#and by really long i mean i have like. 8 parts planned (only TWO of these are actually fleshed out!!!)

[waynes-multiverse]

Polaris – Chapter 8

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, fluff, angst, serial killer, Diane is her own warning, Grey's Anatomy & alcoholism, uhm... hard to explain the last one without spoilering. You'll be fine 😂

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: Oh boy, I'll save you guys long explanations. Life got in the way, so let's just all be glad we're back here 😅 Some of you brilliant sleuths already caught breadcrumbs of my scheming in the last part, so here's The One You've Been Waiting For...

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 8: Chemical Bonds

“Where is she?”

Your boot soles thudded on the floor as you dashed inside the station, your questioning look aimed at Jenny, who leaned against her desk with crossed arms and a stern brow. Beau was hot on your heels, just jogging in behind you. You practically raced him from the car across the parking lot.

“She’s in Interrogation Room 3,” Jenny informed you.

“Is she cuffed?” Beau asked, his voice carrying a hint of anger caused by concern. He had a whole car ride to the department to rile himself up and let his head spin with reasons. None of them soothing; all of them terrifying.

Jenny shook her head. “No. She’s not officially under arrest and hasn’t confessed yet, either. ‘Sides, she willingly came in and just all too happily sat down. She’s clearly playing a game. I’d be careful.”

“Alright, thanks,” Beau said and looked at you. “How you wanna do this?”

“Let’s just go in and talk to her. See what she has to say and what angle she’s playing,” you suggested, and Beau agreed with a nod, both of you falling into step as you headed down the hallway.

“My favorite couple. There you are,” Diane greeted you with a smirk that could only be described as lunacy as soon as you and Beau walked into the interrogation room. “Hope I didn’t disturb your evening.”

“Not at all,” you replied with an easy smile and took a seat across from her, Beau settling down right next to you and leaning back in his chair. “What can we do for you, Diane?”

“Well, I figured I come here before you call in the cavalry. There’s no need for all this drama. I have a feeling you two have enough of that,” she quipped and grinned devilishly at the both of you.

“So, you waltzed in here to confess to twenty-four murders?” Beau arched a disbelieving eyebrow at her.

“Oh, nice try. But I won’t confess to anything until you two have told me a little more about yourself,” Diane announced cheekily. “You talk – I talk. My rules. My game. Let's be honest. You don't have anything to nail me down. Zero, really. You two need this. I'm giving you a win, Sheriff.”

Beau and you shared a look. Neither of you liked this, but you supposed you had to play along if it led to a confession. You nodded at Diane. “Fine, what d’you wanna know?”

Diane grinned in triumphant satisfaction and folded her arms on the metal table, curiously leaning forward. “Look, I think it’s cute you two found each other… after divorce and death, of course. ‘Cause who likes a cheater, right?” she posed theoretically, her smirk getting wider. “I guess, for me at least, it’s just hard to believe there’ve never been any feelings before that. Seems kinda odd to me.”

You smiled wryly. “Well, for me at least, it seems kinda odd and, frankly, hard to believe some psychotic bitch would murder over twenty innocent people just because her husband was a cheating dirtbag. Yet, here we are.”

“Here we are indeed, Agent,” Diane snarked with a pleased smile. “And I’d be wary throwing the word ‘innocent’ around so carelessly. After all, just look at you two. I mean, I’m not saying you’ve planned this little hot love affair, but c'mon! What, no lingering looks? No fluttering hearts, dirty thoughts, or wistful what-ifs?”

You remained cool and held your gaze stern. No quiver of a lip, no twitch of an eye, no flinch of a muscle betrayed you. But Beau must’ve signaled something when Diane’s eyes drifted to him. She tilted her head with a delighted sneer forming on her face. Your heart halted in your chest. You knew she’d locked in on a target like a lioness on the prowl.

“Whoop, Sheriff Arlen, do you have something to tell me? You seem awfully quiet and… shifty,” Diane prodded the tip of her metaphorical knife into his ribcage, prying it open just enough to see inside. “If her husband was your partner, you must feel at least a little guilty for fucking his wife as soon as he was six-feet-under. Did you have feelings for her when they were still married? You did, didn’t you? I wonder what he’d say if he were still alive.”

“Okay, enough,” you snapped and drew a line in the sand, noticing how Beau withdrew more and more upon her words. She was getting to him and enjoying it. “Neither of us has done anything wrong, got it?”

Diane chuckled amusedly. “Sheriff Arlen, you should learn from your girlfriend here. She’s better at acting than you are. Or is it lying?” Her questioning gaze turned to you.

“What d’you want, huh?” you prompted with stern annoyance, hoping to take some heat off of Beau. “You want some weird confession, so you can throw one of us into a bunker?”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Agent. We’re just having a friendly chat among colleagues, getting to know each other.” She grinned, her icy gray eyes sparkling with devilish joy. She leaned closer to Beau, circling in on him. She could smell he was close to a breaking point and aimed her sledgehammer at him. “Tell me, Sheriff, were you happy when your partner died? I mean, you must’ve been. She was finally free and all yours for the taking. Is that why your marriage crumbled so soon after his death? Why you followed her all the way to Mexico, leaving your family behind? Be honest, did you lead her husband into that warehouse on purpose?”

“Shut up!” Beau yelled and bristled, his voice trembling with anger as did every single muscle of his. He jumped up from his seat and kicked the chair roughly against the wall before storming out and slamming the door loudly behind him.

Shocked, you rose from your seat as well and threw Jenny a worried look through the one-way mirror. As you followed Beau outside, you could still hear Diane’s heinous laugh.

November 2020

‘¿Recuerdas que en tu infancia creías en cuentos de hadas? En la fantasia de lo que podría ser tu vida. Tu vestido blanco, un príncipe azul que te llevaría en sus brazos a un castillo sobre una colina…’

A knock on your door rattled you and snapped your attention away from the small, old TV in your room. The image was grainy at best, and you were sure the television itself was bought sometime in the early 2000s. Yet, you still managed to hook it up to your laptop and stream a few shows. Drinking and watching television was all you had for entertainment down here whenever you were on the lay-low and had some time off.

Oh, and there was the crying, of course.

You hurriedly blew your nose in one of the tissues in your hand and wiped the tears out of your eyes. Bolting into the bathroom first, you did a quick check of your appearance in the stained, wonky mirror. Well, good enough. Who were you trying to impress? You were a grieving widow. People expected you to look like shit.

Beau blinked at you as the door opened. He offered you a friendly smile, although he could tell you had cried again. You never admitted it, always telling him you were fine and brushing away any and all of his concerns. But your red and puffy eyes were hard to hide and even harder to ignore when he stopped by your room at night. It broke his heart every single time.

“Hey, I know you haven’t eaten dinner yet, darlin’,” he said and tried not to sound too scolding. Since Randy’s death you’d been basically on a grief diet, although you seemed to be more willing to eat since you’d come to Mexico. But Beau had taken it upon himself to ensure your stomach was always full.

“Uh, thanks, but I’m not hungry,” you said quietly and were already keen to close the door to get rid of him again. Sometimes it worked. Most times it didn’t.

Beau frowned and already slid his boot between the door and its jamb. “You know I’m not leaving till you ate. And since you’re being particularly difficult tonight, I’m just gonna have to watch you till that whole bag is empty. Now, trust me. This ain’t fun for me, either. Don’t make me spoon-feed you and do airplane noises. It’s been a while, but I have experience in that field. You wanna hear my lecture about your essential vitamins and minerals again?”

You sighed dramatically and were close to a whine. “Beau, I’m really not in the mood right now. Can you please just–” You stopped when you noticed the man wasn’t even listening to you. With a curiously furrowed brow, he cocked his head and leaned inside your room with a skillful weight shift, his green eyes focusing on the TV.

‘Vamos a domir a tu casa esta noche.’

‘¿Qué?’

‘¿Por qué siempre dormirmos en mi casa? ¿O no tienes una?’

“What are you watching?” Beau had fully stepped inside your room, and you knew your probability of kicking him out again sunk by the second. You sighed once more and closed the door behind you two.

“Grey’s Anatomy in Spanish. I already know the episodes, so I figured I could learn a little. I already forgot most of it from school,” you replied.

“Huh. Never watched this show.” Yet, he sat down on the foot of your bed and seemed hooked. His eyes were glued to the screen, brow lightly creased above the bridge of his nose that showed his interest. If you had popcorn, you would’ve handed it to him.

You rolled your eyes a little but smiled nonetheless. Randy had been the same. He’d teased you for watching till he caught one episode and was immediately enthralled. Afterward, you weren’t allowed to watch a single episode without him anymore.

“You wanna watch with me?” You grabbed the bag of food and crawled onto your bed, leaning against the headboard. You quickly discarded the tissues that were strewn all over your mattress. Luckily, he hadn’t noticed them yet, or you would’ve received a look full of worry and pity.

“Sure.” Beau nodded and smiled at you over his shoulder, happy you had decided to eat, after all. “So, what’s this show about?”

“A hospital in Seattle. But honestly, everyone’s just sleeping with everyone…”

It took a while till you had explained all the intricacies of each relationship to him. Fortunately, this was only the first season. He gasped when you informed him the show had seventeen of it – so far. By the end of the episode, he had joined you by the headboard, sitting next to you as you shared the remaining tacos.

‘Me gusta el helado de café, whisky de malta de una sola destilería, de vez en cuando un buen habano.’

“Ah! Now that’s a home,” Beau declared with a broad and longing smile, raising his beer bottle to the TV. “You know, I’ve always wanted an Airstream trailer exactly like this.”

“Uh-huh. Un remolque.”

His brow quirked. “Is that Spanish for trailer?”

“Yes, he just said it. You need to pay attention,” you chided playfully and took a sip from your beer.

“Hey, look, I’m just glad I can keep up with who’s sleeping with who, alright? Don’t need to add Spanish vocabulary to the mix,” Beau quipped, making you giggle. “I actually almost bought a trailer like that when me and Carla first got married.”

You grinned knowingly. “Lemme guess, Carla said no and almost shot you?”

Beau snorted a laugh. “Ha! Yeah, she definitely came close that time. But Emily was already on the way, so I guess it would’ve been impractical with a baby.”

“Smart choice.”

As your eyes traveled back to the TV, Beau’s gaze landed on you. He watched as your cheeks moved when you laughed with your whole heart. How your pink, full lips sealed around the bottle opening whenever you sipped on your beer. How your shimmering hair fell into your face in waves as you leaned forward and hugged your knees. Lingering looks.

“You wanna open a bottle of tequila with me and watch another episode?” you asked with a mischievous glint in your eyes as you looked back at him over your shoulder.

“Hm? Oh, uh, yeah. Let’s do that,” he agreed, swallowing lightly. A part of him almost felt caught in his shameless staring. But he was willing to do anything as long as it kept you from crying yourself to sleep for another night.

Jumping up from the bed, you sauntered over to the mini bar and bent down, hauling a bottle of tequila from the small fridge you’d stored in there earlier. Beau tried not to stare at the curve of your ass and how tightly those dark blue jeans hugged it. But he couldn’t control his heart as it undeniably accelerated and thumped loudly against its prison. Fluttering hearts.

Four episodes and two Margarita pitchers in, you stretched with a yawn, barely able to keep your eyes open. You glanced at Beau with an amused smile as he was still transfixed by the TV and heavily engaged in the show.

“I’m beat. You mind if we turn in?” you checked and laughed a little when his green eyes blinked at you in surprise.

“Oh, uh, sure. I’ll head back to my room,” he said, nodding. “You, uh, wanna do this every night, maybe? I mean, it’s not like there’s much else to do here… We could hang out and binge-watch, as the kids say. Netflix and chill.”

You snorted. “Beau, that’s not what you think it means…”

His brow furrowed. “Well, what does it mean?”

“Sex,” you said bluntly and watched his mouth open and close. It was rare to render that man speechless.

Beau pursed his lips, his cheeks redder than the desert sand. “Yeah, uh, no Netflix and chill, then.” He cleared his throat a couple of times while you stifled your laughs. “Can I just finish this episode before I go?”

You giggled, getting up from the bed. “Sure. Knock yourself out. I need some bathroom time before, anyways.”

As you sauntered into the small, dingy bathroom, you briefly glanced back and saw Beau’s focus was already back on the sexy doctors. You laughed a little, shaking your head before you began to wash your face and slip into your pajamas, which were just a pair of sweat shorts and an old college shirt of Randy’s. Go Cougars!

Unbeknownst to you, Beau’s gaze didn’t remain on the TV for long. At first, he only caught a glimpse of you from his periphery in the bathroom mirror through the cracked door. For a moment, he stared, unable to tear his eyes away as you shed out of your shirt. But when your bra came off as well, he averted his eyes shamefully back to the TV. His mind, however, still wandered, incapable of shaking the image of you, various unholy ideas gathering for a villainous summit. Dirty thoughts.

‘Así que, elígeme a mí. Escógeme a mí. Ámame a mí…’

“Still hooked, huh?” Amused, you arched a brow at him as you strolled out of the bathroom and saw he was still enchanted by the magic of dramatic television.

“He’s gonna go back to the cheatin’ ex, isn’t he?” Beau asked without looking at you. He sat on the bed with arms crossed and his brow scrunched.

You pressed your lips together as you smothered another laugh. “Oh, no spoilers from me, but it’s a bit of a ride. And we haven’t even gotten to Dr. Caliente yet,” you said, grinning.

You waited a moment for Beau to catch the hint that you wanted to go to bed. But soon you realized it wasn’t going to happen. The man had done a full deep dive into that show, and there was no way of pulling him back out.

“You know, you can stay and keep watching if you want to. I don’t mind. I’ve been sleeping with the TV on, anyways,” you said.

His gaze met yours, brow finally rising with realization. “Oh, uh, sorry. No, I can go. Let you catch some–” His eyes wandered back to the TV before he shook his head and tried to refocus. He blushed. “Sorry.”

“It’s really okay. You can stay. I don’t care,” you assured him with a soft smile and climbed under the covers, resting your head on the pillow. You switched off the lamp by your bedside table, the blue glow of the screen remaining the only source of light.

“Maybe just this episode,” he mumbled, his shoulders deflating as he sunk back into a more comfortable position again.

“This is nice,” you noted with a blissful sigh and closed your eyes. “I kinda hate being alone.”

Beau watched you as you peacefully fell asleep, the TV suddenly forgotten. For once you didn’t cry yourself to sleep. Tears, nightmares, and loneliness gone. And he wondered – what it would be like if he watched you fall asleep every night. What if he was still there in the morning. What if he could hold you as you wore his shirt. Then, the guilt came swiftly like the rising tide and washed those thoughts away. Wistful what-ifs.

“What the hell happened in there?” you hissed as quietly as possible as you caught up with Beau in the lowly lit hallway of the station. Luckily, the other cops had enough sense to stay away and keep their distance while the two of you hashed things out.

Beau dragged a hand over his face, kept his palm clasped on his mouth as he paced in a circle. You were surprised he hadn’t punched a wall yet, judging by the tension in his shoulders.

“You can’t let her get to you,” you reminded him gently, your face softening when you noticed how distraught and upset he really was. What Diane said to him must’ve cut deep.

“You know it’s not true, right? What she said in there? I-I didn’t kill him. I wasn’t… Fuck!” His eyes were brimming with desperate tears, his breathing quick. You could hear his heart race from feet away.

“Of course not. She’s a deranged psychopath,” you emphasized, although you didn’t understand why you had to spell it out for him. He already knew that. “Why are you so upset? Don’t let her get under your skin. She’s thriving off it like a hyena.”

“I know. I just-…” He took a deep breath. “What if she’s right?”

Confused, your brow furrowed. “About what?”

“Me. Us,” he said, not making necessarily more sense. “What if it’s true, huh?” He blinked at you and swallowed harshly, completely out of breath. “Look, uhm… I-I don’t know how to say this. I’ve never admitted it before, but recently, things have become a lot clearer to me…” He paused for a moment, rubbing his mouth with two fingers before he found your eyes again. “I’ve always had feelings for you, you know? There’s always been this… pull. Even back then. Since the first time I met you.”

You inhaled sharply, your lungs incapable of fitting more air as you held your breath for several heartbeats. “Beau, it’s okay.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know if it is,” he said. The tortured tone of his voice pained you. “I mean, I would’ve never done anything. You need to know that, okay? I would’ve never hurt you or Randy. I never would’ve come between you two.”

“I know that,” you assured him. You wanted to take his hands in yours, touch him, hold him. But you knew it would only make the turmoil of emotions worse instead of better, like pouring oil into the fire.

“But sometimes, just for a blink of an eye, I caught myself wondering, you know? What it would be like to be with you… Hell, I wondered all the damn time. Even on your freaking wedding day,” he confessed. “That’s the kind of horrible person I am. And now, that I am with you and so fucking happy, I feel guilty every time that things worked out the way they did. ‘Cause it does feel like I’m happy that I’m with you, and he’s not.”

You let out a heavy sigh through your nose and finally took his hands in yours, intertwining your fingers as you squeezed them. “I know all of that,” you said, his brow rising in bewildered surprise. “In terms of being honest… I guess a part of me always knew you felt this way, but I never let myself go there. And yeah, considering everything, it’s only natural to feel guilty. But you’ve still done nothing wrong. We’ve done nothing wrong. You can’t control how you feel. Neither can I. And I’m not saying everything always was exactly right, and we did everything by the book, but I loved Randy with all my heart. There wasn’t room for anyone else… And now, I love you. But it was never at the same time, you know?”

Beau pulled you into his arms and held you tightly, kissing your crown. “No, I know. Trust me. I know that part.”

“I love you, okay?” You tiptoed to claim his lips, putting your whole heart into the kiss. You didn’t want to hurt him, but you wouldn’t lie, either. “Diane doesn’t get to use that against us. Everything that happened, everything we’ve done right or wrong – that’s between you and me… and maybe God at some point. But surely not that psychotic bitch in there. She’s doesn’t know what we think or feel, so don’t give her ammunition, alright?”

Beau nodded and pecked your lips, his hands caressing your cheeks. “I love you, too.”

Jenny cleared her throat as she carefully snuck up on you. “You guys okay?”

You gave her a soft smile. “Yeah. What d’you got?”

“Well, since Diane walked in and became our prime suspect, the new DA on the case signed a search warrant for her property, office, car, and all her devices,” Jenny informed you.

“Alright, take Pops with you and head to her house first. Call me if you find somethin’ we can burn that witch with,” Beau ordered, putting his sheriff hat back on, jumping into the saddle full-throttle.

“On it, boss.” Jenny gave him a resolute nod and hurried down the hall.

January 2021

“¡Feliz navidad!”

As you opened the motel room door, you found Beau on your doorstep with a giant grin on his freckled face and not one but two bottles of tequila. One in each hand that he joyfully wiggled in the air.

You chuckled, shaking your head at him. “Christmas was two weeks ago, payaso.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t here, so merry belated Christmas,” he retorted and strolled right in as you held the door open for him. “Can’t believe you stayed here and didn’t go home for Christmas.”

“Meh, wasn’t in the mood to be placated and pitied by my whole family. I know they all mean well, but if I get one more concerned head tilt and a ‘How are you holding up, sweetie?’, tendré que apuñalar a alguien,” you huffed.

Beau narrowed his eyes at you, slightly amused. “I only understood the word ‘stab’, but I think I get the gist,” he joked, laughing. “I see your Spanish is getting better. So, how was your depressing and lonely Christmas without your family?”

“Nice guilt trip, asshole,” you retorted playfully and scoffed. “Great, actually. I went out with the guys from our team who stayed here, too. Got insanely drunk on some Christmas cocktail Ignacio created. And some hot guy taught me how to Salsa dance. He got a little handsy towards the end, which, granted, is the most action I’ve seen in five months, so…”

Beau’s lips thinned as he weighted your words. “Huh, so to recap: you got wasted with five guys in a dingy bar and second base with some stranger. Sounds like Christmas-y fun.”

You frowned slightly, watching him open one of the bottles of tequila. “Alright, there were no bases being hit, Judge Judy. How was your Christmas?”

“Not as fun, I can tell you that much,” Beau muttered and gulped some tequila straight from the bottle.

Your nose scrunched, lips pursed. “You and Carla got into it again?”

“Oh yeah, big time,” he replied. “I’ve only been home twice, including Christmas. You’d think she’d be more happy to see me, but instead I get yelled at for not being home more and criticized like I’m some drunk.”

Your narrowed look drifted to the bottle of liquor tightly clasped in his hands as he plopped down on the bed with a sigh. “Well, you know, not really making an argument for yourself there, gaucho.”

He scowled at you. “Who’s side are you on?”

“No one’s!”

“What, you think I’m some alcoholic?”

You pursed your lips and hesitated briefly. “No… But I do think you have a slight issue with... occurrence and... volume.”

He sent you a small glare. “That’s the same thing, just different words.”

“Look, I get it. It’s not like I’ve been a healthy example these past months,” you said, hoping a softer approach would work. You sat down next to him on the bed. “It’s been hard for all of us. Grief wrecks you. But you have a family to think about. Maybe it’s time you go home… for good.”

His brow drew into creases, green eyes drilling a hole into you. “Do you want me to go?”

Your lips parted for a moment, reluctant to answer as his question hung in the air between you two. “It’s not about what I want. You should do what’s best for you.”

Beau considered your words, his head bobbing. “I wanna stay. I need to see this through. For Randy,” he declared, although it was only partially true. Another part of him stayed for you. There was an electrostatic force, invisible to the naked heart and irresistible to the free mind. A force that kept him in your orbit and bonded his atoms with yours.

Maybe you should’ve told him to go home, been more insistent on making him leave, clearer on what was best. But truthfully and selfishly so, you liked having him around. He was your constant, your little piece of home in a strange land and an even stranger new life. And you didn’t want to navigate this new life alone.

“You sure?” you still asked for the sake of your conscience, but the determination on his face over his decision made your heart sing in relief.

“I’m sure. Just wish things were easier…”

Walking back into the interrogation room, you smiled victoriously as you slapped a folder full of evidence on the metal table in front of Diane. The deputies had found “a buttload” in Poppernak’s words.

Regardless, you knew Diane wasn’t stupid. If the deputies found something, she had wanted you to find it. For some reason, she wanted to be arrested. But you didn’t care what sick game she was playing. Cuffing her meant there’d be no more bodies, no more victims.

She gave you a titillated sneer, glimpsing at the file in front of her before finding your eyes again. She bit her lip, smirking. “Oooh, lookey, what you found there,” she mocked.

“It’s over, Diane. You’re under arrest for multiple murders among a plethora of other charges. But you already know that,” you told her firmly.

Beau’s features were stone-cold. He was pissed, radiating that fire burning inside of him for miles. He made the Yellowstone supervolcano look harmless. “Stand up and turn around. Hands behind your back.”

Diane did as told without any protest. She grinned at you the whole time when Beau manhandled her roughly into her handcuffs, bending her over the metal table as he read her the Miranda rights. You couldn’t shake the eerie feeling in your stomach, though. You had your killer, but somehow this felt far from over. You knew she had an ace up her sleeve and was waiting to lay it on the table.

“But we were just getting started,” she snarled. “Aren’t we having fun?”

“Fun usually looks a little different for me,” Beau retorted and forced her back onto the chair as soon as she was cuffed.

“I bet it does, Sheriff,” she purred with a flirtatious glimmer in her gray eyes. “I think I’ll wait with my confession till tomorrow. Let you two lovebirds enjoy your last night together.”

Beau and you shared a wary look at that. But deep in your heart, you knew there was nothing that could tear you apart. And you hoped Beau knew it, too.

“Look, bitch, I don’t care what you think you’ve planned, but it won’t drive a wedge between us. All it’s gonna do is piss us off more, got it?” you threatened and leaned forward on the table with an angrily knit brow.

Diane chuckled. “Confident. I always liked you, Agent. Aren’t you even a little curious what I’ve got in store for you?”

“No,” you replied without hesitation. You looked up at Beau and rose from your seat. “Let’s go. She’s not gonna talk tonight.”

Beau nodded, putting his hand on the small of your back, leading you outside the door. And just as your hand reached the handle, Diane decided to play her ace of hearts.

“It’s about your husband,” she noted innocently. You could hear the satisfaction in her voice as your whole body stiffened, muscles freezing. Beau felt it, too. His heart began to race. “Dead husband, of course. I always forget that part. Silly me.”

Beau’s hand on your back gave you a soft caress, telling you it was okay to turn around and find out. You didn’t want to care. And most of all, you didn’t want Beau to see that you did. But as you met his forest-green eyes, they were full of understanding.

“What about him?” you asked bravely, your chin held high as you faced her.

Her grin widened before her gaze wandered to Beau. “It’s in my pocket. Mind giving me a hand, Sheriff? You can even touch. I know you have a hard time keeping those hands to yourself,” she taunted.

You scoffed exasperatedly, rolling your eyes. “I’ll do it.”

“Oh, c’mon, Agent. Let me have a little fun. I’m about to be felt up by enough women,” she quipped.

You ignored her, hauling her to her feet by her elbow and holding her in place as your other hand dived into her back pocket. Your brow furrowed as your fingers identified a small plastic stick. Your frown deepened as you pulled out a familiar thumb drive. It wasn’t the first one you had received from her.

Twenty-five.

Had she taken another victim before giving herself up? What was so special about this one? What did it have to do with Randy? Did he ever cheat on you? Did Beau know?

You found that quite unbelievable. In fact, you knew there was no chance in hell that was true. But that did nothing to ease your conscience.

Your hand trembled in sync with your palpitating heartbeats. You tried to steady it as best as you could and keep your jumpy nerves in line as you slipped the small drive into its designated outlet on your laptop, not wanting the team that had gathered around and behind you to catch on to your unnerving emotions.

As you clicked on the MP4 file, your heart came to a standstill when a video popped open in the player. Pressing Play, you sucked in a breath and then forgot to breathe at all.

It only took you a glimpse to die inside.

“Oh God…”

It felt like suffocating. Like jumping off a steep seaside cliff and drowning. Your body hit the ocean rocks; your heart split open.

It only took Beau a second longer to catch on. The horror in your voice had put him on immediate alert before he recognized the figure on the screen, too.

As your head spun and your stomach turned upside down, you couldn’t find any words and bolted outside. You needed fresh air. You needed to breathe. And you needed to goddamn puke.

“Beau, what’s going on? Who’s the guy on the video? You know him?” Jenny asked, her gaze worriedly flashing in the direction you had fled.

Beau swallowed the thick lump in his throat, forcing the name out that had haunted him all those past years. “It’s Randy.”

Chapter 9: Marooned – NOVEMBER 29

Dun, dun, dun... The dead have risen in Montana! This is where it becomes a Walking Dead crossover (at least if you ask Donno 😂). Did you call the little resurrection action beforehand? 👀 Lemme know all your wild thoughts in the comments! 💭

So happy to be back with y'all! 🤍

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[starrysharks]

ultimate excalibur and reassassination are the two webcomic ideas that are constantly rotated in my head and they HATE each other constantly beating each other the fuck up and fighting for dominance in my brain

[writingforstraykids]

I keep thinking about dilf!Felix like him being your besties dad or something….

-🎀

I swear I've been staring at this for so long, debating if I should do a full fic or just some thoughts. Well, thank my dear Azzy @galaxycatdrawz for this, because you made his thoughts go wild. Basically I just had to transform his whole little plan into a fic. There will be 2nd chapter (including smut) but have fun with this for now.🖤

Finding home in your heart

Pairing: Felix x fem!reader (mention of Minchan | Jisung)

Word Count: 7571

Summary: Felix got cheated on by his wife repeatedly and ends up heartbroken after the discovery. His adoptive daughter, your best friend, tells you the whole story and asks you to move in as you're struggling to find a place. Your only problem; you had a crush on Felix for ages and living with him isn't making it easier...

Warnings/Tags: angst, emotional hurt!comfort, fluff, insecure!lix, domestic shit, baking, cuddles, slowburn (ig?), first kiss, age difference (8 years, it's legal since this fic is for adults, chill out)

PART TWO

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Felix’s love life had been nothing but a steady stream of predictable days blending into years. He would have never doubted his beautiful wife and would have never second-guessed her love for him. They had gotten married early and soon found out his wife was incapable of carrying his children. So, after some consideration, they adopted a young girl and raised her like their own. She had grown into a smart young woman, and Felix couldn’t be more proud of her. Given the age gap of only ten years he had always been rather close with her and later you, her best friend.

One night he decided to surprise his wife, coming home early as his daughter was staying at yours. What greeted him wasn’t the usual warmth and coziness of his home but the sight of his wife in a certain setting no man wants to find the love of his life in with another man. For a moment, Felix found himself frozen in place, the safe foundation of his life slowly crumbling away beneath his feet. He whispered her name in disbelief, only to find out that this had been going on for years. Felix felt like his whole life shattered to pieces and the betrayal left an ugly taste of bitterness on his lips. How the hell was he supposed to get out of this?

-

“And then she just left,” your best friend ends her story, and your eyes grow even wider than they have already been. 

“You’re kidding?” you ask, shocked. 

“Apparently, she said something about how this shit has been going on for years, that she never really loved him, and that she’ll leave until he finds a new place,” she rages on and paces her bedroom angrily. “Oh, and I’m just another burden he talked her into,” she scoffs, and your frown deepens. 

“You won’t stay here, right?” you ask cautiously. You can’t imagine she will, but still. 

“Oh, hell no. I’ll go with Dad, she can piss off,” she shakes her head and drops onto her mattress. “The perk of being not related to her is that I can push her out of my life for good,” she snorts, and you gently pat her back. “I feel so bad for him,” she sighs. 

“It must’ve been a huge shock,” you nod, your heart feeling heavy. Felix has always been kind to you from day one. Whenever your family was struggling, he helped out, even if it was simply by taking you with them to theme parks, the movies, or shopping. Felix was only eight years older than you and ten years older than your best friend, so the older you got, the more he felt like an older friend instead of your best friend’s father. Also, he was stunningly handsome, but that wasn’t relevant right now.

“He’s trying to hide it, but I know how shitty he feels right now,” she tells you worriedly. “I mean, he’s never been with anyone else and-.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” you assure her gently. “He has such a kind heart, I’m sure someone will love him, truly.”

“I will thoroughly check the next person. You’ll have to help me then, go all detective on them,” she smirks, and you agree, laughing. 

A gentle knock at the door interrupts you, and Felix opens the door flashing you a tired smile as a greeting before glancing at his daughter. “Channie called, he has a spare place we can have.”

“Just like that?” she asks baffled. 

Felix chuckles weakly and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, just like that. I told him I’d pay, but Minho insisted they don’t need the place, and it’s all paid off.”

“How convenient,” she smirks and rolls her eyes. “Typical uncle Min,” she grins.

“Yeah,” he laughs and sighs softly. “You think you can get everything ready in the next few days?”

“You really can’t wait to get out of here, huh?” she laughs, and his smile dies, eyes clouding with pain. 

“Yeah, I guess,” he nods and clears his throat as his daughter looks at him apologetically. “Well, let me know when you’re hungry, and we can order something,” he announces, putting on a smile and quickly pulling the door closed. 

“See?” she whispers. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

You hum gently and pat your best friend’s knee. “Well, I can help you move, I have nothing to do those next few weeks.” 

“You’re so sweet,” she giggles and hops up, ripping the door open. “Dad, Y/nnie says she’s gonna help us move our stuff!” she shouts downstairs. 

“Lovely,” Felix shouts back halfheartedly and flinches as his daughter slams the door closed again. “Fucks sake, this woman,” he snorts and stands still in the living room for a moment. He chews on his lower lip as the many memories he made in this very room crash over him like a wave, trying to drown him. “You’re such a dumbass,” he whispers to himself. 

“No, you’re not, she’s just a massive bitch,” you speak up gently, suddenly standing in the living room with him. 

He blinks at you with wide, confused eyes before a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Mhm, you could say that. Doesn’t make me any wiser, letting her fool me for the past ten years,” he huffs softly and rubs his face. “I just feel bad for her,” he says, and you know he means your best friend upstairs. “All I always wanted for her was a stable home after everything she went through.”

“Look at her, you did great,” you tell him, and he chuckles weakly.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this,” he waves you off and blinks at you surprised as you offer him a hug. He accepts it after a short moment of hesitation and bites back a laugh as you pat his back encouragingly. 

“You’ll be okay…she’ll never find someone better, so fuck her. It’s her loss,” you tell him, and Felix snorts before letting go of you and grabbing his phone. 

“We’ll see,” he hums softly, subtly bringing some distance between the two of you again. “You’re gonna stay for dinner?” he asks, and you gently shake your head. 

“I promised Mum I’d be home for dinner today,” you tell him, and he nods gently.

“You need a ride?” he offers, and you wave him off. 

“I’ll be fine, promise,” you assure him and exchange your goodbyes.

One week later

You put down the boxes you carried inside and look around with wide eyes. “Wow, Min wasn’t lying. This place is huge.”

“Right? I didn’t quite believe it as well,” your best friend giggles and puts down her boxes as well.

“Why would I lie about that, huh?” Minho asks playfully offended, adding some boxes on the floor next to yours. “You think we’d give your dad and you some shabby place? You think that lowly of us?”

Chan pokes his side, making him squeak and giggles as Minho playfully raises his fists to fight him. “Relax, no one’s calling you a liar, baby.”

“Sure hope so,” he teases and naturally intertwines their hands, pulling Chan with him. “You haven’t seen the view from up here yet,” he announces and waves you after him.

You follow the pair of them onto the huge balcony, and your breath hitches. From up here, you can see parts of the city and the ocean, and still it’s so peaceful up here. 

“How’s your dad, kiddo?” Minho asks your best friend after a moment of comfortable silence.

“Worse than he admits,” she answers, and Minho hums gently. “If you ask me, he’s fucking heartbroken and feels worthless. If you ask him, he’s okay and just a little caught up in his thoughts,” she further explains. 

“Give him time,” Chan tells her gently and sighs, looking down at the ocean. “Ten years is a lot, you know?”

The door to the balcony opens, and Felix steps outside, laughing at you all. “Seriously? You’re out here enjoying the view while I’m carrying all those boxes?” he asks, and you all start laughing before hurrying back inside to help him.

Once everything is inside, Minho and Chan give you a tour through the house and you wonder what Felix and your friend would do with all this space. The couple soon leaves again to give them some space to settle in. 

Your best friend strolls through the house and frowns softly. “You’re alright?” Felix asks her, frowning softly. “I know it’s not home, but we can make it work, it’ll just need some time and-.”

“Dad, home is wherever you are, relax,” she laughs, and Felix nods, stunned, looking adorably touched by her words. “I just…this place is huge.”

“It is,” he nods. “I have no idea what the hell they had planned for this.”

“Nothing useful, as Min put it,” you chime in, and Felix grins at your remark.

“I’ll feel so lonely here if you’re at work,” she speaks up after a moment, and Felix’s face softens.

“Dear, there’ll be a point in your life when you move out and everything. I won’t always be around,” he says, and she glares at him. 

“Don’t say shit like that, you’re only ten years older than I am, it’ll take a while,” she points out, and he snorts but gives in, remaining quiet. “Y/nnie, how’s the hunt for a flat going?” she asks.

“I already told you it’s shit,” you sigh softly, not quite picking up on her true intentions behind that question. “It’s either too expensive or so much out of town it’s not exactly convenient.”

“Oh, you’re going to move out?” Felix asks, busying himself with one of the boxes.

“I want to, my parents could use the space for something else,” you nod.

“Dad?” she asks, drawing out the word with a sweet tone. 

“What do you want?” he asks, not even looking up.

“She could move in with us,” she says, and you frown at her. Felix looks up, confused, and tilts his head at her. “She can’t find a place, I worry about getting lonely here…you could use some more company as well before you’re fully depressed and-.”

“Will you stop?” he snaps at her. “I’m not depressed, I’m fine besides the fact that I got cheated on after wasting ten years of my life,” he continues and shakes his head at her. “Stop reading into it that much, I’ll start believing you at this point.”

You lower your gaze at the floor and awkwardly shuffle on your feet. “Gosh, relax,” she sighs. “That just proved my point.”

Felix throws the contents of the box back inside and pushes himself up. “I’m getting some fresh air. And yes, you can move in if you want to, it’s not like we’d lack space or whatever,” he says before leaving the two of you. 

“Nice one,” you sigh softly. 

“What?” she groans and rolls her eyes. “You know I’m right.”

“And that makes it better?” you chuckle, and she huffs softly. “Fine, fine, I’ll go apologize…but would you?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh softly. “I’d feel like I’m intruding,” you argue gently. 

“Never,” she shakes her head firmly. “Also, you’re here every day anyway, so nothing changes,” she grins before sighing softly. “Dad?” she shouts, and you roll your eyes at her.

Should you? Move in with your best friend and her heartbroken, conveniently handsome adoptive father? That could only go wrong, right?

You join them on the balcony and sigh softly, meeting your best friend’s eyes. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

She shouts in joy and pulls you into a tight hug, hopping excitedly. “You’re the best best friend I could’ve ever wished for!”

“Yeah, yeah,” you chuckle and roll your eyes playfully, catching Felix smirking at the two of you.

Three weeks later

You hum to yourself as you make your way from the kitchen to the living room area. Your best friend is staying the night at her boyfriend’s, and Felix is out on Stray Kids duty, as you jokingly call it. So, for now, you have the whole house to yourself. You moved in fully about two weeks ago, and your new room is bigger than you ever dared to imagine. There’s an attached bathroom as well, and your few things look ridiculous, trying to fill up all that space you have now. 

You grab your phone and check your messages before scrolling through some news. Refreshing the page, a new article appears on top, and you realize it’s about Felix. Curiously, you click on it, and your eyes widen, realizing it’s about what happened with his wife. You read through it and smile sadly; Felix seems to have tried putting it as respectfully and vague as he could. You don’t support what that woman did for years one bit, but you also know how their fans can get so you’re glad Felix tries to stay neutral in public.

You glance up from your phone as the front door opens downstairs, and Felix comes up the stairs only a little later. Looking at him, you can tell he was crying, and your heart sinks to your stomach, seeing how tired he looks. His eyes meet yours, and you swallow softly as he stops in his tracks as if he just remembered you live here as well. “You’re okay?” you ask softly, and for the first time in weeks, Felix shakes his head.

“Not really, no,” he admits, his voice a little raspy. You can tell he’s fighting back tears, and you gently pat the spot next to you on the sofa. Felix momentarily searches your eyes before moving forward and dropping down on the sofa next to you. “I know it’s my own fault because I took off my wedding ring but I didn’t expect them to ask already,” he tells you quietly and nervously fidgets with his hands. “Chan told me to be honest before she comes up with something that’ll drag me down.”

“I think you’ve handled it quite well,” you tell him gently, and he groans in response.

“Already online, huh?” he sighs, and you hum softly. Felix throws his head back against the sofa and stares up at the ceiling. You can’t help but take in his side profile and let your eyes wander down his neck. “I hate this.”

“Hate what?” you ask gently.

“I have to have an explanation for everything as if I’d know why she cheated. Maybe it’s because I’ve been gone often with all our schedules. Maybe she got bored. Maybe she just saw past that facade of fame and sunshine behavior and realized I’m not as lovable as everyone thinks I am,” he huffs, making you frown at him. “Maybe she never loved me in the first place, and I can’t even blame her for that.”

“Stop it now,” you scold him firmly and Felix turns his head, blinking at you. “Have you ever considered that maybe she’s just a massive bitch and there is absolutely nothing wrong with you?”

“Not really, no,” he shakes his head and sits up straight again. “That’s rather unlikely, isn’t it? There’s always a reason people cheat.”

“Sometimes it’s simply stupidity,” you insist. “Not everything is your fault, Felix.”

“Why does it feel like it then?” he asks quietly, and your heart breaks at the desperate glint in his eyes. “Why does it feel like I’m the one who fucked it all up? And why doesn’t she care one bit, and I’m here feeling like complete shit?”

“Because you loved her,” you say quietly and watch his face fall. “She didn’t try to make it right, did she? She didn’t protest when you suggested a divorce.” Felix shakes his head, eyes brimming with tears. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe she never loved you for who you truly are. Maybe all she saw was the fame, the money, the places you went to…but how is that your fault?”

“I…I should’ve known,” he says quietly, his lower lip quivering a little. 

“You can’t know that shit if they’re good at hiding and pretending. Who knows how long she could’ve kept up that show if you hadn’t come home early that day?” you ask, and Felix avoids your observant gaze, staring down at his hands. “The only thing you’re at fault for is beating yourself up for this and thinking you’re worthless.”

Felix remains quiet and presses his lips together tightly as hot tears run down his cheeks. His hair falls into his face as his head hangs low, and you can only tell as he sniffles softly. You hesitantly reach out for him and rub his back soothingly. Felix whispers an apology and buries his face in his hands, a quiet sob rippling through his body. You don’t know where you get the confidence from, but you move before you can reconsider what you’re about to do. Wrapping your arm around him, you pull him into a warm embrace and gently rub his shoulder. Felix tenses up briefly before he relaxes into your touch, allowing himself the comfort you spend. 

It doesn’t last for all too long, and Felix pushes himself off the sofa, messily wiping his cheeks. “Sorry, I shouldn’t-,” he stammers and exhales shakily. “I shouldn’t dump this all on you.”

“I don’t-” you start and shut your mouth as he raises his hand to stop you. 

“I know you don’t mind. I know,” he says and shakily wipes his cheek. “That doesn’t make it any better. I appreciate you trying to help, but I’ll go before I start unloading even more nonsense,” he sniffles and flashes you a sad smile. “Thank you, though.”

“You’re welcome,” you nod gently and watch him leave. Only then do you notice your heart racing in your chest and the wet patch of his tears in your sweater. “So much to keeping boundaries, Y/n,” you scold yourself, rubbing your face tiredly.

Felix closes the door to his room and buries his face in his hands with a soft groan. “What the fuck are you doing?” he whispers and stands still for a moment. What is he doing, sobbing in his daughter’s best friend’s arms? Is he going insane? Felix closes his eyes and tries to forget how comfortable your hug felt, how good you smelled, and how soothing your presence was to him. “Fuck,” he whispers into the emptiness of his room.

One week later

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest as you walk down the hallway, clutching your visitor pass. Your best friend asked you to pick up Felix from work tonight because she had to work late and would then stay at her boyfriend's again. Would he think weirdly of you for it? He's been avoiding you a little after that emotional breakdown a week ago, and you can't blame him. 

You reach Chan's studio and knock gently, letting yourself in. 

“Oh, Y/nnie,” Chan greets you cheerfully. 

“Haven't seen you here in a while,” Minho adds curiously. 

“Yeah, uh, I have to pick up Felix,” you say, and they frown. 

“I thought-”

“No, she's working late and staying at her boyfriend's or something like that,” you shrug your shoulders. 

“She asks you to move in so she isn't lonely and leaves all the time,” Minho shakes his head, amused. “Well, at least someone's keeping an eye on Lix, then.”

“Mhm, yeah,” you nod. “Where is he?”

“In the practice room down the hallway. Uh…he's in a shit mood today,” Minho tells you. 

“Define shit mood,” you chuckle. 

“Everything is shit, nothing works, he's useless,” Chan sighs softly and shakes his head. “We tried.”

You sigh heavily and roll your eyes. “Fine, I'll do my best.”

“Good luck,” Chan giggles. 

Only a little later, you open the door to the practice room and slip inside. You frown as you spot Felix stretched out on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. “I swear, Channie, if you're here to tell me another bad joke that's supposed to make me laugh, I'll snap,” he announces. 

You stop next to him and tilt your head at him. “Not Channie,” you say. “What's that supposed to be?” you ask, vaguely waving at his current position. 

“It's my new favorite yoga position called utter depression,” he says dryly and throws you a peace sign. “That's I'm a failure, what's your name?”

“Chan wasn't lying,” you nod slowly. 

“Did Chan call you? Seriously?” he asks, sitting up on his elbows. 

“No. In fact, it was your lovely daughter asking me to come pick you up. She's working late, and then she'll stay over at her boyfriend's.”

“I still can't believe she asked you to move in so she wouldn't be lonely, and now she's barely home,” Felix snorts and groans softly. 

“Mhm, you guys are repeating yourselves, Min said the same thing,” you tell him and gently poke his side with your shoe. “What's going on, Mr. utter depression?” 

“Nothing, as you can see,” he sighs. “I fucked up during practice today. Minho only didn't call me out for all the mistakes because he felt sorry for me at the time,” he tells you. 

“And that led you down the good old road to self-hatred?” you ask, sitting down on the floor next to him. 

“Maybe,” he answers vaguely. 

“Surely,” you correct him. “Lix?” you ask gently, and he turns his head toward you. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No,” he shakes his head as his eyes trace your features. 

“We could take a walk and grab some food on the way. We don't have to talk or anything. It's just for you to clear your head and empty all that garbage you keep up there,” you tell him, tugging a small smile at the corner of his lips. 

“Yeah, okay,” he nods. 

You exchange your goodbyes with Min and Chan, who secretly throw some hearts your way when Felix isn't looking. Idiots. 

-

After that evening, it all got easier again. You didn't talk much that day, but the fresh air, bright lights, and warm food had lightened Felix's mood immensely. Over the following two weeks, you two grew closer, and Felix allowed himself to be more open. With your best friend gone quite frequently, it was often only you and him. 

The more time you spent together, the more you realized how ridiculously perfect Felix was. His beautiful brown eyes, soft features adorned by all those sweet freckles, and blond hair falling around his face made your stomach flip. His sweet smile and even prettier laugh made you feel like winning a trophy every time you were the reason for it. He's so kind and polite that it makes your head spin. 

Felix can't quite stop himself from looking at you whenever you don't notice. The more time you spend, the more he notices how beautiful you are. How caring and gentle. Your smile brightens his days and he can't fully shake the longing to be in your arms again off. He hasn't felt as comfortable around someone in a while, and there's a lingering worry in the back of his head telling him that he really shouldn't allow himself to fall for you. It only gets worse watching you doing the most mundane things and wishing that you wouldn't leave again. 

-

Another two weeks later your best friend announces she'll be abroad for a holiday with her boyfriend for two weeks. Two weeks. It'll only be Felix and you for fourteen days. That thought wasn't helping your anxious heart, trying not to fall for him at all. 

You decided to make the best out of it and forget about your worries. Seeing Felix smile again was all that counted. 

The first morning, Felix tiredly strolls down the hallway from his room and stops in his tracks when he sees you at the stove. A sweet scent lingers in the kitchen, and he realizes you're making pancakes for breakfast. His heart picks up pace, and he takes a deep breath, reminding himself to act normal. “Morning,” he says, not knowing that his even deeper morning voice sends shivers down your spine. 

“Good morning,” you smile at him, bright as ever. He has to look somewhere else to stop himself from blushing. “Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes,” you tell him, and he hums softly. 

Felix sits down at the kitchen island and watches you thoughtfully. It's ridiculous how used to your presence he got over the past few weeks. Almost as if he couldn't imagine it any other way anymore. “Do you have any plans for today?” he asks and you shake your head as you put the pancakes on a big plate. 

“Why?” you ask curiously and turn off the stove. 

“Uh, I was thinking about painting her room since she wanted a new color so badly…I was wondering if you'd like to help?” he asks nervously. 

You put down the plate and nod. “Sure, why not?” 

Felix flashes you a sweet smile and thanks you as you hand him a plate with some pancakes. They're so fluffy they almost melt on his tongue, and he has trouble biting back a moan. “Oh, they're amazing,” he tells you and notices the subtle blush settling on your cheeks. 

“Thank you,” you smile almost shyly. 

Seriously, can't you give him a break? 

-

After breakfast, Felix takes a quick shower, and you put on some clothes that could be ruined by the paint. You meet again in your best friend's room, and you smile at how soft Felix looks in a pair of gray sweatpants and a wide sweater. You pull all the furniture away from the walls, covering everything up before Felix shows you how to apply the paint properly. In the beginning, you're both quietly working and it feels peaceful, just focusing on painting for now. Then Felix starts talking, trying to kill the silence. “I signed the divorce papers yesterday,” he says casually, and you need a moment to figure out how to answer. 

“Congratulations?” you chuckle, and he laughs, realizing how out of pocket this has been.

“Sorry, that was pretty random,” he apologizes. 

“No, it's fine. I'm glad you did,” you say, and he glances at you, making you ramble on quickly. “I mean, it's the right thing to do. Did you settle on anything? Does she demand stuff?”

“If she doesn't want my legal team to be less nice about the reason we're getting a divorce than I was, then she won't,” he tells you and sighs softly. “She has the old house, and I don't have to pay her anything. I'm glad when we're done with the whole process,” he admits tiredly. 

“I bet you are,” you nod gently. “You deserve some peace after everything,” you say, and he hums softly, pressing his lips together briefly. “We can stop talking about it,” you assure him gently, and Felix nods thankfully. 

“We need more paint,” he states. 

“Well, we should let this dry anyway for today,” you nod and flash him a gentle smile. “We could go buy some more and then call it a day?”

“Sounds good,” he nods, rubbing his face tiredly, and turns toward you fully now. 

“You've got some paint on your cheek,” you say, and he blindly reaches out to wipe it off. He doesn't quite get it and you step in front of him, reaching out for him. “Let me help,” you say and gently rub your thumb over his cheek, wiping the still fresh paint off. 

Felix freezes in place, staring at you as you do so. He feels like the world stops for a moment but then your soft touch is already gone again. He exhales a breath he didn't know he was holding in and follows you outside. Fucks sake. 

-

You wander through the store next to him and you end up buying some more stuff to decorate the house a little more. Felix's phone rings and you can tell it's Chan by the way his face lights up. He nudges your side after a moment. “You're hungry?”

“I could eat,” you nod.

“Min and Chan ask if we wanna stop by,” he tells you, and you shrug your shoulders. 

“Sure, why not?” 

Only shortly after, you reach their house, and your eyes widen, spotting the two small kittens on the carpet. “Oh, you have new ones?” you ask excitedly and Minho looks at you as if he's going to hit you. 

“Or not?” you ask, chuckling. 

Chan gently pokes his cheek and grins at you. “Yeah, we got them like a week ago,” he nods, and you crouch down as they make their way over. 

“Can I hold them?” you ask, looking at Minho, and his face softens. 

“If they let you,” he nods and tells you to sit down on the floor. 

He picks up the first one and gently hands it over to you, making sure you hold it right. “He's usually very calm, so if you don't move too quickly, you should be fine,” he tells you and sits down, grabbing the second one. “She's a little rascal,” he smirks and gently scratches her head. 

“They're so tiny,” you say, amazed. 

“Here, he loves those,” Chan says, handing you a little treat. 

You hold out your hand for the kitten, and he doesn't waste much time. You giggle at his tiny tongue licking over your palm and beam at Minho excitedly. Chan passes Minho and gently runs his hand through his hair mindlessly. Minho smiles softly and looks up at him so full of love you can't help but wish you'd find someone you shared the same type of deep love with. “Wanna help me set the table, Lix?” he asks, and Felix hums, following him, not after a quick glance in your direction to make sure you're alright. 

Soon after, you're all gathered around the table, and you all thank Minho for cooking. Chan glances at Felix after a while and seems to debate whether he should ask what's going through his head. “Lix?” he asks, and his friend turns toward him. “How are you holding up?”

“I'm fine,” he smiles tiredly, and you know the question starts to bother him by now. 

“You said that from day one,” Minho chuckles and tilts his head at him. 

“No, I am. I signed the papers yesterday and then soon it'll all be over,” he explains. 

“Have you met anyone new?” Minho asks curiously. “I mean, it's been almost two months.”

“Mhm, after ten years of a fake marriage. I still have time, don't you think?” he asks sourly. 

Chan steps in, trying to ease the mood. “We're just worried about you getting lonely, Lix,” he tells him. 

“I'd rather be lonely than that,” he says and rolls his eyes at them. “Not everyone finds the one and lives happily ever after from day one on,” he says, looking at the two of them. 

“That's hardly realistic, nothing was perfect from day one,” Minho shakes his head. 

“Not really, no,” Chan snorts and winks at him. 

“Well, you're not me, so…,” Felix says quietly, and the mood changes. 

“Meaning?” Minho asks patiently, even though you can tell he’d rather punch some sense into him.

Felix puts down his chopsticks and sighs heavily. “I'm way too emotional, I'm too shy to approach anyone or initiate anything further, I mess up stuff constantly and-.”

“Will you stop?” you cut him off, and everyone looks at you as if they're remembering you're still here. “You keep on talking shit about yourself, and you don't even realize you're letting her win.”

“I'm not letting her—” he frowns. Chan is about to speak up, but Minho stops him, resting his hand on his. 

“Yes, you are. She used you for years, and you're still letting her by making it all your fault. As if she had no other choice but to go off and fuck around with whoever she found moderately fuckable,” you say, and he blinks at you, stunned as Chan chokes on his breath. “You're talented at what you do, you're hardworking, and you're one of the most caring people I know. You didn't have to, but you always made me feel at home when I visited your daughter. You haven't done any differently since I moved in, and as long as you aren't talking shit about yourself, you're pretty funny. And-.”

“Y/nnie,” he says softly, and it's the first time he's called you that. “Eat up; it's going to get cold.” 

You quickly shut your mouth, ears burning up as you realize you've just been pretty open in front of Minho and Chan. “Yeah, okay, you better shut up then…respectfully.”

“Message received,” he smiles gently. 

Minho raises his eyebrows and glances at Chan before moving his eyes between the two of you. Chan frowns before his eyes widen, and he squints at him. Minho widens his eyes and puts on a little passive aggressively encouraging smile, signaling him that, yes, he is VERY right about this. 

“You can stop the eye fuckery over there, I'll get sick,” Felix calls them out, and you frown softly at Minho's mischievous grin. 

“Y/n, what about you?” Minho asks curiously. 

“You're playing cupid as a side business, or what is this?” you ask right back. 

“Simply interested,” he gives back. 

“I'm single if you must know so badly, and no, my self-esteem isn't drowning as much as Lix’s,” you say, and Felix pokes your side, protesting softly. 

Chan watches you quietly before glancing at his husband and humming softly. Minho simply smirks. 

Later, when it's time to leave, you hold your hand out for Felix, and he tilts his head at you questioningly. “Keys, please,” you smile. 

“Huh?” he asks, amused. 

“You had two drinks, I didn't have any, and I'm driving,” you tell him, stretching your hand out once more. 

“Listen to her, Yongbokie,” Minho tells him, and Felix gives in and hands you the keys. 

-

“That was really sweet,” Felix says, almost too quiet to hear. 

“The kittens?” you giggle. 

“Mhm, yeah, they too,” he nods and glances over at you. “I meant what you said…I uh... thanks.”

“Oh,” you nod and feel your heart warming at the softness in his eyes. “I meant it.”

“I know,” he whispers and can barely meet your eyes. 

“You should give yourself more credit. Try seeing yourself through the eyes of the people you mean something to from time to time,” you say, parking the car in front of the house. 

Felix looks at you, a little stunned. “I mean something to you?” he asks softly. 

“Well, of course you do, Lixie,” you smile and lean over, brushing his hair back for him. 

“Yeah?” he asks, eyes traveling down to your lips before he can fight it. 

“Mhm,” you hum softly and search his eyes. Suddenly, you move forward and your lips meet in a soft kiss that has him melting in his seat. He reaches up to bury his hand into your hair and-.

“Felix? Felix, wake up,” you say gently. 

“Huh?” he asks confused. 

“Wake up, Lix, come on,” you say softly, daring to brush a loose strand from his face. “Come on, let's get you upstairs.”

Felix blinks at you drowsily and needs a moment to realize he's been dreaming—dreaming of kissing you. His face burns up red with embarrassment as your gentle eyes meet his, and he shoots out of his seat. “Yeah, sorry,” he stammers, and you watch him a little confused. 

“You're okay?” you ask, closing the door for him.

“Sure, why wouldn't I be?” he asks, laughing nervously. Don't look at the lips. Don't. 

“Man, you're weird when you get woken up,” you shake your head and unlock the front door, letting him in. Felix stumbles taking off his shoes, making you laugh. “Is alcohol having such an effect on you?”

“Mhm, yeah,” he lies, spotting his lifeline. 

“Well, let's get you to bed then,” you say and gently pat his back, shoving him inside. 

“I'll make it on my own, thank you,” he quickly says and wishes you a good night. He throws himself face forward onto his bed and groans into his blanket. “Fuck, no, Lix, you can't.” He turns onto his back and stares up at the ceiling, brushing his fingers over his lips. Groaning softly, he fumbles for his phone; he needs some clarity now. 

“It's late, what the fuck, mate?”

“Jisungie, I fucked up,” Felix whines softly. 

“Oh, please don't tell me you're drunk,” Jisung sighs softly. “Do I have to pick you up somewhere?”

“No,” he quickly assures him. “I just…there's this certain someone I can't stop thinking about, and…Ji, it's wrong!”

“I don't like the sound of this,” he states calmly. “Go on.”

And Felix does, spilling all his hurt, feelings of emptiness, and worthlessness. Telling him how you mend his heart, fill his entire being with happiness, and make him feel loveable. He confesses how he can't stop thinking about you, worrying how messed up this could get. 

Jisung lets him ramble on and nods gently once he's done. “That's fucked up, mate.”

“I know,” he whispers. 

“No, I don't think you know how bad that bitch fucked you up,” Jisung says, and Felix is too stunned to speak for a second. “Fucks sake, Lix! Where's my pretty boy getting all the girls, huh? When did you get all shy and scared? Did she fuck up your self-esteem that badly?”

“Ji, you're missing the point here,” he insists. “Everyone would think I'm using her, she's eight years younger. They'll make her a victim and-.”

“Lix,” he cuts him off firmly. “I'm that victim you're describing here, you do know that, right? My hubby is ten years older, Hyune’s wife is six years younger, and no one gives a fuck,” he tells him. “The thing you really can't take is the fact that she's your daughter's best friend.”

“That surely doesn't help,” he groans. 

“Well, technically-.”

“She's my daughter, you can try and twist this how you want,” he shakes his head. “And she'll hate me if I act upon my feelings for Y/n.”

“All she wanted was for you to be happy. Why not with Y/nnie?” he asks gently. “Listen, buddy, you gotta figure out what you really want and then act accordingly. Stop sending her signals if you don't want this to evolve into something more.”

“I know,” he sighs softly. Fuck. 

-

“Can you get the eggs?” you ask him as you pour some sugar into a bowl, weighing its content as you do. 

“Sure,” Felix nods and his hand rests on your lower back for a brief moment, notifying you of him standing behind you to stop you from bumping into him. 

You swallow softly at the lingering touch, and it's already gone again before you can't think much of it. Felix got home from the studio about an hour ago, and you two decided to surprise your best friend with a cake for her birthday tomorrow. At least she had planned to come back again for it. After quickly buying the ingredients, you two got busy in the kitchen. He's unusually clumsy, your hands brushed against each other four times already since you've started and you already bumped heads, both wanting to grab something off the floor he dropped. The brief touches and his soft eyes combined with that shy smile are slowly driving you insane. 

Once you're all done you put it in the oven and set a timer, cleaning up the kitchen for now. You'll still need a few things for the icing later but you get rid of most of the mess for now. After loading the dishwasher, the 25 minutes are over, and Felix carefully takes it out. You leave it there to cool and throw yourself on the sofa. 

Felix joins you and turns on the TV, putting on the next episode of the series you've recently started watching together. After a while, your head slowly drops onto his shoulder and it takes him a moment to realize you fell asleep. He cautiously wraps his arm around you to make you more comfortable and lets you rest against his chest. He tries not to think too much of it and chews on his lower lip nervously as he tries to pay attention to the screen. 

As much as he tries to fight it, he's exhausted from their intense practice today, and his eyes grow heavier with every minute. It doesn't take long and he falls asleep as well, getting more comfortable and dragging you down with him in his sleep. 

You wake up in his arms, your head resting on his chest. Your eyes widen in shock, and you fight the urge to jump up and get as far away from him as possible. You barely dare to lift your head. Glancing down at him, your heart skips a beat at how soft and vulnerable he looks in his sleep. His chest is slowly rising and falling, his hair hangs into his face and he looks so soft it makes you want to squish his cheeks. You admire the beautiful freckles painting his face as the fading sun caresses his golden skin. Gosh, he's pretty. 

He moves in his sleep, tightening his grip around you and rolling you both onto your sides. Burying his face in your neck, he lets out a content sigh and pulls you in close. You bite your lip and curse yourself for wanting this so badly. You should really wake him up…but you couldn't. Not when he had a long day and finally got some rest. Not when he looked this content and peaceful. You couldn't. 

You timidly rest your chin on his fluffy hair and wait for a moment, but he doesn't seem to mind. Carefully, you fondle his back and rest your hand between his shoulder blades. He doesn't stir one bit, and you decide to try sleeping some more as well. 

-

You wake up again when he stretches in your arms, pulling back with a soft groan. Felix squints at you drowsily before he slowly picks up on your current situation. A blush creeps up his neck and colors his cheeks and ears. He pulls away and rolls onto his back with a soft sound, rubbing his face tiredly. “Sorry,” he mumbles. 

“For what?” you ask gently. 

“Uh…this,” he awkwardly gestures between the two of you. “I uh…I tend to get cuddly when I fall asleep. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable or-.”

“You didn't,” you say firmly, and he slowly glances at you. 

“No?” he asks quietly. 

“Not at all,” you assure him, and he hums gently in response. “You seemed like you needed it, so I let you sleep a little longer.”

“Oh,” he nods dumbly and searches your eyes timidly. “Okay.”

“Yeah,” you nod and smile at him. “I think we can finish the cake by now.”

“Probably,” he laughs and sits up. 

The pair of you soon gets busy in the kitchen again and Felix turns on the mixer to finish the icing for the cake. It's a little too fast, and some of it lands on his sweater. “Fucks sake,” he curses softly before slowing it down. 

You laugh at him, and he turns to you, raising his eyebrows. “Oh, you got some on your face,” you giggle and step in front of him. You cup his face gently with one hand, rubbing your other thumb across the icing on his forehead. “Keep still, Lixie,” you say and don't quite notice his lips parting at the new nickname. You move further down, wiping the bits on his cheek off, and only then you meet his eyes. They're wide and filled with thousands of questions and insecurities. “You're okay?” you ask worriedly. 

Felix blinks at you before very slowly shaking his head. “I'm not okay,” he says, and you turn off the mixer, bathing the room in silence. 

“What's wrong?” you ask and want to pull your hand off his face, but his hand wraps around your wrist keeping you there. 

“I…,” he trails off, sinking deeper into your eyes, and you can see the sudden longing in them. It's pure and innocent, making you all dizzy the longer you look at him. “You're driving me nuts,” he confesses. 

“Breathe,” you tell him before experimentally brushing your thumb over his lips. He exhales shuddery, eyes fluttering close at your touch. “Can I kiss you?” you ask. 

“What?” he squeaks, eyes snapping back open. 

“You heard me,” you say and tilt your head at him. “Can I?” Felix gulps before nodding timidly. You close the distance between the two of you, and your lips brush against his. A soft, quiet sound escapes him and then you're cupping his face and kissing him. Felix melts into the kiss, body searching yours as he grips your waist and stumbles a little, shoving you against the kitchen counter. He pulls back only to catch his breath and presses his forehead against yours. “You're okay?” you ask again. This time, he nods. 

“Yeah,” he whispers with a soft smile. “I'm okay...”

PART TWO

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

@atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @kailee08 @mal-lunar-28 @lilmisssona @aaa-sia @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @michelle4eve @lixie-phoria @xxstrayland @kibs-and-bits @mellhwang @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @palindrome969 @harshaaaaa

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

EVEN MORE SPOILERS FOR SEASON 6

I figured since I already read it, I'd give my thoughts on the recent interview Astruc and Thibaudeau took part in.

Due to incompatibility with the new animation engine, SAMG will not be working on the next seasons of ‘Miraculous’. The series is now being developed entirely in France, with the integration of Dwarf Animation.

Okay, props for no more outsourcing, even if I'm not sure what this means for the other ZAG shows.

Season 6 is considered to be “a new beginning”, aside from being a new story arc. It is sometimes referred to by the writers as Season 1.

I'm sure that isn't confusing to the executives at all. Also, maybe don't imply you're starting from scratch when you're already reusing the plot of the main villain using the Butterfly Miraculous.

The writing team already has concrete ideas for how Seasons 7, 8 and 9 will begin and end. They also have ambitions to make it to a Season 12, only if the support of viewers and executives allows them to do so. With this, they emphasize the fact that they would not continue with the show if it were no longer needed or interesting.

So basically, they're planning to keep this up for as long as they can until someone pulls the plug.

The opening of the sixth season is still undecided. They are still discussing whether they will change the musical arrangement or not. Thomas also considers the possibility of making a brand-new theme song. A song has been confirmed for S6. They have the music, the arrangement and a female singer. The character remains unknown.

Imagine how funny it would be if they brought back the woman who sang for Marinette in the movie instead of having Cristina Vee sing again.

Despite leaving Paris at the end of ‘Revolution’ (5x23), Chloé Bourgeois will return in Season 6.

Putting aside all the things I've said about her "damnation arc", what is even the point of bringing her back at this point? She has no powers, no influence, no allies, and isn't a threat of any kind. This makes her not being the next Hawkmoth make even less sense, becuse she has more of a reason to hate Ladybug than Lila does.

Also, with the news that Chloe is coming back, this means that she essentially escaped punishment or at least found a way to rebound like Lila did. So that's a grand total of ZERO villains who actually got punished for their actions after five seasons. I'm starting to think Ladybug and Cat Noir really suck at their jobs.

Sebastien Thibadeau: “[Cerise] (IOTA: I'm still calling her Lila for simplicity's sake) is a villain without costume. She is a villain all the time. There is a reason why, but this reason, neither I nor Astruc will reveal to you yet.” Interviewer: “You mean you already intend to tell it?” Thomas Astruc: “Yes. And you know what, we have already told it, but you haven’t noticed.”

Translation: Ladies and gentlemen, LET'S GET READY FOR RETCOOOOOONNNNS!

Seriously, we are approaching the sixth season of this show. It has been eight years since Lila first appeared all the way back in "Volpina", and we still know nothing about her other than the fact that she has some three moms for some reason. You can't pull the whole "This is something you need to rewatch to understand!" excuse because the last two seasons hinged on breaking the rules about Sentimonsters.

Speaking of, I love how this comment about Lila accidentally implies that Gabriel never did anything evil when he wasn't Hawkmoth/Shadowmoth/Monarch. All that emotional abuse and isolation Adrien suffered was all out of love!

Thomas Astruc on Chloe redemption arc: “We put the characters in situations, and then we say to ourselves: “what would be the logic?” How would the character logically react in “such and such” a situation? And we tried, we tried everything. But every time, we say to ourselves: “if we write this, it’ll be wrong”. There’ll be no reason, it’ll come out of nowhere, the fact that she’ll face something nice and say: “Oh, I’ve been horrible, Marinette what have I done! From now on, I’ll be...” No, nonsense. I understand people’s desire for Chloe to be nice. I’d like that too. But I’d like it if in real life, people with a lot of power suddenly started doing nice things. But Chloé has no interest in changing. She has no reason to change, unfortunately.”

Ah, yes because Gabriel (Global terrorist and abusive parent), Felix (Betrayed Ladybug and temporarily wiped out all of humanity on a whim), Nathalie (Willing accomplice to Gabriel) Andre (corrupt politician and Chloe's primary enabler), Sabrina (Willing accomplice to Chloe) all had compelling reasons to change their ways.

Also, "I've been horrible, what have I done?"

MY BROTHER IN CHRIST, THAT'S HOW VIRTUALLY EVERY REDEMPTION ON THIS SHOW IS EXECUTED.

The fact that he's seriously acting like he actually wanted to write a redemption arc is insulting. Not only does it ignore all the things he's said to fans who were upset at the turn of events, but it makes no sense for him to take this stance because he's a writer. If Chloe turning a new leaf is too strange of an idea, then write an actual character arc allowing her to progress to a state where she recognizes what she's done is wrong. You control the character for God's sake! It's not like you're training a dog to stop humping the couch. You can change things to make a redemption arc possible.

In other words, Astruc is either lying to save his ass, or THIS IS WHAT THOMAS ASTRUC ACTUALLY BELIEVES about writing characters.

Sebastien Thibadeau talks about Andre's character development: In contrast to Chloe, “Andre Bourgeois evolved as a character because we had already imagined a back story. He had the potential to change, and that’s where the beautiful scene comes from — I think it’s magnificent — between Gabriel and himself on the roof of the Grand Palace, where he says: “But Gabriel, what’s become of us? We’ve forgotten the kids we used to be”. But we [writers] know what kids they used to be, and we’d like to tell the story one day, to show what young kids they were, when they were struggling through Paris and weren’t yet what you’ve come to know in the series. He’s sad about what’s happening to his daughter [Chloe], and he’s trying to change it, but he can’t. He is proof that a character can change.”

This. This right here is what cinched it for me. I've tried for years not to say it because it's a word that has been flung around a lot over these last few years, but I feel like this little snippet is enough of a reason for me to say it.

These writers are sexist.

They may not believe it, but whether they intended for it or not, they wrote a story arc where a grown man was shown to have more sympathetic qualities than his daughter. How the hell can you defend it in a way that doesn't highlight the misogyny that this show runs on?

The fact that they gush over how much "potential" Andre had right after saying how that same kind of potential wasn't enough of a reason to attempt a redemption arc with Chloe really shows how confusing their priorities are. I'm sorry to keep saying this, but for a show that takes a heavy anti-capitalist philosophy, it seems like the members of the 1% are the characters who get the most depth and sympathy... unless you're under 18 and lack a Y chromosome, that is.

A meeting will be set up in the coming weeks to decide on whether or not to make a live-action for ‘Miraculous’, Thomas Astruc reveals.

As a former Arrowverse fan, I'm willing to see this out. Not only did the Netflix One Piece series prove you can make an animated property work in live-action, Ladybug & Cat Noir: The Movie managed to do really well even without the usual writers behind it.

Thomas when asked about Gabriel’s wish in ‘Re-Creation’ (5x26) and whether he brought Emilie back to life: “All the answers are in the episode.”

For the love of--STOP SAYING THAT!

You keep claiming that we just need to rewatch the episode to understand things, but between the continuity errors and abandoned subplots, it's hard to tell what's important and what isn't. Either say "No comment" or give us an honest answer.

If people are still confused about how the season ended after almost a year, and you keep giving answers like this:

Maybe you need to change the way you tell the story.

Astruc when asked about ‘The Supreme’: “Oh, if only you knew... Nothing we do is meaningless.”

Sebastien Thibadeau on Season 7: “Once you’ve seen the start of season 7, I can swear you’ll watch season 6 a second time. That’s all I can say.”

Because it'll make Season 6 look like a masterpiece by comparison?

Thomas Astruc on the worldbuilding: There are Kwamis and Renlings, what makes you think there aren’t others [creatures]?

I swear, by the time we get to Season 10, we're going to get stuff like aliens, demons and talking mushrooms, or at least something ludicrous like that.

Zoe had a love at first sight when she met Marinette in ‘Sole Crusher’ (4x07), they confirm.

Of course! That's why it wasn't framed any differently from something like the umbrella scene and Zoe showed absolutely no signs of attraction to Marinette! It's genius!

Executives had Thomas write several alternative concepts for ‘Miraculous’, very different from what we know today or even the early PV. Among them, “a concept where Ladybug is the head of a group of superheroines, like Sailor Moon. There was no love story.”

Can you imagine a world without the Love Square?

The script writers’ favorite episode is ‘Simpleman’ (4x19) as it represents a personal, work and family attachment. Marinette’s grandfather, Roland Dupain, is inspired by Thomas Astruc’s grandfather.

Okay, either Astruc had a complicated relationship with his grandpa or he's been dead for years. While I understand that older generations have outdated views (for example, my great-grandmother yelled at me for saying I wanted to learn Japanese because "They tried to kill us!"), the fact that a caricture of a grumpy old man was based on his grandpa is a little concerning.

Also, between this and Sabine being based off an old flame of his, this only makes the theory that Chloe is based off a real person Astruc knew more plausible.

Astruc: “This is why our work is so difficult. We have to manage to bring in this generation of younger ones, and at the same time, we have to satisfy the generation that was here before and that grows with the series.”

First, if you're trying to please older fans, maybe don't get into fights with them on Twitter.

Second, you made a thread after "Simpleman" aired where you insulted fans for not getting the "meta" element to the episode and compared them to the character you just said was based on your grandfather.

You've also been burning away a lot of the older fans' goodwill over the years. Trust me, I have a few examples.

Despite sharing a similar appearance, the symbol on Nino’s T-shirt is not related to Hack-San.

Okay, is this a fan theory I missed back when Season 4 was airing? Why would anyone draw that conclusion?

Thomas Astruc talks about Season 6: “I’ll say it sincerely, I was very doubtful at the end of Season 5. I said to myself: “if we were to continue, how would we exceed?” Well, we did. It’s been a great season. The new writers have brought us a lot of great stuff. All the episodes we’ve written in Season 6 are fabulous. Each episode is on point, there is no unnecessary lines. All the scenes are really interesting, really well-crafted.”

Translation: Tons of filler, bad comedy, reused Akumas, and more Love Square drama that we're trying to claim hasn't been done before.

Thomas when asked if Marinette will get akumatized: “We never give any information about what may or may not happen.”

JUST. SAY. NO. COMMENT.

There are many important details throughout the series that no one has noticed. Thomas says that when we see the next seasons, we’ll think, “Oh, the writers had it all planned.”

You know, like how Season 3 established that Sentimonsters can be sent out of control by Cataclysm a few episodes before Adrien, a Sentimonster, gets hit by a Cataclysm and is affected in a different way. It was all planned from the beginning.

The Ladybug PV was an animation test and was not intended to be public. Jeremy Zag decided to leak it himself.

Honestly? Dick move on Zag's part. You have to wonder how pissed off Astruc was.

According to Thomas Astruc, what the ‘Miraculous’ series is today represents only 5% of what he wrote in the original bible he presented to Jeremy Zag. “The universe has evolved a lot since. I don’t know if the ideas I put there will be reused someday. It was very extensive.”

Thomas Astruc and Sebastien Thibadeau discuss the parallels between Marinette and Gabriel: Astruc: “Gabriel’s personal back story is the cause of his misery, not his will. And above all, it creates a beautiful mirror with Marinette, which is what’s interesting. They both have a lot of love for Adrien, they’re both designers, they both have a Miraculous, but it’s other choices.” Thibadeau: “That’s what makes it a great hero-villain contrast. Even if they don’t know it from the start, they have a real point in common. As we see at the end of Season 5, they both love Adrien. Except there’s one who does it by doing the right thing, and then there’s another who does it by doing the wrong thing, hurting people, to get there.”

And the one who did the wrong thing by hurting people ended up winning. What does that say about the contrast?

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

And that's it for the interview. I have to say Season 6 does not look pretty so far.

[cipheramnesia]

This is the process my brain goes through every time I see anything about Netflix Avatar The Last Airbender.

My first reaction is always: Why? The original, although not without flaws, doesn't leave a lot of room to improve. A good remake or adaptation usually involves an updated context or change in perspective that adds to the original work and gives it new meaning. It's a risky undertaking because it usually involves wanting to take on something established as iconic and make it your own. But Netflix is a corporation and seems very risk averse for the most part. Its only investment is in the name recognition of AtLA. It's hard to visualize Netflix deliberately taking a big risk on an expensive show.

My second reaction is: How? The original series is about 1400 minutes over 61 episodes, and it still had to rush the ending. We're looking at 8 episodes of roughly 45-60 minutes per episode for season 1, which would require Netflix to let it run more than 3 seasons, if the series has similar pacing. Historically however Netflix shows have glacial pacing, and rarely make three seasons. Not really sure how they plan to tell the story if the series is anything like the average Netflix series, meaning it either needs to undercut the story or let the series breathe for at least five seasons. But nothing Netflix has done makes me want to watch anything they make as an ongoing series? Why bother, they cancel everything I enjoy. So I wonder how. What's the hook to say "this will be able to provide something new and interesting compared to the original, and will be allowed to tell the complete story."

Which leads me to think, but you can't judge if something is good without seeing it. Except none of this is about whether it's good, I just find myself wondering what are the odds it's worth the effort? They're low, and it has nothing to do with whether or not it's even any good on its own merits.

Following this, I ask myself, what would a good version of this be. Imagine you are making a live action series with eight hour long episodes per season based on a children's cartoon with 20 thirty minute episodes per season. You are trying to encompass a story which was presented over three seasons as a cartoon, and you do not know if you will have more than those eight episodes. It's made for Netflix which, in terms of a company which will protect the hard earned fruits of your artistic labor, is the fox guarding the henhouse. What do you do?

If you are looking to make something good, that respects your audience investment and your own work, you make radical changes to the story. You change the pacing, the character arcs, the plot arcs. You make sure you deliver a complete story in those episodes with as much respect for the original work and as many new ideas as you can.

Except, at that point, what is even the point of a remake. The only way to work with it is either to trust Netflix allowing you to finish the story (which you'd need to be incredibly naive to do), or tell a story so different it may as well be wholly original. And that's where I always end up. Like, it'll probably be fine, but what's the point of it all? Another vanishing digital property to get canceled because of some undefinable failure to return on investment.

I think about it a lot because the two ends of the spectrum seem to be "dunk on every new piece of information" or "wait and see" but the only conclusion I can ever reach is "why even care?" That's been the lesson to take home from digital streaming in general when it comes to series, but Netflix in particular, and honestly for movie series too. If it can't be self contained, the companies who produce and release these kinds of series just cannot be trusted with it, and there are too many good original stories being put out to care anymore about big budget promises that one day they will definitely for sure deliver a finished story, this time for real.

I care enough to think about why I don't feel anything at all about Netflix Avatar. It'll be fine, whatever else. Just fine.

[bidisasterevankinard]

for the prompts can you do 1 and 8 I feel like they fit so good together

Nonnie, it's a little got way from me (1211 words) because I have strong Tommy feels so. here you are(I know it's not just fluff and I'm so sorry)

Sometimes there are days Tommy just doesn’t want to get up from the bed. It can be simply because he is exhausted after a long and hard shift or because it’s rainy, and cool wind, which walks all around, makes his bones and old wounds ache.  Those days are pretty easy to get through. Just take it easy, take painkillers, make sure you’re warm and watch Love, Actually in bed with cocoa. Simple and comfy.

But they're also days when he can’t get out of bed, not because of a little pain, or at least it’s not because of physical pain. There are days in his life when his head attacks him with memories of the army, or bad calls, or all the years he was looking for someone to love him, and, most importantly, for a reason to love himself. Because there were more than enough days he was rough, rude and just simply awful to himself. And all this darkness around him forever found a place in his heart and head, mainly staying low, being overpowered by his self-growth and reasons he founds to love himself anyway, by hanging outs with Eddie, sometimes with Chim and even Hen, and of course, by dates and smiles of Evan. 

Evan, this adorable dork, found the way to give him the sun to light his life enough that darkness is scared to get out. But it still is waiting for the moment when he will be too distracted and unprotected to hit again. 

Like today.

Yesterday was … a lot. He accidentally met his mother on the market where he went to get some good groceries for the meal he was planning to cook for Evan to make him feel good after the shift. The literal bumping into each other near the vegetables quickly became a screaming match, mostly from his mother’s part, because Tommy way long before stopped to try to to prove that just because he likes men, doesn't mean he's a bad person, or son, or chose the wrong way.  Eventually, he just ran away from there.

Then the dish he tried to make burned because he was too distracted crying in his bathroom. He had to order take out.

And then Evan texted him that he couldn't come tonight because they had a long and hard call, and the only thing he wanted was to fall into his bed.They changed plans from a little dinner together yesterday to spending all day together today. 

Yesterday ended as awful as it was all day. The nightmare of one of his close calls made him sleep badly after, turning half the night in his bed, trying to get the best position for sleeping, but not succeeding for more than two hours. 

So, here he is, miserable and alone in his bed, looking at the clock which shows him that Evan will be here in less than five minutes, but he is still in his bed, in his the most comfy, but really old hoodie and boxers. 

Tommy kind of wishes Evan would text him now and rain check again, not wanting to drag the man into his mess, but of course as he thinks about this, Evan opens the door.

“Hey, sleepy beauty, I brought us coffee and your favorite burgers from this cafe you like so much,” Evan’s voice, as always sunny as his face and smile, spreads throughout the small house.

The sound of the sneakers being taken off, then steps to the, as Tommy suspects kitchen, as next he hears sounds of the plates taken out. Next he hears footsteps again and then his bedroom’s door is open, to reveal his boyfriend in his dark skin jeans and burgundy hoodie, Tommy pretty sure Evan was wearing during the tour. 

“Hey,” Evan smiles at him, putting plates and coffee on his nightstand, and sits down near his face, putting his hand to stroke his hair.

Tommy will never admit he melts into the touch. But he melts and ready to purr like a kitten being pet.

“Are you having a blanket burrito day?”

“Blanket burrito day?”

“Yeah. I call the bad days, when I can’t get out of the bed because of my leg or  because of bad mood, or both,  ‘blanket burrito day’,” Evan kisses his forehead. “Are you having this today or you just want me to jump into your bed?” his boyfriend smirks and winks at him and Tommy smiles a little too.

He knows he can joke about that. Say that yes, it was his way to get Evan into his bed and maybe make out or even something more, but he doesn’t want something like that.

He needs someone to hold him. Just hold him and show him he’s not alone and it will get better.

“Can you hug me?” Tommy doesn't like how small his voice sounds and he hates how quick he folded looking at his boyfriend who with one glance knew he was having a bad day. “If-if it’s ok.”

“Are you kidding me? Of course it’s ok. I love cuddles,” Evan smiles at him, taking his jeans off and lying down behind him, putting his hands around his waist.

He makes sure Tommy can feel himself touching every part of Evan’s big body behind him and Tommy wants to cry from the feeling of being safe. Protected. Loved.

They stay like that for half an hour, not talking and Tommy breaks the silence, needing to know.

“You don’t ask questions. Why am I having a bad day? What happened?,” Tommy plays with Evan’s fingers on his waist, “Or you are not even trying to tell me to stop. You aren’t telling me to male up,” he whispers it but in silence and with how close they are he knows Evan hears him.

Hands on his waist only squeeze tighter and then he feels a careful little kiss on his neck.

“We all have bad days. Especially on our job, with everything we saw. It’s normal to have them and you deserve to let yourself be sad if you feel it without trying to move on. You deserve someone to take care of you. And the reason for your bad mood isn’t so important for me to find out, if you don’t want to talk right now. You can do it on your time. Just,” Evan turns them so he can look him in the eyes. Blue to blue. “Don’t push me away. I want to be here, with you not just on good days. I want bad days too. Because you can’t live without them. But,” Evan smiles at him and kisses him so chaste Tommy wants to cry, “you can be not alone. Especially on bad days. You can share the pain with your person, making the burden easy to bear.”

Tommy just nods and lets himself get comfortable in Evan’s hands, feeling how slumber takes over him because the warmth from Evan and his breath lull him into sleep.

“I’ll tell you after the sleep,” Tommy mumbles before falling asleep.

“Take your time, baby,” Tommy feels the kiss on his shoulder, “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Tommy knows it’s not the promise only about today.

read on ao3

prompts

[hellfirenacht]

Wing Man Part 6

Fic Summary: Steve 'the Hair' Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you'll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie. (1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9)

Chapter Summary: What DID he mean by five? The second meeting.

5.1k words

A/N: How are we feeling in a post-"Flight of Icarus" world, y'all? I knew from the beginning that I'd want to add some of the lore in and let me tell you, I LOVE Ronnie Ecker. For those of you who did not read the book, or haven't had a chance to, Ronnie is Eddie's best friend who ended up with a full scholarship to NYU. They're siblings, your honor.

Also if anyone can show me on this map where the plot is going, I'd really appreciate it.

This late at night, the only sounds in the trailer park came from the occasional dog barking and the echoes of Eddie’s tapes blasting as he pulled up to Wayne’s trailer. His uncle was working tonight as usual, which would normally allow Eddie time to hog the tv before passing out for a few precious hours before he had to get up for school. 

Tonight however, his mind was buzzing with what had just happened less than an hour ago. He liked you, he wasn’t sure how much yet but he did. You were sharp and knew your stuff about metal. It helped that you were cute. Really cute. 

He liked seeing you in the passenger seat of his car, matching wits with his friends and ranting about Ozzy. He liked seeing you laughing and the way you watched him play. He really liked the way you had fiddled with the pick he’d thrown at you at the end of the set. 

Eddie had never done that before. He’d wanted to, but never had anyone’s attention like that before- no. That wasn’t true. There had been one other person who’d listened to him play like that, two years ago. 

Was he always gonna fold to the site of a pretty girl actually paying attention to his music? 

“Of course you are.” Ronnie’s voice echoed on the phone. “And I’m gonna laugh every time you do.” 

Eddie groaned, holding the receiver to his ear as his forehead pressed against the front of the fridge. He hadn’t planned on running to her with this, but he was nowhere near able to wind down. He hadn’t even expected Ronnie to pick up the phone this late at night with the time zone difference and the fact that it was a school night. He’d have to push his stash a bit harder to pay Wayne back for the long distance call. 

The past two years had been a slow crawl of building back trust up with Veronica Ecker. The two had gone almost a whole summer without talking before Eddie had basically groveled for forgiveness outside of Granny Ecker’s trailer before Ronnie left for New York. She had forgiven him enough to let him give her a ride to the airport. 

“Last time?” He’d asked. 

“Last time.” She’d repeated. 

“So why didn’t you shack up with her tonight?” Ronnie asked. “You got her into your van, and you dropped her off like a gentleman.” 

“I don’t know, I panicked.” Eddie sighed, bonking his head against the fridge a few times. “She was right there, and she was leaning in and all I saw was Paige leaning in-”

“You know not every girl who shares your taste in music is Paige, right?” Eddie could practically see Ronnie rolling her eyes on the other end of the line. 

“Any girl that shares my taste in music ends up fucking off to the opposite end of the country.” 

This made Ronnie laugh. “You’re an idiot. Paige fucked off back to her job and I fucked off to college.”

“Fucking off is fucking off.”

“Maybe you need to fuck off.”

“I tried, remember?” 

She remembered. Both of them remembered. 

“Look, stop being a dipshit.” Ronnie said after a moment of awkward silence. “You’re graduating this year, right?”

“Uhhh...”

“Eddie.”

“Yeah, yeah I’m working on it. I just need those last stupid two classes and then I’m home free.” Eddie confirmed. 

“You can’t stay in high school forever.” Ronnie said. “And you’re gonna realize that there’s life outside of Hawkins. Have you even talked to Paige since then?”

He hadn’t, and they both knew it. Eddie gave up two months after she’d bailed him out of jail. Two months of dead air silence. He got the hint. 

“No.”

“Then stop worrying about one girl from over two years ago!” Eddie could feel the phantom pain of Ronnie punching him in the arm like she always used to. “Get laid and graduate, Munson. You earned it.”

Eddie snorted, sliding down the fridge to sit on the cool floor. “Is that the only advice you got for me, Ecker?”

“It’s the only advice you need. Did you pass that test last week?” Ronnie asked. 

“By the skin of my teeth.” Eddie sighed, leaning his head back against the fridge. 

“Your new girl graduated, maybe she can help you study.”

“She’s not my girl. She’s a girl that I’ve met a handful of times-”

“That’s turning your brain to mush.” 

“She doesn’t even know who I am, Ronnie.” He fiddled with the chord in his hand, watching the spiral wind and unwind around his fingers. It was already stretched out pretty bad, with a few spirals already tangled beyond repair like his old slinky from when he was a kid. 

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Ronnie asked. “She doesn’t know you, that means she doesn’t feed into the bullshit of the rumor mill.” 

Ronnie had a point and he hated it, but that’s why he called her to begin with. Ronnie was the only person who could cut through his Munson bullshit and give it to him straight. He missed it. As much as he enjoyed the power he had to protect his little lost sheepies, they were all too intimidated to actually stand up to him and call him out the way that Ronnie would.

“Yeah, you’re right. As usual.” Eddie could hear her snort and he couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “So why the hell are you even awake right now? Up til 2 am on a school night, Ecker?”

“It’s barely past midnight, the time zone isn’t that off. I was studying for a test, but hearing you complain about your love life is a far more productive use of my time.” 

“You’re using me to slack off, aren’t you?” 

“If I have to look at my flashcards one more time tonight my eyes are gonna go square. How’s Granny doing?”

“She’s an empty nester and is determined to turn me into her replacement grandson until you visit again.” Eddie shook his head. “She threatened to give me a haircut the last time she dropped off a plate for Wayne.”

Ronnie had come back to visit a grand total of five times since she’d left, returning for holidays and summers to visit Granny Ecker and by extension Eddie. Each time she’d come back with stories of law school and how different New York is. 

It seemed impossible, everything that Ronnie had told him about going to college and about life outside their small town. She was playing Dungeons and Dragons still, having found a group that would play with her. According to her, being a rules lawyer for the game at a law school hit way different than it had their small Hellfire group in high school. No one even cared that they played outside of a few students who had better things to do than enact violence against a few nerds. 

Then again, in law school everyone was some sort of nerd. Eddie wondered if even a freak would be accepted there. Well, socially at least. He wasn’t delusional enough to think he’d be able to be accepted into law school with his grades. Ronnie had invited him up to visit a few times, but there was never time or money to do it. 

The two continued talking for another hour, catching up until Ronnie was scolding him for staying up so late on a school night. 

“Yeah? And what’s your excuse?” Eddie said. “It’s almost 4:20 am there.” 

“Ha. Ha. Again, ha.” Ronnie said. “Still not how timezones work. And my first class doesn’t start until noon.”

Right. In college you didn’t have to wake up at the ass crack of dawn every day. 

“Night, Ecker.”

“Night, Munson. Graduate and get laid.” 

“Does it matter the order?”

“Good night, Eddie.”

Talking to Ronnie had eased his nerves, but there was still something inside that wouldn’t let him lay down and go to sleep. It was late now, way later than he intended to stay up tonight. The night he played at the Hideout always had him up late, and his teacher already considered him more useless than usual on Wednesdays. It’s not like anyone would care if he slept in class, unless they were in a particularly foul mood. 

He made his way to a stack of books in his room rummaging through a pile or two until he found what he was looking for. Eddie’s copy of Lord of the RIngs was well loved at best, and completely trashed at worst. The cover of the paperback was nearly torn off, taped back together haphazardly over the years. Pages were dogeared, the spine was cracked, notes were scribbled in the margins, and his name was scribbled in messy cursive on the front page declaring that this book belonged to Eddie Munson and that he was in third grade.

Eddie stripped out of most of his clothes, tossing his jewelry on his nightstand, and hopped into bed. He turned on a small lamp and opened the book. He could probably recite the first chapter from memory if he tried, the words on the page a comfortable lullabye for his wound up mind. But tonight he flipped to a page near the end where his bookmark was. The flower made out of blue construction paper wasn’t nearly as old as the book, and only in better shape because it never left the safe pages of Tolkein’s writing. 

His eyes glanced at his arm again, your phone number a temporary tattoo on his skin until it washed off. Shit, it was going to wash off eventually. Eddie grabbed a pen from under his bed and added another scribble to the inside of the book before copying your number carefully onto the paper flower. At least this way he’d always know where it was. 

With that aside, Eddie didn’t make it through three pages of his book before he passed out with the light still on. 

Fall Semester, 1984

The PrinciPAL’s office was just as interesting and inviting as it always was, which is to say not at all. Eddie was slumped back on a chair, watching as Janice sorted through paperwork, pretending to look busy so that she could avoid any small talk with ‘that Munson boy’. He had been waiting for Higgin’s to show up for almost fifteen minutes now, because why shouldn’t he waste Eddie’s time at this point? The worst that was going to happen today is that they’d do their little song and dance, Eddie would plead his case that the flyers were absolutely serious and that Chris Morrison had every intent to run for student council, and that it was all of the club that had made the posters, Higgins would shake his head and not believe Eddie for a second (which to be fair, this would be the first time that Eddie would admit privately that it was his fault), they’d go back and forth until Eddie got some form of detention or Saturday school. 

Honestly, the worst part would be rescheduling Hellfire if he wound up in detention. 

Eddie had counted out 13 paper clips that Janice had used in her papershifting before the door to the front office opened up again. He looked up, expecting to see Higgins walk in, ignore him for another five minutes, before Janice would let Eddie go in. 

He didn’t expect to see you, pale and shaken, clutching a teacher’s note in your hand. Eddie watched as you handed the note over to Janice who read it, shook her head, and pointed at the chair next to himself. Your eyes never left the floor as you sat next to him, staring at the cheap carpet as if you could somehow burn a hole in it and disappear. 

Trouble was no stranger to Eddie, and Eddie was no stranger to trouble. In Hawkins the name ‘Munson’ might as well be in the thesaurus next to the word. This wasn’t his first rodeo, and it would be far from his last as long as Higgins stayed the princiPAL. He’d walk away with a lecture and a sigh and then it would be business as normal. 

The look on your face though, that was far from the mild annoyance he felt. You look downright traumatized at the idea of having been sent here. Eddie glanced up at Janice who deigned to make eye contact with him now. Her eyes flicked between the two of you, a disapproving look behind her purple frames as if this was somehow Eddie’s fault that you had ended up here as well. But then, as far as any of the faculty from the office was concerned, even him being enrolled at this school was a death sentence to the rest of the poor student body. Eddie was a disease that they would try to contain until they had the cure to remove him. 

The shaking of your knee made your chair (and his chair by proxy) rattle slightly. The quiet of the office and the mundane shuffling of Janice’s papers only added to the tension that was radiating off you. 

“Janice, is Higgin’s gonna be long?” Eddie finally asked, and your bouncing knee stopped for just a moment before going back to its nervous movement. 

“He’s in a very important meeting.” Came the reply over a stack of papers, still not looking at Eddie. 

He sighed again and looked over at you, trying to place where he knew your face. Your eyes were a bit red, and you looked like you were on the verge of crying. Shit, he needed to do something before he had to ask Janice for the tissue box. 

“First time?” Eddie asked, and when you didn’t respond he nudged your knee with his. 

You jumped slightly, head snapping up. It was a wonder you didn’t give yourself whiplash and it would have been almost funny to Eddie had you not looked like a deer in the headlights looking at him. 

“I... Huh?” your voice cracked slightly. 

“What are ya in for?” Eddie did his best to give you a smile which he was sure made him look more like a serial killer than a comfort. It was rare he wished that he had his dad’s smile, but in cases like this he’d make an exception. 

You looked at the paper in your hand and swallowed. “Uh... skipped.” 

“Skipped school or just class?” Eddie prompted, trying to get you to talk more. If you were talking, then you weren’t crying. That’s what he hoped at least. 

“Class.” He didn’t think you’d say anymore but you surprised him. “US History.” Eddie caught the way your eyes darted to Janice again as if to make sure she wasn��t listening in, but Janice had better things to do than to eavesdrop on two delinquents. “I wasn’t... I had a bad day. I'm having a bad day. I felt like I was going to explode and I went to the library.” 

Eddie nodded, wondering what had happened today that made you need to duck out. It wasn’t his business, and frankly Higgin’s was going to grill you enough as it was. 

“Rookie mistake.” He said instead. 

“Rookie...?” 

Eddie kept his voice low and leaned in closer to you as if telling you a secret. “If you’re gonna skip, you can’t go to the library. You might as well have walked into the teacher’s lounge and announced that you were cutting class.”

You let out a sharp breath that he swore counted for a laugh. “Thanks for the heads up, can you tell me that a few hours ago?”

There was color returning to your face now and Eddie kept going. His brown eyes scanned your face, trying to place where he knew you from. Hawkins was a small town, and there was nothing about you that screamed ‘I’m new!’. 

He liked your sarcasm though, and his ‘comforting’ grin shifted into a genuine smile. “If you’re gonna ditch, you need to go to the bathroom or go outside.” He said. “Especially for last period. Go hide outside in the woods and you can slip into the parking lot seamlessly without anyone noticing. By the end of the day the teachers are barely taking attendance anyway.”

“Have you been in the girls rooms here?” you asked, shaking your head. “I think I’d rather take my chances here than stay in there longer than I’d have to.” Eddie wasn’t sure if you were trying to make a joke or if you were serious.

“Would you rather hide in the boys room?” he asked. “I swear it only smells like piss almost all of the time and you’d end up in the splash zone even if you were in a stall.”

That got a laugh out of you, a genuine one. Your shoulders were relaxing and you looked down at the paper again and took a deep breath that you exhaled with a sigh. 

“I’ve never been in trouble before.” you said, your hands starting to bend and fold the paper on your lap absently. “I’m not good at being in trouble.”

“Well, lucky for you I’m here.” Eddie nudged your knee again with his. “Being in trouble is kind of my job here at Hawkin’s High. I’m a professional, you know. If I wasn’t here taking up all of Principal Higgin’s time he might have to actually do his job.” 

That last part was louder, as he directed it to Janice who refused to take the bait and only reached for her lilac stapler instead. 

A small smack on his arm drew his attention back to you, you were smiling at him looking astonished. “You’re gonna get us in trouble!” you whispered at him. 

“We’re already in trouble.” Eddie reminded you, his smile never fading. “Look, you’ve never been in trouble before, right? You’re gonna be fine. Just give him a good sob story about being overwhelmed with school, or about a sick pet. If you can squeeze out some tears that’s even better. The worst that he’s gonna do is give you a slap on the wrist and maybe detention if he’s in a shit mood”

You take in his words, listening to him carefully and taking in every word he was saying as if this was life or death. Eddie admittedly, had purposefully slipped into his Dungeon Master voice. It was a skill that normally only worked on his little sheepies in his club, and that was after semesters of training his players to listen and pay attention to his words or else it would be life or death for their characters. 

Having someone else listen to him like that? It felt really good. 

Your mouth started to open to say something but then the office door opened again and Higgin’s stepped in, nodding to Janice and then looking at the two of you. There was an accusatory look in his eyes as he made eye contact with Eddie again, and it was clear what that look said. Leave her alone, don’t make things worse for her than they already are. 

“Munson.” Higgins said and it took everything in him to stay still and not flinch at his last name. He was used to the weight that came with his name, but he hadn’t wanted you to know who he was. Not after he just remembered where he knew you from, glancing down at the note that you had folded into a flower in a fit of nerves. 

“I heard you missed me, Sir.” Eddie forced his eyes to meet Higgin’s. “You really should just start saying hi in the hallways instead of inviting me to these little chats every week. You’re taking away valuable learning time from me, you know.” 

If the two of them had been alone, Higgins would have snapped back at Eddie about being a smartass. But you were there, and the color had drained from your face again, and there was a shine to your eyes that was threatening to spill over your waterline. Higgins looked at you and motioned for you to follow him into his office. 

Eddie wished that you would turn and look at him before disappearing into the PrincePAL’s office. He could imagine you turning to look at him for comfort, he’d give you a smile that would put you at ease and a thumbs up. You’d give him another smile and walk in feeling brave. 

Instead it was like you forgot he was there as your figure disappeared behind the heavy wood door that shut with a heavy click. 

Of course Higgins had you come in first, even though Eddie had already been sitting here since the beginning of the period when he’d been called in. 

He was tempted to go over to the door and press his ear up against it to listen in on what he was saying to you but even Janice would scold him for that. So there Eddie sat for another ten minutes as he waited for you to step out again. 

Higgin’s was the one to open the door and let you out of the office, as if he were some gentleman instead of Eddie’s own personal warden five days a week. You walked out and to Eddie’s surprise you gave him a nod and mouthed thank you as you slipped back out the door and into the hallway. 

Eddie’s eyes followed you until he couldn’t see you anymore and it took Higgin’s standing in front of him with folded arms and saying his full government name for Eddie to snap back to reality. 

“Munson. A word about your little flyers?”

“Well, I’d say a picture is worth a thousand words-”

“In my office.”

Eddie didn’t remember much else about that talk, only remembering the white paper flower that had been carelessly tossed into the trash next to Higgin’s desk. 

“He still hasn’t called you?” Steve asked as you, him, and Robin continued your closing routine. The day had been busy, with almost everyone in Hawkins coming to rent a movie for the weekend. Robin was stocking the candy while you wiped down the sticky counter where children had been touching all day. Who’s idea was it to leave out free suckers on the counter anyway?

Oh right, that was your idea because you loved Halloween. 

“Nope.” you said, your voice a little tense. It had been almost two weeks since that night at the Hideout. You hadn’t returned to the dive bar, hoping that Eddie would call you and make the next move. Each passing day you had stayed as close to the phone as possible when you were home and you’d checked your voicemail every day when you got home for any sign that he’d attempted to reach out. 

Nothing. 

You shouldn’t feel this rejected but you did. It was far too early to tell if you had any feelings beyond initial attraction to the guy, but... you’d felt something. An enjoyment of bantering with him and an ease that came as naturally as your friendship with Robin and Steve. 

Plus, you had to admit it, he was really fucking hot. Seeing him play guitar two weeks ago had haunted your dreams and slipped into a few of your fantasies when you were alone. 

You kept that part to yourself though, that was the last thing that Steve or Robin needed to hear. Besides, that was Steve’s job to go far too into detail about his sex life. Steve had tried ribbing you about going home with Eddie but you’d told him that you were a complete gentleman with him. 

That night had left you feeling electrified, almost high as you danced around your room as you got ready for bed. Even as his odd parting rattled around your brain, you couldn’t help but to feel excited at the idea of seeing him again. 

Then a few days went by. Then a week. And now two weeks later you hadn’t heard from him. The kids hadn’t stopped by either so you couldn’t hassle them about Eddie either. Even if they had, you weren’t sure if you could ask about him, you didn’t want to come across as desperate. 

“Did you ever figure out what he meant by ‘five times?’” Robin asked, opening up a squished package of Reese's Cups. “Like, didn’t you say you didn’t know him?”

You threw your hands up before tossing the paper towels you were using to clean in the trash can. 

“I have no idea.” you said. “Either I’m bad at math, he’s bad at math, or maybe we’re both stupid.”

“He did get held back a few times.” Steve muttered to himself. 

“There’s a chance that you two have met before though.” said Robin, “I mean think about it, you’re both weirdos who went to the same school. Shouldn’t you both have bumped into each other before?” 

“You’d think so, but my group kind of kept to ourselves.” you said with a sigh. “We were private weirdos. When I DID try and make other friends-”

“Yeah, yeah, Chris Morrison shot you down.” Steve said, waving his hand. 

“Oh, you heard that story?” you laughed. “I didn’t think I mentioned it to you before.”

Steve gave you a blank stare that only made you laugh more. “I swear you keep talking about that guy more than Eddie. Maybe I should track him down and set you up on a blind date with him instead.” 

“Don’t you dare!” 

“Hey, that could be fun!” Robin added. “We’ll dress you up super hot, set you up with Chris, and then you can turn him down instead!” 

“Excuse you, Robin. I am always super hot.” you declared, straightening out your unflattering Family Video vest. “Who wouldn’t want a piece of this?”

You hadn’t done laundry in a week, and your hair had seen better days. The green polyester vest was wrinkled and if Keith saw you looking sloppy he’d probably have words about it. Not big words or even intimidating words, but words nonetheless. It was night and day compared to how you’d looked at the Hideout and the arcade earlier in the month. But it wasn’t like you had anyone to impress while you were at work anyway. 

“Hey, nerdy chicks can be hot.” Steve said. “I mean, Nancy’s an academic nerd and I was crazy about her.” 

You hummed thoughtfully and turned to Robin. “How about we get married instead?” you asked. “You, me, a fuck ton of cats, and a tax break. What do you say?”

Robin laughed and shook her head. “You aren’t my type.” Her eyes darted nervously to Steve for a split second and you sighed dramatically. 

“Guess it’s just me and the cats I’ll eventually adopt.” you said. “Not even a tax break.” 

“You know, Keith thinks you’re cute-”

“I am going to pretend that you did not just say that, Harrington.” you said firmly. “Nope, not happening. Uh-uh. Absolutely not.” 

“He’s not... that bad?” Robin said, but you could hear the pain in her voice through the laughter. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” 

“The lady is trying not to think actually.” you laugh. “We’re closed, I’m actually done thinking. I just wanna finish cleaning up and go home. What’s left?”

“Rewinding the returns,-”

“Ugh.”

“Cleaning up the kids movies,-”

“Ugh.”

“And cleaning the bathroom.”

“UGHHHHHH.” 

“Would you rather clean up the porn room?” asked Robin. 

“Yes actually, I would.” You said. “Whatever they think about doing in that room is what they do end up doing in the bathroom.”

“Gross.”

Steve sighed “Okay, I’ll be the hero and save you ladies from cleaning the bathroom. Robin, you fix the kids section, and you can rewind the tapes.”

“I thought I was in charge here.” You crossed your arms. 

“Okay, did you have a better way to divide and conquer?”

“...No.”

“Then let’s hurry up and-”

Ding!

“Who didn’t lock the door?!” you asked. 

“It was Steve’s job to-” Robin started. 

“Oh, shit. Hi.” Steve was staring at the person who had just walked in. You turned around and your heart jumped in your chest and your stomach dropped. 

“Cursing in front of customers, Harrington?” Eddie said. “Now that’s not very professional of you.”

Robin’s eyes were darting so fast between you and Eddie that you were surprised she wasn’t giving herself vertigo. You tried to give her a pointed glare but your friend either didn’t get the hint or refused to. 

“Well, we’re closed. You can’t be a customer if you can’t pay.” Steve said, putting his hands on his hips. 

Eddie looked away from Steve and made eye contact with you. It had been two weeks since you’d seen him, and you glazed at his arm for a second, trying to see if the faded remains of your phone number were still stamped on his arm. Unfortunately for you he was wearing a heavy leather jacket and you had not yet developed x ray vision. Perhaps in another genre. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” Eddie asked and you, ignoring Steve who looked mildly offended. 

You stood there in shock for a second before Robin nudged you in the rib. 

“I- uh. I have to finish closing.” you said, snapping out of it. 

“Steve and I can handle the rest of closing!” Robin grabbed Steve and shook his shoulder. 

“Guys, I’m literally in charge of you both. I can’t leave before you.” You said, already reaching for your bag under the counter. 

“We can handle it!” Steve said. 

“And I can handle Steve!” Robin added. “We close without you and Keith all the time, remember?”

You could trust Robin, and as long as Steve didn’t knock down any displays then it wouldn’t take them more than another ten minutes to finish up. You were so tempted to turn them down, make Eddie wait as you had waited for him for the past two weeks. 

But you were already stepping behind the counter towards Eddie and tossing the keys to lock up to Robin. Keith would murder you and write you up (in that order) if he knew what you were doing but looking up at the roundest pair of brown eyes you’d ever seen had you in the mood to make questionable choices. 

You shrugged off your vest and tossed it at Steve, in an attempt to make yourself look like you hadn’t spent the whole day dealing with unruly customers and screaming kids. Part of you almost wished that you had agreed to bathroom duty, if only to give you an excuse to look in a mirror and straighten yourself out. 

“Thanks, guys.” you gave them a quick nod, catching sight of Robin’s knowing smirk and Steve shaking his head before walking out the door that Eddie was holding open for you. 

The last thing you heard was the scrambling of the entrance to Family Video being locked. 

Part 7

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Please comment and reblog <3

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[grapejuicebrat]

brutal part 3

PAIRING: neighbour!harry x reader

SYNOPSIS: even though you don’t love me, just tell me you love me.

WARNINGS: mentions of kissing, another guy and another girl, sexual tension in the end but it’s not really a warning.

WORD COUNT: 1220

NOTES: this took me so long and i’m so sorry!

[wicked games, the weeknd]

brutal masterlist

“what’s up, harry”

“yeah, something happened?”

“no, nothing. just wanted to check on you. everything is okay? i’m worried about you”

“why would i not be okay? im just so busy, you know?”

“yeah, i understand, baby. do you think you’ll be able to have a dinner with me? i miss you so much.”

“yeah, why not? in our favourite restaurant tomorrow?”

“yes! that would be great”

“i’ll pick you up at 8. that would work for you”

“of course! can’t wait for tomorrow. love you, baby”

“yeah, good night, hon”.

i mean he couldn’t be so perfect. of course something was wrong with harry and guess what. yeah, harry does have a girlfriend. and no she isn’t some kind of a bitch or a mean girl. sarah is such a sweet pie with doe eyes and a big heart. but for harry this relationship were dead from the very beginning.

they met in college, through mutual friends and it was like love from the first sight. for sarah at least. harry at that time wasn’t even interested in a relationship. especially in a long distance relationship. but for some reason he couldn’t just say no to sarah after a one night stand because she was deeply in love with him. sadly she still is. even tho he treats her like shit.

you know what i mean? he couldn’t think about her anymore after he met you. you weren’t a bad girl. in fact, you are such a copy of sarah. you have those big eyes and you are so naive. so delicate and so sweet. and you were sexy. like the sexiest thing about you is that you don’t even try to be sexy. you wouldn’t let some random guy to touch you in different places and that’s what harry liked about you the most.

well, actually, sarah isn’t his girlfriend. like harry didn’t tell her yet but personally he thinks that he is single by now. and by the way, sarah could found some new guy to fuck. of course, she could. it’s not like harry would be against this. i mean, they live in different states and she has every right to build her life without harry. harry definitely wouldn’t survive without sex for this long. and this makes him a shitty person, he understands this but whatever. it’s not like you would ever find out about this. at least harry doesn’t plan to tell you about sarah.

harry didn’t plan to tell you about sarah but now, he doesn’t have to. you already know this. you didn’t mean to go to this fucking restaurant at all. you were just craving some pasta so you went to nearest restaurant and boom! there he was. harry with some friend, or with some girl friend. or that’s what you wanted to think. you stayed near this restaurant for more than twenty minutes just to make sure that this cute, pretty girl isn’t his actual girlfriend. but i guess friends don’t kiss like that. and harry wouldn’t grab her ass like that if she was just a friend.

something broke inside you. you heard a crack and everything went dark just in one second. well, of course you aren’t his girlfriend and you aren’t his mother to tell him what to do. but he could at least tell you that he has a girlfriend and you wouldn’t let him flirt with you. you wouldn’t let him invite you to come over. you wouldn’t think that you two could be something more than just friends. you thought that this type of guy is only in teen movies. a playboy and a quite girl. but in this movies, in the end, they were together and in love and shit.

“hey, you alright?” you turn your head and see a blonde guy, looking really worried.

“yeah, uh n-no” you didn’t really feel a tear. and you didn’t feel another tear streaming down your face. you wished you could just teleport to your apartment and just lay on your bed and cry in peace. but instead you chose to watch this love birds kissing each other with such a passion.

some part of you wished that it was you standing next to harry.

“i’m patrick” a guy suddenly said, shyly smiling.

“i’m y/n. sorry, my face is a mess” you laughed, nodding your head.

“no, it’s not. you’re pretty even with tears, trust me” he looked at you and laughed “sounded a little bit creepy, didn’t it?”

“i like weird things patrick, so it’s okay” you smiled turning fully to patrick and slowly forgetting about harry and this girl standing beside you.

“i heard that some piece of chocolate would make your day better. do you want to check this theory?”

“yeah, i do. but just for you to know, you’ve already made my evening much better”

and it was totally true. patrick did really changed your evening. and the next three months tho.

“will you please stop for a second? give me just five minutes and i’ll explain myself”

“no, i don’t want to hear anything, harry” you turned your head to him. “ maybe three months ago i wanted to hear that she doesn’t mean anything but now i understand that you don’t even need to explain yourself. i’m just your neighbour who’ve smoked with you and told you about my childhood. that’s all. we’ve never even been friends.” you smile and nodding once again, started to go upstairs faster, trying to get away from him but harry’s next words stop you.

“yeah, you’re right, we weren’t friends. but we both know that we aren’t just some neighbours. i’ve always found you attractive, and i bet you thought about fucking me. there is nothing stopping us by now, we can start again. forget about everything and try again” harry’s face was so close to you. you can feel his breath on your face, his green eyes are looking you with some kind of hope and some part of you wanted to tell him that he is right and you need to try again but another part of you was smarter and much colder. if man cheat once, he would cheat again. and harry, well he is harry. he won’t change himself just for you.

“we can’t. i have a boyfriend and i love him” you made a step away from harry, looking right into his eyes.

“do you love him?” he asked you quietly.

“what?”

“you heard me”. harry’s voice is much stronger now. he makes a step to you and you stay right were you are, thinking about his question. “do. you. love. him?” making a pause after every word, harry tried to look into your eyes one more time, trying to get an answer.

“we’ve only been dating for a month. i can’t say that i love him but that doesn’t mean that i…”

“that’s what i thought” harry makes a step back, smiling proudly.

“what are you talking about” you ask him, watching him giggle.

“you don’t love him.”

“that’s not true” you shake your head, biting your lip.

“okay. look into my eyes and tell me that you love him. if you do, then i’ll never ever disturb you again”.

share your thoughts for this one!

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TAGS: @daphnesutton @hcqwxrtss123

[aetlasx]

prologue

pair: eddie munson x witch!reader

summary: Ah, memories. You journal your first day of high school, but things quickly take a turn just a few weeks later.

tw: menstruation, pad/tampons, bullying, name calling (pls lmk if there’s anything I missed)

a/n: just stick with me lol. he’ll be in the first part. Also, this is an AU!! For spooky season!! thank you so much for reading!!

*the chat font is the diary entry and it goes back to normal at the end*

August 22nd, 1983 It's been a few months since i've written in this thing. I thought it'd be a good time to start now since I finally made it to high school!

You know what that means? Four more years till I leave this shithole!! Better than five. June was actually waiting by the door when I got home, she really wanted to hear every detail of how it went. I told her about my classes, I have Jonathan in two and Nancy in several. I told her how the school and people were so different from anything I was used to. But, it doesn't take her long to find something wrong with the way I think. She started with her usual warnings and advice, all the things I need to avoid, all the mistakes I shouldn't make. I know she's just trying to protect me, but it feels like she can never have trust in her little sister.

On the other hand, at least Teddy asked if I had fun. He's always been the one who knows how to lighten the mood, especially knowing how his wife is. He asked about my teachers and any clubs that looked cool enough to join. He even asked about Jonathan and Nancy.

Jonathan was definitely not as excited as me. He's quite, but he's always been that way.I know that his mom was excited for his first day of high school, she even convinced him to bring his camera. Right now, I'm trying to convince him to join the newspaper but he just shrugs me off. And Nancy, well, although it's been one–girl is practically glow. Within just 8 hours of the school day, she was able to meet a boy. She kept gushing about him and is pretty excited for the rest of the school year here. I'm genuinely happy for her.

Before June could add her two cents, I interrupted her with how I stopped by Aunt Claudia's after school to see how Dustin's day went. He was already sprawled out on the couch, 'exhausted' from fighting with his new math teacher. It had been a bit since I had seen them, I slaved away my summer at my job so stopping by, I felt grateful that they weren't even mad. I'll have to start hanging out with him again.

Anyways, I’m determined to make the most of freshman year with my friends. I’m ready to prove that I’m more than just a product of this stupid town.

Wish me luck!!

September 16th, 1983

I think I lied. I don’t know where to start…but a four year wait is too long. I don’t know where it all went wrong but it started over the weekend.

Sometimes I’d like to think that if my mom was still around, this wouldn’t have happened. Hell, June is like my mom, why did it happen. I’m talking about mother nature’s gift. It seemed as though no on thought to inform me that a girls first period would be this chaotic.

Nance and I had a movie night planned. I hadn’t really talked to her much, only in class, because her new boy toy or whatever—Steve Harrington, was taking up most of her time. I thought this would be a good time to just catch up and gossip, I was wrong. That Friday was horrible. I ended up throwing up, getting the chills, my body ached to no end. But I was still determined to make movie night happen, especially since June and Teddy were gone for the weekend.

As I was dying on the couch, Nancy finally showed up. But to my disappointment, it was only to cancel. Her and Steve were going out on their first date. I don’t know if it was how hot I was feeling or my intestines twisting, but black spots started clouding my vision. I just remember her screaming for Steve and once I knew it, I woke up in the hospital.

What I’m about to write, I’ll say with confidentiality…probably because I’m the only one reading this. Whatever.

A period is probably normal for all females. What’s not normal is having to go to the hospital and having your best friend’s boyfriend make fun of you because the doctor called you a late bloomer. I mean, she apologized but, if I could’ve just died on that bed, I wouldn’t be here.

Even June lectured me when I interrupted her weekend getaway. The whole ride home she kept complaining and saying ‘how could I not know’ and ‘you just gave us another unnecessary bill’. Like, sorry my baby’s natural response has ruined something for you.

Fuck. That’s not even the worst part. When Monday came back around, everyone was looking at me when I walked in. I know how cliche it sounds after what had just happened but knowing how popular Harrington was and who his friends were, he had already told the whole school by now. During gym, Carol and a few other girls threw pads and tampons at me. I got called ‘Bloody Mary’ and ‘Leak Freak’ in the hallways, at lunch, and anytime anyone had the chance. I tried to stay strong, I even hoped Nancy would say something to me during class or at least when she saw me but she just looked at me with sympathetic eyes. It’s just hard to believe that a few weeks ago, everything was fine. We were making fun of our teacher, gossiping with Barb, and even went shopping but I guess things change. Now when I look at her I’m just consumed with rage.

Jonathan has been supportive, though. The evening I got out of the hospital, he had actually brought over some of my favorite snacks and listened to me cry all night. Even when the mocking was bad, he’s stuck by my side. He’s told some kids to fuck off, walks me to class, and I’m grateful, don’t get me wrong but knowing that I have to wake up and go through it again doesn’t really ease my pain.

I feel like my chances of making friends and actually joining some clubs are ruined. When I try talking to some new, they give me dirty looks. When I go to ask about different clubs, they turn me away. I’ve lost hope. Thought this was suppose to be a fresh start but I guess not.

And just to add more salt to the wound, I haven’t been able to sleep. Every time I close my eyes and drift to away, I’m met with such an unsettling environment. The atmosphere is thick, groggy, red. It’s coated in fog, but a man I’ve never seen before always walks through it. He says his name is Henry, he starts talking about my worries and pain. It’s always the same—he says he’s ‘there to help me’, he’s there to ‘take away the pain because he knows what it’s like’. I truly don’t know what has caused my subconscious to create things like this but I guess I’m just tired of feeling like shit.

I don’t even know why I bother keeping a journal around. Sometimes I feel like I won’t even be here in the future to reminisce on the shitty days like this. Why would I even? I guess it’s just easier to write these things down than having to say them out loud. I thought I’d be able to make my sister, aunt, cousin, and friends proud, but I’m starting to think I’m just not cut out for this.

Closing the diary, the blonde places it back in the shoebox you hid it in. Pushing it back under your bed, standing from the place he sat. A satisfied smirk on his face.

He’d been following your turmoil closely, knowing that this was just the turning point. Your struggles were feeding into his plans. This entry was straw that broke the camels back—your vulnerabilities, your fears, and your desperations. It was almost too easy.

“Your suffering is almost poetic,” Henry said to himself, walking out of your room, your house, determined to take action now. He planned to finally confront you, to force you to acknowledge the full extent of what your destiny could be with his help—with what he had to offer.

[imagine-that-100]

Will We Talk? | Part 1 |

Description: Alex Turner x Reader | Being Katie Cook’s best friend means you see a lot of a certain band, so it’s too bad that the lead singer can’t seem to stand being in your presence. You’re all too aware that you get chatty when you’re anxious, and despite being around each other for a decade, Alex still makes your heart race (and not in a good way). But then he asks a question you never expected to hear, and it changes everything: “Do I make you nervous?”

Word Count: 13.2k

A/N: Well hello there besties! Alex stannies your time has come again because I’m back and this short series is going to be soooo much fun! This was inspired by a harry fic I read many moons ago and I just knew I needed to do a grumpy Alex fic. I started writing this fic on the 15th of December 2021 so it’s been a long time coming. That being said part 2 isn’t yet finished (blame @nriacc​ lol) but I felt we all needed a new Alex ficccc! Big thank you to the author of the harry fic for the inspiration, and to @red---moon​ and @alovesreading​ for helping me/ keeping me inspired for this one. I would loveeee to know what you all think so please give me your reactions! Just keep an eye out for the time jumps, it goes back and forth quite a bit but I hope it makes sense. Thanks a million for reading, hope you enjoy x

| My Masterlist |  

~*~*~*~ 29th June 2018 ~*~*~*~

Just do it Y/N. Be polite, stop being a child.

Internally, you’re debating pretending that you don’t need another drink and to go back to Katie and Kelly without a new one so you don’t have to suffer what’s bound to be another awful encounter. Alex is standing at the busy bar with his drink in his hand, and you’d think that after 8 years of knowing someone you’d feel comfortable enough to have a chat with them at their best mates birthday party. But no. Not with Alex.

He might just be the grumpiest person you’ve ever met. He’d never once started a conversation with you, it’s always been you making the effort with him since the day you met him.

Truthfully, your tendency to talk a lot more than you should when you’re nervous probably hasn’t helped that. You’d seen interviews of him over the years and it’s clear that he really didn’t like talking to anyone who he wasn’t close to. And you’re not stupid, just because Katie is your best friend doesn’t mean that you’re someone he has to converse with.

Of course over the years you’d seen each other a lot but you’d only had a handful of conversations with him. Frighteningly few of those conversations were just between the two of you, and you were happy with things staying like that.

But this time you’re going to have to brave it. You’d promised Katie you’d grab her another drink along with getting yourself a new one.

The bar is fairly busy with a few people standing around chatting as they wait for their drinks. A few people have been standing there for the majority of the evening in this decently sized function room.

Of course for Jamie’s birthday, and with the band being back off tour for a short break, Katie had thrown her husband an early birthday party because she’s the best wife possibly ever. You’d helped her plan it and sort everything out so she didn’t get too stressed like any best friend would do and you’re so glad everything has gone to plan and Jamie seems to be having a great night.

Equally, you’ve been having a great night too. Getting to see everyone again is fun. You’d not seen Miles for a while nor had you really seen any of the band because they’d been on tour but each time you saw them it was like no time had passed. Miles has always been your favourite to chat to, you think because the both of you are just as chatty as the other so you always feel at ease around him.

You’ve always had a tendency to talk someone's ear off and even more when you’re drinking or nervous. So tonight with you being both tipsy and nervous about seeing Alex standing at the bar, inconveniently for you the only free space being one beside him, you don’t want to go over.

But you need another drink.

Just fucking do it Y/N.

Taking a deep breath you bite the bullet and head over to the empty space at the bar. You’re hoping that you’ll get served immediately but by the looks of the bar staff looking around like headless chickens, you don’t think your prayers have been answered.

Reaching the bar, you put your empty glass back down on the sturdy wooden surface and wait patiently for the bartenders to serve you.

“Hey.” You greet Alex as you turn to face him.

You smile once his eyes meet yours and you see the flicker of recognition in them. You expect a smile or something along those lines from someone you’ve known for almost a decade but no.

All you get from Alex though is a quick, “Hi.” before he glances back towards the rest of the party.

After a second of silence, you have to ask, “How are you?”

“Yeah, good thanks.” Alex smiles before taking a sip of his drink and looking away from you as if he’s searching for someone else to talk to.

Wow, great chat. Why do you actually still bother Y/N?

You make eye contact again and you can feel the tightness in your chest building as if storing up all the shitty conversations you want to blurt out to get rid of the silence. But you also don’t want to annoy him. So you don’t mention anything about the goatee that he’s grown since the last time you saw him. You want to be nice and complement him but you seriously don’t think you can survive the awkwardness of you doing that.

Thankfully you don’t have to think about it for much longer because someone else caught his attention.

Alex’s eyes flicked from yours to someone coming up behind you and you hear a male voice excitedly saying, “Alex, hey!”

A grin comes to the singer's lips then and you watch him as he enthusiastically asks, “Hey man, you alright?”

You've never seen the guy who’s taken Alex's attention before but it seems like they are friends. From Alex’s smile and the way they just shook hands you assume they must be, “Yeah good thanks, where’ve you all come back from?”

“Middle of the month we were in the States, then we went Germany, and we flew back from Denmark yesterday.” Alex explains enthusiastically and you can only imagine him ever being that engaged in a conversation you had with him.

“Christ, and you’re here now.” The guy shakes his head in disbelief, “I don’t know how you do it.”

You tune out of their conversation then and glance back at the bar. You really want your drinks so you can leave before the guy leaves and it gets awkward again.

It’s not that you want to be his best mate or anything close to that, you’d just love not to feel nervous around him all the time. In the beginning the nerves were probably due to you being a fan of the music and you’d never met him before.

Jamie was the most normal person so you didn’t quite believe Katie when she first told you that her boyfriend at the time was in Arctic Monkeys. But then you met him and clearly found she was telling the truth.

You’d met all the band by the end of the year and you got on well with them at various after parties that Katie had dragged you along to in your mid twenties. But Alex has always been quiet and marginally grumpy with you since day one.

Probably your nervous chatter that did it the first time considering he said ‘hi’ to you and nothing else. He just listened to you rambling on until he was pulled away by someone much more important than yourself.

But over the years you got to know him, even if it wasn’t directly through him.

Katie fed you all of her gossip as she thinks of you as her most trusted confidant so when someone in the band annoys her and she can’t show how annoyed she is to Jamie, she’ll have you over for a wine night. So you’re aware of everything that’s just happened between him and Taylor and a certain french bitch.

If he hadn’t have left the French bitch as what she was, a stupid fucking fling, you think Katie may have killed him. She was really close with Taylor and after finding out about the cheating she was round at your house for days trying to yell all her anger away. Obviously she didn’t want to make things more awkward by airing her current murderous feelings towards Alex to Jamie so you’re the one who heard it all.

Of course you disapprove of what he did too. But it’s not your place to have an opinion. You’re just there for Katie. But you have to admit, for Alex’s sake, you’re glad he just left the French girl. Katie would have murdered him if he started seeing her as something more.

You’re brought out of your thoughts by the guy who was talking to Alex accidently bumping your shoulder as he was turning round to head back to whoever he was with. After he apologised and you promised him it was fine, back comes the uncomfortable silence that hangs between you and Alex.

He makes eye contact with you again as he sips on his drink, the smile previous on his lips now gone, and you can feel that you’re about to start nervously chatting to him. So you’re eternally grateful for the voice from behind the bar.

“Hi,” The bartender grabs your attention, “What can I get you?”

Thank you, God.

“Can I get two Amarettos on ice please?” You ask for two of your own drink because you don’t want to come back over if the grumpy fucker beside you is still over here.

The bartender preps the glasses and adds ice before he grabs the bottle of Disaronno and the double ended measure before asking, “Singles or doubles?”

“Doubles please.” You smile and watch as he pours them.

You’re glad he isn’t stingy with his measures because you don’t want to come back for a while, and after pushing the drinks towards you, the bartender asks, “Anything else?”

Smiling, you politely ask, “Can I get a large glass of Montepulciano please?”

“Yeah sure…” You watch as the guy looks around for a second and you know from his irritated expression what’s coming before he even says it. “I’m just going to grab another bottle from the cellar, I’ll be just a minute.”

You smile, “Okay, thank you.” as you can’t even change which wine you’re after because he’s already gone. You feel bad as the guy disappears off but you can feel the nerves bubbling back up inside you.

The silence falls once again, and despite the room being busy and there being a lot of people-watching you could do, you feel like because you’ve known Alex for so long you should be trying to converse with him. You really wish you didn’t care about uncomfortable atmospheres but you can’t really help but avoid it with Alex, you wish you could get over it.

Both of you are awkwardly standing beside each other once more with nothing to say and you can’t stand the stiff air between the both of you. So you end up doing what you do best when tipsy and nervous: You talk.

“I know you don’t like me very much, but I really rate your music and I don’t think I’ve ever told you that.” You begin to nervously digress looking Alex straight in the eye, needing to get rid of the silence between you. You hesitate before oversharing, “I say that, but it took me a long while to get into your new album but I like it now. Think it’s the one I listen to most actually.”

“Right, thanks.” Alex nods, before adding in a little confusion, “At least, I think that was a compliment.”

“Yeah it was.” You nod, your mouth unable to stop from rambling now. “I know my opinion means fuck all in the grand scheme of things but I just thought ‘give credit where it’s due’, right?”

Stop talking Y/N/N, you’re embarrassing yourself.

“Right.” Alex smiles at you, but you can’t help but feel a little stupid under his gaze.

You’ve told Jamie time and time again how you felt about his music, but never once have you felt this awkward about it. It really is just a reaction to Alex at this point because you could tell he just doesn't want to know.

However, just as he looks like he’s about to say something else, probably him finally telling you to leave him alone, you’re saved from whatever it was. Whilst your blundering conversation took place the bartender had returned and had poured Katie’s glass of red and it’s ready and waiting just in front of you.

“That comes to twenty-two all together, please.” The bar man asks and you happily give him your undivided attention as you take a £20 and a £5 note from your purse and hand it over.

“Keep the change.” You smile at the bartender who looks pleased with the tip you’d just given and as you pick up your alcohol carefully you glance back to Alex who’s clearly only watching you because there’s no one else around taking up his time.

He probably wants you to get a move on so he can chat to someone who actually peaks his interest. You half smile at him as you politely say, “Can’t keep the birthday boy’s wife waiting for her drink any longer. See you later.”

“See ya Y/N.” He nods, sounding just as disinterested as when you started the conversation.

Christ. Get me out of here.  

Thankfully for the rest of the night Alex is easily avoidable. Most people want his attention all the time so even if he joins a conversation that you’re involved in, he gets ripped away from it.

Miles keeps you entertained for a good portion of the evening, both of you chatting more as you drink more and more. Closer to the end of the night, Jamie gets up and does a speech thanking everyone for coming and that’s when Alex comes up beside you and Miles.

You just about hear him say to Miles that he’s just paid for a drink for him at the bar and for him to go and choose what he wants and then once again, Alex is left standing beside you with a full beer in his hand as you both listen to Jamie’s short and sweet speech.

Obviously, the guitarist brings up his lovely wife and thanks her for everything. Jamie gives Katie a stunning bunch of flowers which you can instantly tell that she loves, but as he hands the microphone over to her, Alex grabs your attention.

“Why do you think I don’t like you?” You're shocked as you hear that question fall from his lips, but you don’t hesitate to be honest with him.

You’re a little taken aback if you’re honest. He may as well have just shouted it at you because you’re genuinely that shocked by the question despite his voice being just above a whisper.

“Erm,” You swirl your drink around the glass before looking up into his brown eyes, “You never say more than a few words to me whenever I see you.”

Jesus, this is fucking awkward.

You see him frown a little then though, and after a second's thought, he asks, “That makes you think I don’t like you?”

“Well, it doesn’t make me think that you’re overly fond of having a conversation with me.” You say with a little chuckle of disbelief as to why you had to say it outloud. “And you’ve never tried to get to know me like the rest of your friends have and whenever I try with you, I don’t get much of a response.”

“Never intended for it to come across like that.” Alex tells you, and he does look like he feels bad, but it’s not like you’re holding it against him. So you don’t need his, “Sorry.”

All your brain is telling you right now is ‘Avoid confrontation at all costs’. You’re really not equipped to have that conversation with him drunk but you did tell him the truth.

“Don’t be.” You shake your head before looking back at Katie, “It is what it is.”

You can still feel his eyes on you and you’re half sure you hear him say the start of your name but your attention is clearly ripped away from him when Katie say’s your name down the microphone.

“Y/N,” She grins at you gesturing for you to come to her, and you see Jamie now holding a bunch of flowers that turns out to be for you, “Couldn’t have done this without you Hun. I had to get you these.”

You shake your head and go over to thank and hug her, leaving Alex watching after you. He just stays in his head and drinks his drink, silently processing your previous words.

~*~*~*~ January 26th 2018 ~*~*~*~

“Hey!” Jamie shouts as he runs through the front door and quickly starts routing around for whatever it is he’s looking for.

Katie says a surprised, “Hi?” and you can see and hear the distaste that he’s back so early.

Tonight Katie had invited you round once Forrest had gone to bed because Jamie was meant to be out for the evening with the lads. She needed a wind down after a long week of work and looking after her toddler whilst Jamie was away doing PR for the new album.

You’re both half way through your first bottle of red wine as Jamie now comes scurrying into the lounge, almost frantically searching around for something. You find it quite funny too because he definitely hadn’t noticed you sitting in his lounge.

That changes a second later when comes towards you and pulls out the messy drawer on the side table just near you. He smiles quickly, “Hey Y/N, good to see you.”

“And you Jamie” You grin, seeing his wife still waiting for him to announce why he’s intruded on your night in.

After scurrying around the lounge, clearly trying to find whatever it is he’s lost, she asks, “What are you doing back here?”

“I forgot my wallet.”

You’re desperately trying not to laugh at Katie’s silent sigh, or when she lets out an annoyed, “You left the door open J.”

You look towards their door and you can see it’s half open, letting all the precious heat inside their cosy house out. The winter air is absolutely freezing and it’s causing a draft that both you and Katie can feel without coats on.

“Al, you tosser!” Jamie shouts as he continues looking around for his wallet, “Don't wait outside come and help me find it, you prick!”

You can almost hear Alex’s sigh as he steps into the house, “Not my fault you left it here.”

“Alex, please come in and shut the door.” Katie waves him in from her seat, “It’s fucking freezing.”

He sighs a little as he says, “Yes, Miss Cook.” before closing the door and walking into the house with his coat wrapped tightly around him.

He looks like he doesn’t want to be out of his own space, let alone be here. He’s not smiling like he usually is when he sees Katie and he’s practically rolling his eyes watching Jamie run around like a headless chicken.

“Ignore him. He didn’t want to come out at all.” Jamie shakes his head as he walks around the lounge and back around the corner to the hall where he came in and heads past Alex and up the stairs.

Katie continues talking to you about your previous conversation and Alex just stands under the open arch between the hall and the lounge. Or that is until you all hear a loud bang come from upstairs.

A few seconds later all of you hear Jamie make another loud bang and Katie inhales sharply through her nose. Annoyance is bubbling through her system when you all hear him say “Shit.” from upstairs, clearly very loudly.

“He better shut the fuck up or he’s going to wake Forrest up.” Katie looks at you with a death glare that’s definitely meant for her husband.

Katie gets herself up from her seat opposite you and walks past Alex to half mute her voice as she yells, “Jamie!”

“Don’t mind me,” She looks from Alex back to you as she half smiles, “I'm just gonna go kill my husband.”

Alex chuckles at that and you let out a little giggle before taking another sip of your wine as you hear your best friend walk up the stairs. That leaves a silence between you and Alex and one that you’re itching to fill. You hate that it’s always awkward between you both.

After taking another sip of your wine, you politely ask, “How are you?”

“Good, thank you.” Alex nods, walking towards the wood burning fireplace that Katie was lighting when you arrived.

You debate mentioning that his hair is a lot longer since the last time you saw him, but you decide not to. The last thing you want is to make anything more awkward, so you go for something that he’s used to talking a bit more about.

“You enjoying the build up to the album release?” You ask, praying the conversation will being to flow a little easier.

But all you get is a half hearted, “Yeah. It’s been alright so far.” as he crouches by the fire and puts another piece of wood onto it.

“Good good.” You smile despite him not even looking your way.

… And nothing. No follow up question about you, not even a smile.

You’re sure he hates you. There’s absolutely no other possible explanation for why he would make things this uncomfortable for you both if he didn’t. You can’t stand uncomfortable silences which makes you more nervous and the need to chat takes over again.

You’d think that someone who does interviews for a living would know how to make people feel comfortable and you know for a fact that he does. You’ve seen a fair few in your time being their friend, and you’d seen Alex interact with his friends and his fans. You have no idea why he makes life so awkward for you.

You try again, hoping to ease your awkwardness by asking him about something he enjoys.

“How did you find writing this one?” Is the only thing you can come up with that you’re genuinely curious about, “I think Jamie mentioned that you got writer's block or something for a while, is that true or was he bullshitting me? Because you’ve always seemed to write and record really quickly from an outsider's perspective.”

“Yeah,” Alex nods with a sigh, still not even glancing at you, making you wish you never asked, “Was difficult at the beginning, got there in the end.”

Wow.

Amazing.

Enthralling story.

Taking another sip of your drink, the uncomfortable tension feels like it's suffocating you and you’ll do literally anything to ease it. Blabbing on about where they are going seems to be the direction you take.

“Where are you being dragged out tonight? Just to the George and Dragon,” which is about a 2 minute walk from here, “Or are you going into town?”

“Heading into town I think.” Alex stands himself back up and tucks his hands back into his pockets, glancing at you as he walks back to the centre of the lounge.

After taking a sip of your wine, you politely ask, “Anywhere nice?”

“No idea.” He shakes his head.

Smiling, you try to make light of the situation. “You really don’t wanna go, do you?”

“No,” Alex shakes his head, and says under his breath probably not meaning for you to hear, but you do, “I don’t even want to be here.”

To you that’s another way of saying shut the fuck up. Biting your tongue after that is difficult, but it's easier than letting him make you feel like shit again.

After drinking your last mouthful of wine, you get yourself up and out of this uncomfortable situation. You don’t bother telling him where you’re going as you doubt he cares but you’re just thankful that you don’t have to deal with him anymore.

Disappearing to the Cook’s downstairs toilet, you’re glad when you hear Jamie race down the stairs a minute or two later, shouting, “Right Al, come on. Let’s go.”

As you open the door and make your way back round to the hall, you hear Jamie say bye to Katie, followed by Alex politely saying goodbye to Katie. He gives her a hug and his eyes make contact with yours as he slips out, not even nodding a ‘bye’ as he leaves, closing the front door behind him.

“Hiding again?” Katie turns to grin at you, knowing just how uncomfortable you find interactions with Alex after years of the same behaviour.

“He’s so awkward.” You nod laughing, but you’ve got better things to be thinking about tonight. “Come on babes, I need another glass of wine.”

Thank fuck for that.

~*~*~*~ 21st September 2018 ~*~*~*~

“Y/N, Hey!”

“Jamieee.” You grin, walking towards his open arms so you can give him a hug.

You walk into his arms and you appreciate the tight hold he traps you in. As you give him a squeeze, the guitarist says, “Missed seeing you in my house.”

You can’t help but chuckle a little at that. After greeting Nick and Kelly as you walked in with Katie, you couldn’t wait to see Jamie backstage tonight. Matt unfortunately doesn’t seem to be around this communal area just yet but you're grateful for the lead singer's absence.

“Ahh well, I've been there more than you.” You tease him, his tour has been so long it feels like forever since you last saw him, “I’ll be sleeping in your bed next.”

“Surprised you don’t some nights,” Jamie laughs as he releases you from the embrace, “You’re both piss heads.”

You can’t help but laugh and nod. You just end up shrugging, “Well, red wine calls us both.”

Both you and Katie can’t help it. You’re just living your best lives and the wine nights you share are the highlight of your week.

“Thanks for inviting me tonight.” You grin at Jamie.

You’re actually thrilled you’ve been invited to their gig tonight. Them being back home in Sheffield must be awesome for them and the fact that they have four shows back to back at the FlyDSA arena makes you happy too. It’s a proper homecoming. And after a stressful week this is definitely what you needed to let loose a bit.

“Oh, I’m not the one that you need to thank.” Jamie smiles and you think nothing of it, assuming Katie’s told him you have to come.

She usually does that when she’s invited somewhere anyway. She really likes taking you out with her and sometimes out of your comfort zone.

Katie calls you over to the fridge in the communal area where she asks you what you want to start the night off with. You’re shocked as to how much alcohol is in the fridge, there’s got to be at least 30 cans of beer and there’s also wine in there. Bottles of red are left on the side beside it too.

“Fucking hell, I can’t believe they get this much stuff every night.” Your eyes go a little wide seeing the fridge.

Katie laughs at that, “I know they are greedy, I’ll have a route to see what there is.”

You watch her astounded at just how much alcohol is in there. But your attention moves to the scouser who’s just walked through the door.

“Y/N.” Miles calls your name from across the room and you grin when you turn to see him.

“Course they had you come for their home shows.” You laugh, throwing your arms around him.

You adore Miles. He’s been a good friend for a long time and you feel really comfortable around him. Unlike his best friend, Miles seems to listen to what you have to say and he’s interested in it.

It meant that you’d been close for a long while and he always makes an effort to check in with you every month which you love him for. He’s honestly such a good person and you think the world of him.

“I’ve been here the past two days and I’ve been asking for you.” Miles informs you, “I was going to text you but Katie said you were busy?”

“Yeah sorry, I’ve had some planning to do for work and had to see family the last few days.” You shake your head, not wanting to think about all that right now. You grin at Miles, clearing your head, “So glad to be here now.”

“Ooo Y/N/N,” Katie gets your attention and she has a big grin on her face as she tells you, “There's a full bottle of Amaretto in here. Not seen this before.”

“Oooo amazing.” You grin, selfishly loving the fact you won’t have to pay for your own drinks until the after party later.

Miles traps you in another conversation whilst Katie makes you your drink. Before she pours your drink though, she can’t help but wonder why the bottle is there in the first place.

“J?” Katie calls her husband over and when he’s standing beside her, she asks him, “When did you add this to your rider?”

“I didn’t know we did.” Jamie frowns in confusion looking at the bottle of Disaronno. He knows no one in the band drinks it so he asks his wife, “Why? Who drinks it?”

“Y/N does.” Katie tells him, ”It's her favourite.”

“Well, happy days then.” Jamie smiles and shrugs it off, thinking nothing of it.  

Drinks flow for a while after that. Now you’ve had two glasses of your favourite, you really feel like it’s a Friday night and you can finally have a bit of fun.

That thought slowly dies though when Alex comes into the room with Matt in tow. You’d seen him a few times since the night you couldn’t get an Uber home from the Cook’s house and he walked you home but he still wasn’t all that chatty with you.

It was a little easier but you were still the one making all the effort and actively trying to make conversation with him. You can’t imagine anything different happening tonight, christ, you’ve still not mentioned to him that you like his new buzzcut.  

In fact, you imagine he’ll be a little worse because he’s got everyone who he wants around him and you’re just Katie’s plus one. Thankfully you’re distracted for a minute by the bubbly man that is Matt Helders.

He’s a gooden too. You do love him but you can’t lie, he made a questionable decision with his love life. Why anyone would leave Breana you have no idea.

Like Katie’s rants about Alex doing the dirty on Taylor, you heard the same rants for her about Matt cheating on Breana. Once again, it wasn’t really your place to have an opinion so you just let her rant at you.

But Matt had always been lovely to you, so obviously you wouldn’t bring the things you heard about him into your dynamic. You chat to the drummer for a few minutes and he makes you laugh countless times at how tipsy he is.

You genuinely don’t know how he can perform for two hours when he’s like this before. But you can’t blame him, and he seems to be having fun and you know he’ll put on a good show.

Matt wonders off to grab himself another drink leaving you alone at the side of the now busy room. But you don’t mind people watching, it’s quite a good pass time for someone like you who doesn’t like awkward encounters. Anything to keep you from rambling on like you always do when you’re drunk and nervous.

Your eyes mostly roam over the people you don’t know, you find them more interesting to try and figure out. Guess which members of the band they know and how they’re friends.

But your people watching hobby fucks you over royally. As you eyes glance over at who Alex is chatting too, the singer's eyes connect with yours and you avert your gaze immediately.

You honestly just can’t deal with the awkwardness today. You need more alcohol to deal with that. Being drunk was the only reason you survived that walk home with him.

But turns out you’re not so lucky, because when you glance back, Alex is on his way over to you which almost makes you spit your drink out. What the fuck?

Miles, your absolute saviour, runs into his best friend though and wraps him into a hug which you can’t help but laugh at. He kisses his cheek which makes Alex laugh and the smile lingers on his face after Miles tells him whatever it is he needs to tell him.

They chat for a minute and you just find yourself watching them. They chat so easily. It really makes you wonder what you’ve done to piss Alex off so much that it seems like he couldn’t care less if you were in the room with him or not.

If you had to bet, it would be your nervous rambling. But that’s not your fault. That’s your shyness taking over and your hatred of awkward silences.

Your jaw almost falls open though when Alex smiles at you from over Miles shoulder, and even more so when he moves around his best mate as greets you, “Hey Y/N.”

“Hey,” You say, a little surprised that he’s stopped his conversation with Miles to come over.

“How’ve you been?” He asks, which makes you want to pinch yourself.

Did he really just ask me how I was before I asked him?

You just about manage to smile as you say, “Yeah I’m great, how are you?”

“Good thanks, excited for the gig.” The singer smiles, and you can’t help but find it unnerving that he’s giving you his undivided attention. Alex follows up like he’s curious, “I didn’t think you were coming to any shows?”

“Oh no.” You shake your head, thinking Katie must have forgotten to tell the lads she invited you. “What's better than a gig, right?”

“Right.” Alex smiles, and it shocks you because it actually seems genuine, “Glad you could make it.”

Is he drunk? Why is he talking to me? He’s glad I could make it????? What now?

You smile at each other then. But your brain is all too aware that after two seconds there’s nothing more to say. So as you try to stop yourself from getting skittish, or making it more awkward.

“You been enjoying the tour?” You ask him, but you don’t give him any time to reply because you start your nervous talking, “I’ve seen a few videos and they’ve been good. Four Out Of Five seems to really pop off. I like that one, might be my favourite off the new album actually. But I really like One Point Perspective too.”

“Good choices.” Alex chuckles and you can’t help but silently scorn yourself for being awkward.

God, you wish you could have one normal interaction with him.

“Oh,” Alex’s eyes seem to light up for a second before he tells you, “Follow me a second, got something for you.”

You frown at him, not believing what he said in the slightest. You ask in confusion, “Me?”

“Yeah.” Alex nods and turns with a gesture for you to follow him.

The shock of it is what actually makes you move. You can’t help but whisper a small, “Oh.” though.

He surely has to be drunk?

But what’s mind-boggling is that he really isn’t. On the way out Miles asked him if he wanted another drink and Alex responded yes and added ‘this is only my first, definitely need one more before I go on’.

He leads you out of the room everyone was in and around the corner to where a group of the crew guys are. There’s a quiet word exchanged with who you assume to be the main crew guy and you watch from behind Alex as the guy nods at him and a second later he hands the lead singer something.

You shake your head as soon as you see Alex turn back to you and hold up the AAA pass that’s hanging from the lanyard he’s trying to give you.

“Oh Alex, I don't need that.” You shake your head, “I like watching from the arena.”

Half of them in that room watch from a box which is where you expected to be watching from. It’s no issue to you where you are in the arena, it’s nice enough you were invited by Katie to come tonight for free. Christ knows you wouldn’t have been able to get a ticket on Ticketmaster.

“Come on,” Alex presses on, “I’ve never seen you back here.”

Because you really like watching from the arena. You’ve never been at the side of the stage and you’re not sure if you want to be. You’ll just feel like you’re in the way.

You try to argue your point, “But-”

“No buts,” Alex smiles as he puts the lanyard over your head so it falls around your neck like a necklace. The singer continues, “You can’t be leaving Katie on her own. She’s been missing you for the last two weeks. I’m sure Jamie will like you being at the side of the stage too.”

He gives your shoulders an encouraging squeeze and the smile on his face makes you believe that you’ve swapped bodies with Katie for a hot second. He’s never talked to you like this before.

“Thanks Alex.” You smile sheepishly, not really knowing what else to do other than accept in this situation, “You really didn’t have to do that.”

The singer shakes his head like he doesn’t need your thanks. He just smiles at you and says, “It's nice seeing you here.”

It goes silent for a second then between you and your mind scrambles for something to talk about so this surprisingly good interaction doesn’t take a turn for the worst. You’re thankful it’s not your rambling that ends the conversation though.

Someone from the crew a bit further down the hall shouts Alex’s name then which makes the both of you turn to look at where the voice came from. You both see someone wave and then they tap their ear at the same time they almost do the Asda Price bum tap thing.

Whatever it is goes straight over your head. But Alex seems to understand because he nods and holds up a finger telling him one minute.

“Sorry to be a pain,” Alex says as he turns back to you, “They are shouting me for something about my mic pack.”

“It’s okay.” You smile.

Alex smiles back at you, and he says, “See ya in a bit Y/N, hope you enjoy the show.”

“Always do.” You smile and as you turn back around, you say, “Break a leg.”

The singer just smiles at you and you head your separate ways.

Great. Now you just sound like a fucking suck up. Go and get another drink Y/N/N. For fucks sake.

~*~*~*~

Surprisingly, that isn’t your only interaction with Alex tonight. During the short interval between the encore, when they came off stage both Alex and Matt came over and talked to you whilst Nick and Jamie spoke to their wives.

You were tipsy at that point so you started chatting their ear off like you usually did and Matt of course entertained you, but what surprised you most is that Alex was actually smiling. He actually seemed interested in what you had to say - even if it was just nervous bullshit - and he didn’t try to look for someone else to talk to which was very surprising to you. But that was probably just because Matt was there though.

Expecting that to be it, you didn’t give the singer much thought other than that. Knowing that you’re all going into town after this with quite a lot of people settles your nervous energy. You’ll probably have Katie and Kelly to yourself for most of the night because of their men interacting with everyone who wants to speak to them.

And for the most part you’re right about that. Katie gets you drunk, to the point where you’ve had to stop drinking for about an hour so you don’t throw up in the toilets. But the party is still in full swing and you - along with everyone else - have had a nice night.

You’ve just come back from the toilet and you’re looking around for Katie who has now disappeared from the table you were previously at. Kelly had gone home a little earlier, leaving Nick here to have his fun, so you and Katie had been chatting the night away and you’ll be getting a taxi with her back home because you live a 10 minute walk away from her house.

You just take your seat back at the table you were previously sitting on and pull your phone out. The last thing you wanted to do was interrupt anyone else's conversation so you were happy waiting for Katie to find her way back to you.

Sitting there, your still tipsy mind is paying no real attention to what you’re seeing on Instagram. You do find yourself singing along to the Tame Impala song that's playing in the room which you can just about hear over the noise of the busy chattering.

“Hey,” Alex's voice startles you out of your thoughts as he comes and sits himself down next to you with a smile on his face as he asks, “You enjoy the show?”

“Hey, yeah,” You nod, taking a deep breath to stop your shocked heart from giving out. Smiling, you tell him, “Well done.”

“Thanks, Y/N.” Alex grins back at you, and he places a glass down in front of you, “Got you a drink.”

“Oh,” Your eyes go a little wide looking at the whisky glass he’s put down in front of you, “Thank you.”

You pick it up and swirl the liquid around the two ice cubes and initially you thought it was whisky like he’s currently drinking, but you notice the liquid is lighter and a little thicker. Is this your favourite liqueur?

And the singer confirms that it is your favourite drink when he must notice you glancing at your drink. He brings you out of your thoughts and you look back at him as he speaks.

“You drink Amaretto on the rocks when you’re out, right?” Alex nods down to your drink like he’s worried he got it wrong.

“Yeah, yeah.” You nod, completely baffled that he knew that about you, but you smile nonetheless, “Thank you, you didn’t have to get me that.”

Christ, what a good guess on his part.

Alex smiles, “Least I can do.”

You take a sip of the drink and you can’t help but love the taste of it. And after not drinking for an hour or so, the taste is lovely and refreshing on your tongue.

“Did you enjoy your show?” You ask to fill the silence between you.

Granted the noise in the busy room makes his absence of conversation not as bad, but you hate the awkward feeling in your chest. Talking always makes it feel better and your tipsy self can’t control what you say anyway.

“I bet you don’t hear that a lot, or I guess you might.” You ramble, “But I imagine, with performing like that, you just get a lot of people telling you that they enjoyed themselves despite you maybe not feeling it was your best or whatever.”

You notice his lip twitch up at that and you feel like you’ve just shot yourself in the foot. “Sorry, that made it sound like I’m saying you were shit. I’m not. You weren’t. I’m just saying, bet you don’t really get asked a lot. So yeah, um, sorry.”

After the singer takes another sip of his drink, he smiles, “You don’t need to apologise… Yeah, I enjoyed myself. It was probably the best night this week.”

You nod at that, taking another sip of your Amaretto before you open your mouth again, “That’s good. I guess it makes the home shows more special. Has anywhere ever beaten home shows? I imagine all the UK ones are pretty special with you all literally travelling around the world.”

“God, big question.” Alex chuckles a little, before looking at the ceiling as if the answer was written up there. He comes back with, “I think home shows are the rowdiest and loudest which is fun. I think the best ever was Glastonbury though.”

You grin, “Which one? First or second time?”

“Full of good questions.” Alex smiles before he swirls his glass around as he thinks which reminds you of something else entirely.

“Oh,” You practically giggle, which brings his attention back to you, “You make me laugh when you do that ‘losing your train of thought’ thing on stage. Wasn’t aware that an Arctic Monkeys show is actually shitty stand up comedy these days.”

“Offended you think it's shit.” Alex scoffs which makes you drunkenly giggle.

As you finish laughing you shrug and tell him, “Was better in the days that you did the kung fu fighting thing still.”

“Damn,” Alex shakes his head, “Need to step my game back up. Any other suggestions?”

You think about it for a second and you’re just about to give him a long spiel of awkward suggestions that probably should never leave your mouth. But they thankfully don’t because the most gorgeous wife in the world comes back over and grabs your attention.

“Hey Y/N,” Katie grins at you with her coat folded over her arm and she asks, “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” You nod, grabbing your coat from just beside you, “Yeah.”

As you slip your coat on and finish your drink in a quick mouthful, Alex keeps Katie entertained.

“Mrs Cook.” Alex grins, taking a sip of his beer after calling her out, “You lightweight.”

You have an amused grin on your face as she frowns at him, “Some of us have kids to look after in the morning, Turner.”

“I’m so glad I'm not you right now.” You laugh honestly.

The last thing you’d want was to be hungover and then have to get up early to deal with kids in the morning. Definitely not happening any time in your near future.

“You and me both.” Alex chuckles before he glances back at Katie. “Did you have a good night Mrs Cook.”

“Stop calling me Mrs Cook, you make me feel old.” She playfully scorns him.

“You are old.” Alex fires back just as cocky as she was, pointing out some fair points, “You’ve been married for half a decade and you have a child.”

Katie scowls at the singer then, and she fires back, “Well at least I don’t have a fucking ugly orange settee where I choose to live.”

You have to laugh at that. You’ve heard about how weird and wonderful this sofa is. You know she’s hated it ever since she’d seen it when he moved in, but Alex apparently likes how his furnished flat came. So he’s not changing it.

Alex argues back, with a look of determination, “It matches the blue walls.”

“Your flat looks like a pop art painting.” Katie fires back, narrowing her eyes at him.

“You’re just jealous because you can’t have pretty things like that because your kid will draw on it.” Alex defends himself with a grin, before adding his final joking remarks, “And you’re boring because you have your Mum brain on all the time.”

“At least she’s a milf.” You grin at her, “It’s very lucky Jamie is away so much. Get her all to myself.”

Katie burst out laughing at that and you hear Alex chuckle at you too. Not that you’ll remember any of this tomorrow, you can practically feel the memories already leaving your mind.

Christ, that one extra drink has really done you over. You feel just as drunk again. God you already don’t want the hangover tomorrow.

Katie tells you that she’s going to go and find a few people to say goodbye to and that she’ll meet you over by the door in a few minutes. So you politely ask Alex to let you up from the booth you’re in and he does so without any argument.

As you stand in front of him, the singer wonders aloud, “You’re coming tomorrow, right?”

“Oh I, um,” You don’t really know what to say other than, “I didn’t know I was invited?”

The last thing you wanted to do was be in the way again. Because god knows at some points tonight when the crew was running around you, Katie, and Kelly you felt like you were in the way. And you never want to outstay your welcome anyway.

“Course you are,” Alex tells you, and he says as if it’s obvious, “You’ve been on the guestlist all week, Y/N.”

“Oh.” You say, a little dumbfounded because you really didn’t know and his gaze still makes you feel a little uneasy.

Well if Katie had told you she’d done that for you you might have been able to come a few dates earlier. Or maybe not considering it’s still been a little awkward tonight with Alex, you’re grateful for the conversations you’ve had though.

But you won’t remember your discussions with him because you’ve had so much to drink. And tomorrow you’ll blame your hangover on Katie for more than likely asking Jamie to put the Disaronno in his rider.  

“You don’t have to,” Alex backtracks a little, but it’s nonchalant and you think nothing of it anyway. He follows it up with, “Just thought that you usually spend your saturday nights with Katie and she's here anyway. You’re welcome to come again.”

How kind of him. He must have been abducted by aliens and this is a nicer clone. There's absolutely no other explanation to your tipsy mind.

“Thanks, yeah,” You nod and the singer smiles at you when you confirm, “I’ll be there.”

Because you won’t be turning down free live music or alcohol any time soon.

You glance at the door and notice Katie giving Jamie a kiss so you figure it’s time to get going yourself. You look back at Alex and he smiles knowing what you must already be thinking.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow Y/N/N.” Alex grins and you give him a smile and a small ‘bye’ as you turn to leave.

But the singer shouts your name after you take a few steps away, so when you turn back to him, he answers your earlier question, “First time. First Glastonbury blew my mind.”

All you seem to be able to do in response to that is grin. You nod a little before saying, “See you tomorrow Alex.”

~*~*~*~ 20th August 2018 ~*~*~*~

“I want to cry, the Uber cancelled again.” Katie whines, pouting slightly as she looks out of the window at the rain.

“Just our luck for not booking a proper taxi in advance.” Jamie sighs, scorning himself for not thinking better of it earlier.

Tonight you, Katie, Jamie, and Alex had been out separately but you’d all convened back together at the Cook household so Jamie’s parents could be relieved of babysitting duties. You and Katie shared another bottle of wine and gossiped for another 2 hours whilst the boys drank their beer and chipped into the conversation now and again.

“It’s not the end of the world,” Alex tells them, “We don’t live that far away.”

“Yeah, I’ll just brave the cold.” You assure Katie, and add in a little jest using air quotes, “At least it’s ‘summer’ and not snowing.”

“But the rain.” Katie points to the window.

Yeah walking home at the end of the night in the rain can be a little shit. But it was nothing you’d not done before. Granted you were like 21 the last time you’d done that but it’s really not the end of the world.

“It’s not heavy, I'll be okay.” You promise her to try and ease her worries, “At least I’ll go home looking like a drowned rat and not the other way around.”

You grab your coat from near the door and Katie follows you saying, “You can’t walk home on your own at three am, Y/N.”

“I’ll be fine.” You tell her as you slip your shoes back on.

Alex shocks both you and Katie to your cores when he says, “I’ll walk her home.”

Katie mustn’t be able to believe her ears because she asks, “What?”

You almost laugh, because she sounds like she’s as shocked as she was when Alex walked in on your wine night with Jamie and Nick the other month and she first saw his buzzed hair cut.

“We live the same way with about five minutes between us.” Alex points out, and he looks at you and nods, “I’ll walk you home.”

So that is how you’re currently walking from the Cook’s house to your own with Alex by your side.

Since Jamie’s party when he came up to you and asked why you didn’t think he liked you, the singer had surprisingly been a little better with you. He said hello to you and he seemed to engage a little more.

He’s still quiet around you, but you’ve noticed now that he goes like that around most people he doesn’t really know that well. You guess you can’t really change that though considering whenever you start asking him questions he doesn’t really give you much of an answer.

You’ve come to terms with that thought which is why you’re biting your tongue as you walk beside him. The urge to start asking him a bunch of questions is really strong but you’d rather not have the sinking feeling in your chest when you just receive one word answers back.

To occupy yourself as you’ve been walking the past few minutes, you’ve been running over the lyrics of your favourite song in your head. Alex seems to be in his head as it is so you don’t feel too bad as you walk despite the strong urge to rid yourself of the awful silence between you.

All you really focus on is making sure the umbrella that Katie lent you keeps you dry. Alex had a coat with a hood and even when you offered to share the umbrella with him he told you it was fine and that was the last thing you said to each other.

Or that was until Alex speaks up and asks you, “Am I right in thinking you were married?”

“Yeah for four years.” You nod, glancing over at him, and chuckling a little, “If you can believe it.”

Thank fuck he spoke up. The silence was eating away at you.

Alex’s eyes go a little wide, “Really?”

The poor man probably shouldn’t have asked, because the floodgates you were holding shut have just burst open and your nervous chatter just comes out. And considering you’re drunk, there is no chance you can stop it.

“Yeah, together since we were sixteen. Married at twenty one and stayed together for four years. But we just didn’t love each other anymore. Well, not in the way that qualifies you still be married to someone.” You ramble on before continuing, “Don’t get me wrong I would be devastated if something happened to him. Touch wood nothing does. But we just lived separate lives, went to work, came back home, and went to bed. Half the time he did shifts so I never saw him.”

You carry on to explain, “My life was just boring and I thought to myself I shouldn’t be feeling bored aged twenty-five. I wanted to travel and see the world but I just got a mortgage straight away so the only travelling we ever did was when we went to Vegas and got married.”

“So I got divorced, and how sad is it that I've got to tell people I'm a thirty one year old divorcee.” You finish off with.

But then you realise who you’ve said all of that to. And that he doesn’t like chatting to you at the best of times. So he probably didn’t care about anything you just told him, or appreciated the amount of rambling you just did.

You feel the need to say, “Sorry.” and you glance at Alex as you sheepishly say, “You didn’t really ask that, did you?”

For fucks sake Y/N. A ‘yes’ would have done!

“It’s okay.” Alex assures you with a small smile.

“No, it's just me rambling when I'm drunk and nervous.” You scorn yourself, hating the uneasy feeling in your chest. Unable to understand why you do it, you still end up saying, “I’m sorry. I’m a chatty person in general and getting alcohol into my system just makes me worse. Not to mention if I'm nervous too… Can never stop me going then.”

You guess getting it off your chest and him knowing that about you may make you easier to understand. Maybe he won’t find you as annoying because the last thing you want is to annoy him. You’re close with Katie and Jamie so you’re bound to run into each other more now he’s going to be living in Sheffield.

The singer frowns a little then before looking back to you to curiously ask, “Why are you nervous?”

Because you’re the most awkward man to talk to possibly ever?!!??!??!?

Course you can’t say that though. So you give the other true reason.

“I don’t like walking home in the dark usually.” You tell him sincerely, because it does freak you out. “I don’t know, bit of an irrational fear at this point but someone followed me home when I was younger and it really freaked me out. So um yeah… Thank you for doing this.”

“It’s really not a problem Y/N/N,” He smiles at you in what seems like a genuine way then, “I wasn’t going to let you walk home alone.”

You can’t help but think that’s really kind of him considering he really doesn’t know you very well. You tell him, “You’re a gooden, Alex.”

The singer just smiles a little at that, but you can see he’s being completely genuine when he says, “Sorry that happened to you.”

You give him a small smile then, appreciating how sincerely he said it. But you don’t really want to dwell on that whilst you’re walking in the dark so you change the subject.

“Do you prefer being back in Sheffield after all your time away?”

Alex wonders in what context you’re on about, so he questions, “You mean like over tour?”

“No, I mean like from living in different places because you were in New York when I first met you. Then you were in LA and you’ve got a place over there, right?” You double check, looking to him for assurance.

Alex nods and you continue, “Then you were to and from LA and London, right? And now you decided to come and stay back home? Or do you not plan on staying now?”

And you’re pleasantly surprised at the lengthy answer he gives you.

“Oh I'm definitely staying in Sheffield now… At least for a little while after the tour is finished.” He explains, “I think I just need time back where everything is normal and familiar again. Like Miles goes and stays back home quite often and I’ve not been back here for more than two months maybe since I was twenty two… It’s a long time away and it's quite nice to just come back and feel normal.”

You understand what he’s saying completely, but you can’t help but jokingly add, “Well… As normal as you can, being the front man of Sheffield's pride and joy.”

Alex laughs a little at that which shocks you because you never expected to make him laugh. But he does remind you, “You’re forgetting about Pulp.”

“You’re forgetting Pulp haven’t released anything since 2012.” You raise your eyebrows at him as your defence.

“Fair dos,” Alex laughs a little and you take what joy you can out of the fact that you made that happen. “But yeah, I like being myself back here and I like that I’m with most of my good friends and I get to be a proper uncle to the kids over here now.”

“They talk about you all the time. It's funny.” You can’t help but grin at the thought of your little god children, “Katie blames Jamie for being gone on you so when Katie has Kelly and Nick’s kids round too they complain like ‘Why has Uncle Alex taken Dad away again?’” You mimic in a whiney voice that again makes Alex laugh.

Alex chuckles, “I need to have a word with that Mrs Cook. She’ll get me into trouble with them.”

You promise him, “It’s nothing a chocolate bar wouldn’t solve.”

“I must owe them so much chocolate.” Alex grins.

You nod and begin to slow your walking down because you’re about to reach your house, “Oh yeah, you definitely do.”

“I’ll get Katie to invoice me.” The singer says as he notices you glance to the houses just beside you both and you slow down.

Matching your speed, you both come to a stop just in front of your house and you smile at the singer, “Thank you for walking me home.”

“Not a problem, Y/N.” Alex smiles back and you’re really glad that

You start slowly moving closer to your house as you say, “I hope the next leg of your tour goes well.”

“Thank you.” He says as he watches you get closer to your house.

“See you soon Alex.” You say with a smile as you unlock your door and push it open. “Thanks again.”

Alex smiles, “Bye Y/N.”

~*~*~*~ 24th November 2018 ~*~*~*~

Chaos. That is the only word to describe the current situation that you’re in.

The Cook household is manic, Forrest is running round like a mad man as any toddler who’s just been given sweets by his uncle would be doing.

Toys are everywhere and Jamie is running around too as he’s been tasked with tidying them before the grandparents get here to babysit. Katie scolded Alex for giving Forrest sweets before they were due to go out before she went upstairs to get ready.

Katie’s Mum wasn’t here yet to babysit Forrest for the night whilst you were all going out and that added to the stress because the taxi was due in about 25 minutes. So you’re trying your best to be the good Auntie that you are and calm your godchild down before you all go out, but your good nature results in a causality.

Alex catches your arm as you almost fall over a mountain of toys Forrest decided to pull you through, but as you tried to salvage your footing you must have caught the leg of the table your shin smacked into as well. It didn’t hurt too much, the initial shock of it got you and the fact you almost fell over, but then you hear the awful sound of fabric ripping, it makes you wince. You know what's happened before you even look down to check.

“You’ve got to be fucking joking.” You mutter under your breath before you quickly glance at Alex and say a small, “Thanks.” as he stopped you from going arse over tit.

Alex asks slightly concerned, “Are you okay?” and that’s the first interaction with him since you walked in the door ten minutes ago.

You could blame that on the fact the Cook’s household was fucking mental, but it’s more than likely just normal that he doesn’t want to talk to you. You’re just glad he caught you if nothing else, the last thing you need is to fall and bruise yourself.

“Yeah, thanks,” You nod, letting go of his arm you were still grasping to perch on the back of the settee so you can get a look at the damage done to your tights, “Can’t say the same about them, for fucks sake.”

They are beyond salvageable. There’s a massive hole in the calf which is that big it almost fully reaches round to your shin. Theres now a massive fucking ladder up the side of them which makes them more transparent and you can feel it’s gone right up to your arse too.

“I can’t go out like this.” You sigh, wondering what you can do but it also pisses you off because you literally arrived a matter of minutes ago in your taxi feeling really good about yourself for a hot second, but now that’s all fucking disipated.

Jamie shrugs, suggesting, “Take them off.” as he watches Forrest play with some toys across the room.

“Oh yeah,” You roll your eyes, and your sarcasm rings clear telling him that you’re not in the mood for such a simple comment like that. You wore them for a reason, and that reason is because it’s fucking freezing outside, “And get fucking hypothermia because I’m shivering all night? I don’t think so Jamie.”

You’re only wearing a skirt tonight because Katie asked you to anyway. She wanted you to wear the skirt version of the dress that she had which you were fine with doing.

Katie was wearing a really cute red tartan dress with a long sleeve black top underneath whereas you opted to buy the dark green high waisted tartan skirt and you paired that with a white long sleeve top and you had your tights and ankle boots on.

You’re bloody freezing as it is, the last thing you want or need is to be taking your tights off. It’s a strong no from you.

“I mean you wanted a quick fix.” Jamie holds his hands up in innocence and you just ignore him for a second before walking out of the lounge and to the bottom of the stairs after hearing your best friend begin to walk down them.

“Katie, do you have tights I could borrow?” You ask her as she gets to the bottom of the stairs.

“I binned all mine the other day and ordered more but they haven't arrived yet.” She tells you and your once jolly mood plummets further, “They all had holes in them… How come?”

You show her your right leg and you turn slightly to pull your skirt up a little, making sure the lads don’t see but Katie can see just how high the ladder runs up.

“Oh.” Katie winces at that, feeling bad she can’t help you.

“I’ve got stockings you could wear?” She offers as the both of you walk back into the lounge, “They’d come up to your thigh?”

You almost want to slap her. You know exactly where those items of her clothing have been, which is why you give her a disgusted look as you say, “I’m not wearing stockings that you’ve been wearing whilst Jamie’s railed you.”

“They’ve been washed.” She scoffs.

“Thanks, but no. I can’t wear these though.” You sigh as you both walk into the lounge. You stick by the arched frame though and after a second of deliberation, you say, “Whilst you're sorting yourself out, I’ll walk home and change.”

Katie looks at you with concern filled eyes, “But the taxi is due in twenty minutes.”

“Exactly, and you don't have the time to be messing about.” You say as she’s clearly still got things to sort out. She’s only just now plugging her straighteners in and she doesn’t have her shoes on yet either. You continue with, “And your Mum isn’t here yet to look after Forrest. If you can pick me up on the way out, that’d be grand.”

Katie nods at you through the mirror as she starts parting her hair so she can style it, “Yeah that’s fine.”

“Right, I’ll go now then.” You tell the room before turning to grab your coat from the bannister.

But you almost stop dead when you hear Alex say, “I’ll walk with you.”

Did those words really just leave Alex Turner’s mouth?

They clearly did because he’s pulling his jacket back on and taking a step towards you. Not wanting to be a burden, you shake your head, “You don’t have to, it’s not that late.”

“It’s okay, I’ll walk with you.” Alex insists, giving you a look that’s assuring but he makes it lighthearted by saying, “Gives them more incentive to come and pick the both of us up from yours then, right?”

You assume he must remember from your walk home a few months ago that you didn’t like walking home in the dark. You see no other reason for him as to be so kind to offer. So you don’t argue with him further, even though you already feel nervous to have to spend time with him alone.

“Right.” You nod and avert your gaze from his. You look back to Katie and Jamie and say, “See you in a bit.”

~*~*~*~

The walk home was uncomfortable to say the least. Despite your speed walking, it really did seem to take forever to get back to your house with silence between you and the singer.

You’ve got past the point of trying to start a full conversation with him at this point, so you just opted to repeat the lyrics to your favourite song, Not fair by Lily Allen, to yourself three times knowing that by the time you finish the song in full for the third time you should be home. And when you’re correct, you’re very thankful.

Unlocking and getting into your house leaves a new sense of anxiety in your stomach though. You’ve left the place a fucking mess and you hate that when someone new walks in. Especially someone like Alex who hasn’t always been the nicest to you in the past, so you start rambling again as you let the both of you in.

“My house is a tip so sorry about this.” You tell him as you quickly slip your boots off so you can change your tights when you get a second. “Please ignore everything you see. I’ve really not had any time to clean up today. I was out this morning and then by the time I got back katie was mithering me to get ready for tonight which is fucking comical because she wasn’t ready even before we left.”

Alex closes the door behind and walks into your home and you don’t need to look at him to know he’s already looking around at your possessions. Most people do when they walk in anyway considering the back wall of your lounge displays your ever growing record collection.

You’re unsurprised when you hear him say, “Christ, that’s a lot of records.”

“I know right,” You smile and walk the both of you further into your home.  

And because you can’t handle silence as you start searching your shopping bags for a new pair of tights, you give him another anecdote, “My Dad gave me all of his from back in the day. Couldn’t believe it when he said I could have them all. I’d only just started my collection at the time and I probably had about twenty of my own and then he gave me all of his because he said it was old technology and he’ll never have any use for them anymore. And then my grandparents followed suit and they gave me all theirs too. Couldn’t believe my luck.”

“Three generations worth of collectors then?” Alex smiles and you nod.

“Yeah, I guess so.” You nod, not bothering with the bag you were currently routing through anymore because you’re a little bit taken aback by the fact he’s pulled your favourite Gorillaz album out.

Abandoning your search for replacement tights for the moment, you carry on your story as you watch him, “Been fun adding to the big collection though. I love just putting on a record to pass the time. It’s why my Spotify unwrapped is always so shit because I always listen to my LPs and not on my phone so at the end of the year it’s like ‘you listened to two thousand minutes of music this year’ and it’s bullshit because I just listen to so much more but it’s all on my turntable unless I'm walking to work.”

Alex hums with a smile on his face as he continues searching for more records. He’s pleased to see all of his own up there, including his EP, the TLSP albums, and the Submarine soundtrack. And when he pulls out Miles’ latest album Coup De Grace, he can’t help but chuckle seeing that Miles had signed it and written a message to you saying, ‘Y/N/N, my biggest fan in the world. Love you loads and I hope you enjoy the new tunes. All my love, Miles x’.

When you notice the singer looking at that, you laugh and tell him how Miles had given you a lovely message on the front of all his LPs.

“Bless Miles, he always writes me a nice message on each album I get sent.” You start to ramble as you search for new tights. “I don’t really remember when he started doing it… Oh yeah I do, I think it may have been when I mentioned when I first met him how much I liked Age of the Understatement and we were talking about it for ages. And then like a month later I get the record in the post and he’s signed it and it had the sweetest message on the front to go with it and he’s never stopped. He’s a gem.”

You stop talking about Miles when you get baffled for a moment how your tights weren’t in the shopping bag from the shop you thought you bought them from. So your search persists as you carry on routing in other bags you’ve yet to take upstairs.

As you do though, your nervous chatter persists. You really hate that you can’t stop it, and you’re sure you’re annoying your guest but he doesn’t stop you, and thankfully he doesn’t look annoyed by them today. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t take you by surprise today by actively starting a conversation with you.

Just as you’re about to run upstairs to your room, you hear Alex ask, “Can I ask you a question?”

If Katie would have asked you that, you’d have said ‘You just did’ but because it’s Alex and you’re certain he doesn’t get your humour, nor would he tolerate it, you just say, “Yeah, of course you can.”

And you walk back into your lounge so you’re not being rude as you wait for his question. Alex looks as relaxed as possible as you feel like your heart is going to start beating out of your chest despite him still plucking records from your shelves.

His brown eyes linger on you as he asks, “Do I make you nervous?”

You certainly weren't expecting that question.

“What do you mean?” You find yourself asking, not understanding where that’s come from and you feel like you’re frozen in your spot.

Alex seems to think about his words before they leave his mouth next. And your heart that's thudding ten to the dozen in your chest doesn’t feel like it’s able to cope for much longer so you’re very thankful when he says what's on his mind.

“Well when I walked you home in the summer, you said that you ramble when you're drunk or nervous. And yes, on a few occasions we've seen each other lately we’ve been drunk, but you’re not now and you’re exactly the same.” Alex points out as he looks between you and the track listing on the back of your Brian Eno LP.

“You’re really chatty and jumpy when I come near you and it's like you’re flustered and jittery... Like the way a fan usually is but you’ve known me for too long for it to be that, so that’s why I'm asking,” Alex repeats himself, “Do I make you nervous?”

“Erm, yeah.” You nod, unable to say much else, “I guess you do.”

“In what way?” The singer asks you as he puts the record back where he found it before giving you his full attention and starts making his way over to you.

“I’m not scared of you or anything… You just really stress me out. I can never read you, never read what mood you’re in or even whether you like me as a person or you just think I’m Katie’s annoying friend that never shuts up.” You struggle for your words because you truly don’t know how to tell him without offending him. The last thing you’d want is for him to dislike you anymore.

But Alex’s gaze and increasing proximity makes you say more, “I don’t really know why you make me nervous after all this time. But you definitely unsettle me.”

You want to curl up into a ball and hide. You feel fidgety with the closer he gets and you want to avoid his gaze. But because he’s pointed it out, you don’t allow yourself. You stay strong and keep his eye contact despite his teasing.

“When you’re around me you talk like you- I don’t know how to describe it… You almost act like someone who's addicted to the E-numbers in sweets.” Alex grins, almost like it’s a little inside joke with himself. You try to keep yourself calm when he reaches his point, as he stops a few feet in front of you. “So that's why I’m curious if I made you nervous or not.”

“Well I guess the simple answer is yes.” You nod, but now with him so close, you try to look anywhere but at him.

This is far too awkward for your liking. Alex hums in response to that and he plucks another record that you recognise to be Histoire de Melody Nelson from your shelf that’s just beside you.

You think you’ve escaped the conversation now and you pray you can just go back to being awkwardly silent with each other and never relive that again. But apparently that’s not the plan.

Just as you were turning yourself around again to head upstairs, Alex leaves you shell shocked when he asks, “Do you want to fuck me?”

Instantly your eyes are the widest they could possibly get and you’re sure your jaw falls open. Looking at him intently to try and make sure you’re not dreaming this, you deadpan, “Excuse me?”

“Do you want to fuck me?” Alex asks, putting the record back like it's the most casual thing to ask someone he barely speaks to, “Is that why I make you nervous?”

This should be the easiest response you’ve ever given him.

“I-”

But your words fail you. Your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest.

Wait… Do I want to fuck him?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A/N: So... What did you think??? What do you think is going to happen next??? Did you enjoy it? I really hope you did! 

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist x

Taglist: @alovesreading​ @kennedy-brooke​ @ohladymoon​ @hazskillerqueen​ @more-multifandom-of-maddness @thereisaplaceintheheart​ 

[chaotickryptonitetree]

grant me easiness and i'll give you everything (it's only fair) | jeremy swayman

what I feel about him is alarming and frighting and yap yap yap. hope you like!

Whoever claimed to enjoy airports had clearly never been an Uber driver. 

Sure; the money was significantly better than a normal ride—but the traffic? And the poor temperament? And the confusing lanes? It made you question if it was even worth the money. 

But there were bills to pay, so you added tonight to the list of nights you ended up at the rideshare terminal of the airport. 

You knew by now that flights usually got in on the 10s (7:10, 8:10, etc), so people would have collected their luggage and made their way to ride shares by the 35s (give or take). Glancing at the dash cam, you read 9:32. As if on cue, your phone pinged with a few alerts. 

Typically, you’d choose the one that offered the most money. But it had been a long night, with a lot of rides, and had made enough to finish a bit early. So you picked the one that would put you closest to home. And it happened to be Jeremy, who wanted to end up at a brownstone around 7 minutes from your building. 

And you waited. 

Just for a minute or two before a knock on the back window stirred you from completely zoning out. Instinctively, you unlocked the car and a body slid into the back seat. 

“Jeremy?” You confirmed, not bothering to look back. 

“How do you know that?” A cheery voice forced your hand, made you make eye contact with him in the mirror. Mistake. 

“Are you Jeremy or not?” You were paid to drive, not indulge lazy jokes. Still, his kind eyes didn’t waver. 

“Just messin,” he looked out the window and mockingly placed a light touch to the window. Despite yourself, you tracked the movement, watching his hands (his large, large hands). Mistake. “Driver, take me home.” He sighed a wistful sigh, and even though you didn’t want to, a small smile found its way to your face. Putting on the turn signal, you merged into the departure lane and turned up the stereo. 

Checking your blindspot, you pulled onto the freeway—traffic was awful so it would be a long ride despite the short mileage. 

“Temperature okay?” You asked politely, following your script. 

“Just right!” You could hear the smile in his voice, even though you refused to look at him again. 

“Music alright?” 

“My favorite!” You raised an eyebrow at his response—top 40 radio was no one’s favorite. But that was your last question that usually made riders feel heard enough to give 5 stars. Slightly relieved (as always), you settled in for the drive. 

Usually you spent the time working through a problem in your head, really getting into the whys and hows of something that was bothering you. One of your friends was being distant, so you started there. She had started this behavior about a month ago, so that could mean that—

“I flew in from Alaska,” that cheery voice interrupted your internal monologue completely. 

“That’s nice,” your reply was non-committal. You didn’t usually talk to riders that much. Didn’t plan on making it a habit. 

“Yup!” He popped the p sound. “I’m from there, and I was visiting my family. It was awesome—I really miss them when I’m here for a long time.” 

“Nice.” You were out of practice making small talk with a new person (to put it lightly). He just nodded—the only indication being the sound of fabric moving around his neck as he did so. 

“So, where are you from?” He leaned forward in his seat, as if genuinely interested—as if knowing where this stranger grew up was a seriously important part of his night. 

“I don’t have to talk to riders just because,” you cringed at how mean you sounded. He didn’t even deflate a little, just leaned back and laughed a slightly weird laugh. 

“Fair enough,” his tone made you wonder if he was always this happy, this unphased. 

And then the music filled the space as much as your stale air freshener did—even if the air was tinged with a bit of guilt on your part. 

“I can feel you looking at me,” your eyes darted to him again in the mirror. Brown eyes forgiving and kind and very, very cute. 

“Not tryna hide it.” It could’ve been taken as flirting, but you had the impression that he was just like this with everyone. Still, it warmed your cheeks just a little bit. “I’ve just never had such a pretty Uber driver,” and then a moment later, “well, a pretty one that’s my age, I mean.” 

You laughed, despite yourself. “Pining after older women are ya?” He smiled easily, and it definitely was for him—easy. 

“Look at this face and tell me I’m not a cougar's dream,” he laughed loudly. You didn’t look back for safety reasons (and convinced yourself that was the only reason). He leaned forward again. “I like it though,” his words felt like an admission, even if he didn’t lower his voice. Everything about him just felt—genuine? In a way that made every breath feel like a secret. “Makes me feel like I have a hot girlfriend who likes me enough to pick me up at the airport.” 

You scoffed. If he wanted a hot girlfriend, it definitely wouldn’t be hard—not with his easy charm and pretty face. “I’m only here because I’m being paid.” You hesitated. “And there’s no way you don’t have someone who likes you enough to brave the traffic.” 

You could sense his delight through your headrest. “Oh yeah I do,” he looked out the window again, “I have the best friends in the entire world. They were just busy tonight.” He sighed as if the idea of his friends was as good as having them in the seat next to him. It was quiet for a moment. “But no girlfriend, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“I wasn’t asking,” your tone was blunt, but you couldn’t help but smile. He laughed his weird, goofy laugh.

“Call me a romantic,” he addressed you by name—something you typically didn’t like from patrons in your backseat—but it felt different with him. “But I want that—someone who wants to be the first person to see you when you get back, who can’t even wait to kiss you even if it’s in front of a whole terminal.” 

“Sounds like you’ve been watching too many rom coms,” but that suddenly felt unkind to such a gentle man, so then a moment later, “I hope you find that.” 

“I will,” he seemed absolutely sure. “Oh shoot,” he raised his fists to the sky mockingly. “My phone died. Curses!” 

“I have a charger,” you looked around for the cord while still keeping an eye on the road. He stayed quiet for a moment, considering. 

“No, I have an android,” he quickly put his phone in his front pocket, eyes squinting with trouble. Trouble that made you think that he definitely didn’t have an android. “Oh wait! I have an idea!” He completely over-sold his facial expressions, making you question where he was going with this little scheme. 

“And what would that be?” your tone was dry, eyes still on the road as you took the exit off the freeway, only a few minutes from his destination. 

“So I can give you your rightfully earned tip!” He reasoned, “you can give me your phone number so I can send you money once I get my phone charged.” You could feel his hopeful gaze on you, like his plan was the most logical course of action ever spoken. 

Logistically, it made no sense. You could tip an Uber days after your ride. “And what—you’ll just remember my number until then?” For some reason that was the first question you asked.

He nodded, serious as you’d seen him. “Of course,” he said incredulously, “I remember important stuff.” 

And it didn’t make any sense. And you could’ve said no. And this was probably against some sort of employer code. And he was definitely this charming with everyone. But he looked so endearing and hopeful and there was something very good about him. Something right. 

So you rattled off your number, and he mouthed each number after you said it. And you believed him that he would remember it. 

And you believed him as he opened the door to leave, wishing you a good night. And you believed him as he waved from the top step. And as he opened the door and turned around for one more look, mouthing goodbye. 

Despite yourself, you believed him. 

…

Your bed was heaven after a long stint in the car. Practically asleep before your head hit the covers, a notification sounded from your phone. 

A message from an unrecognized number was the last thing you saw before sleep. 

From: unknown 

Sent $50 

And then a moment later, after you saved his contact. 

From: Jeremy 

Any interest in meeting me at Dunkin on Tuesday morning? 

You went to sleep smiling. He remembered. 

…

You agreed to meet him early—you typically liked to start driving before 11 and he had morning skate. 

The sun had just risen as you walked to a Dunkin about halfway between you and him, bundled up in a puffer jacket and a toque. The bell jingled above the door as you entered, blowing warm air into your hands. It was freezing out. 

You didn’t even have time to glance around and look for him before a tall, broad body in a black coat walked up to you and held out his arms for a hug. And then you weren’t freezing anymore. Not even a little bit. 

He released you with a smile, linking your arms together and pulling you into line. “What do you usually get?” You asked, convincing yourself that you certainly were not leaning into his side. Definitely not. 

He peered down at you, tucked into his side, nose red from the cold. “Whatever looks good,” he admitted, “usually the thing with the most cream and sugar.” 

You laughed—even if you didn’t really know him, the idea that he didn’t have an order, that he just let himself enjoy whatever he wanted (even if it had a ton of sugar), that seemed very him. 

“I’ll get that too,” you definitely snuggled into his side more, but maybe it was so you didn’t have to face his genuine smile so head on. Maybe? 

And so he ordered for you both, but not before complimenting the teenage cashier’s pride pin and asking what his favorite donut was. 

“Dunno,” the kid had braces and posture that seemed to shrink in on itself, and was clearly not used to anything beyond what can I get for you, “sprinkle looks pretty good today.” 

“Then two of those too,” he put the spare change (and a five) in the glass tip jar. “Thanks brother,” he put out his knuckles for a fist bump. The kid tapped his fist lightly to Jeremy’s, completely won over. 

Like a puppy, he quickly found something else to entertain himself with while you waited. “We almost have matching jackets!” He gestured to his black north face and your navy one. You pulled a face—how could he find such delight in everything? 

“I guess?” You pinched your face together. He didn’t mind. 

“Very couple-y of us,” he put his hands up at the look you shot him. “I had to say it,” He shook his head like it was obvious. And it was so cute you didn’t give him a hard time about it. 

“Thanks for paying,” you directed the subject elsewhere, “you didn’t have to do that.” He shrugged, eyes fixed on your drinks as the barista (are they called baristas at Dunkin??) set down two identically light and sweet drinks. 

“My pleasure,” he grabbed the bag with two sprinkle donuts inside. 

“I’ll send you my share,” you made to grab your phone from your pocket. His hand over yours stilled the movement entirely, warmth emanating from his palm. 

“You got it next time,” he shrugged—like obviously there would be a next time. And you believed him, hand now interlaced with his. 

“I know it’s bad for me,” he groaned as he took a sip, “but it’s actually the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” A completely innocent line, but it felt dirty as he said it. Or maybe you were just losing it over how his thumb moved over yours. 

“Oh,” you responded quietly, taking a sip of yours. Total sugar bomb. “Well you’ll work it off anyways in practice I’m sure,” you fumbled over your words just a little bit. He seemed amused. “Like, looking at you, I’d never guess you have a sweet tooth,” you said, even though there was absolutely no reason to keep talking. He titled his head in delight. “Because you look totally in shape—you look, great. Yeah.” A true example of vocal mastery was on display tonight. 

He took a bite of donut, his white teeth a sight so intimate it made you blush. He hummed while chewing, nodding. “Oh yeah? I’m not sure why you mean…should we keep talking about how hot I look?” He joked before pulling a very embarrassed you into his side and out into the chilly air. It didn’t feel as cold with his hand around yours though. 

You laughed an embarrassed laugh. “Easy, you big dope, I was trying to be nice.” He laughed into your toque, head on top of yours. 

“I know, I know.” And then he went into talking about how he wasn’t a fan of Dunkin before moving to New England and now he was addicted. And you just listened, toasty from humiliation and content as he walked you home, hand covering yours. 

…

You offered to pick him up from practice later in the week (he had asked you to come to a home game, but you weren’t quite ready for that yet). He was right on time, waving an animated wave as he walked out the door with a few teammates. 

You waved back (a bit more timid in the presence of his friends), and turned to que up your next song. He knocked lightly on the window, and you rolled it down. He was bent over, face in the window as he glanced toward the backseat. 

“Want to meet my friends?” He asked politely, clearly excited. 

You hesitated, which made him continue. “No pressure at all. If you don’t want to, I can hop in the backseat and we can pretend you’re my Uber driver again,” he smiled a grin that was so genuinely happy it made you less nervous. You turned off the engine. 

“No way,” you unbuckled your seatbelt. “I wanna meet ‘em.” You opened the door and shut it softly behind you, wrapping your arms around yourself instinctively. He pumped his fist. 

“Let’s go!” He seemed overjoyed. It was quite possibly the sweetest reaction to such a nothing event. You rolled your eyes, but let him pull you in front of him, large hands rested on your shoulders, steering you to face his two teammates. 

He introduced you to them both (they were sweet, but there was something on their face that made you unsure if they were making fun of you or jeremy–or both–or no one). But listening to them banter back and forth while you stood pressed to the front of him made you realize that they just joked around like that. 

Jeremy was usually the punchline–but he didn’t mind. He was easy to laugh, easier to smile, and made a point of pulling you impossibly closer to him. If his friends noticed, they didn’t say anything. 

But then the fact that they didn’t say anything made you wonder just how many people he had introduced to his friends. Maybe they were having a non-reaction because they were so used to it? You stiffened slightly under his hands. 

And he must’ve felt it, because he placed a feather-light kiss to your hair–which did pull a reaction from his boys. 

“If you’re around on new year’s, we’re throwing something and you are obviously invited,” one of them nodded towards you, eyes a little wide. 

“Obviously?” You questioned, but felt far more comfortable than a moment ago. The taller one laughed, eyes flickering to Jeremy’s briefly. 

“Obviously,” he confirmed. “You think this is our first time hearing about you?” He shook his head, clapping the shorter one on the back. “Sway here wouldn’t shut up about you. If you didn’t respond to his text he was going to make us call every Uber in Boston until one of us got you as a driver.” 

You hit his chest as you turned around. “You goof,” you meant to say–but the words died on your tongue when your eyes met his–so full of genuine enjoyment and content that it warmed you from the inside out. You turned toward them again, waving goodbye. 

“I’ll see you on new year’s then.” 

“Nice to meet you,” they parroted, smirking at Jeremy. “We’ll see ya sway.” He waved and let you pull him into the passenger seat. 

“I like your friends,” you rubbed your hands together and blew on them. He smiled a radiant smile. 

“You’ll love the rest of the guys,” he pulled your free hand into his lap, both palms wrapped around it, warming you right up. You drove the rest of the way home with one hand so he could keep a grip on you. He gave you a play-by-play of practice (which drills he did best on, what made him laugh the most, what he wanted to focus on for the next game), only coming up for air once. 

“I really like you,” he said earnestly, as matter-of-factly as when he spoke about drills. It made you shake your head. 

“Obviously I like you too,” the words felt good to be out–like you didn’t realize how true they were until you said them aloud. 

He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a chaste kiss to your knuckles. “Obviously?” You could feel his smile on the back of your hand. 

“It's, like, impossible not to.” You pulled in front of his building, putting the car in park. Meaning to pull your hand back from him–a little embarrassed–but didn’t even make it over the console before he crushed you in a hug over the center console. The steering wheel dug into your side, nose crushed into his chest, hair static-y all over his puffer. But you couldn’t bring yourself to back out of it–arms rubbing circles against the back of his coat. 

You had no idea how much time had passed when he pulled back, grabbed his bag from the trunk, and walked up to the front door. It was probably the longest he had gone without talking around you. But you didn’t mind. You liked him when he talked, when he didn’t, when he smiled, when he breathed. 

You smiled all the way home. 

…

You agreed to walk to the new year’s eve party together. It was just far enough away for you to prepare to meet more of the people from his world and hear about his last couple road games. Just hearing him talk made your nerves melt away. 

He insisted on meeting on your doorstep, however, even though it added 10 minutes to his walk. He texted when he was on his way.

From: J

Be there in a few!

From: you

You need my address?

From: J

Course not.

And then.

I remember important stuff.

You went in for a hug as you opened the door–a new part of your routine. 

“Hey,” your greeting was muffled into his puffer. His navy?? Puffer. One identical to your own. You thumbed the material and glanced up at him. “Nice coat?” You raised your eyebrows. 

He laughed loudly, tipping his head back. “I wanted to match.” The way he said it made it feel obvious–tone like a noncommittal shrug. Like why wouldn’t he want to match? 

The ease of the gesture was lovely. He was lovely. “Well then,” you linked your arm with his, setting off down the stairs and onto the sidewalk, “it is an honor to match with you tonight.” 

He let a grin brighten his face. “You smell really good,” he breathed into your hair. “Like you always do. And I like the glitter you have–” He ghosted a thumb over your brow bone, “here.” 

And the loveliness haunted you the entire walk over, conversation easy and light. He was so open, so kind, in a way that eased openness and kindness from you as well. 

So the night was much better than you had expected. It felt natural to meet his friends, his teammates, their wives, their kids. It didn’t feel like being thrust into a brand new world. It just felt like natural–like getting another piece of Jeremy was a privilege. 

And you didn’t feel out of place with how enamored you were with him–everyone here clearly was. He was the heartbeat of this group of people–and you felt lucky to watch him light up the room. And a little part of you felt proud that you were here with him. 

The one who everyone wanted to be around–he wanted to be here with you. 

“You’re too nice for him,” another new face laughed as he clapped Jeremy on the shoulder, looking down at you. 

“Too nice?” You glanced at the palm resting over your stomach. Possibly the most gentle, kind touch you had experienced. How could anyone be too nice for that? “For him?” Your voice raised with confusion.

The young guy in front of you raised his eyebrows at the man behind you. “He didn’t tell you?” His smile was all trouble. “Our boy Sway likes to be a little roughed up,” he laughed at your blush, hidden by you turning around to gape at Jeremy. To wait for a rebuttal.

But it never came. He just laughed good-naturedly and hugged you into his chest. “Hey now, don’t scare her away!” He looked down at you, squeezed tight against his chest. “Lucky to have her here at all.” His smile was just for you. 

And so you smiled and let yourself half forget about that comment. Met some more people. Drank some more wine. Smiled a lot. 

But you couldn’t forget it entirely. 

Some time later, he beckoned you over to where he sat on the couch. You finished up chatting with some of the women and made your way to him. 

“Hey,” you stood in between his legs before he pulled you down to sit on one of his thighs with a thud. You felt him sigh into your hair as you leaned back so your head rested on his shoulder, hands reaching around the play with his fingers. He was solid and warm. 

“Hey,” if you had to put money on it–you’d bet he was smiling. “Thanks for being a champ about this–they can be a lot.” You traced a nail over the outline of his hand. “But they’re important to me, so it makes me happy that they get to meet you.” 

As intimate as a secret, spoken lowly in your ear. As secure as a fact, warming your chest. 

“I like them,” you thought for a moment. “Even if they think I’m too nice.” 

He rolled his eyes. “They’re just giving you a hard time. It’s a long story.” 

You raised your eyebrows. “You can tell me if you want.” You could feel his chest rise and fall under your back.

“When I first signed, I showed up to practice all beat up once. Bruises, all that nonsense.” His eyes shone as he retold the story–like the emotions were just as fresh as they had been.  “Told everyone I walked into a doorway–or something stupid like that. In the locker room later, everyone saw the marks this girl had left all over me.” He indicated scratch marks over where you lay on his chest. “All on my back and my neck and stuff. Never heard the end of it–how doors are really fighting back now and all that.” You just listened. “So yeah, they give me a hard time about it. But it’s no big deal–I didn’t want them to scare you or anything. If you’re not into that, don’t worry.” 

He ducked his head into the crook of your shoulder, kissing behind your ear. You shivered, trying not to wiggle too much over his lap. Tilting your head towards him, you let your voice drop so only he could hear. “I’m into that.” His eyes went wide. “And I’m into you, so I can still be nice.” 

He gulped audibly, making you smirk. “Like, I can be nice and tell you that you’re so good.” His face was as serious as you’d seen him. “Makes me wonder if you’d be so good for me.” 

He nodded before he knew what he was nodding at, grip tight around you. “I would be.” His voice was clipped. “I’d be so good for you.” 

You nodded back, chest on fire. You believed him. 

You let your cheek rest against his sweater, eyes peering up at him–slightly flushed from the party and eyes a little tired. It had to be close to midnight. 

As if on cue, the countdown began from the tv. Every voice in the room chanted along…10, 9, 8…but you almost didn’t hear them. Too busy looking at Jeremy. 7, 6, 5. You turned so your legs swung off the couch, sideways in his lap. 

“I’ve never had a New Year’s kiss,” he whispered, holding you upright against him. “Like a real one. Not just a friend or something.” 4, 3. You pulled him so close you could see the shine of his lip from his drink, feel the sweat on the back of his neck from his sweater. 

2. 1. “Glad to be your first or something,” you grinned into the kiss, teeth knocking against his. He laughed a breathy laugh into your mouth, free hand palming the back of your head. His chest rose and fell next to yours, making you pull back. 

“I’m so happy it’s you,” he admitted–probably the most embarrassed you’d seen him. You ran your hands through his hair, settling against his chest so he could put his chin atop your head.

You believed him.

...

happy new year! Love ya

[lunarspiral1127]

X-Men 97 episode 8 *SPOILERS*

Bastion

Not gonna lie, I busted out laughing when I watched his origin story. This is the second time an antagonist had to wait for a couple to make a child and use said child for their plans. Nimrod was lucky that the guy he infected was in a relationship. Plus, I thought it was gonna make Bastion sympathetic due to his childhood flashbacks, but nope.

So, he made a Utopia for humans, but the mutants are enslaved. Saw old Polaris and the Phoenix. But, what bugs me is that he claims that many of the humans consented to be turned into Prime Sentinels without knowing all the details and won't have any memory of being turned. I find it hard to believe that every single one of them would've consented, especially his elderly mother. Dude omitted many details and I'm pretty sure he turned some of them without them knowing. Plus, I'm still mad at him for killing Gambit.

Cameos of Dr. Doom and Zemo (hydra n@zi Zemo, not the MCU version). Wasn't expecting to see them being members of OZT.

Mr. Sinister's just in it for the mutant experimentation.....y'know what? I shouldn't be surprised with that reason why he "teamed up" with Bastion. More test subjects.

Summers Family

Not gonna lie, I was really annoyed with the drama between Cable and Scott. If this was comics Scott, I can understand why Cable's giving him the cold shoulder. But, this Scott didn't wanna abandon Nathan like his dad did to him! It was Madelyn that gave him to Bishop. So, if Scott was there with her, things would've been cool?! God, I'm so sick of this drama. Thank goodness that it didn't last long and that Jean stopped them from escalating it further.

Summers family vs. Prime Sentinels was pretty cool. I like that father/son fistbump, which means things will get better between the two.

It's funny that Jean's being the mom at Cable who's like this big man in his 50s.

Also, Jean and Scott's relationship is getting better which is a relief.

Nightcrawler

Once again, precious boy and MVP. What he said to Jean was really nice. He's always been there as someone's shoulder to lean and cry on. When he talked about Mystique, I felt so bad for him. Honestly, I hated what she did to him just because he was born that way. In the 90s show, she did feel guilt for what she did when Nightcrawler talked to her. But, I still didn't like her for what she did to him. However, with all the words and hugs he's given to others, I hope he has someone who'd give him words and hugs too. He also needs a shoulder to lean and cry on too.

SWASHBUCKLING NIGHTCRAWLER HELL YEAH!!! I've been waiting to see him use swords and it was worth the wait. Him teaming up with Wolverine was really cool. Plus, seeing how his teleporting works was cool too. Love that he was protecting his sister, and I'm glad that we got something with him and Logan cause we haven't had anything like that since he first appeared.

Beast

Why the hell would he let the reporter stay in?! Even if she's not doing her job, she's shouldn't be involved! It has nothing to do with her, plus, I'm pretty sure he revealed a lot of classified information that only the X-Men should be allowed to hear and see. Dammit, Beast. And, dammit Morph for letting her in too.

*sigh* Anyone else think, he's been done dirty in this episode? Cause having her stay in there got his butt kicked. Sure, he didn't know that she was a Prime Sentinel, but they do know the possibility that any human could be one, right? Now, Beast is knocked out along with Rogue, who hasn't woken up still.

Jubilee and Roberto

Okay, so they are gonna be part of the main plot, good. I was worried that they were gonna be sidelined, especially Jubilee.

His mom is a beech. She sold her son out to the Prime Sentinels and didn't believe him and for what? Her reputation?! Man, f**k this beech, she sucks. Poor Roberto though.

Finally using his powers more than once! I counted four times in this whole series so far of when he used them. It's also something that annoys me about the character. He said that he was training in the Danger Room to surprise Jubilee, but why couldn't we have seen that?! Why couldn't we have Roberto training with one of the X-Men's help and see him develop his abilities?! Hell, have Jubilee be there to train him! That way we could've seen more of his abilities and see him grow more and have him interact with other characters, bonding with them. Not just Jubilee. Maybe have him open up to when he first awakened his powers and why he wants to hide them, instead of just telling us.

On the plus side, they should be okay thanks to Magneto's magnetic EMP ability. Speaking of which....

Magneto

I'm glad he didn't get turned into a Prime Sentinel, but I still don't understand how Bastion and Mr. Sinister got his hands on him from Genosha. That blast should've killed him along with the Morlocks. I don't even think it's gonna be explained how they captured him.

His prisoner numbers....yeesh. 😬

The one good thing that Cooper did. Letting him go and realizing that he was right. Aside from that, f**k her. Seriously, was the only good human (regular human, not enhanced) shown in this was Moira?! Cause that's what it feels like.

Now, I was confused at first with what Magneto did, but I think he went to the North or South Poles and used the Earth's magnetic field which is strongest there to cause a worldwide blackout, disabling all the Prime Sentinels. Not killing them, mind you. All while in his underwear, too.

Honestly, I wouldn't blame him if he wages war. He tried to be good. He tried to respect Xavier's dream. But, look what happened. So, I wouldn't blame him if he did this.

HOWEVER! I like that Magneto was good. Part of me doesn't want him to go back to his old ways cause that's gonna be more conflict between him and Xavier. Plus, only Logan claimed that Magneto waged war. If he did, he would've killed the Prime Sentinels, but he didn't. If anything, he'd be waging war on Bastion since he's the one responsible. But, yeah, I'm sorry Xavier. You're cool and all, but Magneto was right.

Cameos

I mentioned Zemo, Doctor Doom, Future Polaris and Future Phoenix. But there were much more.

Omega Red and the Silver Samurai, but one that made me so excited to see......SPIDER-MAN!!! I was so happy to see 90s Spider-Man. I know many would want a sequel to the animated series, but we'll have to wait and see.

The rest I wanna talk/rant about

Professor X shows up finally, but I got miffed when he said "I hope I'm not too late". CHARLES! YOU ARE VERY VERY LATE!!! I know space travel takes time, but COME ON! He better do something real quick to help stop all this crap that's been happening. Dunno how, but it better be something good.

By the way, I'm still annoyed with that black hole excuse. Why couldn't he just contact Scott and the others and stay in touch with them right when he was fully recovered or was well enough?

WHERE THE HELL IS STORM?!?!?! I know she's with Forge, but you'd think the moment she heard about Genosha, she'd head back home flying. She'll probably show up next week, but it's been like two episodes since she got her powers back. Is her not being there sooner a choice the writers made cause if she was there, the fight with the Prime Sentinels would've been over quicker? *sigh* I just wanna see one of my favorites come back and kick some butt like she used too.

I dunno if Forge is gonna come back with Storm, but I hope he does. I want him to help with this Bastion mess. Plus, he did take a photo with him, which has me worried that he was connected somehow but I hope not. It also would be cool, if he contacted the rest of X-Factor and meet up with the X-Men and team up. But, I don't think that's gonna happen.

So, Bishop is definitely out of the picture for the rest of this season, which is bullcrap. It would've been cool to have him and Cable work together again like before along with the X-Men. But, instead, the excuse was they got separated from the time stream. So, we don't even know if he's okay or if he's lost again, or if he actually made it back home. God, I feel like his character's purpose of the show was to help create another characters origin.

Okay, I think that's pretty much it. It was a good episode, even though I did rant on a lot of stuff. We'll see how parts 2 and 3 play out in the next two weeks and hope that the finale will stick the landing.

[kinnporsche]

hey guys, long time no kinn & porsche fic rec list! i miss these two so much it’s not even remotely funny. as always, this list is ordered according to length (from longest to shortest), and each fic is by a different author (to share the love)! all fics that are not yet complete have been marked with (wip). lastly, make sure to read the tags, and show the authors some love! god bless y’all for my daily allotment of serotonin.  [part 8/?]

— the empty crown by rainbowcolored7 – explicit / 117.2k words (wip)

Porsche was destined to rule his kingdom, but the throne and his family were taken from him, forcing him and his brother into hiding.

Kinn chose to rule to save his family from the untouchable threat of the Council who strictly guard the power of the Source.

When their worlds collide, everything changes. Hidden plans tumble into motion, enemies become allies and, above all, love conquers.

— you were there, written in my stars by bleakyblues – explicit / 81.5k words (wip)

Kinn is your everyday, ordinary guy. Well, as ordinary as the heir to the country’s underworld can be. But the point still stands. Kinn goes to school, helps his Pa with his work, hangs out with his friends and has a huge crush on his ‘good friend’ whom he is ‘not-dating’ (yet).

Enter Porsche Pachara Kittisawat with all the grace and stubbornness of a class five hurricane. And Kinn is lost, lost, lost... caught up in the winds never to emerge again.

— freedom is a sound/pleasure is a right ‘series by baby_droll – explicit / 31k words

Kinn stares at him, and then up at the ceiling, and then back at Porsche.

“Have you considered being professional even a day in your life,” he says, sitting back down in his desk chair and rolling away enough to get some space, “I mean really and truly, do you know what it looks like, barging into my office,” Porsche cuts him off, mouthing along to his spiel, mainly because he’s heard it before, “sitting on my desk, interrupting meetings, and acting like, Porsche, people are going to think things, things you and your shiny visa can’t afford to have them thinking. things that me and my giant internship program can’t afford for them to think—”

(Or: Kinn and Porsche meet, kiss, fall in love. Only one problem—Kinn is his PhD advisor, and there’s more than a few rules about them being together.)

— the bachelor by blue_grama – mature / 25.9k words

It’s Pete who explains, the next morning over breakfast, because of course the news has spread all over the compound. “Haven’t you ever watched a mob movie?” He asks Porsche, gesticulating with a spoon. “They have all the money they could ever need, but they can never get respectability. The old-money types look down on them. The new-money types take their bribes, but they don’t let them into the inner circle. This is public relations.”

“A kinder, gentler mob?” Porsche laughs. “Come on.”

“They’ll use it to look nonthreatening, highlight the legitimate businesses, that sort of thing,” Pete says. He lowers his voice. “Everyone knows the Theerapanyakuls are dirty, but if they’re on television, how dirty can they be, right? And… I don’t know, but Khun Korn is strange about Khun Kinn’s love life. Maybe he’s trying to keep him in line somehow.”

— i’m not a saint, but i pay like a sinner by haeseolar – explicit / 25.4k words

“I’m not sure how a lowly human like you called me, but here I am,” His voice is deep, but not gruff or harsh like he was expecting. Porsche doesn’t have many preconceptions about demons as a whole, but everything he holds is being completely turned upside down and thrown out the window.

“Who are you?” Porsche croaks out, somehow finding his voice.

The demon’s eyes sharpen as he speaks, the slitted black pupils contracting and opening again like a cat’s. It’s just as fascinating as it is unnerving.

“You’re the one that called my name,” He shrugs, gesturing around the room flippantly.

“Anakinn,” Porsche says, the name rolling off his tongue smoothly. “You’re Anakinn.”

— scale and bone by ahdriking – explicit / 25.2k words (wip)

Fairy tales aren’t real. There are no happy endings. These are the truths Kinn knows.

Ever since stepping into power, Kinn has been suspicious of the Russians—led by Mikhail Alexeyev—operating in Bangkok, suspecting them of stealing from him. He sends Kim to investigate, and the truth turns out to be much worse than his initial fears. He resolves to destroy them, even at the risk of all out war; he can do no less if he wants to avoid appearing weak.

It starts with reconnaissance at Alexeyev’s party, an event promising a ‘grand spectacle.’ Kinn is expecting something appropriately depraved, suitable for the Russian mobster and his tastes, but nothing could have prepared him for the reality of what Alexeyev has been hiding. Nothing could have prepared him for the way it will change his life forever.

Because fairy tales aren’t real.

Until they are.

— moonchild (we’re born in the moonlight) by wicca – explicit / 24.1k words

“Let me walk you home, then,” Kinn offers, recalling the recent accidents and all the superstitions he’d heard about the forest ever since he was a boy. “Even if you live close by, these woods can get dangerous. You should always get home before nightfall.”

“Trust me,” Porsche smiles, teeth sharp and brown eyes glittering an almost golden hue under the late afternoon light. “I’ll be fine.”

He lets Kinn walk him home anyway.

— desire is so different when god bore you hungry ‘series by captainkit – explicit / 20.6k words

“Let’s get out of here,” whispered Kinn. His eyes were so very kind. Porsche wanted to keel over with the hunger gnawing at his bones. The kindness in his eyes made him ache a little more.

“Okay,” he whispered back.

Starvation was an old friend of Porsche’s.

— force of attraction by nuwildcat – explicit / 14.3k words

Gravity (noun): the universal force of attraction acting between all matter.

Porsche never was the best student in school. She’ll be the first to admit that hands on lessons were always the ones that best made things ‘stick’ for her.

Porsche isn’t certain she wants to know whatever lesson Kinn Anakinn Theerapanyakul is trying to teach her. The problem is, resisting Kinn is like trying to stop a force of nature: impossible.

— if i go too far by p1n3appl3_p3n – explicit / 13.9k words

Kinn and Porsche are friends that fuck, and it’s totally fine until it isn’t.

— red-handed by martynax – explicit / 12.3k words

“Hello, gentlemen,” Porsche finally manages to find his voice and is proud of himself that he comes off as cool and collected. He doesn’t really feel like it, but as long as no one is pointing a gun at him, he can roll with whatever. He’s good at bullshitting his way out of tough situations. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The corner of the stranger’s mouth ticks up in amusement, eyes taking in Porsche’s silhouette. It’s a slow once-over that makes Porsche’s skin tingle.

The stranger takes a slow sip of the whiskey, tipping the glass elegantly and smacks his lips after he swallows. “It’s not bad.”

“Want a refill?” Porsche proposes, waving his hand at the almost empty tumbler while he slowly starts approaching the couch. He feels awkward just standing there. The two guys in black suits tense up, but make no move to stop him. Not giving his unwelcome guest time to answer, he adds, “I’ll do you one better, I make a mean cocktail. How about I make you one?”

“Such a kind host,” the man muses, titling his head as he observes Porsche. “Do your best, little thief.”

— all of me (is all for you) by kurtstiel – explicit / 10k words

The water has saturated Porsche’s white shirt completely, soaking through the vest beneath. The translucent material clings obscenely to the swell of his pecs. His nipples are clearly visible through the sheer material, hard and pebbled, with the unmistakable shape of the metal barbells pierced either side of them.

Porsche’s head jerks up to check if he can still hide them from Kinn, but it’s already too late. Kinn is standing across the room, staring in Porsche’s direction, entire body coiled tight like a spring.

(Or: While Kinn is away on a business trip, Porsche gets his nipples pierced as a surprise for their anniversary. Kinn comes home earlier than Porsche expected.) 

— whatever else that touches you by technicallyverycowboy – explicit / 9.4k words

“No, it’s fine.” Porsche shifts to be a little less plastered against Kinn’s side, straightens his shoulders and smooths out his jacket with great dignity. “The answer to your question is yes, I have really never been with any other men.”

(Or: Porsche answers questions, asks some of his own, tries new things, and fills in the knowledge gaps of his own sexuality.)

— i’ve been waiting for you, to slip back in bed by dearsidewalk – explicit / 5.5k words

Porsche is sound asleep on their bed, the cityscape casting a soft, warm glow against his skin, dipping and arching with his silhouette. Kinn sags, hands falling to his side, but that itch hasn’t faded—that heaviness in his chest, stomach, and throat multiplies, malignant and spreading, and in a blink of an eye, he’s at Porsche’s side.

— the sweetest thing on this side of hell by butterflylungs – explicit / 3.3k words

Being vulnerable with Kinn is always a dangerous game: she never knows when it’s going to be thrown in her face. After the forest, she thought—well. But Kinn had given her to Vegas, cold and stone-faced from her perch on the couch, still attached to an IV line after taking a fucking bullet for her.

[gin-juice-tonic]

can i ask how youre able to make so many comics or if you have any tips for aspiring internet funny comic makers? your gag comics are always so creative and funny and well-executed, and your longer form stuff is just a delight to read, i would love to know if u have any advice/insight into yr process

I'm not good at advice so you will have to bear with me here. Also I'm putting it under a readmore cause images make it into a long post. The like first 3/4th of this I talk about specific comics I did, but if you scroll to the end I tried to give some general advice.

My stuff is unfortunately very inspiration-based as opposed to planning-based. So my process might not be helpful if you're looking for something structured... The first thing I should say is I write down basically anything that pops into my head ever. I have a bunch of nonsensical tumblr drafts,

I have stuff in my phones notes app,

I have pages and pages of papers and post-it notes littering my apartment (if you want to know the extent, my sister asked me how I could live with my apartment being so "messy". The only messy thing in it is my papers scattered about). I find the paper stuff the best, because I can draw instead of just writing down concepts.

This is the page I did for the comic about Stan "comforting" Dipper over his unrequited crush on Wendy. (The tumblr version being here)

You will notice aside from the order on the page being strange and some scratched out dialogue, there's not really evidence of a 'plan' here. That's because I was just drawing this as I was thinking it. You will also notice there are two random unrelated Ford drawings in the middle of the page. That's because I was drawing ANYTHING that I was thinking of.

And when I say write down anything, I do mean it. Write down something you did that week, something you remember from when you were 8, something you said out loud and laughed at, things you thought about in the shower, a fact you learned, what your friend had for dinner. See if you can apply it to something. I've mentioned before that this comic only exists because I ran out of toilet paper and went to buy a large bulk pack of it...

When I already have a base idea and just want to expand on it, I usually draw first ask questions later, and things seem to just snowball into being a story. As an example, for the comic I did about Dipper's swimsuit, the base idea was just "Dipper and Stan both wear fully covering swimwear - because they're trans and its what they're comfortable with." But when I went to look up what Dipper wore to the pool, i noticed mabel had a Star one piece suit

Dipper has a star hat in the first episode that he loses, right? SO why don't we give him a matching star one piece that he abandons.

Of course then that single drawing CREATES the story, because we have to explain how he eventually ends up in what he's wearing in the episode. And then I just draw and draw and draw until either the comic ends or I can't continue for whatever reason. The outline for the full thing usually forms while I'm drawing. If I'm worried about forgetting, I'll write down what comes next.

Some of this stuff I didn't stick to, or greatly expanded upon. It's good to be flexible with what you're doing. If something you originally intended only to be a throwaway bit inspires you, roll with it and keep going. (If it ends up being nothing, you can always discard it or turn it into something else later anyway)

I did the swimsuit one basically fully on my computer, but if you want to see another paper based one, a lot of the comic with the kid stans and crampelter I'm doing currently is down on paper.

If you can make out my writing, you can see it says "Crampelter has found out about Stan and Ford's boxing identities" at the top there, which was the general main idea of this part of the comic. This one was a lot more planned than the dipper swimsuit one. There's multiple pages of this sort of stuff, and I knew the idea I wanted was "If Ford and Stan are trans, why would they still be called those names as kids?" (So I guess the takeaway from this one is if you're wanting a structured comic, write down the main idea on the top of a page and brainstorm dialogue and drawings on it?)

There's a lot of sort of floating heads with dialogue, all that matters is I get the emotions or general idea drawn. They're important for me to draw out because being able to "see" the scene (even if I'm seeing it heavily unfinished) is what usually inspires the next bit of the comic.

And I know I talked like a lot already but some general other advice:

Draw, ask questions about what you've drawn, draw more to answer the questions, see if those new drawings ask any new questions, continue this process till you come to a satisfying resolution.

It's fine to not draw something immediately after you've thought of it. I have a lot of things I've just squirreled away for later. And in the same vein its okay to drag something old up that you've never used and try to work with it.

I almost always put on music while I'm trying to think of things. Something I feel fits the mood of what I'm doing tonally. And then I usually just put the same song on repeat, though some people im sure would feel like that is psychological torture. But its helpful to me.

This might sound silly if you're someone who leaves the house a societally normal amount, but I try to go out into the world and do things so I get new ideas and experiences I can build on. Sometimes those things are literally just "go to the park", but sometimes it's venturing out somewhere several hours away or doing an activity i'd never care to do normally... I try to take note of anything that stood out to me and write down thoughts or feelings I had during.

When it comes to trying to be "funny", you should try to make yourself laugh first. Not only because you want your comics to bring yourself joy, but also because its just hard to make stuff you don't care about (And harder to be consistent about it). Though if you think of something and you don't really think its funny, you don't have to throw it away! You might be surprised what other people end up liking. So don't kill yourself to write jokes you yourself don't really get, but if your brain spits out something on its own you dont care much for, it still may be gold to someone else.

It's okay to make comics about simple and relatable things. People love relating. And depending on what you're writing about, that relatability may be really needed!

Everyone has something of value to say. Even if you yourself don't feel like the things you're saying matter, or that they're too silly or un-serious to matter. They matter.

[cocogum]

The theory behind the sick eliatrope explained.

‼️SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4‼️

LEAVE AT THE WARNING IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN EPISODES 7 AND 8 YET.

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If you’ve been thinking the same thing about this then you’re right.

There’s a high chance that the sick eliatrope is Nora.

This theory started to circulate among the primordial eliatropes when Adamaï explained there was a hole in the deepest part of Abuela’s ocean that looked a lot like an eliatrope portal, especially Qilby’s.

Of course, Yugo immediately assumes Qilby was the one who opened a portal for the necromes but Qilby does not waste any time and straight up tells Yugo that he’s wrong.

And it’s painfully obvious Qilby was being honest but Yugo doesn’t see it.

Qilby had already attempted to destroy the world and the only reason why he hadn’t put his plans into motion earlier was because he was still weak from being stuck in the White Dimension for so long.

Yes, when he created a portal for the shushus, it looked identical to the one Nora and Yugo found in the Sadida kingdom. But that’s just what an eliatrope portal would look like if it was used to travel to another dimension.

Not to mention that when he attacked Toross with the eliatrope dofus, he genuinely looked like he didn’t mean to strike Toross with wakfu.

Therefore, in defense of Qilby, if he was the culprit, he would’ve admitted it a long time ago. The only thing I’m betting about him is that he would have loved to have been the one responsible for this.

So to clear out the problem and see what’s really going on, the three eliatropes and Adamaï, accompanied by Joris and Amalia, all travelled to Toross’ world. When they took a look at the portal that was linked between the two planets, it was finally deduced that it was in fact made by an eliatrope.

However, they also realized that the portal created by this presumed eliatrope had lines of stasis in it which made Adamaï conclude that the one responsible for this was not only guilty but physically sick.

Yugo obviously interpreted Adamaï’s words at face value since he already believes Qilby is sick in the head and does not see the logic behind the fact that Qilby couldn’t have been working with the necromes because of Yugo himself (keeping him in the White Dimension).

Qilby is not the culprit no matter how many times Yugo claims he is.

The actual sick eliatrope is Nora for the following reasons below :

1. Her eliatrope portals are diamond-shaped just like the one that brought them all into Toross’ world.

2. During Nora’s exposition about how she managed to rescue the Eliatrope goddess, we can see how she painfully holds her chest from something. Nora doesn’t specifically explain this part, it is only shown to us but this could’ve been the exact moment when she got infected by the necromes as soon as she landed on Toross’ planet.

3. When she was fighting the rogues in that one mission given to her by her mother, if you pause at the right moment, you’ll only see the purple color flash on her while her weapons remain blue.

All points directly line up with Nora.

She’s the one responsible for the portal leading to the World of Twelve.

But the real question here is how come she doesn’t seem aware of all this?

Throughout the whole time she’s been in Toross’ world, she felt and looked scared, skeptical, and confused.

Some who believe in the theory might’ve deduced that she’s been acting but that doesn’t seem right. The way Toross talks to her doesn’t imply that she’s working for him and we can see how his words affect Nora as she looks completely petrified.

So I came up with three possibilities as to how this happened :

Toross already knew how to make portals because he had his dofus. After eating some of the Eliatrope goddess’ power, he was finally able to fully use his ability properly.

Toross doesn’t know how to make portals but after Nora came into his world, she accidentally got attacked by one of his minions which allowed him to use her energy to make portals.

After consuming Efrim’s energy, he was able to use Nora’s power through Efrim since primordial eliatropes and their dragon siblings share a special bond.

In short, the sick eliatrope is Nora but she is not guilty of being the one to link the two planets together. Toross is the one using her ability.

Because as Qilby said, it’s not just the eliatropes who can create portals. Some others have the ability to use this power in other ways.

[raineandsky]

The Villain's Housekeeper FINALE

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8) (part 9) (part 10) (part 11)

“Are you ready?”

The villain can barely contain their grin. “Go on, show me.”

The hero appears around the doorway with a teasing smile of their own. Bright, free, unabashed delight shines back at the villain. The injuries on their skin are fading into dulled blemishes, the blood long since scrubbed from their hands. The best part of all though, by far, is the incredible outfit they’ve put together for the villain’s entertainment.

“Wow,” the villain sighs with exaggerated dreaminess. The maid outfit was long forgotten in their mind, but now they kind of want to watch the hero to dust something. “Nostalgic. Is this really what you spent crucial minutes packing?”

They’d briefly descended on the villain’s house in a flurry of bags and unshaped plans. The hero, with no possessions to really collect, had clearly decided to pack the really important stuff.

And now they’re hiding out in a small safehouse the supervillain had pointed them to. Not exactly home, but four walls and a roof will have to do the two of them for now.

The supervillain had finally slowed down a safe distance away from the chaos on that fateful day, only managing to give the hero a sad smile before turning to the villain. “You know we can’t take an informant with us,” she’d said in the low tones of someone trying to stay out of earshot. “They’ll say anything to anyone to protect themself. We can’t trust someone like that.”

The villain had known this, deep down. It’d still sucked to make the choice.

But here the hero is, positively beaming and showing off their extraordinary legs in their tiny little maid’s dress, and the villain can’t help but feel like they made the right decision.

“I tried to pack the hoover,” the hero says with a sarcastic grin, “but it didn’t fit in the suitcase.”

The villain tuts and waves them over to the sofa they’re lounging on. It’s small and dingy (“it’s well-loved,” the hero had insisted) but the hero is quite happy taking up half of the villain’s lap as they settle down next to them. On them. It’s a bit of both, really.

The two of them sink into comfortable silence. The hero’s head rests on the villain’s shoulder, their breath warm on the other’s neck. The villain’s finger similarly finds their leg, tracing idle shapes into the skin the maid’s dress is refusing to be modest about. They don’t bother hiding their smirk when the hero shudders under their touch.

“Thank you for surviving,” the hero says eventually. “I know it was hard.”

The force of the laugh that tears from the villain’s throat jolts the hero slightly.

Thank you for surviving. What a low bar. Surviving is the only goal the villain has ever really strived for. Villainy was for survival. Their work was for survival. The hero was… well, they were a rare exception. They were a death sentence. They were a loaded gun that the villain had practically shoved into their own mouth.

Well, they can’t even give the hero that much credit. The villain had aimed a gun at themself anyway. Their hand had trembled at the solid weight of the thing, their heart had jumped at the sensation of the trigger brushing against their finger, but they’d done it. For the hero.

And survived. Thank you for surviving. The villain could echo it back to them and mean every word of it, no matter how mirrored. Thank you for surviving. Thank you for holding out hope for me. Thank you for giving me a reason to survive. Thank you for surviving with me.

But the quiet is comfortable. That’s too many words. The hero is settled back into them, their fingertip tracing over the patterns in the villain’s shirt. They can’t ruin this moment with the verbal equivalent of spilling a glass of wine. The carpet’s greasy, but it’s still white.

So they lean into the hero’s shoulder and simply say, “Thank you for making surviving worth it.”

Taglist:

@runarelle @thiefofthecrowns @morning-star-whump @epiclamer @tekanparadiae @yourslimeologist @greengrassandflowers @subval01