouty text!

[bebopboyfriend]

beau blue and electric violet for jessie! lilac and bronze for spike! canary yellow and jasper with cole

(or if that's too many, just whatevah ones u feel like doing!! ;D)

,TYSM BESTIE <333 i appreciate it sm

beau blue - what would the both of you do together on a lazy summer afternoon?

for jessie! i think that the two of us would probably spend time inside, as silly as it sounds. i personally hate the heat and think jessie would too, even if she doesn’t complain as much about it outwardly. we’d maybe spend time at her parents house with her mom and blast the air conditioning while we’re eating popsicles together. maybe if there’s a time where the weather is a biiiit nicer, we’d maybe go out and spend time with wedge or tifa. but when it’s a lazy day i think it’s comfortable for the two of us just to laze around.

electric violet - what’s something odd, extravagant, or thrilling that you and your f/o like to do sometimes?

second for jessie! definitely riding on motorcycles! jessie loves riding on the back of a bike, so she’d be the one to hype me up and ask for a night out just driving around the sectors. she doesn’t drive the motorcycles very often because she likes being able to hang onto me, but she’ll drive even faster than me when she’s the one at the controls.

lilac - what’s something that makes you and/or your f/o nostalgic?

for spike! i think it’s us listening to jazz music together. for some reason it makes spike think of his past, but not in a bad way! but he’ll sit and contemplate for a little bit, or even just take a breath to relax while listening to it. most music is that way with him!

bronze - do you and your f/o have any kinds of traditions you keep?

second for spike! honestly for our traditions, they’re mostly related to judaism! like we’ll spend the holidays together obviously, but making jewish food together and reciting prayers are what we continue to keep as tradition. 

canary yellow - what are the silliest nicknames you and your f/o use for each other?

for cole! gosh.... i think for cole my nicknames for him would be ‘pretty boy’ and ‘my fighter’.. as silly as they are i think they really show how enamored i am by him. pretty boy is simple just because he’s really handsome and deserves to hear it, but my fighter is just something i picked up while he was training! as for the silly nicknames he’d use for me, i think he’d want to call me very soft and endearing terms like ‘honey’ and ‘love’, even if they’re very common! 

jasper - how fast do you two take your relationship?

second for cole! i think that our relationship may be a slow burn, but accidentally amped up during a really stressful time. specifically like if we’re in raiden’s temple together and it feels like a life or death situation, we end up confessing to one another because something bad might happen and i guess it’s better for us to be honest about how we feel! but in terms of the pace, i think it would still be slow considering how i would have to adapt to meeting emily and getting accustomed to being introduced into his already established family. so i think the pace would be adjusted because i’d make sure that things weren’t too fast for his daughter, considering she’d have to get used to someone else that isn’t her dad being a part of the family.

[coridallasmultipass]

I kind of need to vent about something really personal here that’s been bothering me all day. Sorry to throw some really personal shit out, but my next therapy appointment is in a week, so! Earlier today my mom and I were driving through our little tourist town and we saw these little buggies and she told me they replaced the family bike carts (like a bicycle made for 4 people to ride around the tourist area of this part of town) with these electric buggies (buggys? Idk). And she mentioned how my dad (who passed away a few years ago, and was separated from my mom since i was a kid) used to work for them and got fired and arrested because of letting his friends use the carts for free. She said he called her to say he was fired, and immediately after the cops showed up. And my mom had to drive to an unfamiliar town to bail him out with Exact Change and it was a huge deal for her.

And i put on the brakes on the conversation real fast, like what??? The shop owners arrested A LITERAL KID for doing what kids do???? And my mom tries to backpedal mentioning loss of profits is basically theft and what-not. But im here thinking about how this town is a predominantly white vs native+mexican town, in the early 90s, with these old conservative white shop owners who are ALWAYS mean (i speak from experience and first hand accounts of friends that were unfortunate enough to have worked in these tourist boutiques), and theyre out here ARRESTING a native teenager for doing what literally any kid in that situation would do. Are you trying to tell me there werent any blatantly racist motives behind this arrest???? And i bring this up to her and shes just trying to change the subject but its REALLY bothering me. Like i knew the shop owners that are in town (though ive never been on the carts) are all mean and nasty through every situation, but hearing about this really makes me sick! Because if someones giving out freebies, you just fire them! Thats literally all you have to do!! Its not like these tourists/or his friends are running away with these HUGE bike carts!!!! My mom goes “they probably just wanted to teach him a lesson” EXCUSE ME?

My dad had a rough time his whole life with law enforcement, and at home, so im just sitting there imagining what if? What if he never got Arrested that day? What if he never had those charges against him follow him through the rest of his life? (Theres a three strikes rule!) If he had gotten a second chance (of sorts) if he were only fired rather than arrested. Would he have gone on to have better interactions in regards to the law? Would he have had less problems down the line if employers had shown him some human decency AS A LITERAL MINOR?

What do you fucking expect a teenager to do when you let them run a tourist shop!!!! Theyre fucking kids, it’s what they do!! All i can think of is that there had to have been some ulterior motives behind it, because i know literally all the shop owners are old conservative and teen-hating white people, and my dad, being an obviously native person must have struck the racist chord in that owners heart as soon as he made a mistake. And thats what it is! A mistake! Like, i cant speak for him, but i can speak as a former teenager. We all made mistakes, and if you didnt, then you need to go to therapy.

Theres a lot that upsets me still especially since hes not here anymore, and i have a hard time talking about native stuff with my mom who is white lmao. But growing up and seeing the people in this area for who they are inside is really upsetting, because as a kid, you dont see all the nuance and pattern behind stories like this. Even as a teenager, you dont realize a lot of this stuff until youre older, especially when your primary parents are white and conservative. So its just kind of painful as im older and remembering things like this happening and what they would have meant when i take in the full perspective. Even after i became a legal adult, i still had (and have) a lot to learn about the way the world works, and how much of a contrast there is with my opinions when I was say 16 versus now - seeming wildly different now that i have a bit more world-experience from moving out of this town for college before ultimately coming back now. (For reference im 26 now.) I know i wrote something on here about my experience being half white before, looking back at what i realized about myself and my family, so i just wanted to throw this on here as well, while its still bothering me, rather that forget about it by the time therapy day comes around. Bottom line? Teenagers are still kids. Give them room to grow.