#and here i am just looking on choking my guitar until the throat/neck turns blue

[snakesarefuckingcute]

I was tagged by @vampvelour to post the top 10 songs on my on repeat!! Unfortunately, I unironically cannot figure out how to link properly on mobile, so I'll add a cut once I'm on pc... 😅

1. Inte ens änglar kan flyga utan vingar - Bottenviken

2. Girl anachronism - The Dredsen Dolls

3. Weird autumn - Soft Girl

4. Våld på öppen gata - Nationalteatern

5. Verbatim - Mother Mother

6. Dirty business - The Dredsen Dolls

7. Diamanter är en flickas bästa vän - Lustans Lakejer

8. När skönheten kom till byn - Sven Bertil Taube

9. Här kommer hen - Ossler

10. Girls on film - Mindless Self Indulgence

I'm also tagging ppl in the morning ngl, it's way too late 😅 srry </3 but literally please do this and tag me if you happen to see it i love seeing what ppl listen to <3 vampvelour also has amazing taste so like, look at that post too!!! I'll link it... in... The morning...

[nerdypanda3126]

Damn, You Look Happy Now

It's angst week for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Sprint Fic Challenge!

The rules are three 15-minute sprints with 24 hours for light editing, which includes new writing to smooth transitions or make it feel complete. I ended up with four sprints and added around 1,000 words on this one because... I mean, feels are really hard.

The prompt I used this time around was: "It's okay, I'm used to it." And that combined in my head with Heart Shut by Alex Hall feat. Tenille Townes which I heard the day after watching the episode and I couldn't help but think of these two. 

Summary: Luka's looking forward to a quiet performance in a small local bar until Marinette walks in leading Adrien by the hand. And she looks so happy. Luka just needs to pretend it's not absolutely killing him.

Warnings: S4/E1: Truth Spoilers, non-consensual kissing, drinking

Read on Ao3 

Luka glanced out over the crowd, idly picking at his guitar. After years of touring with Jagged, it was nice to play the background music for a quiet place like this. Although he had to admit the crowd was probably larger than normal for the small local bar.

He frowned unconsciously as his fingers started to find all-too-familiar notes, and his crowd-searching became more focused, intent on finding her. And find her he did. Worming her way to the tables in front of the stage, leading a bewildered, laughing Adrien by the hand. Her melody bubbled up to him over the hum of the crowd. It had changed. When they were teenagers it had been dragged down by confusion, longing, and responsibility. His fingers tripped over the strings lightly, every playful note confirming the happiness she’d found.

Adrien took Marinette’s coat and draped it across the back of her chair before helping her into it. She rolled her eyes when he pressed a kiss to the back of her knuckles and he smirked back before disappearing, presumably to order their drinks. The ease between them was obvious. He could only assume—well, admittedly he’d never asked. But in the limited contact they kept up, she’d never mentioned the new development, either.

She waved shyly at him up on the stage and he set his face in a smile and nodded back. She’d cut her hair. It was cropped close to her neck now, but she’d kept the bangs he remembered. As their eyes were linked, she reached up to worry at a pigtail that wasn’t there, asking him with her eyes if he liked it. Despite himself, his smile warmed as he nodded again. He really did. She looked so happy now, especially when Adrien returned to sit next to her and draped his arm across the back of her seat casually.

He tried—he really did—to focus on his performance, but it was honestly the worst of his life. His eyes kept drifting over to her, often catching her leaning her head close to Adrien’s to talk. Adrien subtly kept her drink full all night, until she was hiding giggles behind her hands and leaning amiably against his shoulder. Every once in a while she’d catch Luka watching her and sober instantly, straightening up to twist her fingers on the table instead, biting her lips and shooting furtive glances his way.

But Adrien would say something in her ear and make her smile again.

The end of his set was an immense relief. He planned on disappearing out back until they left. Not that he didn’t want to talk to her, he just… couldn’t. So he slipped his guitar off and set it aside before he slid quietly out the door marked ‘Employees Only.’

Instantly, he wrapped his arms around himself, regretting not grabbing his leather jacket. It was snowing, and already a thin layer was frosting the cobblestones of the alley he was standing in. There was one other person out there, on a smoke break, but they took one look at Luka and took a last puff before crushing it out and going back inside. The stale cigarette smoke hung around him and mixed with the smell of the dumpster and the crisp winter air. It didn’t help calm his twisting stomach. But he took deep breaths anyways, focusing more on the snowflakes landing on his hot skin, melting away to nothing like he desperately wished he could right now.

He heard the door beside him open and he didn’t even need to look to know she’d followed him. That haunting melody was already in his head and he took one more steadying breath, preparing to tell her he was happy for her as he turned to face her.

She was clutching her coat around her tightly, peeking up at him from behind snow-laden eyelashes. For a moment, neither of them spoke, letting the silence of the snow falling around them stretch to the point of breaking. He shook off the chill that was beginning to seep into his chest and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“You look good,” he started, “happy, I mean.”

“I am,” she murmured back, but there was a strange twinge to her tone. “Um, I wanted to tell you—”

“Marinette, you don’t have to.” He cut her off before the words he didn’t want to hear passed her lips. He wasn’t expecting the childish pout that scrunched her face.

“I do, though,” she insisted, “It’s why we came here tonight, to watch you play, and so I could see you again and tell you—” She took a sharp breath in and held it, biting her lip again. It was only then that Luka noticed the glassy sheen of her eyes and her reddened cheeks that had nothing to do with the cold. He counted in his head how many drinks she must’ve had over the course of the evening. Not enough to not remember, but definitely enough to not be in control.

“You’ve been drinking, Marinette,” he said gently. “You should go back inside. I’m sure Adrien’s looking for you.”

“He’ll wait.” She hiccuped and giggled. “But first I have to tell you something.”

“You can call me tomorrow when you’re sober.” He didn’t mean to be so short with her, but the image of her going home with Adrien hit him harder than he thought it would. He started to reach around her to open the door she was still standing in front of and usher her back through, but she grabbed a fistful of his shirt and tugged him down to her.

As she pressed her lips against his, his body reacted first out of habit. Too many years of crazed fans forgetting he was a person and not a sex symbol. His hands peeled hers off him gently and he took a step back. Except this was Marinette and it tore at something inside him to tear himself away from her.

When he blinked back to the cold reality standing in front of him, he licked his lips unconsciously before daring to look at her again. She was mostly stunned, her eyes blown wide and her lips still slightly parted.

“Oh my God, Luka, I’m so sorry. I just—”

“It’s okay,” he managed to choke out. Not that it was, but it was what came out of his mouth. He cleared his throat to try to speak past the lump that had formed. “I’m… used to it.”

Just not from you, his mind supplied helpfully. He was still holding her wrists and for some reason his thumb moved on its own, rubbing against her delicate skin, but he wasn’t sure if he was reassuring her or himself.

“That... was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. God, I’m so embarrassed.” She tried to hide her face in her hands, but ended up pressing her forehead against his chest instead, muttering about being a disaster.

He only resisted the urge to fold her into his arms because he could smell Adrien’s cologne lingering in her hair. Instead he cleared his throat again.

“Marinette, does Adrien know you’re out here with me?”

She looked up at him and scrunched up her face again, in confusion this time instead of defiance. “Of course he does. He’s the reason I’m out here with you. Mangy cat practically shoved me out the door.”

...What? He blinked at her, uncomprehending, and she sighed as she snuggled into him which was not helping his ability to process anything. He dropped her wrists and grabbed her by the shoulders instead, stabilizing her as he pulled her off him.

“You’re gonna have to help me out, here. You’re here with Adrien, right?”

“Well, yeah, I’m here with Adrien.” She rolled her eyes at him, but then when she caught sight of his serious expression, she seemed to realize something. “Oh, you think—No! No, I’m not—I’m here with Adrien, but I’m not here with Adrien, he’s—we’re—oh, it’s a long story, and that’s why I wanted to tell you, but it’s all wrong and now you think—and I—Luka, I didn’t mean to kiss you like that, I’m so sorry, you must think I’m awful and—”

He took a deep breath and sorted through her ramblings. With Adrien, but not with Adrien. His head was spinning. Adrien was the reason she was out here. She wanted to tell him something. None of it was really adding up, and yet at the same time it was.

“What were you going to tell me earlier?” he asked, doing his best to keep his voice even.

“Under the moon, deep within the woods…” she muttered under her breath, then hiccuped again. The faded memory of a failed date rushed back to him and whatever breath he had left him. She was twisting her fingers into the front of his shirt, seeming very interested in her shoes until she let out a short huff of breath and finally met his eyes again. “I wanted to tell you my secret, Luka, now that it’s all over. And I wanted to tell you…” She blinked up at him with those wide eyes and bit her lip again. This time, he waited for the end of her thought. She closed her eyes and took a long, deep breath in and let it out slowly. When she opened them again, they were clear, as blue as he remembered, and starting to brim with tears.

“I never stopped loving you,” she murmured. “It—the timing, was just—” Another short huff of breath and she wiped at her cheeks. Impatient with herself, it seemed, for not knowing which words to use. But then she drew herself up and the look in her eye became steely.

Every Parisian knew that look. Luka blinked just to make sure he wasn’t seeing things, but it was definitely still Marinette in front of him and not Ladybug. But. She’d said it was all over. Hawkmoth’s defeat—he’d been in America at the time, but the news had done a small segment on it. Her secret. The realization crashed into him at about the same time the words left her mouth.

Without being aware of it, his hand drifted to his wallet in his back pocket and he easily withdrew the signed guitar pick necklace she’d given him. It felt like a lifetime ago. For a moment he let it hang between them, then let the cord slip through his fingers and into her cupped hands.

“I can’t believe you kept it,” she said softly.

She picked it up to look at it, no doubt noticing the wear on it. When he was writing songs on the road, or nervous before a show, or just thinking of her and wishing things had gone differently, he’d take it out and rub his thumb over the smooth plastic. The design on one side was nearly worn off from it.

“My lucky charm,” he murmured. Her eyes bounced back up to his as a genuine blush rose on her cheeks.

A shiver wracked through him as the new information and the cold caught up to him. Marinette’s expression instantly shifted to concern. “You must be freezing! We’ll go back inside and—”

As she turned away to open the door he spun her back to him and leaned down to press his lips against hers this time. She let out a muffled gasp of surprise, then wrapped her arms around his neck to hold him to her, angling her head to kiss him better.

When he pulled away—entirely too soon in his opinion, but it was hard to kiss her the way he wanted with chattering teeth—he pressed his forehead against hers fondly. She giggled and ran a hand through his hair, brushing out stray snowflakes that hadn’t melted away yet.

“You know, it was actually Adrien who told me you were here tonight,” she admitted shyly.

“Remind me to buy Chat Noir a drink,” he muttered, and she laughed again and took his hand, lacing their fingers together as she did to lead him back inside.

[thirstystarkey]

Bass Players 🦋 Rudy Pankow AU

Prompt: Y/N is forced by her best friends to attend the most desired underground rock band, against her will she goes. But what happens when she gets stuck with one of the band members? Will she discover the why they say bass players have the best fingers or will she just ignore him?

Warnings: mention of drugs and alcohol, sex, various kinks including choking, overstimulation, public sex, this is just another script for pornhub tbh

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN, IF YOU WANT TO SEND ME ANY BLURB OR PROMPT ABOUT THIS TROPE (y/n x rockstar!rudy) IM MORE THAN WILLING TO DO IT, LOVE YOU ALL 🥰💞✨

01

It all started when her roommates, who were also Y/N’s best friends, decided it was a perfect idea to attend a sweaty dirty concert just to droll over some dumbasses with good voices and cute faces. Y/N wasn’t in the mood to be stuck all night in the middle of drunk young adults but it was too late now, since her friends had already dragged her to the venue, the least she could do now was to enjoy herself as much as she possible could.

That of course until something went wrong, Y/N got separated from her friends during the last two songs and with the crazy crowd it was nearly impossible to find them again so she decided she was more than done for today. Her feet hurted from being stepped on and her head was killing her beside she smelled like a mixture of her own perfume and smoke.

As Y/N walked away from the crowd she could still hear them scream for the other band in line who was almost ready to enter the stage. Honestly she had absolutely no idea where she was going but it didn’t stopped her from trying to escape.

Y/N found a dark corridor, lighted up with blue lights where a few poster and guitars where hanged up on the walls so she followed it, in hopes it would lead her to the main exit, but when she was just passing by the middle something hit her head with such force that she fell backwards into the ground.

“What the fuck.” That was the first thing that came out of her annoyed mouth, both brows frown together as her head spinned.

“Oh my god, oh no oh shit.” Y/N heard a male voice speak, in panic, assuming it was the cause of her fall but she couldn’t bother in opening her eyes.

Once Y/N opened her eyes and saw the famous bassist Rudy Pankow in front of her, her the first reaction was to roll her eyes. He had changed into a black tshirt and his hair was wet all over the place, probably he showered after his show. Which made her think, was she roaming for that long? The night couldn’t get worse.

“Are you okay?” He asked, kneeling in front of her. Y/N was supporting her body in her forearms. When she opened her mouth to speak Rudy panicked again and placed his hand over her mouth, in fear she would scream and bring attention to him. “Please don’t scream!” He begged in a yell whisper.

“Get your disgusting hands off my face, I’m not going to scream you conceited ass.” Y/N chided pushing him off of her.

“Feisty one I see.” Rudy looked at her, up and down but before he could say anything loud screams interrupted him.

Out of other option the bassist grabbed Y/N’s hands pulling her back on her feet as he entered a room, that a few seconds later Y/N recognized as the males bathroom. She was more than done with the situation, rage was visible on her pupils as the screams pierced her ears.

“Ugh, fuck me.” Y/N whispered to herself, banging her head in the wall. At least it didn’t smelled like piss.

“Let me at least buy you dinner first.” Rudy joked and Y/N glared at him.

“This isn’t funny.” The girl sighed very frustrated. “And can you please give me room to breath?” She added while she pushed him away.

“Oh I’m so sorry miss, I think I forgot we are in a bathroom stall, next time I’ll find us a luxurious suite.” Rudy ironized.

“You aren’t funny and I don’t give a single fuck about your crazy fans so I’m leaving.” Snorted Y/N unlocking the door from the bathroom stall.

“You can’t leave. If anyone sees you leave and I follow I’m fucking dead with rumors and questions about “this mystery girl” He said with a loud frustrated groan. “Do you want to be that mystery girl?”

“I wanna go back to my normal life, so if you excuse me, I’m leaving.”

The moment Y/N tried to step outside the other door opened up and three blonde girls walked in like they were looking for something, or better, they looked like they were looking for water in the middle of the dessert and by dessert it reads the band members.

Rudy quickly pulled Y/N back into the stall with him before the other girls could find them, this time trapping her between his muscly arms back against the door, their luck was that the doors were long enough that from that outside no one could tell how many people where inside, because even if Y/N thought that the other girls looked dumb as hell they sure knew how to count until 4.

Y/N tried to speak but again Rudy placed his hand over her mouth tightly, making her stay silent until it was safe, but this time it was different. Their bodies were pressed so firmly against each other that Y/N could feel all of his muscles against her body and her breasts where pressed against his chest and her legs were trapped between his.

They both glared at each other, madly, Rudy just wanted her to stay quiet but every atom in her wanted to scream from the top of her lungs about how he thought he was the shit, sure Y/N couldn’t deny he was hot and that having his hand so close to her throat did made her wonder about other things but still he was an arrogant piece of shit and she was beyond mad and worried about her friends and how she would get home.

She tried to speak but everything came muffled due to his hand so she decided to bite his fingers, he immediately moaned in pain waving his hand trying to ease the stinging pain.

“You can’t stay quiet can’t you?” He whispered, done with her, in Y/N’s ear as he watched the skin of her neck shiver.

“Fuck you.” Y/N said looking straight at his eyes.

As they could hear the girls talk perfectly about the band Y/N made disgusted faces at their comments, especially the ones about Rudy, which made him boil he just didn’t understood why she didn’t like him. Everyone did.

“You know what they say about bass players right? Oh my god I just wish he did the same to me, fucking ruin me.” One of the girls said as they walked to the exist, Y/N cheeks automatically turned red as she tried to play it off by sticking her tongue out as if she was vomiting.

When the girls finally left Rudy pressed her even more to the bathroom stall door, he looked down at her, taking in her beautiful features.

“Can I go now?” Y/N questioned tapping her toe. Talking with him so close to her was difficult.

“Why don’t you like me?” He ignored her question.

“Oh for fucks sakes.” Y/N whined pushing him off, he sat in he toilet waiting for an answer. “Look it’s not like I hate you or something, your band is kinda good but I don’t know you so I can’t like you nor be obsessed over someone I don’t know!” Y/N explained to him like Rudy was a little child as she maneuver her hands in the her frenetically.

“So what you’re saying is if you knew me you would be crazy about me?” He teased her.

“In your dreams rockstar.” Y/N rolled her eyes trying to to laugh while she turned on her back to unlock the door but to her surprise it didn’t do anything. “Oh no.” She cried out in a whisper. “The door is locked.” Y/N stated looking at him. Rudy stood up quickly and in one small step his body was already closer to hers.

“Yes smartass, you just unlock it.” He said, without a doubt. “Or maybe not.” Rudy added after doing the same thing she did.

Great. Now she was stuck in a bathroom stall with a famous bassist, a very good looking one.

“Do something!” She order looking over her shoulder to see his face, realizing her back as pressed against his chest and their mouths were millimeters apart.

“I will just call someone.” He said, looking at her plump lips.

“Do it then idiot.” Y/N rolled her eyes trying to avoid the obvious tension as she pushed his chest.

Rudy quickly dialed some random number and after a couple seconds someone picked up.

“Yo man, I need your help. Where are you guys?” Rudy asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Y/N was fast to realize that by the looks on his face he didn’t had good news. Rudy looked at her and sat down again while he placed his phone back into his pocket.

“We are fucked. Drew said it would take them about an hour to come get us out.” He explained.

“What am I going to do in an hour? This is totally torture.” Y/N ramble.

“I hope you know a lot do girls would kill to be in your position.” He said, getting up with arms crossed around his chest.

“And what is exactly my position?” Y/N placed one hand over her hip as she spoke.

“Well, you are here, stuck with me. All alone. In this small bathroom stall. I can imagine a lot of scenarios in my head.” Rudy spoke slowly, taking his time with every words to take in all of her little reactions while he with just two steps got closer to her face.

“And what those scenarios include?” Y/N decided to play along, now not leaning into the door she almost closed the space between them.

“They include you and I and much less clothing.” He whispered in the shell of her ear.

“You know what, for someone who has so many girls dropping to their feet you are pretty stupid.” Y/N whispered back into his ear, laughing.

taglist: @hmspxgue @teenwaywardasgardian @pankowstyle @scandalousfemale @jjsbxtch @maybanktho @crushe-s @jiaraendgame @erraaxh @sexualparkour @lolitstiana @obxmxybxnk @ampanonyg @paradigmax @simpingforrudypankowonly @pogue-writings @obx-saltlife @merchantjjreply @jjmaybank-pop-punk-god @floretsoleil @spookysquishsworld @maybankslut @tineebucky @moddyursomarzo @marianas-studyblr @everysmalltownauthor

[ais-for-alex]

Come Dance With Me:

So I don’t remember if I actually posted this one on tumblr or not (I couldn’t seem to find it but tbh I also didn’t look to hard) anyway this is a fluffy little fic I wrote awhile ago about the cubs dancing to country music and it’s one of my favorites so I’m gonna share it again. As always characters belong to @lumosinlove 🥰

***

Finn shivered as he tried fitting the key into his front door, somehow the cold winter air had seemed to seep into his bones while he was out running errands. His fingers fumbled with the key numb from the biting air, he knew he should have worn gloves before he left that morning but he couldn’t be bothered to actually find a pair. When he finally slotted the key in and stepped into the apartment, warmth washed over him making him sigh in relief.

“Honeys I’m home!” he called out to Leo and Logan as he slipped out of his jacket and kicked off his sneakers.

“In here,” Leo’s voice called out from the kitchen. Finn felt a smile creep onto his face, as he padded farther into the apartment. Heading towards the kitchen he could smell the delicious aroma of Leo’s cooking and hear soft music issuing from their speakers. Finn paused leaning against the kitchen doorframe a bubble of warmth bloomed in his chest as he watched Leo sway to the rhythm while stirring a pot on the stove, listening to the soft sound of him humming to the music.

Suddenly Leo glanced over his shoulder and spotted Finn watching him, he grinned before flicking the burner to low and setting his spoon aside then turned and opened his arms in a warm invitation.

Finn couldn’t help but let himself be drawn into Leos warmth his long arms wrapping around him.

“Welcome back baby,” Leo said softly pressing a kiss into his red curls, there was a deeper twang in his voice than usual, it made Finns insides squirm. “Have fun at the DMV?” he asked jokingly.

Finn shuddered lightly and pulled away from Leo a grimace on his face as he leaned back against the counter, “I swear to god I was in that line for three hours just for the lady to hand me a form to sign, at this point I am fully convinced that place is literal hell.”

Leo rolled his eyes and chuckled before turning back to the stove.

“Watcha making?” Finn asked leaning over to peer into the pot the smell making his mouth water.

“Mmm, potato soup. I know, probably not the healthiest choice but it’s freezing outside and I felt like comfort food.”

“Hey, no complaints from me it looks amazing Nutty,” Leo smirked at that and sprinkled cheese into the pot.

“Where’s Lo?” Finn asked jumping up to fully sit on the counter he reached over and snagged piece of bacon from where Leo had left them to cool.

“Hey!” Leo said swatting at his hand, “those are for the soup.”

Finn simply grinned and munched happily on the crispy piece.

“Lo said he’s spending the night at Dumo’s. Apparently Katie got sent home from school sick and wouldn’t stop crying until he came over.”

“I guess it’s just you and me tonight then,” Finn said, watching as Leo covered the pot to let it simmer.

He turned to Finn with a soft look in his baby blue eyes before walking forward and slotting himself between Finns open thighs running his hands up them appreciatively.

“I guess so,” Leo leaned forward and caught Finns Lips in a kiss so sweet he felt like he would melt into a puddle right on the counter. Finn could feel the smile on Leo’s mouth as he slid his fingers into silky blond hair pulling him in closer, his legs wrapping around Leo’s waist.

Suddenly Leo pulled away with a gasp of surprise, leaving Finn to chase his lips, “Ah! I love this song!” Leo said happily as the music shifted to the opening notes of something new. He leaned forward again and pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of Finns mouth and whispered, “Come dance with me baby?”

Finn nodded grinning and slid down from the counter, “of course I will peanut butter.”

Leo led Finn out into the open center of the kitchen and wrapped an arm around his waist pulling him in close until they were nearly pressed together, his other hand holding Finns as they began to sway together moving in circles to the music. With a sigh Finn closed his eyes and pressed his face into Leo’s neck letting him lead him around their kitchen, he could feel the gentle vibrations as Leo began softly humming to the song.

Suddenly Leo’s voice deep with the twang of his southern accent was crooning in his ear the lyrics of a love song, “There's a difference between ‘miss ya’ and ‘I miss your face’ And there's a difference in ‘what's going on?’ and ‘baby, how was your day?’ Yeah, there's a hell of a difference in saying three words or kinda just meaning two, there's a difference in ‘love ya’ and ‘I love you’ And I wanna be the difference, yeah I do.”

Finn was filled with so much love for this man he felt like his heart would burst, he simply basked in the warmth of Leos palm on his lower back pressing him close, and the feeling of his strong heartbeat against his cheek.

***

Logan was completely content to be tucked under Finns arm as they laughed with the crowd, cheering as James got thrown from the mechanical bull. The flashing lights nearly blinding and the music so loud if felt like it was vibrating his bones.

The team was high with adrenaline from their win against Dallas Logan could feel it buzzing through his veins along with the alcohol from his rum and coke. Everything felt warm and happy and when Finn threw his head back laughing Logan couldn’t help but press his lips to the exposed column of his throat, loving the way he could feel him swallow each sip of his drink.

Somehow despite his height Leo had disappeared into the crowd not long after the team had arrived loud and raucous in celebration. Logan glanced around searching for his tall frame but all he could see was a flood of cowboy hats and denim.

“I’ma get a new drink!” Finn yelled over the music, he held up his glass that was now only filled with ice for emphasis.

Logan nodded and let Finns arm fall from his shoulders, he instead snagged his hand and let Finn lead him through the crowd in the direction of the bar.

“What can I get y’all?” the bartender asked.

“Dark and Stormy for me, want anything Lo?”

Glancing down into his half full glass he shook his head, “Nah, I’m good.”

Finn turned back to relay the info to the bartender, while Logan let his gaze wander over the crowd once again.

“Hey, have you seen Nut at all tonight?” he asked Finn.

“Hmm, he said he was going to the bathroom back when we first got here. Haven’t seen him since,” Finn replied taking his cocktail from the bartender. However, Logan didn’t hear him because his eyes had locked on to a tall figure.

“Lo?” Finn asked following his gaze then letting out a gasp at the sight. Leo had fallen into formation with a massive group of people all following the same steps to the music booming through the bar. Somewhere along the way Leo had acquired a cowboy hat that had blue turquoise stones on it, the smile on his face was wide and bright and made like he was laughing, the flashing lights turned his pale skin blue and pink. Logan watched transfixed as he danced thumbs tucked into his pockets not missing a step.

Suddenly Leos eyes found him standing at the bar with Finn watching and his smile turned sultry as he rolled his body to the beat seemingly putting on a show for his boys. Once the song ended Logan lost sight of Leo in the crowd once more. That is until he felt strong arms wrap around him the heat of Leos body pressed flush against his back.

“Did you like watching me, Tremz?” Leo whispered against the shell of his ear making Logan shiver in his arms, the twang of his accent more prominent than normal.

“Nice hat, Nutter Butter,” Finn said with a smirk leaning forward to catch Leo’s lips in a kiss over Logan’s shoulder. Logan could feel Leo still swaying to the beat of the music his body moving with him almost involuntarily.

“Thanks baby,” he said with a grin when Finn finally pulled away. The music had shifted to something slow and Logan could feel his body relaxing further into Leos arms letting him move him with the rhythm. “Come dance with me, Lo?” he asked leaning down to press a soft kiss behind his ear.

“Oui,” he said sighing at the feel of his lips, “yeah, let’s go.”

Finn grinned watching as they made their way onto the dancefloor amongst the other swaying couples.

Leo chuckled when rather than taking his hand Logan simply wrapped both his arms around Leo’s waist letting the taller man lead them around the floor in circles. Logan sighed and buried his face against Leo’s chest. The two seemed to get lost in the movements, lost in the warmth of each other’s arms, in the lights, in the music until Leo cupped a hand against Logan’s jaw tilting his face upwards to look at him.

Logan’s breath caught at the sight of Leos eyes darker in the dim lighting only the flashing blue and pink casting them in color.

“Don't matter where we've been. No, there ain't no better view. Then you in my arms with my eyes on you. With my eyes on you.” The lyrics fell from his lip only a moment before Leo pressed them against Logan’s.

***

Leo could hear the music pouring from their apartment before he even reached the door, the floor seemed to be vibrating with the bass and in all honesty, he had no idea how someone hadn’t complained about it yet. Slipping through the door Leo kicked off his shoes and plopped the grocery bags he was carrying down on the counter, leaving them to search for the source of the loud music.

The moment he stepped into the living room Leo nearly choked on his laugh at the sight of Finn and Logan. As the music continued to spill from the speakers Logan was passionately lip-syncing into the handle of a broom while Finn was rocking air guitar a dust rag clutched in one hand, he watched as they jammed out to the loud music his face pulling into a bright grin. Somehow neither of them noticed as he slipped into the room that is until he turned the music down just a bit.

“Nutty!” Finn shouted throwing his arms open wide and wrapping him in a tight hug.

Leo kissed his cheek, “what are you guys doing,” he asked amused.

“Well, we were trying to clean,” Logan said gesturing widely with his broom, “but apparently you’ve been holding out on us. Why is your country music so catchy? And why can’t I stop listening to it?”

Leo cackled at his words, “it’s all part of my nefarious plan.”

“What nefarious plan?” Finn asked incredulously.

“Oh wouldn’t you like to know,” Leo smirked.

“Plan or not,” Logan said turning the dial to turn the music back up, “this music slaps! Come dance with us Nutty!” Logan shouted with a grin holding his hands out for Leo to take.

Leo rolled his eyes but smiled and took his hand pulling Logan into a spin, Leo could Feel Finns hands on his hips as they moved to the beat. The three of them moved together limbs tangling as they stumbled around their apartment spinning and twisting to the booming music. They laughed at how absurd they must look but basked in how perfect the moment was anyway.

Leo pulled each of them in for a kiss letting his love pour into each of them through his smile and his lips. As the next song on the playlist began reverberating through their home Leo threw his head back and let the words fall from his lips, “If it's meant to be, it'll be, it'll be. Baby, just let it be. If it's meant to be, it'll be, it'll be. Baby, just let it be.”

Leo had every intention of simply letting life be, and if he spent the rest of it just dancing with the men currently pressed on either side of him he was pretty sure that would be as close to perfect as life would ever get.

Read on AO3

[luca-moreno]

void

Luca word vomit idk

--

“You’re so fucking weird, Moreno,” one of the squad laughs as they haul on their packs.  

Earth isn’t at all what he expected.

Bootcamp isn’t either.

The hills in the distance look far away and the day is already hot. Luca feels sweat beading on the back of his neck, runs a hand over his freshly buzzed hair. He used to be so pale, now his skin turns darker shades he never realized could belong to him. He hates this harsh sun, the way its rays bite into his skin like tiny needles. It’s burning him, he thinks. He’ll wake up tomorrow red and sore. How did humans survive this long, on a planet trying to kill them daily?

He flashes the others a tight grin and a shrug and tries not to show on his face how the words bother him. “Yeah, I know.”

--

The wards weren’t friendly but neither was Earth or the Alliance.

But Luca puts his head down and he works. He runs the tracks, he climbs the walls, he shoots and swears and rolls and he keeps his head down and he’s just another inductee that his barely sixteen sol years flies under the radar to their eighteen. He’s baby faced and green and alone.

Nobody notices.

--

Wide hands gripped his shoulders and a smile flashed. “It’s not that long, Luca. You just gotta survive two more years. You can do it, I know you can.”

It was hard to hear over the din of the departure lounge. Luca’s throat grew tight as something akin to panic crawled its way up his throat. “I don’t... I know if I can. Not without you.”

Kiosho grins, mismatched eyes under a messy mop of blue trimmed hair. “Sure you can. Just don’t let them give you any shit. And Luca… even if you don’t feel it, bluff. They can’t tell the fucking difference anyway.”

--

He didn’t make the two years. He barely made it to one.

Code skittered across the screen of the terminal. His heart thumped so hard he could feel it in his ears. He cracked the firewalls like they’re nothing, swooped in and manifested a whole new reality and hoped it wasn’t a mistake.

It was… and it wasn’t and it still didn’t get him what he wanted.

--

The other boy notices Luca long before Luca notices him.

And why would he? He was just another tenderfoot, another one of the crowd, another pair of boots falling into line and pounding the pavement, another body in the mess hall trying to dig their way through the slop that’s considered to be their meals. Luca listens with half an ear as the gaggle of recruits around him bitch and moan about the food, picking at it unhappily but Luca remembers what it’s like to be hungry. He never protests.

The boy slides into the seat opposite him but Luca doesn’t look up.

“It’s your accent, you know,” the other boy tells him conversationally.

It takes a long moment before Luca realizes he’s talking to him. He looks up. “What?”

“Your accent. You probably don’t even realize it, but you do this weird little burr thing with all your words. Like drell and turians do.”

Luca lowers his fork slowly. He’s lost count of how many times he’s had to say it now. “I didn’t grow up here.”

“I know,” the other boy smiles. He has blonde hair, and eyes the colour of earth’s skies when they’re running drills in the daylight. “Neither did I.”

It’s hardly unusual, lots of the recruits where from all over the terminus systems, most shuttled back to Earth for training. Luca holds himself short of leaning into a kindred spirit, if that’s what he even was. He takes a closer look at the boy in front of him - pale skin, long fingers, lean limbed.

His mouth clocks it before his mind does. “Spacer.”

“Yep. I’m Saxon, by the way.”

“Um. I’m… I’m Luca.”

Saxon picks something off his tray and eyes it critically. He glances around before he shrugs and pops it into his mouth. “Sure beats keleven nutripaste, huh?”

Some of the tension around his shoulders seems to ease. “Yeah, it does.”

--

There’s a lot Luca finds he likes about Saxon, and some he doesn’t.

But mostly it’s how he doesn’t feel so… alien… when he’s with him.

Music croons in the background, some old earth song Saxon had dug up from the archives and Luca strums along on the battered guitar he’d scraped all his meagre credits together to buy. Smoke curls around them, a dusty tobacco that makes Luca’s nose itch and his limbs feel weak. Don't you want to be free? Do you like girls or boys?

“So, do you?” Saxon asks one night, slowly taking the guitar out of his hands. The clouds are rolling in, Luca can taste something in the air that leaves him shivering. The rooftop is his sanctuary.

“Uh, do I what?”

Saxon looms closer. “Do you like boys or girls, Luca?”

Luca’s skin prickles in awareness. In heat. “Boys,” he whispers.

Saxon’s teeth flash in the darkness, and he pulls Luca in.

--

Luca wakes up alone, head throbbing and thick with something that was once sweet now turned bitter. His body aches, sore in places that he didn’t want to acknowledge and marked with splotches that make him double take when he sees his refection in the mirror.

He runs a hand over the marks and smiles to himself.

The smile doesn’t last.

“Saxon, wait up!”

The gaggle of recruits don’t stop but Luca only focuses on one blonde head. He jogs to catch up, still calling out. “Saxon!”

Finally they stop and Luca can feel their eyes on him. “Uh. Wait, so. I just wanted to-“

“Hey, it’s the duct rat,” one of the men laugh. Barely a man, but solid enough to pass. “That’s what they call ‘em, isn’t it?”

Luca’s gaze swings to Saxon, willing him to look at him. He doesn’t.

��Sax-“

“Give it a rest, Luca,” Saxon shifts on his feet. A glance over his shoulder, a shared laugh and almost an apology but not directed at him. Luca isn’t always great with signals but he can feel the sudden unfriendly prickle in the air, the hostility.

You’re so fucking weird, Moreno.

He opens his mouth.

Saxon walk off.

--

It happens more than once.

--

It’s confusing, like trying to hold onto sand slipping through his fingers, up until it isn’t. He finds his space, amongst the twisted wires and loose threads, in the circuitry and flow of an electrical current. He always had an affinity for machines, for tech and code. There were no nuances to wade through. 

On or off, I or O. Luca always knew where he stood with his tech.

He chose a path and followed it to the end.

“Hey, Luca.”

Luca’s head snaps up. Saxon is a black shape blocking out the stars in his quiet place. He tenses as Saxon steps into the paltry ring of light thrown off his datapad and sits beside him on the threadbare rug.

“What do you want?” Luca asks flatly. His face still burns from being rebuffed. His ears still ring with the sound of their laughter.

Maybe the first time he might have been able to convince himself it didn’t mean much. A misunderstanding. A misstep. He’s had so many of those here. But by the second and the third it wasn’t possible to kid himself anymore. And Luca didn’t know what else to do, kept going back, pinging like a moth against the light. 

On or off. On. On. On.

“Come on, don’t be like that, Luc.” Saxon leans close. He smells like dried sweat and beer, smoky and apologetic as he nuzzles against Luca’s neck.

Luca tries to lean away. “What, so you suddenly remembered I exist?”

“Aw, like I could forget.”

“You tried pretty hard.” Luca tries to climb to his feet but Saxon’s hand snaps out to curl around his wrist. He grips tight.

“Luca, wait.”

“Let go, Saxon.”

“No, Luca. Come on, I’m… sorry, ok? Jesus, just… wait.”

The inside of Luca’s chest is desolate enough not to shove him away. Not yet. He hesitates, allows Saxon to draw him back down onto the rug. Stars slide overhead, a sparkle in the sky that leaves Luca homesick. He wants to curl into himself but he draws his knees up instead.

“You know, you’re kind of a dick, Saxon.”

“And you’re too much, Luca,” Saxon sighs. He slides closer, hands on Luca’s face. Heavy hands that Luca can’t twist away from. “You’re like a puppy trying to hump my leg whenever I turn around. You’re… loud.”

“I am not loud.”

“No, I mean,” Saxon rocks back and waves his hands over Luca, his face twisted into something pained. “This. You. Loud. You can be… suffocating.”

That stings. Luca scrambles back and Saxon lets him go. “You gotta give people a chance to breathe, Luca.”

--

On or off.

Flick, flick, flick.

Off.

--

His messages scattered to the four corners go unanswered for months. He doesn’t understand. He came all this way, sold his soul to get here and Kiosho was nowhere to be found.

Luca hunches over the terminal. Frustration squeezes his throat. He’s starting to unravel when he’s never been together in the first place.

“Hey, are you okay over there?”

The sob gets stuck as he sucks in a breath. Blue eyes skim him, kind and warm and more than he probably deserves.

“Sure,” he forces out brightly. Happy face, he tells himself. Squeezes away the dampness. Don’t let them see. “Guess I’ll try again tomorrow.”

--

Tommorow.

[No new messages]

And so on, and so forth.

--

Sand shifts under his feet. It doesn’t do that on the Citadel. The walls might shift, but the ground was never knocked out from beneath him.

He wheezes painfully as the screams echo. Dust, that every present choking dust billows up around him and there’s pressure and pain and something wet at the back of his throat. He tries to sit up but his body won’t listen to the signals his brain sends. There’s another boom, another shower of debris and screams and Luca’s world goes dark.

--

When he wakes up, it’s to silence.

The nurses lean over him, lights shine into his eyes, their mouths move but there’s no sound. No hum of the recycled air, no rustle of leaves as the wind brushes them, no stomp of feet on the sealed paths.

Just horrifying, terrible silence and Luca’s own thoughts and the desperate, sudden urge to claw his way out of his own skin.

He doesn’t realize he might be screaming until the prick of the needle slides through his skin.

Then he doesn’t feel much at all.

--

It takes him three months to heal his leg and adjust to his new ears. Some days are better than others and the headaches are somehow the worst part. He gets fast at signing to the OT’s and the doctor’s although they’re unimpressed at his mastery of signed curse words and not much else. For a while he’s angry but that takes too much energy and he can’t maintain it for long.

And stupidly, he waits.

The day they tell him they’re going to release him, he finally plucks up the courage to ask. “Did… did anyone visit?”

Where there any messages?

The nurse is sweet, green eyed, red hair and freckled all over her nose like stars in the black. She shakes her head, a smile that smacks too much of pity on her mouth. “No, I’m sorry, honey.”

“Oh.” Luca sinks back against the pillows. “Okay.”

--

The Alliance took his hearing and replaced it with something half baked, but it’s better than the silence so he doesn’t fuss. They haul him in front of the brass where the truth comes out in incriminating shades of glowing orange and textured lines. A deep dive that wasn’t deep enough, or too deep, depending on how you looked at it.

“Your ID is fake,” they tell him and Luca wants to protest because no, not really. He’s still him. He’s still Luca, some kid from the wards, too loud, too much to hold everything that vibrates inside his bones. It had taken the ride to Earth to be noticed and then the spat in the medical wing to be diagnosed. The meds helped. For the first time Luca’s world evened out.

“Altered,” he’s brave enough to say. “Sir.”

There’s a snap of brows over the datapad. Another officer with a chest full of medals coughs nearby.

“He’s two years in on his training. He’s the legally the right age now.”

“There has to be a consequence. What he did-“

“We’re short on bodies as it is. And with what’s coming... Well, this kid was determined enough to get here all on his own. We should use that.”

All eyes turn on him. “Is that true?”

Luca swallows. “Uh. Yes, sir.”

“Why? Why not just wait until you were of age?”

“I was trying to find my brother, sir.” I was trying to find home.

“And did you? Find him?

“No, sir.” Not yet.

There’s a rolling beat of silence that has Luca’s throat feeling thick. His stomach churns.

“Verdict?”

If they send him away, he has nowhere to go. The Alliance wasn’t home, but it was a purpose.

“Let him stay, but hold back that promotion.”

--

They send him to the edges of Council space. Too human for the wards, too alien for earth. The things that made him stand out under Sol’s light become useful out here. Batarian, Turian, Drell, even Krogan, familiar to his tongue, to his hands.

He’d almost laugh about it, if it didn’t fucking hurt.

--

It’s not the glory the recruitment posters promise them. Its blood and guts and screaming and the desperate search for the quiet space in his mind to give himself a moment to just think-

But bullets spray, shields go down, the turret jams.

They die.

They save the colony, but they die.

“Did you see that?” Checo wheezes from beside him. In the distance there’s the booms of biotic explosions and the flash of figures in armor he doesn’t recognize. They’re not alliance, he knows that much. He presses down on the hole in his side and wonders why it doesn’t hurt. It should hurt, right? The bullet tore right through him and blood leaks through his fingers.

He doesn’t know if he’s cut out for this.

--

Funny how the fates shift. How time and circumstance and one insignificant little moment can set him onto a path he has no comprehension of where it will lead. One second of hesitation, one shred through his flimsy armor that knocks him down but doesn’t kill him and leads him to this.

He’s shuffled into a new squad. Sometimes he’s loud, but they’re louder and Luca doesn’t need to squeeze into the places left behind because they make room for him. Fold around him like he matters. His commander even kisses his forehead like the mother he never had never did.

--

On or off.

Flick, flick, flick.

On.

--

The reapers wipe out so much of the fleet. Names of those lost scroll endlessly over terminal screens. A memorial wall crops up in the docking bay and in the ship. Thousands and millions gone.

Two names typed into a search, one the name that had started it all, the other he wonders why.

Too much, too loud.

He was never very good at letting go.

The terminal blinks.

[Personnel unknown]

But unknown was better than dead, right?

 --

[maylovexhs]

everytime - LOVE ME WRONG(Chp. 38)

Author’s Note: Miss Allie X and Troye Sivan is who to thank for this chapter. They really got me in my emotions. Enjoy this chapter loves! - May

Catch up on everytime here

November 27, 2019. 1 PM.

*Y/N’S POV*

I thought about it and no, I still have decided. It’s only been a week. I couldn’t possibly decide in a week. I wanted to be with Ashton. He was much better to me than Harry has been. I’ve only been with Ashton for three months. I barely gave him a chance compared to Harry. I loved Ashton. But if I loved Ashton so much, why did a part of me wish I was with Harry instead?

“Don’t you have one of those already?” Ashton asked me.

I held the guitar in my hand as I played a few strings on it.

“No” I said. “I have a blue color of it. Not an orange”

“You’re really going to pay for something you already have?” Ashton asked me.

I shook my head, putting the guitar back.

I was Ashton’s work. I surprised him with lunch and decided to stay around for another hour at his job. I wasn’t spending Thanksgiving with him so I decided to try and spend the day before with him. Ashton actually had invited me to spend Thanksgiving with his family but I refused. Firstly, I didn’t want to rub the sight of us in Billie’s. Secondly, I didn’t want to give Ashton’s parents hope that he and I will stay together because I had no idea of who to pick still. And thirdly, I would just be thinking of Harry the whole time there.

We heard the store’s door chime as a customer came in. Ashton and I looked to each other.

“Can I meet you after work?” Ashton asked me.

I nodded.

“Yeah” I said. “Your place. What time do you get off?”

“I close at 7” Ashton said. “So, 8:30 latest?”

I reached up and kissed his cheek.

“I’ll be there” I said.

Ashton smiled at me.

“See you soon” I said to him.

I turned away from him. I started to walk away before I Ashton call me.

“Y/N” Ashton said.

I turned around to him.

“Yeah?” I asked him.

Ashton opened his mouth to say something but quickly shut it.

“Ash,” I said. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing important” Ashton said. “I’ll tell you about it later”

“You’re sure?” I asked him. “I can stay another minute. I don’t have nothing to do for the rest of the day”

“Yeah, I’m sure” Ashton said. “Besides, I don’t want Ron thinking I’m not doing my job and fire me if he sees one more second of us”

I nodded at him.

“Okay” I told him. “But you’re telling me it later”

“I will” Ashton said.

I smiled at him. I turned away. I walked over to the door. I stopped to turn around and look at Ashton before I left. He was already talking to the customers who just walked in.

My smile slowly faded.

I exited out of the shop, beginning to walk down the block.

God, I hope Ashton won’t say he loves me. Not that I didn’t want him to say it or know he loves me, it’s just . . . I didn’t want to hear it now.

I knew Ashton loved me. He may have not admitted it directly but it was obvious ever since he flew to Paris for me. I knew Ashton loved me. I just didn’t want him to say it to me because if he does . . . I’ll have to say it back. Listen, of course I loved Ashton. He makes me so happy and I wouldn’t be with him if I did not love him a little. It’s just I am not quite ready to tell him I loved him, mainly because I was still thinking of Harry.

How could I tell Ashton I loved him when every time I looked at him I immediately think of Ashton? It was not enough I felt guilty for not telling Ashton about what happened last week. How could I even tell him? Ashton immediately suspected Harry was jealous of us after that night at dinner. I managed to quickly dismiss that possibility to Ashton since I thought Harry would never think of me in that way again. But now? If I told Ashton, I would just be confirming his suspicion and slightly be defending Harry.

I turned the corner of the block, walking towards my car.

I should have just told Ashton the day after Harry kissed me. I should have told him and I wouldn’t feel so guilty now. I told Ali I was going to tell him but I needed some days to think about what I was going to do with Harry. What was I going to do about Harry? I couldn’t tell Ashton about it and still be friends with Harry. That would be unfair to both of them. Ashton is my boyfriend. I’m supposed to be loyal to him and choose him above any other man. But Harry was my friend. I’ve known him longer than Ashton. How could I choose only one?

I took my car keys out of my bag. I unlocked my car, getting into the driver’s seat and closing the door.

I knew I had to tell Ashton at some point. I knew I had to do something about Harry too. I also knew I had to do both before it was too late.

I plugged my key into the ignition, the car turning on.

I just hope I would know soon or I would lose Ashton and Harry.

10 PM.

So far, nothing. I expected Ashton to tell me he loved me right away when I met him at his apartment but he didn’t. I was a little happy  he did not mention it to me yet. I would have no idea how to react if he did. All I had was Harry on my head. I couldn’t properly think of what to say if Ashton did say he loved me. But, on the other hand, I was surprised. If Ashton wanted to tell me he loved me, why didn’t he yet? Did he change his mind about telling me? If that was the case, did something happen that changed his mind? Did he know something about Harry and I?

Ashton entered his room, holding a bag of chips and a coke.

“As requested” Ashton said, smiling at me.

“I didn’t ask” I said. “But you know your way to my heart”

Ashton handed me the coke and the bag of chips. I sat on Ashton’s bed, watching the television. Ashton sat down next to me. I opened the can of coke and started to drink it.

No. Ashton couldn’t know about Harry and I. The only people I told were Ali and Izzy. Both didn’t have his numbers so there was no way he could know about Harry kissing me. But what about everything else between Harry and I? I didn’t tell Ashton that I dated Harry for a month before. I didn’t tell Ashton I wrote songs about Harry before. I didn’t tell Ashton anything apart that Harry was a very close friend of mine and I knew him for forever. Did Ashton know I had a history with Harry? I’ve always made it clear in the media that Harry and I were friends only but anyone could suspect more.

No, no, no. There was no possibility Ashton knew about my history with Harry. It wasn’t like he knew someone who wrote songs with me about Harry. . . OH MY GOD. BILLIE.

I choked on my coke. I coughed, clearing my throat. Ashton looked worried at me.

“Are you okay?” Ashton asked me.

“Yeah” I said, between coughs. “Drank too fast”

Ashton took the coke from my hand and put it on his bedside table.

“You’re almost done with the can” Ashton said. “Did you chug it?”

I shook my head, regaining my breath.

“Just thirsty” I said.

“I can see . . .” Ashton said.

I bit my lip, knowing how stupid I just was. I looked to television.

Billie, his sister. How could I forget about Billie? Billie - who practically knows everything about my love life just from my songs. Billie could have told him. She could have. But then again, Billie gave us her blessing. Why would she want to ruin something she wants to happen? It didn’t make sense.

I looked to Ashton.

Should I just ask him about it? Should I just mention to him about earlier? What’s the worst he could say? That he loves me? That Billie told him about Harry and I? He was going to find out anyway. Should I really just tell him now? It’s been a week. Maybe I should wait until after Thanksgiving. I don’t want to ruin this holiday for him. I could wait another week. I would know what to do about Harry by then-

“What?” Ashton asked me.

“What?” I said.

“You’re giving me that look” Ashton said.

I immediately perked up, smiling.

“What look?” I asked. “There’s nothing to worry about”

Ashton blinked at me, clearly not believing in me.

“Y/N,” Ashton said. “You just admitted something is wrong”

I frowned.

I’ll just ask him about earlier. I’ll just ask that and nothing else.

“Fine” I said. “Before I left . . . what were you going to say?”

Ashton smiled at me.

“Oh, that.” Ashton said. “I was going to ask you if you wanted to spend Christmas with my family”

I let out a little sigh, relieved.

Christmas? He wanted to ask me about Christmas?

“Oh,” I said. “Why didn’t you just ask me that?”

“I was going to but since you’re not coming to Thanksgiving, I didn’t want to make any false promises to my parents” Ashton said.

I smiled at him.

“Yeah . . . it’s good that you didn’t” I said.

Especially since I have no idea what to do about Harry or you yet . . .

“I mean, I would love to” I told him. “Anything could happen in a month and I usually spend it with my friends but I wouldn’t mind spending it with you and your family. Just thought you would ask me the week before”

“I was planning to” Ashton said. “Wanted it to be a surprise when I asked you”

“Oh” I said, looking down.

I scratched my neck, realizing I ruined Ashton’s romantic proposal. I looked up to him.

“Well, it could still be a surprise. . .” I said. “I’ll just forget about it and you can ask me a week before”

Ashton smiled at me.

“I will” Ashton said. “And not in my room”

I still smiled, looking back to the television.

I knew he couldn’t have known. If he did, he wouldn’t have asked me to spend Christmas with his family. I’m pretty sure if he did know, he would have broken up with me already and I wouldn’t be in his bedroom. But Christmas. . . he wanted to spend it with me. I never had a boyfriend invite me to spend Christmas with them. The closest I have ever received was Anne invited me to spend Christmas with her and Harry. But Harry’s my friend. He was when Anne asked me.

Ashton imagined a future with me. A future that I could actually share with him. A future where I could actually be happy.

I looked to Ashton.

If Ashton imagined spending his future with me, he deserved the truth at least. It was the right thing to do. Ashton would understand. Ashton knows I would never want to hurt him. He would know I never planned to kiss Harry back that night. I was with him. Not Harry.

“I need to tell you something” I said.

Ashton turned to me.

“You realized you can’t come to Christmas?” Ashton asked me.

“No, no” I shook my head. “It’s . . .”

How the hell do I tell him without making him upset?

“It’s what?” Ashton asked me.

I bit my bottom lip.

Well, here it goes . . .

“Harry and I kissed” I said.

“What?” Ashton asked me.

“We kissed” I said. “Well, he kissed me and I wanted to slap him for it. I ran away to my room from him but then he apologized and the next thing I knew was that I kissed him back”

Ashton didn’t say anything. He just stared at me.

“Ashton, say something” I told him. “Please”

“I knew it all along” Ashton said, looking down. “I knew he was jealous that night”

“Listen, I know how it sounds” I began to explain. “I told you he was a friend and I really thought we were because I never thought he would kiss me. Then he did and I wanted to tell you sooner but-“

“It’s okay” Ashton said.

“What?” I asked him, surprised.

“Harry kissed you” Ashton looked up to me. “And he’s your friend. You were confused and kissed him back”

“You’re not mad?” I asked him.

“Well, a little. . .” Ashton said. “This happened a week ago, right?”

I nodded.

“I wanted to tell you sooner but I’m still trying to think what to do about Harry” I said. “I didn’t want to tell you until I knew”

“And do you know?” Ashton asked me. “About what to do with Harry?”

I looked down, shaking my head.

“He’s one of my best friends” I said. “I know it’s wrong if I’m still friends with him after that while I’m with you but . . .”

“You can’t do that to him” Ashton said.

I nodded.

“Ever since he kissed me, all I ever think about is him” I told Ashton. “I swear I can’t even look at you because I just think of him. That’s why I didn’t want to spend Thanksgiving with your family. It would be torture. I’ve been trying to forget him but I can’t. . .”

“Do you think of him more than a friend now?” Ashton asked me.

I looked to Ashton. I knew the answer but didn’t want to say it.

“If I said yes, would that mean I’m horrible?” I asked him.

Ashton looked down. He sighed.

I immediately felt a wave of guilt hit me. I just admitted I had feelings for Harry. And to my boyfriend.

“You should talk to him” Ashton said under his breath.

“What?” I asked him. “I can’t. He kissed me. I shouldn’t even step a foot next to him-“

“Y/N” Ashton said. “Harry’s your best friend. I can’t force you to pick between me and him”

I stayed silent.

I knew how kind Ashton was but I never expected him to be this kind to me. He was putting my happiness above his. He was willing to give up me as long as I was with the right person. I knew he had to be hurt underneath his kindness.

“You need to do whatever is best for you” Ashton said. “If you need time, you should take it”

I felt my eyes water up. I hugged him.

“Why do you have to be so nice?” I asked him. “It just makes it worse”

“It’s part of my job” Ashton said. “I’m your boyfriend. I’m supposed to be”

“I don’t know if you will be anymore” I said. “I want you to be. I wish I just knew”

“It’s okay, Y/N” Ashton said. “I’ll be happy if you choose Harry. I just care if you are happy”

I cried into Ashton’s chest.

I wish I knew.

I wish I just knew.

[breakingsomething]

d-day

basic summary: on august 15th, 1998, stuart pot wakes up from a year long coma in a tesco's parking lot.

trigger warnings: blood, gore, eye horror, car accidents, talk of comas, abuse and manipulation. if anything else needs to be tagged please let me know

the first thing he noticed was that everything fucking hurt.

his ears were ringing. a sharp, rising pitch squealing louder and louder, crescendo of pain to fuel the pounding headache that was echoing in his temples. his whole body stung. fuck, but it felt like something ripping into him with every movement he made. it hurt, it hurt, it hurt. why - why couldn't he open his eyes?

then it hit him. his eyes were open, but he couldn't see. am i blind? was his first panicked thought, and he blinked, feeling something wet and hot pouring from his eyes. he immediately knew it wasn't tears. a trembling hand rose to his face and swiped under his eyes, feeling - blood, thick blood, all over him. fuck, he was blind and in pain and soaked in blood.

then he felt around him, fingers brushing over the ground. gravel. wet gravel, actually, and just as he noticed that, his ears popped and he could heat the sudden thunder of pouring rain, all around him. washing the blood from his skin. he blinked again, trying to force himself into a sitting position even as his body screamed in agony. his vision began to turn less black and more red, something flickering in front of his eyes. ok, so he wasn't blind, but there was certainly something wrong with his vision. everything was blurry. tinted red. nothing looking quite right. it just made his head hurt more.

he had to stand up. the rain slicked his fingers as he tried to get a grip, and he stumbled, head rushing as he finally managed to get into a proper sitting position. it was another long moment before he could actually get to his feet, legs shaking badly along with the rest of him. thunder roared in his ears. he stretched his arms out, trying to get his balance, and then - his vision began to clear, just enough for him to see.

he was in what looked like a parking lot. very dark, lit only by dim streetlights, surrounded by a wire fence around a plain building that he couldn't properly see for a moment until he recognized it as a tesco. there was only one car that he could see, a banged up vauxhall astra about thirty feet away, engine still running. he… he couldn't remember how he got here. he couldn't remember anything, actually.

fuck, fuck. why couldn't he remember anything? think, think, think - but his memories were so jumbled, nothing making sense. he remembered standing in a foggy football pitch, waiting for a ball to come as he shivered. he remembered climbing a tree, squealing for his mother to look at him. he remembered a dim class full of unformed children, all looking at him. but he couldn't remember his own bloody name.

then it hit him. stuart. my name is stuart pot, i'm eighteen, and i live in crawley, england.

"oi! oi, dents! come here!"

someone was... calling him. when he squinted, he could see that someone was leaning out the smashed windshield of the astra, waving and yelling. "look at you!" they called, cackling maniacally. "just - wow! this is fantastic!"

stuart really didn't know what else to do other than attempt to walk, but his legs gave out almost immediately and he crumpled to the ground, whimpering in pain. now that he could see, the blood all over his body was very visible, staining his ripped white shirt and blue jeans. when he scrubbed at his face, the back of his hand came away bright red. he retched, head spinning even more. what the fuck had happened to him?

"oh, you goddamn nutter," he heard from right in front of him, and stuart was dimly aware of someone wrapping an arm around his waist and half lifting, half dragging him across the parking lot. his eyes closed for just a moment, and then suddenly - "come on, don't fall asleep again. sweet satan, that's all you've done for the last bloody year."

he snapped back to consciousness, gasping slightly and then wincing in pain as his lip bust open again with the movement. he was inside the car now, and cold air was tearing through the smashed windshield, and he shivered. His head was spinning.

"stuart," came a voice. a nasally english accent, from right beside him. "good to see you finally up."

stuart turned to look at him, blinking rapidly to get his eyes to focus. the man had greasy black hair in what looked like both a mullet and a bowl cut, muddy olive skin and hetrochromatic eyes, one black, one red. his nose was busted, and when he grinned, he showed crooked yellowy teeth. he was wearing a plain grey shirt, and around his neck glinted a golden, upside down cross.

"not much to say?" the man asked, snorting loudly. he tapped his painted black nails off the steering wheel. "i mean, i suppose i have to cut you the smallest bit of slack. you have just woken up from a year long coma, after all. it was me who woke you, by the way! really, you ought to be saying thanks!"

stuart opened his mouth, but his throat was so dry that all he could do was cough wildly into the air. the other man sighed. "bloody christ, at least cover your mouth - you're bleeding all over my car, dents, my car! here, i - don't have water, but i have some rum, if that'll do? drink up, gather your strength."

the man grabbed stuart by the chin and lifted a bottle to stuart's lips. the harsh smell hit him first, and he choked when the liquid met his lips, the taste so strong it burned the wounds on his mouth. he drank it regardless, despite being dizzyingly aware that alcohol wouldn't quench his thirst at all. "fuck," he coughed, and his vocal chords screamed as he spoke for the first time in god knows how long. "i - fuck."

the other man laughed. "what, you sleep for a year and when you wake up, all you can say is "fuck?" me too, pal, me too." he slapped stuart's back hard, making him cough again, blood dribbling down his chin. he grimaced, wiping it away, and then turned to study the mullet man again. he looked rather amused, his lips turned up in a sneer. "i take it you have questions?"

stuart could barely think, his mind moving sluggishly slow. eventually, he landed on one thought. "what… happened to your car?"

there was a pause before the man with the mullet spoke again. "i've just told you that you've been in a year long coma and you want to know what happened to my car?"

stuart hummed, unable to manage much else. the other man scoffed in disbelief. "you really wanna know? alright. you were sitting in the backseat without a seatbelt while i was doing 360s to impress some girls - speaking of, they're fucking gone, and i blame you for that - oh, yeah. and you flew through the windshield."

stuart took a minute to let that sink in. "i flew through the...the windshield?"

the man groaned impatiently. "satan's knickers, yes, are you thick? are you deaf as well as an idiot?" he rolled his eyes, glancing back out the window. stuart blinked again, still attempting to process what the absolute hell was happening.

"why 'm i alive, then?" stuart mumbled. the world was spinning, and he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the wonderfully cool dashboard. "should be dead if i fuckin'... flew out a - a window."

something clicked somewhere in the car, and the man made a strange rumbling sound deep in his throat. "dunno if you've noticed, faceache, but you're not exactly normal, are you. look at your bloody eyes! and when i say "bloody eyes," i mean "bloody eyes." take a peek in the mirror here, it's practically snapped off anyway."

stuart sat up again to see his face in the mirror that the other man had removed from the top of the car, and - fuck, he almost threw up. his face was ruined, scrape marks all over his cheeks and forehead, blood dripping from his nose and mouth and eyes, his eyes - his eyes were a near solid black, his pupils barely visible as red specks in the sea of darkness. his azure blue hair was tangled, matted with blood and dirt. he looked disgusting. he looked like a fucking zombie.

"not exactly gorgeous, but you're certainly something," stuart heard the other man say, and the mirror was taken away and placed on the dashboard. stuart's eyes followed it as it went. "you have a spark that i can't quite explain, you know? beautiful in your own way. tall and pretty, the spiky blue hair, the eyes… wow. you're something, dents. you're something."

"a zombie," stuart managed, and his stomach lurched. "am i dead? is this hell?"

a roaring laugh from the man. "not quite yet, pal, although we're very close. fucking crawley basically is hell, if you ask me." he brushed some glass off the dash to the floor, kicking it with his heeled boots before glancing back up stuart and wincing. "satan's arse, you are still bleeding."

"should i go to hospital?" stuart asked, furrowing his brow. "also, i… why was… why was i in a coma?"

the man laughed harshly. "sweet satan, there is it. took you long enough to ask the most obvious question. what do you remember?"

stuart thought back. memories flickered like scenes from a movie - places, people, words. "i remember… a shop. it sold, uh…" keyboards, guitar strings, picks, drum sticks. "music. a music shop. i, uh, i think i worked there."

the man leaned back in his seat, unfolding his legs so he could prop his feet up on the dashboard. "clever boy, dents. keep going."

stuart wiped his nose on his torn, used-to-be white shirt sleeve, goosebumps rising on the back of his neck. "i worked there as a… a saturday boy. i was saving up for, uh, something. what was it… don't remember. i liked keyboards. i think i played? and i remember…"

he remembered screeching tires and smashing glass and dark shadows falling over him and screaming customers and not being able to move, frozen to the spot, eyes wide, the sunlight blocked out by the black underside of the car, closer, closer, a cry tearing from his own throat, someone in the front seat -

"i got hit by a car," stuart said, and his voice was hoarse, eyes wide as he remembered. "someone drove a car through the shop window and - hit me."

"mm-hm," the other man confirmed, nodding. "and how long ago was that?"

stuart… couldn't remember.

"a year ago," said the man, and he leaned back further, the tops of his boots sticking out the windshield. "the driver put you in a year long coma. permanently damaged one of your eyes, too, gave you an eight ball fracture. although it seems that after you flew out the car just there, you've now got two matching ones. very sorry."

he didn't sound sorry.

stuart took in a breath, digging his nails into the car seat in an effort to stay conscious. "i've been in a coma for a year, right. got hit by a car, half blind… woke up when you threw me out the window?" he looked to the other man for confirmation, and he nodded. stuart swallowed, licking his lips. "right. why am i… why… am i here now?"

the man scratched his nose, staring out the car window into the black night sky and at the building behind them. "the driver of the car that hit you - a man named murdoc niccals, real fantastic name - he was arrested and tried. got 30,000 hours of community service, or 1,250 days, if you will. along with that, the poor bastard was sentenced to look after the comatose boy he hit with his vauxhall astra for ten hours a week. one day he drove stuart out to a tesco parking lot and was performing tricks with his car to impress some women and little stuart, who murdoc had forgotten to buckle in, flew out the windshield and the rest was history."

they went silent. a bad feeling began to sink in stuart's stomach, making him feel sicker.

"what's... your name?" he said eventually, his voice small with fear.

the man grinned sharply. "murdoc niccals."

the only sound was a streetlamp outside flickering softly, until stuart suddenly threw the door open and threw up on the pavement, vomit just barely missing splattering the door.

"shit!" he heard murdoc swear from inside, hissing softly as he climbed over to take stuart's shoulder. stuart shrugged him off, heat burning his face. "don't be sick on my car, fucking hell -"

"you hit me with a car?" stuart gagged, coughing and wiping his mouth. "you? and i've just been - sitting here, talking to you - is this a joke to you or something?"

murdoc cackled, pulling stuart back into the car. "no, but it certainly was fun watching you as you realized. you went dead pale, mate, i thought you were gonna pass out. hey, you don't need to worry now. you're awake, so you're fine."

stuart suddenly turned and tried to grab murdoc's arm, but was too weak to do much other than brush against him limply. murdoc didn't even try to stop him, simply smirking. stuart fucking hated him. "you did this to me," he practically sobbed, and his eyes were burning painfully, along with the rest of him. everything hurt. "you - why - i'm just - i don't understand, it hurts, it hurts, i don't understand."

murdoc suddenly reached for stuart, making the boy flinch, but he just wrapped an arm around him, pulling him in to rest against his shoulder. "don't need to worry now," he said softly. "you're alright."

and stuart hated how he melted into him, sobbing into the man's chest, his blood pounding in his ears, adrenaline rushing through his veins. he was scared and exhausted, and everything hurt, and he was just so… done. he was disgusted with himself and shook with the self hate, but still didn't pull away. he just needed some reassurance that he was still real. that this wasn't a fucked up nightmare.

"i have a question," murdoc said, and pushed stuart away even as he trembled, protesting softly. his eyes were yellowing, like his teeth, his skin sallow and nearly grey. stuart hated how he wanted to hug him again. "stuart pot. what a name. you worked in a music shop, so i take it you play?"

stuart nodded tearfully, rubbing his hands up and down his arms. "'m best at keyboard, but i also play melodica, and, uh, guitar. can play a bit of bass, some drums, but i'm not very good at them." he paused. "i also play banjo."

murdoc rolled his eyes. "alright, we get it, you're a one man show. i bet you got all the ladies in crawley, eh, dents? making them weak in the knees with your bloody sea shanties, i'm sure."

stuart scowled, leaning back against the car seat. his mouth tasted of copper and bile, and thinking about it made him want to throw up again. "sod off. i have a name, by the way. you said it already. why dents, of all things?"

murdoc tapped the side of his head with a grin. "dents, cause of your two dents? in your head? blimey, you're not the brightest bulb in the box, are you, stewie?" he cackled harshly, shaking his head. "you need a new name if you're gonna be in my band."

stuart's lips parted slightly. "i'm sorry, what?"

murdoc threw up his hands, groaning loudly. "yes, that's why i'm asking what instruments you play! sweet satan alive, you're killing me, double dents." he paused and shook his head. "nuh-uh. awful name, crossing that one off the list. moving on -" he looked stuart right in the eye. "can you sing?"

stuart considered. "i… guess. yeah. i like to. don't know how good i am, but i like it."

murdoc flashed a grin. "perfect," he growled, and the look in his eyes made stuart lean back in panic. "you'll be fantastic as my frontman, then."

stuart immediately shook his head. "no. i'm not - i'm not interested, thank you."

murdoc rolled his eyes. "oh, no. you don't get a choice. we've still got about 20,000 hours together with me as your caretaker, two-dents. besides, what else are you gonna do? go back to work? you were let go. see your family? they don't want to even look at you anymore. go to college? ha, like you've got the brains." he raised his eyebrows, waggling them unappealingly. "come on, give it up. join me."

stuart sank lower in his seat, something cold burning in his chest. "what do you play?"

"bass," murdoc said immediately. he stuck out his tongue and mimed playing, kicking the remaining glass off the windshield. "sold my bloody soul to play. satan himself gave me my instrument - el diablo. most beautiful bass in the world, if you ask me."

stuart couldn't tell how much of that was a joke. he sighed, wiping more blood off his forehead. his migraine was only getting worse the longer he was conscious.

"if you'll join me," murdoc continued, and god, stuart wished he'd shut up, "which you will - i'll show you everything i know about the music business. which is a lot. i've been in a few bands before in my life. ever heard of "murdoc's burning sensations?"

stuart shook his head.

"no? you sure? come on, we were famous in the early nineties."

"sorry," stuart said. "i don't know."

murdoc muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like "kids these days."

"i'm still just confused," stuart said softly. his head was spinning. "i… i don't feel well. what even happened in the year i was out?"

"mhm, not much," murdoc said nonchalantly, twirling a hand in the air. "we're in bloody crawley. what do you expect to have happened? tim who bartends at the sitting duck got a divorce from his bird who's thirty years younger than him? nothing happened, no one missed you. there's no flowers or get well soon cards waiting for you. no one gives a goddamn shit."

stuart stared out the shattered windshield, eyes unfocused.

"no one cares about you," he heard murdoc continue. "no one loves you. no one has even thought about you for a long, long time. you're alone. why do you think i'm the one caring for you?"

they went very silent.

"if i join your band," stuart said quietly. "what does that mean for me?"

murdoc sighed, pulling his legs down and bringing them up to his chest. "you leave this place behind and come with me. shouldn't be too hard, eh? what's left for you here but knobs and bellends?" he suddenly took one of stuart's hands. "so what do you say?

what does he say, indeed.

"where do we go from here?"

murdoc smiled, and it wasn't quite genuine, more menacing. more a hint of what's to come.

"my place, first," he said, and started the engine, switching the gears. stuart jumped, scrambling for a seatbelt, heart already racing. "then… the world, babey!"

"the world," stuart echoed, clenching his fists in his lap. "are you legally allowed to drive in a car with half the windows missing?"

"nope," murdoc said, pulling the car out of park. "if it makes you feel any better, i don't have a license."

"that makes me feel a lot better, thanks."

"any time, 2D."

stuart blinked. "2D?"

murdoc grunted, reaching down to pick a bottle up off the floor and take a swig. "short for two-dents. you can sign it like the number "2" and then the letter "d." you like it? i think it sounds bloody fantastic, not going to lie."

stuart considered. he… he was leaving his life behind, wasn't he? leaving everything. might as well. might as well change. might as well be someone else.

"i think," the boy said, testing the waters. "i like it."

"good," murdoc said. "ready for your future?"

2D nodded, ignoring how his head pounded. "definitely."

they pulled out the parking lot, glass sliding off the front of the car as they hit a pothole. 2D leaned back in his seat, letting his eyes close, listening to this man he'd just met, this man who'd hit him with a car, listening to him chatter and drink as he drove them out into the street. and 2D wondered if he'd just made the biggest mistake of his life.

[nightwingshero]

Unwanted

Okay guys, so I’ve been working on two different stories for FC5: one that follows the game and the other is a burlesque/mafia au that I couldn’t get out of my head. This is the first piece of work I’ve posted for Wren and John, and its for the burlesque au. I’m going to be posting my work on AO3 soon, but I got really excited about this and wanted to share it! Trigger warning for some alcohol use and dark thoughts, so read at your own risk!

Her green, venomous eyes were taunting. She sneered at everything that came across her withering gaze, her hips swaying with a little extra effort to gain the attention from those around her. It was in vain, of course, with Rowan’s performance still in full swing. But that didn’t stop this woman from holding her head high as she looked down her nose to our dancers. We’ve had people in here before from the first class. Most of the time, they were pleasant, friends of Whitney or John. Some just stopping through to check out the club they’ve heard so much about, but that southern charm had never failed. Until now.

She flipped her platinum blonde hair, the curls catching the little light that created the ambiance. Her short emerald dress hugged her curves, showcasing her breasts perfectly. I was almost impressed. I shifted a bit, fidgeting with the material of the outfit I wore for my last performance. I was talking to John before he had ducked outside to take a call from a client. I stood there, waiting for his return, but as her gaze narrowed on me, I knew I was in for it.

“Where’s John?” she asked in a clipped voice. I would have thought her beautiful, if her personality had matched. I frowned at her.

“I’m sorry, he’s not available. May I ask who’s asking?” I asked in curiosity. John had people come in here and there, asking for his time. This wasn’t new. He would brush them off, telling us to make sure to ask who they were and why they wanted to see him. He was so allusive here, insistent that his business hours were always clearly communicated. If those expectations weren’t met, then too bad. He took his schedule seriously.

She sneered at me, her glossy lips shimmering with her teeth. “I’m his fiancée. Now, go tell him that I’m here.” My brows shot up in surprise as my heart stopped. Fiancée? He had never mentioned…

“I didn’t realize he was engaged.” I replied quietly, hoping to keep the disappointment hidden. I felt deflated, as if someone had poked a hole in me. I wanted to stay neutral, not give away how my heart sank to the pit of my stomach at the thought of it. But she smirked, her green eyes twinkling.

“Well, he is.” She let out a little laugh. “Its cute, you know? This little crush you have.”

“I don’t—”

“Oh please.” She snapped. “It’s so obvious. He probably already knows. You wear it on your sleeve. It’s disgusting and pathetic.” She clicked her tongue as she gave her a look of pity. “Let me guess, you’re some country girl from the middle of nowhere who is trying to make it in the big city. Am I right?” I don’t answer. I’m raging, the blatant rudeness wiggling under my skin. But I can’t seem to defend myself. My tongue feels heavy and the tears are coming. It only fuels her, knowing she is so close to making me collapse into myself like a house of cards.

“Oh honey, did you really think he would go for that? Some little girl playing dress up when she belongs back on the farm? You’re way out of your league.” She steps closer, placing a hand on my shoulder as she squeezes with a false sense of reassurance. As if we were in this together, the two of us against the world. “Honestly, I’m doing you a favor. Saving you from the humiliation of rejection. John has standards, a particular taste darling. And this? This isn’t you. It’s not fitting in the slightest. Whore isn’t exactly on John’s radar. He prefers women of class, love. You’re beneath him. It’s time for you to understand that you’ll never be good enough for him.” She smiles again, before rubbing her hand on my cheek. Then with a slight smack against my skin, she’s gone, and my eyes are catching Whitney’s shocked ones.

The room spins as I lean against a chair for support as Whitney tries to call for me. Fight or flight is strong in my veins, roaring in my ears as my stomach twists and twists, creating something I don’t recognize within me. Reforming, as I stumble to the back, desperate for something I can cling to, something real I can put inside myself to make me real. I’m a ghost of something as I gather my things to leave. The breath in me is gone, forcing me to choke on the stale cigarette smoke Adelaide is supplying. I’m almost in a trance, and yet I feel some sort of clarity. The fantasy broken like a magic mirror, and suddenly I am seeing my true self in the broken pieces lying before me. I barely register Faith’s words, but I’m sure she’s asking if I’m alright. I smile, say yes, pretend that I’m still the same person on that stage. She’s not convinced and so I tell her I’m going home. My sleeve must be dirty from everything that shows there.

I leave quickly, feeling like a fool. Perhaps I should laugh, like most clowns do, pulling all those emotions out of my sleeve like a colorful handkerchief chain. That would require a voice, something I was lacking. A mime would be more fitting. My body the tool, invisible and locked inside a box I created for myself as I tried to put on a display. A vision no one had wanted, the piece of art that sat in the back unwanted. I forced a sob down as I entered my car, fumbling for the keys.

I wish I could say that I remembered getting to my apartment. Out of character for small town Wren, sweet little Wren. The box was closing in, my chest threatening to implode. I let go, the tears and sobs forcing my body curl into itself on my bed. The little moments were a mirage, something my naïve brain believed to be something more. How many times had he been there to protect me? His bullet wound had only just healed. How many times had he saved me? The disaster of a date with Detective Pratt merely weeks ago. I could still taste the fear on my tongue as Pratt plied me with glass after glass of wine. The gentleness in which John had handled me, almost caring. Like I was the most fragile thing in his world.

I scream them into my pillow, the broken pieces of my heart. Pieces of my soul shattering like the illusion of him, the illusion of what I thought we could have become. I breathe in deeply and that’s when I feel the shift, the steel resolve of my psyche overcoming me. It’s the numbness I notice first, turning my sobs into nothing. I rise, making my way to the kitchen like a vengeful spirit that is the one being haunted. The vase is crystal, a gift from Adelaide for the new place, but it’s the flowers I want. He had them sent to me, celebrating our big show only a few nights prior. I laughed to myself, remembering the rush I had felt. For the first time, I had felt high. Elated.

I swayed, humming to myself a bit as I made my way to the bathroom. Turning the chrome handle, I began to run the hot water, desperate to feel the burn against my skin to help me rid myself of her touch. To purge the gaze that had taken me in with such disdain, as if I was a stain upon this earth. Her tainting touch scorched my skin, leaving an invisible mark that only I could see. That I could feel. And with that, I ripped the soft petals from the stems, allowing them to sprinkle down into the water. They dance across the surface, a secret waltz that only they knew.

One by one, I light candle after candle, a dark ritual that was only just beginning. My hair is twisting up and up, piling elegantly on top of my head, and then I’m dipping into the water. The warm, baptizing water welcoming me, loving me as it takes me as I am. Scars and all, it holds me securely in it’s embrace. I could almost hear the shushing of its calming voice, almost feel the comforting fingers of my mother as she played with my hair. The ghost of her was almost enough, pushing me back to a time where I didn’t have to feel the weight of loss or rejection.

And suddenly, her ghost is gone. Blue eyes have taken over haunting me, her fingers replaced by his tattooed ones. He plays me like a harp, pulling my tight strings just so he could hear me sing, watch as I move with a simple flick. The hypnosis of his ocean eyes is deep and tempting, calling for my drowning. They wish to claim my last breath, the very last bit of my being. And I’m rising from the water, panic clawing my throat because I can feel the pull, feel his gaze as I felt hers. I fight off the tears that demand to be seen, that want the show they so rightfully deserve. It was only fair, my heart screams, but I laugh at it. Life is never fair.

I stand naked in the mirror, but I see her standing next to me. The blue bloods that own this city, the embodiment of the perfect Georgia peach. A woman I could see John taking by the waist with pride. Her red lips and dark lashes, the long neck and golden blonde hair on display for all to see. My body not nearly as lean or as striking. I imagined her in her castle as a child, the beautiful princess of Atlanta, ruling her kingdom with her head held high. My childhood filled with softball tournaments and the old beaten up acoustic guitar that slept in the corner, while she attended operas and orchestra concerts. A culture I had never dreamed of, a social circle that could never be touched by the likes of me.  

I dry my skin, the feeling of being paper thin is overwhelming. I laugh to myself, because I know what comes next. I know what I’m about to do. It’s silly, childish, and yet I glide to my dresser. Slowly, I pull out my favorite number, something I had always imagined wearing for him. Not on stage, no. This was something for him and him alone. I put on the bra, the black lace striking against my skin and suddenly I’m untouchable. Slipping on the lacey underwear to match, I turn to my closet, desperate for the last pieces. The silk ebony robe sending shivers down my spine as it caresses me, and it’s as if I’m being held in my lover’s arms. The heels are last, simple and elegant. Tall and black, two thin straps leaving my feet bare, the same shoes I had worn to my father’s funeral. I felt like death herself, all powerful and ready to take whatever she wanted. Provocative and demanding, a queen among men.

My hair is released, falling like a waterfall down my back. It felt good to pretend, to believe in this moment that I was like her, that I wasn’t me. That I was a woman that was cherished and wanted, an envy-worthy being. I reason with myself; I know I’ve gone mad. I had fallen off the deep end and taken flight, and it had never felt better. The feeling addicting, the need for more growing and growing. The heels clicked against the wood floor, fueling me. The righteousness they sang, the vengeance they demanded, it became a soothing lullaby.

The kitchen is dark, only the light above the stove and sink burned with life. I reached for the most expensive red wine I had, pouring a glass with a smile of satisfaction. The blood red liquid was all consuming, drawing me closer. The dark, bitter taste becoming my sanctuary, but I wasn’t done. No, far from it. And as I sat down at my small vanity back in the bathroom, I choke yet again on a sob, and force out a laugh instead. I had a plan, a traitorous plan against the tears that begged for the freedom they longed for. I knew how to trick the emotions into becoming wisps of smoke on the inside of my porcelain glass exterior. I had never been an artist, but I paint. The burgundy against my lips, the black liquid liner creating sharp edges that would dare touch without permission. The brush then creates a frame for the windows of my soul, residing in the blue green irises staring back at me. They’re heavy, sad even, but the mascara does its job and I finish with a flourish.

I’m suddenly beautiful, a perfect doll someone would love to have, to play with, and have on their arm. I wonder briefly which arm he would use to put around my own waist, and suddenly my vision swims. I scoff as I hold my head high and take a sip in victory, toasting myself for outsmarting the betrayal of my heart that suddenly matched the blue of his eyes. I was so strong, I told myself. I was better. But as I held the glass gently, it became comforting to me, whispering sweet nothings and promising me a numbness that kept me safe and sound. I knew I was lying to myself. I was far from better.

A sound pulls me from the calling, and I set the glass down as I rose. The noise led me to my bedroom window, finding a cat messing with some metal trashcans as it scavenged for its next meal. Then I hear the soft clicking of my front door, and I scoff while squeezing my eyes shut momentarily. I should have known. Rowan was the only other one with a key, and I could almost bet that Faith had sent her my way. The wine’s singing int the next room, creating an atrocity of noise in my head. Perhaps just one glass, just to get the noise to go away. To make everything quiet.

Rowan would wait patiently in the living room; she respected my privacy. She wouldn’t just wander around. No, she would sit on the couch or at the kitchen table, preparing for whatever conversation she had planned on having. “Rowan, I’ll be out in a moment.” I call out in a sigh, letting her know I was aware of her and wasn’t being ignored. “I hope your show ended well. Sorry I wasn’t there to see the grand finale.” Every word was an effort, taking energy away from me. I wanted nothing more than to be alone.

I give only a few more seconds as I come to my decision and began making my way back to my bathroom. I could down the glass quickly. Rowan gives no response, but I don’t mind. It doesn’t matter. But as I step into the bathroom, I freeze. The blood in my veins suddenly turn to ice and my breath hitches. The glass was missing, as if it were never there in the first place. Sad and confused, I approach the vanity. The red wine, that had matched my lips, was gone. Staring at the reflection in the mirror, I’m reminded that I could never be her, or any of them. The beautiful women that could seduce him with just a soft smirk, a glance in his direction as her finger curled, beckoning him closer. I cringe as I turn away. I didn’t need another reminder that I wasn’t good enough.

“Rowan, give it back. I’m fine. Let me finish my fucking wine.” I stomp down the fall, my heels screaming their wrath. That’s how I enter my kitchen, ready for war, but I stop as something catches my attention. I make my way to the sink in a daze as I reach for my empty glass, the stain from my former lipstick taunting me. The wine bottle is set down and I reach for it, not caring of the guest I had yet to acknowledge. The lightness of the glass bottle tells me exactly what I had been thinking, it had not been spared. Everything was empty, just like me.

I slam the bottle down as I clench my teeth, seething. I wanted to scream, to see the world burn with the rage I was feeling. “Rowan!” I snap and I begin to shake, but whether it was from anger or the lack of control, I wasn’t sure. “Are you fucking kidding me? I barely had any—”

I’m no longer yelling but choking on the gasp that rushes out as fingers caress my neck, a hand gripping my hip tightly. They tease at the base of my neck before tracing my collarbone. The hand on my hip is sliding and sliding until its entangled with the knot of my robe. I know this touch, this gentle melody against my skin. The same gentle caress that ran over my skin as he marked me, embedding his creation into my skin with his dark ink. A permanent work of art that would be displayed on me for the rest of my life, and then suddenly he grasps my neck, squeezing only slightly. I knew what this was. I knew that this was a punishment, his own way of showing his disappointment for my lapse. He wouldn’t hurt me, I trusted him, and I knew that concern was driving his anger. My head rests against his shoulder as his lips find my ear.

“Promise?” he asked, dead serious. His breath makes me shiver and I breath out slowly through my nose. “Promise me that that’s all you had, Wren. Do not lie to me.”

“I promise, John.” I whispered in shame. He knew, god he knew. I was usually good, drinking only in moderation and at social events. I was so careful. But he knew, in this moment, that I had no intention of stopping. I was so swept up in the hurt, in the insecurity and anxiety, that I hadn’t realized how quickly I was falling down the rabbit hole. I make a sound at the back of my throat, and I feel my armor began to fall, disintegrating into nothing as I’m fighting the tears that are coming back.

He doesn’t give me the opportunity to cry. His lips find the junction of my neck and I sigh. Rowan wouldn’t have taken that step, pouring everything I had down the sink. That just wasn’t how she was. She would have lectured, sure. Express disappointment? Absolutely. John wasn’t like that. John was bold, unafraid of anything that ever came his way. I let out a shaky breath as he pulled away, his hand leaving my neck as his finger gently turned my chin. His lips found mine and I couldn’t think.

How long had we skirted around this? How many times had we came this close, but never crossed the line? The stolen glances, the shameless flirting. The way he held me the night I was almost shot in the alley, and yet neither of us were willing to take it further. I could almost laugh, because I had thought for so long it was just me. I was crushing on someone way out of my league. I had believed the words that woman had said. And suddenly, I remembered exactly why I was in this situation. I’m his fiancée.

He pulled away as the tears fell, and I looked away from him. He wasn’t having it. Gripping the front of my robe, he jerks me around. It takes only a few seconds for him to see, and without missing a beat, his hands are on my thighs. He sets me up on the counter as a sob successfully, finally, escapes my lips. His hands cradle my face as his thumbs wipe the tears away. His eyes are soft and they’re pulling me in, a tug on my seams as I become undone. I tore my gaze away, trying to hide everything I was feeling.

“Look at me.” He whispers, his face close enough that I can feel his breath. I looked back, fear and hurt all over my face. “Listen to me and listen very closely. You are enough. Do you hear me? Wren, you are enough.”

“Enough for you?” I croaked as I cried. My hands twisted as the clung to his white button up shirt. I was creating wrinkles, but neither of us cared. His brow furrowed and his jaw ticked.

“Enough for me? God Wren, who gives a shit about me?” He gently pokes my chest, against my beating heart. “It doesn’t fucking matter what I think or what anyone else thinks for that matter. Anyone.” He sneered as a dark look swirled in his cerulean orbs. “All that matters, is that you’re enough for you. You matter, Wren. You come first.”

“But that woman said—”

“That woman is nothing. Her opinion is nothing. She will never touch you, or get close to you, do you understand? She’s a liar and a manipulator. A child throwing a tantrum for not getting what she wants.”

I shook my head, my insecurities still whispering doubts. “She’s so pretty, John. She’s so thin, and I’m nothing like her. I’m not like her.” I sobbed.

He chuckled, a soft smile gracing his lips and showing off his perfect teeth. The light gave him a heavenly glow, yellow highlighting his features that made him look warm. “No, you’re not. You’re nothing like her, Wren. But that’s one of the biggest things I love about you.” He gently pressed his thumb against my lips, helping silence my sobs as I hung onto every word. “Shhh. Don’t cry, darling. Do you not see? Do you not understand just how beautiful you are, inside and out? Do you not know what it is you do to me?”

“John—” I gasped, but he presses his lips softly against mine before pulling back.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this? I’ve thought of little else since I’ve first laid eyes on you.” He whispers. “I get to watch you, Wren. I get to watch you every night when you perform, and I want nothing more than to devour you, to have you all to myself.” He tugged the robe loose, making it fall open and his eyes travelled down. My skin heated immediately from his attention, his finger returning to my chest as it teasingly traced the top of my breast. “I waited, bidding my time for the perfect moment. It never seemed to come, though, and I had to watch as that idiot detective circled you. But I protected you when you needed, listened to you when you needed the shoulder to cry on. I wanted you, craved you, but needed you to be happy, to be ready and unafraid. I wanted to take my time with you, but I can’t keep my fucking hands off you.”

I laughed and his smile broadened as he leaned back. “So…you’re not engaged?”

He scoffed. “Hell no. We used to be, but that was years ago. She’s nothing to me.” He placed a light kiss on my nose, before going for my lips, but I stopped him. He gave me a look and I smirked.

“Did you break into my apartment?” I asked, my brow raising, and he gave me a smirk in return.

“Oh darling, I plead the fifth.”

“So, that’s a yes.”

“It is not. Need I remind you that I’m innocent until proven guilty?” he asked, a breathless laugh escaping him. He gave me a mischievous smirk, something dancing in his eyes that made my lower abdomen pull as I bit my lip. “I heard about what happened, Whitney told Rowan and I everything. Rowan was enraged, I believe she may or may not have taken a swing at our unwanted guest. I didn’t stay though, I needed to check on my girl.” He tilted my chin up gently, his lips brushing mine lightly. “And you are my girl, aren’t you darling?”

“Yes, John. I’m yours.” I breathed out and his lips crashed against mine once more. Everything forgotten as a sense of relief settled over me. My heart swelled as his hands caressed lovingly against my skin, holding me, and driving the last of my inner demons into the shadows as I fell into his sweet embrace.

[serendipitous-magic]

Director's Cut: Real Season 3, your take on the theater scene

(For the “give commentary on a scene you’ve written” thing)

OKAY SO I’M ACTUALLY REALLY GLAD YOU MENTIONED THAT SCENE BECAUSE THERE’S SOME VERY CLEVER FORESHADOWING IN THERE THAT I’M NOT SURE IF ANYONE CAUGHT. (Ahem.) I don’t think I’ll actually point it out, so that it can still be A Surprise, but just allow me to say that I am stupidly pleased with ~something~ in that section.

That being said, I’m interpreting “the theater scene” as like all the way through the theater scene, like from the movie starting to after Will’s episode, so (rubs hands together) here we go. Buckle up, kids. I’ll put it under a “read more” line and hope that works (Tumblr has been so weird about “read more” lines, has anyone else had that problem?)

-_-_-_-

Will ranks movies based on how easily they can make him forget the outside world. A score of one means, what movie? and a score of ten means, what real world? 

This one is an eight.

Will gets swept up in the story, delighted by the clocks and the Delorean and all the old-fashioned ‘50s stuff and Doc Brown’s exaggerated facial expressions - and captivated by Marty McFly’s skateboard, turned-up collar, guitar, and handsomely rumpled hair. He’s even able to mostly forget how crisp the air conditioning is, in here. The air smells like buttered popcorn; his tongue is probably stained red with artificial strawberry; and for the first time in a long day of hiking and racing across town, he’s sitting down in a comfy chair. A good end to a good day. 

It’s long been a headcanon of mine that Will gets a bit of a crush on Marty McFly when BTTF comes out in summer of 1985. I mean…

C’mon. He skateboards. He plays guitar. He’s clever (“Whoa, whoa, Biff… What’s that?”), he’s funny, he’s handsome, he’s cool and he knows it, he’s confident… Tell me Will wouldn’t be blushing in his theater seat. Go on.

His mood is dampened just a tad when he glances over and happens to see Mike’s fingers linked with El’s, as per the usual. 

“Whoa. Whoa, Doc, stuck here?” Marty says from the screen. “I can’t be stuck here, I got a life in 1985! I got a girl!” 

“Is she pretty?” 

“Ah, she’s beautiful.” 

Will looks back to the screen, because he doesn’t want to see the meaningful, affectionate glance that Mike sends his girlfriend. 

I just had fun kind of using the movie to bounce back and forth with what’s going on in Will’s head - like how Marty, in the movie, says, “Ah, she’s beautiful,” and Mike gives El this meaningful look and Will has to look away. That was just so much fun to write. I actually had this scene of BTTF pulled up in a different tab while I was writing this scene, to refer to, so I could get the dialogue right.

“She’s crazy about me. Look at this. Look what she wrote here, Doc, I mean, that says it all. Doc… You’re my only hope.”

Crazy about me.

Yeah, crazy -

“Crazy,” as related to being in love, has been somewhat of a motif through Stranger Things. We’ve got, of course, “Crazy together,” but also “Only love makes you that crazy, and that damn stupid,” and, “It makes you crazy,” etc. And I do believe I’ll be using that motif a bit, myself, in the rewrite. (Hueh hueh hueh.)

“Marty, I’m sorry. But the only power source capable of generating 1.21 gigawatts of electricity is a bolt of lightning.” 

At first Will thinks that the sudden darkness is part of the movie. And then, when the audience groans and he sees that even the exit signs above the doors have gone dark, he realizes what happened. 

“Aw, c’mon,” Lucas gripes from somewhere in the darkness.

There’s a general muttering and shuffling as the packed theater protests the blackout.

Spreading.

Where his hand rests on his thigh, Will’s fingers twitch.

It’s spreading.

The blackout.

This was kind of a half-callback to S2 where Will is trying to explain to Joyce and Hopper what he’s feeling/seeing with his Now Memories, and he says something like, “It’s growing, and spreading, and… killing.” 

Sweeping across Hawkins in a powerful, silent surge. He doesn’t know how he knows, but he does. He can feel it. Hot bulbs going dark; buzzing wires falling inert, lifeless.

Everything inside of Will drops. A horrible, sick, sinking, numb-cold swoop that starts to spiral somewhere in his gut, tingling up his spine and at the base of his skull, prickling at the back of his neck until one hand twitches up to press at the skin there.

It’s moving.

The knowledge comes to him unbidden, imparted to him with a sinuous, papery, reverberating flutter - like the sound of thousands of insect wings all beating at once, and Will wants to scream, he wants to bolt out of his chair, but he’s frozen.

His fingers are shaking. Something at the pit of his throat is shaking. His whole body feels like it’s sinking through the floor, leaving itself behind, his limbs going cold and weak as if he’s about to faint. His head swims.

I wanted to be as physical as possible with the descriptions of how the Mind Flayer feels. That little bit of dialogue we got from Will in that-one-season-that-never-happened actually gave some nice details: how it feels like dropping on a roller coaster, but cold. 

Sluggishly, as if in a dream, he drags his hand off of his neck and gropes for the seat next to him. His mouth is already forming the M, voice ready to croak out one single syllable, when his fingers rake through thin, cold air.

His first instinct is to turn to Mike. ‘Nuff said.

There’s no one in the seat beside him. There’s no one in the whole theater. The air-conditioned, popcorn-scented air has gone frigid and sour, and Will is on his feet. Turning in circles. Scanning the dilapidated space wildly, shoes fumbling and slipping over slick, fleshy vines. 

No.

No, no, no, no, no no no -

His eyes haven’t adjusted to the dark, but the blueish gray palette of shadows is so horribly, cruelly familiar. And the fluttering - that dry, hissing, grinding flutter seems to spike through his whole body, shooting through him from neck to fingertips to toes, making him grimace, driving his feet forwards in a panicked, instinctual stumble towards the door. 

It’s not real.

He tells himself that as he shoulders open the swinging door, coughs into his hands at the sting of toxins in his lungs. The coughing is as sharp as gunshots in the dead silence, echoing harshly through the darkness as he propels himself through the theater lobby. Spores drift listlessly in the stale air, bringing back a thousand memories, a thousand deeply ingrained instincts to run and hide and -

It’s not real. I’m not here. Not really.

He’s twelve years old again. Cold and alone and scared, the soles of his sneakers skidding on sludge. Jerking away with a half-swallowed sob as a fringe of dangling vines comb over his cheek.

Okay so Will is stuck between two conflicting reactions right now: a) instinctual, trauma-driven mortal terror, and b) complete denial. At this point in the story, he’s gonna be doing everything he can to convince himself that this isn’t real, it’s not really happening, it’s just a flashback, he’s just seeing things. But at the same time, being abruptly thrown back into the UD for the first time in sixth months is triggering a whole nasty slew of panic responses.

The lobby opens up into the mall, and Will comes to a halt. Starcourt is hollow. Storefronts devoid of products, of people. A few lights waver to life here and there as he passes, faint and blue-tinted, their meager glow smothered under softly rustling tendrils. He’s acclimating to the silence, the quiet pressing in against his eardrums like a high air pressure, and now his ears are picking up on the barely-detectable whispers and chitters of the Upside Down. The sound of vines growing, moving, shifting. The sound of creatures skittering into the shadows, somewhere unseen.

Like Dart, something in the back of his mind whispers. 

The back of his throat opens, a call for Mike rising instinctually, but he bites down on it before it reaches his lips. He shakes his head, hard. Like he’s trying to wake himself up after nearly nodding off in class. He’s not a little kid anymore. It’s not real. It can’t be real. The Gate is closed. Nothing has happened since November. It’s just in his head. He can snap himself out of it.

And here’s that tilt towards the denial end of the spectrum.

His eyes squeeze shut. He clenches his fists at his sides, splays out his fingers until the tendons ache, breathes five long breaths. His throat scratches with the cold, acrid air, but he forces himself to breathe smoothly. The chittering grows louder, darting past him, coming close enough that he can feel something brush past his shoelace. But it’s not real. He won’t cringe away. He won’t let these memories control him. He won’t. 

When he opens his eyes, he’s still there.

His skin crawls. His eyes trace up, over the shadowy silhouettes of the food court, over the vine-choked space above, past the neon STARCOURT sign that gutters and flares in sporadic bursts. And beyond the great glass skylight, there’s a shape. Dark - dark as the void of space, like a hole cut out of the universe. Looking at him. Watching him. The numb-cold swoop drains through him again, stronger this time as the Mind Flayer’s featureless head lowers towards the skylight.

A broken whimper twists in Will’s chest. Fear takes over. His mind goes blank, body reacting on animal instinct as his feet shove him back, away -

Aaaand we’ve tilted back in the direction of panic and terror. Whoo.

No -

No, please -

Hey do y’all remember how when they started burning the tunnels in S2, if you listened closely, Will said something garbled that sounded like “No, please -!”?

Pepperidge Farm remembers.

Lights flare at random, strobing, flickering across the length of the mall, static popping in Will’s clothes, and oh god he sees him, he knows Will is here, he’s looking at him -

Will can feel him beckoning. Calling to him. He’s getting closer, pressing down towards the glass, and Will can hear the whooshing, rumbling roar, muffled through the roof, and he’s still backing up, back into the theater lobby, lungs pistoning behind his ribs - Go away! Go away! Go - dread and powerlessness and panic cutting through him in sharp, icy waves, and not again, please not again, it’s not real it’s not real it’s not real, please please -

An abrupt grip on his upper arm makes him sputter, his scream getting tangled up in his mouth before it can come out, and Mike’s dark eyes go even wider with worry.

Mike.

Here I was going for the effect that they do in the show when Will suddenly snaps out of his episode and is back in the real world - yanno, where it’s all blue and gray and cold looking, in the Upside Down, and then all at once bam in the next shot the color scheme shifts and there’s Mike and he’s back in the real world?

Mike’s oh-so-familiar features, lit by the warm gold-and-pink glow of the lobby displays. The smell of buttered popcorn. A curious glance or two from the people milling around, who doubtless just witnessed Will’s erratic flight. 

Relief swells so abruptly in Will’s chest that it bubbles up over his lips as a watery laugh. 

Not real.

His head whips up, scanning the skylights that are just visible beyond the overhang of the second level. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. He’s not there. Will’s heart is wobbling hard between his lungs, adrenaline pounding at his temples and fingertips, and his -

His shoes. They’re wet. The soles slimy with the residue of… of…

Soda. He must have stepped in some soda. Yes - yes, there. There’s a banana-yellow caution, wet floor! sign propped up a few yards away. He just stepped in something as he crossed the lobby, that’s all. He breathes hard, consciously slowing the push-pull of his diaphragm, clearing out the phantom chill from his lungs.

He registers all at once that Mike has been saying his name. Will focuses in on the face of his best friend - the tapered cheeks, nearly devoid of the baby fat that used to round them out. The smattering of freckles over his sunburnt nose. The dark half-curling waves falling over his forehead, one strand just barely brushing the eyelashes of his left eye. He’s staring down into Will’s face with an expression of alarm, and when their eyes meet, he repeats, “Are you okay?”

Hmm. Watcha lookin’ at, Will?

Deja vu is making Mike’s head spin. It’s a sick, sinking feeling, like realizing all at once that you’ve forgotten something important. Like thinking that there’s one more stair than there is, and stepping into empty space with a disorienting jolt. Because Mike has seen Will like this before.

Will is gasping for breath, his body trembling under Mike’s palm, his eyes wild. The skin of his arm is chilled from the air conditioning, peppered with goosebumps.

Itty bitty detail, but: Mike assumes that Will’s skin is cold from air conditioning, and not… you know… the Upside Down perhaps?

“Will? Are you okay?”

But Will doesn’t seem to hear him. His chin is tilted up, eyes flickering over the ceiling like he expects to find something there.

“Will?”

His breath begins to even out. His head turns, scanning the lobby of the movie theater. 

“Will?”

Finally, Mike’s voice seems to filter through whatever haze is surrounding him, and hazel eyes meet Mike’s.

“Are you okay?”

Something strange happens then. As he looks over Mike’s face, Will’s eyes lower for a moment, like he’s glancing at Mike’s mouth. And for a fraction of a second, it sets off an automatic response in the back of Mike’s brain. He shuts down the impulse as soon as it rears its head, but it was there: for a split second, Mike was about to tilt forward and… Well, no, not really. Of course he didn’t really think about kissing Will. It’s just that he’s been with El all day, so he’s still in boyfriend mode. It was automatic. 

Still, the impulse startles him enough that he drops his hand from Will’s arm as Will opens his mouth to answer.

And here we have some Repressed Internalized Homophobia! Because of course Mike only thought about kissing Will because he’s been with El all day, and of course he only dropped his hand because it surprised him, and not because he’s subconsciously shying away from anything too “gay.”

“Yeah,” Will mumbles. “I’m… yeah. Fine.”

Mike can’t help it. He pushes. “Are you sure?”

He’s expecting Will to be mad at him. To roll his eyes or snap a retort or turn away, because he hates when people fuss over him, and Mike knows he hates it. But instead, Will just looks back out at the mall for a moment. He’s rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. This must have been a bad one.

“‘f course,” Will mutters eventually. He scuffs one foot along the carpet, like he’s trying to wipe something off his shoe.

It was the blackout that must have done it. Will’s panic attacks sometimes come on with no obvious rhyme or reason, but when there is a trigger - say, for example, abrupt, total darkness - they can be twice as bad. He seems better now, though. Calmer. More grounded. Mike decides against throwing an arm around Will’s shoulders, in case he gets shoved off with an annoyed bark of, I’m fine, but he risks an elbow bump.

Again: this is the first “episode,” so I needed to establish a few background details about what’s been going on in Hawkins and in the Party, in the six months since we saw them in S2. And basically what we’re learning here is that Will has been less and less cool with people fussing over him and being worried about him. We saw that starting to happen in S2, and it must have gotten so much worse after that. Remember his speech to Jonathan? How everyone treats him like he’s gonna break, like he can’t handle things on his own? And then the Mind Flayer happened. Every time Will coughed or disappeared to the bathroom for three minutes, people would have been going nuts. And it probably drives Will up the wall. To the point where he’d start to snap at them. To the point where Mike goes to do The Arm Thing, but decides against it at the last second and aborts the movement and only kind of awkwardly bumps Will’s elbow with his, because he wants to comfort Will but doesn’t wanna get snapped at, and he knows Will hates that stuff. So there’s a little bit of a wedge between them, right now (well, another wedge, since there’s already the stuff going on with Mike ignoring the Party a bit for El).

“C’mon,” he coaxes, “They’re about to get the movie running again.”

Will turns at Mike’s nudge without complaint, and they fall into step side-by-side as they make their way back to their seats. The Party greets them with anxious stares and whispers of, “Is he okay?” and “What happened?” Will waves off their concern, putting on a mask of nonchalance, and tosses off a line about fresh air.

One of my favorite HCs (and honestly it’s basically just canon) is how Mike and Will just automatically fall into step with each other as they walk, since they’ve been attached at the hip since they were five years old. They’re so used to navigating the world at each other’s side, quite literally, that it’s a deeply ingrained habit to just sync up their steps, despite the difference of leg lengths haha. 

Also: the Party being concerned makes Will’s walls come up, and he “puts on a mask of nonchalance and tosses off a line about fresh air,” so we can see that he’s plenty used to pretending that everything is fine in order to wave off people’s concerns. 

Before they can question him further, the film reel sputters, and the movie kicks into gear again.

“A bolt of lightning!” Doc Brown exclaims. The audience cheers as the film resumes. Will sticks a twizzler in his mouth and Mike makes himself look at the screen. “Unfortunately, you never know when or where it’s ever gonna strike!” 

Marty slaps the Save the Clock Tower! flyer and thrusts it at the mad scientist, suave and handsome in his denim jacket with its popped-up collar.

“We do now.” 

Mike thinks Marty is handsome too. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also, can I just point out that Mike was watching Will eat a twizzler and made himself look away. Liiiitle tiny hints of Mike subconsciously repressing his attraction to Will there. ‘Cause… uh, Mike? Why are you staring at Will’s mouth?

-_-_-_-

Aaaaaand there we have it! You probably didn’t mean that whole thing, but… Sorry not sorry lol. I’ve been accused of not knowing how to make a short post, and those accusations are 100% accurate.

[daphne-fandom-writing]

Backstage fun

I KNOW I have requests and I'm sorry that I haven't finished them yet. But I went to the IDKHOW show in Amsterdam last Sunday and left with inspiration for this.

Some of these events happened (only the locking eyes and smirk that Dallon ACTUALLY gave me wow)

NO HATE TO DALLON'S WIFE OR FAMILY BECAUSE THEY SEEN GREAT AND ADORABLE HE IS JUST SINGLE FOR THE SAKE OF THIS FIC

Anyways this is smut!

Word count: 2752

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

Everytime that the background music stopped playing it felt as though I was going to faint. And that happened way too many times. Until the lights went out and the music stopped for real. It was pitch black until a white light accentuated Dallon walking on stage. Later Ryan joined and Dallon started stomping his foot as a beat and the whole audience joined in.

Goosebumps appeared on my arms and a chill found it's way to my back. The vibe they radiated was mysterious and a little dangerous but loving at the same time. They played 'Opening band' as their first song, the intro with no bass, no drums. Only Dallon, Ryan and the audience. It felt as though you were the only one they were playing for.

During 'Opening band' and 'Modern day cain' Dallon looked into the crowd more than a few times. You could've sworn that you locked eyes with Dallon during the songs. This feeling was strengthened when they started playing 'Bleed magic'. At one point during that song you locked eyes again, Dallon's hair partly covering his face but you could see his eyes. You were mesmerised, drawn into them, until he smirked, still holding your gaze. Then he looked away into the rest of the crowd. For a minute you were questioning yourself, thinking that you imagined that little moment that you shared. But you turned to the friend that you made in the line and they gave you a look that said all you needed to know, you didn't imagine anything.

During the rest of the show you sang, danced and shared stares with Dallon. Because yes, mr. Weekes kept looking your way. Then it was time for 'Visitation of the ghost'. You chose a great spot, obviously knowing what was gonna happen during this song, because the line he made in the middle of the crowd was right next to you. So just when you thought that you couldn't get any luckier Dallon stopped walking through the crowd right next to you. And even though he explicitly stated personal space, he happened to brush his hand against your when he turned to the other side of the crowd. Before he returned to the stage he locked eyes with you again and put his finger to his lips to signal silence and well... that went straight to your core.

When Dallon and Ryan finished playing 'Choke' and after having the whole crowd sing with them, they left the stage only to return a few minutes later to play one last song. The last song was 'Boring' and the lighting changed to a bright white and everyone had their flashlights on their phones in the air. You were quietly singing along to the lyrics, both enjoying your last moments there but also dreading the ending of the song.

Dallon strung the last chords of the song, the room went pitch black, he threw away his last guitar pick and Ryan and him disappeared into a door a few rows of people left of you. As the lights turned back on people started leaving the venue. You didn't, you kept standing there already replaying everything that happened and convincing yourself that it was all real. Soon you noticed that you were almost alone in the room and that a guy with a baseball cap, that you saw on stage before the show a few times, was approaching you.

He told you that if you wanted to meet the band that he could take you backstage with him. He added that Dallon specifically asked for you.

"The girl in the bright orange top with (Y/H/C) hair, I can only see one girl like that and it's you." Is what the guy said.

Your heartbeat started accelerating exponentially and you obviously nodded. It wasn't as if you were going to pass up an opportunity to meet the band.

The guy with the cap leaded you through the doors that Ryan and Dallon had walked through as well. It lead to some hallways that lead to dressing rooms. The guy stopped at a door that said.

'Dallon Weekes - IDKHOW'

"There you go, just knock and you'll be okay."

You were certain that you were gonna faint if your heartbeat didn't start slowing down. You took a deep breath and lifted your hand, you knocked the deep brown wooden door twice. Your heart beat in your chest as you waited for a response.

It seemed to take minutes before the door opened and Dallon stood in it's place. You had to look up to see his face and you almost had to steady yourself because of how he looked. He was still a little sweaty and his hair was all over the place. He still wore the same outfit that he wore on stage, a baby salmon pink blouse with black and white flowers, previously with a light grey jacket on top of it that he discarded for the last song and black skinny jeans. He had unfastened the top few buttons of his blouse and it gave you a little peek at his chest.

It took all of your self-restraint to stop yourself from blushing and to keep cool about the situation you were now in.

Dallon looked at you for a moment before he smiled brightly and spoke.

"Hey! You actually came, it was a long shot to send Alex your way but I'm glad that I did. Come in!" Dallon stepped aside and held his hand out into the dressing room to signal that you should come inside. So you did. You walked into the room and Dallon shut the door, you turned around to him extending his hand.

"Dallon." He said as you took his hand and shook it. "Y/N, and yeah... I know." You said with a smile.

Dallon laughed "I guess you do." He paused for a bit, looking into your eyes, before he spoke again. "A drink?" He said, as if he forgot that he was going to ask you.

"Ehm yeah." You looked at a table with drinks on it. "A water would be nice." Dallon walked to the table and got you and him a bottle of water.

As he took a sip he motioned to the couch. "Wanna sit? You've been standing for more than an hour now, right?" He took a seat on the couch he meant and looked at him gratefully. You moaned in relief as you took a seat.

"I needed that so much, thanks." You looked at him with a smile, a smile that faded when you saw the look he was giving you. His light blue eyes that you know so well were not so bright as they were before, they darkened, a shade that gave you chills and flutters at the same time. It made wonder as to why Dallon even invited you, and why Ryan wasn't there.

"Dallon?" He nodded. "Mhm" You swallowed.

"Can I ask why you invited me over? Not that I'm not happy to be here, because I am, but I can't help being a little curious."

He seemed to snap out of... well whatever that was going on and seemed to focus again.

"Well, I saw you in the crowd. Never with a phone, only enjoying the music. It's not something you see a lot these days. Then I caught your eyes more than once." You blushed and looked at your hands, Dallon smiled at you and put his finger under your chin to make you look at him. "And I have to say that those glances we shared..." He paused for a second. "They did something to me and my body and well... I had to see you again, up close this time."

He leaned in a little and you could feel his breath on your lips, you fought the urge to close your eyes.

"Tell me to stop and I will. Tell me to go on and I will too." Your breath hitched in your throat.

"Dallon" His forehead touched yours, his finger moving from your chin to put his hand on the side of your hair. "Tell me Y/N. Stop or go."

"Please" You looked at his lips and back into his eyes. "Go."

I took less than a second for Dallon to put his lips on yours. His hand in your hair got a little more force behind it and your hands ran through his hair in return. His lips were soft and moved in time with yours in a passionate frenzy, no romance, only lust. Dallon' hair felt soft to the touch, long enough to pull. And you did, Dallon moaned at the sensation so you did it again. As retaliation Dallon started kissing your neck. He moved your bodies into a laying position on the couch, Dallon hovering on top of you, just slightly touching.

You spread you legs and he positions himself between them, you feel his hardened length through your clothes and writhe underneath him. Dallon sucked on a particular sensitive spot on your neck and you moaned loudly. Dallon immeadiately put his hand over your mouth. He retracted his hand and placed his index finger in front of his lips.

"As much as I love the sounds you make, Ryan is in the room next door." You nodded and pulled Dallon back into another kiss. Your hands moved to his blouse and started unbuttoning it. Button after button more and more of his chest appears. After the last button you run your hands across his chest and down over his stomach. When you reach his belly he pulls back and sits up abruptly.

"Please... don't." Dallon looks away from you, he looks ashamed.

"Did I do anything wrong? Do you want to stop? Because we can... if you want."

He immeadiately looked up at you. "No!" He ran his hand through his hair. "No, I'm just... It's silly really. It's an insecure part of me. I just... hate that part of me I guess."

You smiled at him. "Let me prove you wrong." You pushed Dallon on his back and spread his blouse out of the way to get access at his chest. You crawled on top of him and gave him a peck on his lips. You moved to his neck, kissed him behind his ear and sucked on the skin above his collarbone, leaving a hickey. Dallon shuddered underneath your touch. You moved downwards and kissed all over his chest, stopped to suck on his nipple for a second and made your way even lower. You stopped for a second before you continued.

"Do you trust me?" Dallon nodded and you gave him a peck on his stomach. Dallon tensed. You looked at him through your eyelashes and kissed, licked and sucked all over his beautiful belly. All the tension that once was disappeared and pleasure made it's way to his face when you moved Dallon's hip bones. The pleasure didn't just show on his face, his boner was an absolute reveal of that. You traced you fingers over the denim covered bulge and heard Dallon take in a hiss of breath. You smirked at his reaction and when Dallon looked at your face... well... all of the innocent and insecure parts of him disappeared. They made way for a dark look of primal lust and passion.

Within a second you were on your back again while Dallon discarded his blouse. He started kissing the bottom of your own belly and moving his way upwards, taking your top off in the process. As Dallon kissed alongside the outline of your bra you started working on the button of his jeans. You pried them open and Dallon stood up to take them off, when he did you took of your bra and opened the button of your own jeans. Before you could take them off yourself Dallon was already back on top of you. He licked and sucked your breasts and left a hickey on top of your right nipple.

"Dallon..." you moaned and his eyes lit up with desire.

"Yes, my dear." He spoke with a rasp in his voice which made you moan again. He smirked at your reaction and went to take of your pants, taking your panties with them. He stood up to take off his own underwear and when he did... You looked at him, eyes looking at every part of his body and appreciating it at the same time.

"Like what you see?"

"A lot." You held out your hand at Dallon and he took it. Crawling back on top of you, his hand caressing the skin on your sides, moving along your outer thighs to circle back along your inner thighs. He looked at your eyes again and you nodded at him, urging him to move along.

"Dallon, please." He buried his face into your neck, giving a kiss and brushing the skin with his nose before whispering.

"Tell me what you want." His breath tickled your skin and goosebumps crawled over your skin. "You Dallon, every bit of you."

Dallon's hand moved from your inner thigh to swipe along your folds. "So fucking wet. Perfect." He all but purred into your neck that you bared for him. His hand moved to align himself with you.

He started moving slowly, easing into you at a horribly slow pace until he had fully penetrated your body. His breathing accelerated almost immeadiately and you wrapped you legs around him to feel him even deeper. After around a minute Dallon started moving again, slow still at first but picking up the pace very soon. He groaned with every moan you let go, he fit you perfectly. Every curve of his body complimenting yours. Every inch of skin left untouched. At some point Dallon's thrusts started becoming faster and faster. Your hands moved from his shoulders to his and back down to grab his beautiful butt and back up to pull his hair.

Dallon whispered sweet nothings in your ear, from how beautiful you are to the way you make him feel unpure feelings. Dallon's hands were on you thighs to keep your legs up, then in your hair to pull your head back and finally in your clit. He rubbed small circles only adding to the pleasure he was filling you with already. You felt the familiar knot in your stomach and you knew it wasn't gonna be much longer.

"Dall... I'm-" He kisses you as the both of you come undone.

Dallon pulls back and breathes into your neck as you bury your face in his hair. Your hand wander over his back and his rub circles on top of your shoulders. It doesn't take long for the two of you to fall asleep.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Four

Part One , Part Two , Part Three

Pairing: Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx X OC

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Language, sexual situations, mentions of drug use, brief allusions to abuse of power

Tag List: @fandomshit6000 @lilmou5ie @tamedhearts @divaanya @allieburakovsky @kingbouji3 @evrsncnewyork @6ixx6ixx @ratedrkohardychick91 @floregrohlssard @oldschoolimagineblog @thanks2pete @abaldboi @swoopygorl @liith-ium @justjodeye

**Let me know if you want to be tagged**

———————————————————————

The slow push and pull of absolute ecstasy drives me to near insanity, my eyes closed as my head tips back, a soft whimper brushing past my lips because the feeling is just so good that I can barely breathe. 

A sweat-slick chest moves against a sweat-slick chest, my legs encircling his waist to get more of him, in a worn down bedroom that smells strongly of alcohol and cigarettes. A scent I’ve grown fond of the past several weeks, but I won’t admit that to anyone.

Another push in to me, another hit of my drug of choice, another whimper, another change of position.

His hand grasps at my hair, pulling it to one shoulder so his lips, tongue and teeth can explore where my neck and shoulder meet. My nails scratch at the back of his neck, a moan mixed with a gasp escapes my lips as he grabs at my waist and displays just as much control underneath me as he showed above me.

I feel cross-faded, my mind completely gone as I continue to take what he’s willing to give me in as big of a dose as I can get it.

With one last stroke in to me, he finishes what he started.

The both of us try to catch our breaths as he falls back, causing me to fall on top of him, and my head rests on his chest as his hand starts massaging my scalp.

“Tommy does not find out.” I tell him quietly, closing my eyes.

“Couldn’t agree more.” Nikki replies in a light tone and I smile.

I wake up from my dream in a frenzied sweat, glancing around my room. After a few deep breaths, I groan, and fall back on the bed, wanting to pull my hair out as I grab my pillow and scream into it as loud as I can.

———————————————————————

“You look like shit.” Mick tells me mercilessly and I choke on my Coke, the acidic liquid stinging my nose as it drips out of my nostrils, sending me in to a coughing frenzy which entertains Tommy and Vince.

It’s Saturday, so I decided to come spend it with Tommy at the apartment he’s recently moved in to, with Vince and Nikki, since I couldn’t spend time with him the other night after their first sold out show. My parents think I’m with Tansy again, though.

“Gee, thanks, Mick.” I rasp out as I start to get control of my coughing, leaning forward in my seat on the couch. “I didn’t sleep last night.” I tell them, my eyes watering as Tommy hits my back as if trying to dislodge something from my airway. I hit his hand away from me and he gawks as if I just told him to go to hell.

“Are you sure you’re not on your period this week?” Vince pipes, glancing up from his Playboy magazine to watch my reaction to his question. “I’ve noticed girls look like shit and act like it, too, during that time of the month.” He licks the tip of his finger to turn the page of the pornographic picture show before him.

“No tampons.” Tommy tells him, shaking his head as he takes a bite of Captain Crunch from his cereal bowl and Vince gets a confused look on his face.

“What the fuck do tampons have anything to do with when she’s bleeding or not?” He asks Tommy.

“Are you seriously having a conversation about my bleeding vagina?” I ask them, grossed out.

“They save the more conservative topics for when you’re around.” Mick mumbles, continuing to tune his guitar.

If this is their “conservative” talk, I’d hate to hear their more perverted topics.

“Her mom won’t let her wear tampons so I have to sneak them to her.” Tommy explains and Vince gives me a look.

“Why won’t your mom—“

“She thinks it’s sexually immoral to have a piece of cotton shoved up in there.” Tommy interrupts just as Nikki comes back in from outside.

“Can we please stop talking about my anatomy?” I ask them.

“Absolutely.” Vince surprisingly agrees.

“Thank you.” I sigh out, and the room gets quiet as Vince turns another page, making an impressed facial expression as he turns the magazine to get a better look at whatever he’s seeing.

“We sure as fucking hell can talk about Vicki Lasseter’s anatomy, though.” He grins and Tommy and Nikki rush to his side to see what he’s seeing, tilting their heads to match his, oohing and ahhing and I gag. “Hey, Viv, why don’t you try to get in to one of these?” Vince asks, waving the magazine.

“I’ll pose for Playboy when you do.” I tell him without thought.

“Oh, please, Saint Vivian would never lower her standards to match that of those worthless whores with lack of morals and spiritual compass.” Nikki mocks my voice and I look at him.

“You’d be surprised to find that I don’t think the same way my mother does, Devil-Spawn, and if you would stop writing me off all because I go to church and pray to a God you couldn’t believe in any less, you would discover I don’t think any less of the women who pose nude, I don’t think any less of troubled rockstars and I don’t think any less of people who don’t share the same beliefs that I share because if everyone kept their clothes on, only listened to mundane music and agreed on everything, the world would be a boring place.” I argue, giving him a smug smirk when he rolls his eyes and steps to the kitchen.

“You don’t look as shitty as I thought.” Mick tells me blankly.

“Awe, thank—”

“Just take the fuckin’ compliment and shush Virgin Mary.” He waves me off and I give him a closed mouth smile, flattered he complimented me...sort of.

“Hey, Tommy, do we have rubbing alcohol?” Nikki asks, about to light a cigarette.

“Under the bathroom sink, why?” Tommy answers and in a few seconds, Nikki’s in front of us, holding the bottle of rubbing alcohol in one hand and a box of matches in the other with his cigarette hanging from his lips.

“I have an idea.” He tells us and we look at him blankly. “We need more special effects for the shows, man.” He adds with a raised brows, as if that makes it a better idea.

Apparently I’m the only one with a brain because Vince and Tommy jump up with bright smiles.

“Dude, it’ll be fuckin’ awesome!” Tommy exclaims and Mick and I exchange looks.

Before I can say anything, Nikki’s offering the bottle of rubbing alcohol up to Vince and he starts dousing Nikki’s leather pants in the stuff before taking a match from the match book.

“Um, you’re doing that in here?” I ask them before Vince can start any fire.

“Sure, why not?” Vince shrugs and I take a few steps back, waiting for him to light his friend on fire.

———————————————————————

The crowd’s screaming gets louder and rattles my eardrums once Vince lights Nikki’s leather clad legs on fire during the middle of “Live Wire.”

I watch from behind stage, not feeling like dealing with the pushing and shoving of the crowd.

Once they’re done with yet another sold out show, they’re stumbling backstage, high off adrenaline and tipsy on Jack and I’m a few paces behind them as they head in to the dressing room.

I stop at the payphone, getting ready to call my parents and check in with them, when someone catches my attention from the corner of my eye.

Turning my head in that direction, I see a mass of curly, blonde hair that compliments blue eyes that seem a little lost as she looks around.

“Tansy?” I ask from where I am and she looks at me, her face brightening.

“Hey!” She rushes to me, careful not to trip in her bright red heels and I hang the phone up, deciding her appearing at a place like this is far more important.

Tansy Reilen, who would later become Tansy Rose, was the walking incarnation of perfection. Her natural hair color was so blonde it almost appeared white, her eyes captivated whoever she was looking at with their vivid bright-blue color and standing at 5’3” made her the perfect size to fit in your pocket and take her with you anywhere. She had a voice that could calm a Hurricane and enough strength in her to start one.

Her one and only flaw was that she was a people pleaser. Even if it meant pleasing the wrong kind of people. She would do whatever anyone wanted, not because she wanted to but because she hated telling people “no”, afraid of being a disappointment or making someone unhappy. Everyone took advantage of that when we were growing up, especially boys once we made it to high school, but the industry slowly violated everything of her’s there was left to violate after she got recruited for modeling at age 19. Her own “god fearing” mother, who became her manager, turned her out to whatever photo shoots paid the most, including nude and everything else in between.

By the mid 80s, Tansy made sure she was either too doped up or too wasted to care who photographed her naked and plastered her on a magazine...or who abused their power and got a lot more out of her than a photo session.

“What are you doing here?” I ask her, not trying to sound rude.

“Vince called me and wanted me to come.” She tells me, the excitement still hasn’t left her face and I raise my brows.

“Vince?” I ask, all of it starting to come together and she nods. “The same Vince that cheated on you multiple times freshman year?”

“It’s been, what, four years? Maybe he’s grown up a little.” She tried to reason with me and I clear my throat, knowing the Devil is a liar.

As if on cue, I hear the familiar sound of Vince’s current girlfriend’s voice, shouting angrily.

“Fuck you! Piece of shit! Motherfucker!” She screams, the echoing of her hitting Vince bounces off the walls as he keeps saying “babe” trying to reason with her for whatever he did wrong.

“My pants! Babe!” He pleads.

“Fuck you!” She yells back, marching up the hallway angrily, giving me a glance when she passes me, carrying the high-dollar pants she bought for Vince that he loves so much.

Tansy’s confused until Vince appears, naked as ever, hand cupping his privates.

“I fucking love those pants.” He complains weakly, giving me a pouting look.

“Your swimsuit parts are out.” I inform him and he cuts his eyes at me, before he sees Tansy over my shoulder.

Then the pouting stops and his inner peacock comes out.

“Hey, Tans,” he grins like an idiot and I put a hand on his bare chest to keep him from approaching us any further.

“Go put clothes on.” I order him, and he gives me a roll of his eyes before doing so, giving us a full show of his butt as he walks away. “You had sex with that.” I remind her and she exhales.

“Yeah, he hasn’t changed a bit has he?” She asks me, disappointed.

“He’s gotten worse.” I sigh out. “C’mon, let’s go see Tommy.” I grab her hand, pulling her in the direction Mick, Nikki and Tommy went after they got off stage.

Just as we turn a corner we see the three of them walking in our direction in their street clothes. Tommy sees me, opening his mouth to say something, but he stops when he sees Tansy and gets a smile on his face that’s at least a mile long.

“Tansy fucking Reilen!” He pipes out, eagerly accepting her hug, bending down a little so she could wrap her arms around his neck before he picked her up.

“Hey, Tommy!” She replies with just as much enthusiasm.

The three of us haven’t hung out together for almost a year due to Tommy and Tansy thinking they could have sex one time without it making anything weird. I guess this was their official “it doesn’t bother me anymore” because neither of them are acting too awkward.

He puts her down, introducing her to Nikki and Mick in time for Vince to rejoin us, fully clothed.

“We’re about to head down to the Rainbow.” Tommy tells us, looking at me. “If someone’s willing to stay out late.” He clears his throat, raising his brows at me and I look at Mick, Nikki and Vince, who wait for me to answer.

“Fine.” I finally relent after weeks of their pressure.

“Hallelujah. Thank fuckin’ God.” Vince states with a relieved sigh, throwing his arm around Tansy.

When we get to the Rainbow, Tansy pulls me in to the bathroom so she can touch up her makeup and when she’s done she glances at me and licks her lips.

“So...have you lost your virginity?” She asks me and I scoff.

“No.” I tell her honestly and she purses her lips.

“Oh.” She mumbles.

“Why?”

“It’s just...” She starts but closes her mouth again. “Nothing.”

“Tansy.” I say, starting to get a little frustrated. “What is it?”

“Nothing. I just thought you and that Nikki guy have messed around or something.” She admits and I feel my body freeze up, my heart racing as flashbacks from my dream a few nights ago cloud my mind.

“I—eww...why would you think that? We haven’t.” I shutdown her assumption and she holds her hands up in surrender.

“I’m sorry, I just thought you had.” She tells me truthfully.

“What makes you think we have?”

“There’s a tension.” She argues with a smirk.

“There is not a tension. There is so not a tension.” I almost laugh at how ridiculous she sounds. “We argue. All the time. He thinks I’m a self-righteous prude and I think he’s the spawn of Satan. If there’s a tension, it’s because we hate each other.”

“You don’t have to like someone to have sex with them.” She points out almost in a sad tone, and I know she speaks from experience. “I really like him for you, though. You get all riled up and firey when he’s around.”

“Oh, please.” I roll my eyes.

“I just met the guy and I can tell he has you acting different. You used to be so quiet and shy around people you don’t really know, now you’re jumping in to conversations just to piss him off and prove him wrong.”

“Because I don’t like him.” I shake my head. “And he doesn’t like me. That’s where the tension comes from. See? It’s full-circle.”

“Hate-sex is always an option.” She suggests with a shrug.

“Do not even start.” I point my finger at her.

“What? It gets rid of all the aggression and ill-feelings.” She explains.

“So does their shows. Did you know they encourage people to get their feelings out during a show so they go home chilled out and not so uptight?” I tell her the exact quote from Nikki and she gives me an unconvinced look. “And it works.”

“Yeah, until he gets off stage and then you get all hot and bothered.”

“I get hot because he’s Devil-Spawn and the heat from hell radiates off of him and I get bothered because he’s an arrogant idiot.”

“Or you like him and don’t know why you do so you displace your frustration and confusion on to him.” She doesn’t give up. “I was honestly joking about the hate sex okay? I don’t want you to go jump in to bed with him if you don’t want to but you two were fighting like cats and dogs the whole time we were on our way here. I think you should try to let whatever kind of bravery he evokes in you come out in a way that’s not in the form of riled up anger or fiery hatred.” She recommends and I nod slowly. “Now, c’mon because I have a slutty blonde waiting.”

Once we get to the rounded booth the guys are at, we’re met with a man who walks up to the table just as soon as we slide in, that I’ve never seen in my life.

“Hey, Guys, I’m Tom Zutaut. I work for Elektra Records.” He holds his hand out for a handshake.

“Nice to meet you, bro.” Nikki tells him lazily, taking a sip of his beer at the same time Vince says “hey man.”

“I would love, uh, the opportunity to talk to you guys if you have a second.” He offers them.

Tommy does his infamous cigarette trick, one of them, at least, where he sticks the end of his cigarette under his curled lip.

“Wanna sit down?” Tommy asks him in a voice that’s not his own and Tom chuckles.

“That’s really cool.” He motions to Tommy’s cigarette.

“Sit. Do it.” Tommy says as his eyes flash to the empty space by Vince at the end.

“Thank you.” Tom accepts the invitation.

“Scoot over, dude.” Vince tells the guys, and Nikki scoots closet to Mick, I scoot closer to Nikki, Tommy scoots closer to me, Tansy scoots closer to Tommy and Vince scoots closer to Tansy, allowing room for Tom.

As he starts talking, I feel something shift under the table and just as I’m about to see what’s under it, Nikki stops my hand from lifting the table cloth, nodding to Tom.

“Just watch.” He whispers in my ear and I ignore the heat that spreads through me when his lips brush against my skin as glance at him, before looking at the man trying to sign them.

“Look, I’ve been seeing what you guys are doing in L.A. and I think, with my help, I think I could really do something for you—” He snaps up and stumbles back, his zipper pulled down and his face full of shock.

The guys all laugh, Nikki throwing his head back before doubling over at the reaction.

A blonde girl’s head peaks up from under the table, resting her elbows on the now empty seat Tom sat in.

“Oh, my God!” Tom let’s out, surprised to see the girl but he quickly gathers himself.

“No?” She asks him. “Not for you?” As the guys continue chuckling. Tansy and I just exchange speechless expressions.

“No, thanks.” He tells her flatly.

“You sure?” She asks.

“No, thank you.” He repeats and she smiles.

“Okay.” She says before pulling the table cloth down and disappearing under the table again.

“Anyway,” Tom sits back down and stammers on. “Let’s get back to, you know, what I was talking about. So, uh, what do you guys say? Do you want a record deal?”

“Uhh,” Nikki says it like he’s thinking, but he reaches across me, grabs a handful of Tommy’s hair at the back of his head, and knocks his forehead into the table a few good times, the members of the band laughing like fools when he stops and I shake my head a little.

“Is that a yes?” Tom asks them and Vince cuts in.

“I don’t know if we can trust a dude who turns down a free blowjob.” He states.

“Yeah,” Tommy echos, his eyes cut slightly at the man suspiciously.

“Yeah.” Mick even says from behind his sunglasses, smoking his own cigarette.

———————————————————————

“He said we could possibly score a five album deal, Viv, why aren’t you happy about this? I thought you wanted us to get signed?” Tommy asks me as I throw my keys across the living room, in to the kitchen, angrily, causing him to flinch.

“You just told me you were dropping out of school, Tommy! We are so close to graduating, can’t you just wait?!”

“No, I can’t! I can’t just wait because what I wanted is happening and I need to focus on the band right now more than ever!” He argues, motioning to Nikki and Vince as they stand with Tansy by the door, observing our disagreement.

“Your education should be your main focus, at least until you graduate! You are so close to being done, Tommy, why can’t you just—“

“Because I don’t give a fuck about school, Vivian! What I am passionate about doesn’t require a diploma, and I’m sorry if me dropping out makes you feel like I’m leaving you behind or whatever the fuck you feel, but I’m not sorry for wanting to focus on my main priority!”

“What I’m hearing is that I wasted hours of my time throughout school trying to tutor you and help you all for you to throw it away on the idea of being some hot-shot rockstar with girls and drugs and booze—”

“Oh, my God, you act like you would have had better things to do with that wasted time!” He throws his hands up and I roll my jaw. “And it’s not a fucking idea, it’s fucking reality and you’re only mad because you have no control over it!”

“I’m mad because we talked about this and everything we agreed on, everything we promised each other, is absolute void to you now that it’s actually happening!”

“Shit changes, Viv, people change! What I considered important junior year is completely different than what I consider important now.” He calms down, sighing.

“We agreed we would both graduate high school and I could either put off college or drop out if I needed to...” I trail off, trying hard not to cry in front of Tansy, Vince, and Nikki. “That was our plan to avoid this,” I motion to him. “From happening. To avoid you leaving me behind.” I give him back his own words and he gives out a shaky breath. “You considered me important junior year when you came up with that plan. When you promised me you wouldn’t go on to bigger things without me and forget me. And now...” I take a step back as he tries to step towards me.

“Viv, I didn’t mean it like that.” He tries to tell me.

“No, you’re right.” My whole body shakes with nerves and anger, I feel like a complete idiot. “Shit changes.” I curse for the first time in my life and even in this moment he’s shocked about it. “People change.” I continue. “Glad this is happening now, though, so I don’t waste any more time on a completely different page than you, Tommy.” I struggle to not let my voice crack, stepping to the kitchen to grab my keys.

“Viv—“ he tries to grab my arm as I head to the door but I snatch away from him.

“Fuck you.” I crack, my voice barely coming out as tears spill over my lashes.

Nikki and Vince step aside to let me leave, Tansy looks like she might follow me but decides against it and I slam the door shut.

[thisisnotacreativeusername]

Live

archiveofourown link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14868644

***

Connor Murphy couldn’t live for himself.

He knew that’s what everyone said: live for yourself, external things are only temporary, find things about yourself that you like and live for them.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t find anything about himself that he could live for.

~~~

Evan usually didn’t talk much. He was anxious constantly, too afraid of embarrassing himself or messing up to say too much at once. Occasionally, he would ramble, backtracking and apologizing all the while.

That’s why this was such an accomplishment.

Connor didn’t know if Evan had realized it, but he had been talking for over ten minutes. First, it had been something cool he’d seen about giant squid and the fact that the ocean was unfathomably terrifying. Then it had been how the rainforest was also pretty terrifying(“Can you imagine? Plants can choke trees to death. Like a snake. That’s so scary.”) Then it had been Evan’s favorite trees.

Connor didn’t mind. He found it kind of endearing, actually. It was nice to just listen to someone talk about something they were passionate about.

They were in Connor’s room, with Connor lying on his bed and Evan sitting on the floor, facing the wall as he talked.

“Did you know sycamore trees are called buttonball trees sometimes? Because of the shape of their fruit. If I had a dog, I’d probably name it Sycamore. Just because I like the tree so much. Or Bonsai. Oh, and they’re super tall, too! Like, over 100 feet. But redwood trees are taller, they can get to, like, 300 feet,” Evan said. He glanced back at Connor with a grin on his face. He paused, seeming to realize how long he had been talking.

“So, um. Yeah.” Evan trailed off.

Connor frowned. There was silence between them for a couple minutes. Evan tapped his fingers on the floor and Connor pulled out his phone when a thought occurred to him.

“Hey, Hansen,” he started.

Evan looked back up at him, expression questioning.

“What the fuck is the difference between aspen trees and birch trees?”

A small smile spread across Evan’s face.

“Well, birch trees have easily peelable bark-”

~~~

Connor reached for the nearest thing- his honors English required reading- and threw it as hard as he could across the room. It hit the wall with a bang and he could hear the shelves in the hallway rattle.

He grabbed the next thing- a notebook his therapist had told him to write down his anxieties in- and chucked it at the wall. It made a smack instead of a thud. The rattling was quieter, but he could still hear it.

The next thing. A mug, containing all of his pencils. Connor stopped and looked at it for a moment. There was nothing special about it. It was just a plain white mug. But it made him pause.

Suddenly, there were tears in his eyes. He put the mug back down and took a step backward. Hot tears spilled down his cheeks. Connor hiccupped and wiped his eyes with his fist.

Connor sat down heavily and pushed himself backward until his back was against the wall and he couldn’t see into the hallway through the doorway. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like this, but he had quickly run out of energy to cry and just stared numbly at the edge of the doorway.

Eventually, the silence was broken.

The sound of a gentle knock on the doorframe was sudden and shocking. Connor jolted, blinking out of his trance.

Slowly, hesitantly, Zoe took a step into the room. She was tense. Her arms were stuck to her sides and her fists were clenched around a small object.

Connor didn’t say anything and just looked at her with confusion. Why would she willingly come into his room? Why was she here? Why was she here? Why was she here?

Zoe cleared her throat. “Um. I, uh, heard that you were. Um. Angry? And I thought, um, that maybe we could, uh, we could do something to help, like, um. Get your, uh, get your mind off of it. Or something,” she said. Her eyes were focused just above Connor, refusing to meet his own.

Connor furrowed his brow.

“I. Uh. I brought nail polish?” she said. She loosened her grip on the small object and held it out, revealing a bottle of dark, navy blue polish.  “We could watch a movie, too.”

Connor nodded slightly. “Spider-Man 2?” he asked, voice slightly raspy.

Zoe smiled. “Sure thing.”

“Can we move to your room?” Connor said.

Zoe bit her lip and looked back at the hallway. “Yeah, sure.”

Zoe’s room was way different than the last time he had been in here. Then again, Connor didn’t even remember when the last time was. Middle school? Elementary?

The walls were a soft blue, lit up by the sunlight that filtered in through sheer white curtains. A white bookcase was pushed up against the left wall, bursting with YA romance novels, high fantasy books, and sheet music. Zoe’s guitar leaned up against the shelf. A couple posters of old Gershwin musicals and Marvel movies were hanging up at irregular intervals, and there were glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the ceiling.

Connor remembered those stars. They both got some when they were little and had stuck them up together. The only thing remaining of the stars in his room were sad stains. He kind of missed them.

Zoe sat down on the bed and grabbed her laptop. She patted the comforter next to her, gesturing for Connor to sit down next to her. He did, albeit a little awkwardly. They watched the first ten minutes of the movie while Connor chipped of the remnants of his nail polish, and then Zoe unscrewed a base coat and carefully painted it on his nails.

“You’re a lot better at this than I am,” he said. Zoe startled and looked up.

“Well, it’s clear, so you can’t really see all of the mistakes I’ve made.”

They lapsed back into silence. Connor looked back at the movie while Zoe moved on to paint the dark blue, her tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth as she frowned in concentration.

This was nice. Connor looked back at Zoe, looked at how they were sitting, looked at how… normal this was. How normal it felt.

Zoe finished with a top coat.

“There. Nice and pretty,” she said. Connor examined his nails. They were smooth and shiny, not a single drop on his cuticles. He smiled.

Connor hung out in Zoe’s room a lot more after that.

~~~

Connor did not want to go to the cafeteria today. He had a… run-in with some people earlier, and he didn’t want to have to interact with them again.

He waited off to the side of the cafeteria doors, barely looking inside. Just barely, he could spot the pastel blue of Evan’s shirt towards the back. He didn’t go in.

“Connor?”

Connor spun around, his heart racing. Alana Beck stood in front of him, clutching her books tight to her chest. “Hi,” he said.

Alana shifted her weight. “You aren’t going into the cafeteria,” she noted.

Connor blinked. He nodded.

“If you want, you can sit with me in the library,” Alana said.

Connor was taken aback. Did she really want that? The library was probably a better option than just hanging out by the doors, though.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.”

Alana beamed.

The corner of the library they had chosen was cozy, with those plush stools in between bookshelves and fake trees(the kind that were brown paper stapled to the wall in the shape of a trunk with construction paper leaves spreading over the ceiling).

Alana was copying things from one notebook into a separate notebook. She looked up and caught Connor looking at her. “It helps with memorization,” she said. “Some kind of study was done on it, I think. And my notes are usually kind of messy when I first take them.”

“Hey, at least you take notes,” Connor said with a shrug. He put in his headphones and leaned back against the side of a bookshelf, letting his mind wander.

Eventually, lunch ended and Alana went to class, sending a parting smile in Connor’s direction.

The next day, Connor sat with Alana again.

~~~

Jared cornered Connor at the end of the day.

Connor was walking down the hallway, focusing on how he just had to make it to the door before he could get in his car and just go the fuck home when he felt an arm slung over his shoulder.

“Hey, Connor, my buddy, my man!”

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

He didn’t remove his arm.

Instead, Jared adjusted his glasses and flicked his jacket with his free hand, no doubt in an attempt to look cool.

“So Evan has confirmed that you two are, in fact, friends,” Jared said, looking straight ahead with a smirk on his face.

Connor rolled his eyes. “If you’re here to say that it’s a miracle that the school freak has a friend or that Evan and me being friends is ridiculous or anything along those lines, you can kindly fuck off, Kleinman.”

Jared laughed. “No, I’m not here for that. Though, that would be funny.”

He guided Connor off to the side, out of the hallway traffic before turning and facing Connor. His smirk fell, and he looked dead serious. “Okay. Look. I’ve known Evan since forever. I know he’s too afraid of upsetting people to tell them when they’re upsetting him. He sure as hell isn’t going to tell you if you’ve done something wrong.”

Connor tilted his head. He hadn’t taken Jared for the protective type. “I- what-”

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m glad Evan has another friend, but if you do something to hurt him, I’m going to find out and I will call you out on it.”

“I- okay. Yeah. Okay.”

Jared rubbed the back of his neck. “And, also? Evan isn’t perfect. He’s gonna mess up. So. Keep that in mind. Hey, can I see your phone?”

Connor frowned. “Why?”

“I’m gonna put my contact in it, dumbass.”

Bewildered, Connor typed in his passcode and handed Jared his phone. Jared put in his number, sent a text to himself, and handed it back.

“Coolio. See you around, my dude,” Jared said, and headed off in the opposite direction. He turned and called over his shoulder, “Oh, and communication is key! Remember that!”

Connor was left alone next to the lockers.

That was… one of the weirder conversations he’d had with Jared. His phone lit up with a notification.

From: ???

whats up my gay

guy*

thats a lie we all gay

thats just how it be on this bitch of an earth

To: ???

I mean, you’re not wrong.

Connor slipped his phone into his jacket pocket and went out to his car. Maybe being friends with Jared would be nice.

.

.

.

He was wrong. Being friends with Jared was a mistake and only led to being bombarded with extremely cursed images at 4 in the morning. Connor began to wonder if Jared was only pretending to be human and was secretly some sort of cryptid.

~~~

There were four people sitting in the living room with Connor.

He was friends with all of them.

It was a strange thing to think about. Connor Murphy, having friends. Who would’ve thought?

The TV was playing Shrek(Jared’s decision. Connor had wanted Spider-Man: Homecoming. Zoe wanted The Emoji Movie. Alana and Evan said they were down for whatever. Well, look what that led to). Two pizza boxes were open on the table, nearly empty. Soda cans were littered around the room. The movie had been forgotten in favor of talking amongst themselves.

“I’ve gotten into listening to podcasts recently,” Alana was saying. “I’ve been doing a lot of projects, and I realized that having something I can focus on while doing them is actually really helpful!”

Jared piped up from where he was sprawled across the couch. “The only podcasts I listen to are McElroy podcasts, I think. Some good quality jokes in there.”

Connor leaned back against the couch, sitting on the floor next to Evan. “You good?” he whispered. Evan looked over at him and nodded, smilingly gently. His face was flushed, and the light from the TV screen highlighted his freckles.

An empty soda can flew across the room and hit Jared in the face. “Ow! Shit!”

“That’s what you get! For that! Terrible! Extremely cursed! Concept!”

Evan chuckled. “What did he say?”

“Carbonated milk,” Alana said. Horror painted her features.

Connor closed his eyes. “I’ll do you one better,” he said. He paused dramatically for effect. “Carpeted kitchen.”

Zoe scoffed. “Ew, what the fuck?”

Connor just hummed in amusement. He could hear Evan laughing next to him, the sound slightly muffled. He imagined Evan was covering his mouth, but not quite enough to hide his smile.

~~~

Maybe Connor couldn’t live for himself.

But maybe Connor could live for somebody else.

fin.

[purps-bolg]

Unwanted Memories

Authors Note: Camp Camp has taken over my life, (halp)Anyways this story came to works because of one thing that i couldn't shake off, David wants Cameron to be his dad, sooooo that means his real dad was either, A-not there for him, or B-abusive, or C- I don't know you tell me haha,Bewarb, this is an hurt/comfort angst fest.

warnings: Violence, Swearing, Alcohol, Blood, Abuse.

word count: 2045

Link to fanfic.net

______________________

"Good morning campers! Ready for a new day of adventures and fun?" David's cheery voice rung through the mess hall, it was morning, about 7:30 am, all the campers have been awoken for breakfast, everyone was seated and munching the tastless goop they called 'mashed potatos',

"Ugh, god David can you be more annoying? How can you have so much fucking energy all the damn time?" Max glared at David as he sipped his coffee, Nikkie snickered beside him and Neil eyed his food,

"I'm just so happy to spend another day at Camp Campbell, the greatest place in the world! and watch your language," Max scoffed and rolled his eyes, David beamed as he saw his co-counsellor walking through the mess halls door ,

"Good moring Gwen!" David bounced in his place waving, she grimaced at the loudness of his voice but waved back slugshly, going to get some breakfast,

He started to walk towards her to ask if she had slept well, but stopped in his tracks, his attention stolen when he heard the sound of a car engine, "Thats weird, hey Gwen, are there any new campers coming?"

"Huh, wha-" Gwen was seated in one of the tables , she looked away from the magazine she brought with her, "Uh,no I don't think so, there weren't any papers for it and I kinda don't remember."

They heard the engine stop, the ground crackled as heavy footsteps came nearer and nearer, suddenly the door burst open, a bulky, shadowed figure was seen, David's eyes widened taking a step back, Max noticed this as he directed his attention to the door,

"Boy! Where are ya?! Ya little worm!" The figure stepped forward revealing a man with bloodshot eyes and emerald pupils, dark brown, messy hair, broad shoulders, wearing a sweaty dark blue T-shirt and long baggy jeans, his shoes and tips of his jeans were muddied, leaving tracks on the floor, he was holding a bottle of liquor in his hand, of which he threw and smashed on to the wall,

"D-Dad...?" David's mind was racing, how was his dad out of prison? How long has it been? Ten years? Fifteen? Last time David saw him he was twelve years old, he never wished to see his dad again after that night..

"There you are ya little snitch, you'll pay for what you did, we're gonna make up for lost time boy," His hands curl into fists and David gulped in response, "D-Dad, h-how did you f-find me...? W-wait, C-can't we take t-this outside, p-please?" His voice was cracking with fear, but he had to make sure that Gwen and the campers were safe,

"David, who is this guy...?" Asked Gwen, the man looked at her, bloodshot eyes glaring in the verge of madness,

"So this is where you went, to some shit camp, you thought you got rid of me?" He gave a dark chuckle, in a blink of an eye he was infront of his son, for a man his size he was incredibly fast, Davids forest green eyes widened with fear, as a huge hand came crushing his face,with brute force his head was smashed into the wall, the man let go and David fell to the floor, blood ran down his face,

Gwen stood speechless, what the hell does this asshole think he's doing?! Rage filled her gut as she jumped at the man, holding him in a choke hold, unfortunately he was stronger than her and flung her off him, she landed with a grunt, "David! kids get out of here! Now!"

"What the hell is happening?!" Screamed Harrison, Nikki was growling, slouched and ready to lunge for attack,

The other kids stood frozen in place, shock and fear obvious on their faces, "Damn it kids I said out! now!" Gwen screamed again, breaking through the kids haze, they scrambled out the door, the only ones remaining where Max, David, Gwen, and the insane man,

"Like hell I'm going anywhere, not until shitface over there gets the fuck outta here," Max glared at the man, "WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!"

The man didn't even shift, his attention solely on David, who was terrified, the man grabbed David by the collar, pulling him up to his feet "Davey, why did you tell on me? Why did you do that to dear old dad?"

Shivers ran down Davids spine as his father hissed his beloved childhood name,

He punched David in the face, causing a black eye, he proceeded to punch further more, swift, fast, motions, brusing the poor mans face, chest, and stomach, leaving hits that were sure to leave marks, Davids chest heaved for breath as a feeling unlike burning took over,

The cruel mans punches blurred as he went on, faster and faster, his fists tainted blood, he huffed as he stopped, leaving David to fall with a thud on the floor, David let a low moan of pain escape him when his father kicked him in the stomach, "worthless sack of filth,"

A battle cry was heard as Max charged at the brute man, Max had jumped on the mans shoulders, trying to claw his eyes out,

"M-Max! No!" David coughed, was terrified to say the least, the man he thought was gone forever had returned, more hateful and harmful than ever, and to make things worse, Max, his so-CAMPER had decided to help, which was a really, really bad idea, he didn't want him to get hurt because of him!

The man grunted, annoyed by the disturbance, "Fucking kid! Get offa me!" His words slurred, he grabbed Maxs arm, "Ah! Let go you fucking turd blossom!"

"M-max! Let g-go of him!" David heart sank when he saw this, tears began to rim his eyes, he struggled to stand up, he tried his best to pull himself up only for his arms to give up on him,

The man snarled, pulling Max up to his face to look directly into his eyes, "Listen here, and listen good, that little piece of shit" he pointed at David, "Is no more than a ungrateful waste of space, he deserves everything I give him, He's a fucking snitch, it's because of him I got thrown in jail!" His voice rose in rage,

"He can't be trusted," the man continued, "When he was smaller all his sniffling little face did was cry and play that damn guitar, I fucking hate that guitar, he never did anything useful, he brought all those beatings to himself,"

His grip tightened around Maxs arm, causing Max to increase his struggling, "So just leave him to me, and scram, or else I'll teach you a 'leason' too,"

Max glared at the older man, "you're wrong, he may be an annoying, overactive naive idiot, and I would kill to get him to stop singing that damn song every morning, but at least he tries his best, even if he knows the world is shit, he still cares, he cares about this place, he cares about the campers, he cares about me, he's our idiot, so you better leave him the hell alone!

Max glarred dagers at the man, "Heh, if looks could kill," He threw the ten year old to the wall, Max letting out a cry as he hit the wall,

"MAX!" David tackled his father, crashing to the ground, but the man was stronger, he flipped David, pinning him to the ground, his large hands going to the redheads neck, choking him, David clawing at the mans hands "Listen here boy, you'll never get rid of me, you'll never be safe from me, you are a sniffling, scared, waste of space, and I'll enjoy breaking you, over and over again, no one cares about you, cause you're useless, unwanted, you destroy everything you touch, you're a monster, and a failure, you failed that kid, the one who fell off the cliff, and I'll make sure you remember that for the rest your life, you'll never be free of me,"

The sneering figure of his father looms above him, as intimedating and threatening as he remebered when he was a child, but dispite what was happening, dispite what he suffered from the hands of the monster before him, how scared he was, he managed to get two last word out,

"F-fuck you,"

Because no one harms his campers,

The man glares and tightens his grip,

David's vision begins to haze, black spots at the corners of his sight, his eyes glaze over, at the verge of consciousness,

Suddenly the weight lifts, air rushes into his lungs, he starts coughing, his lungs ached, he thought it felt like fire, but at least he could breath,

he looks up to see Gwen holding a bat still in a post swing position, his father thrown a few feet away from him, holding his head, a huge purple and yellow bruise forming, "Guess being forced to play bassball as a kid finally paid off, get lost Fucker, or another swing is coming your way" she made a show of swinging the bat again,

Max clears his throat," Better get a moving Assface, I called the cops the moment you made your move, they'll be here any minute,"

The man gave a dark chuckle, he stood up, his hand still on his forehead, he started towards the Messhalls' door, but just as he was about to step outside, he turned his head, staring directly into Davids eyes, he sneered

"I'll be back for you, boy,"

Then walked out of hall, David swore those words would hunt him forever,

Max stared to where the man left, that piece of shit was Davids dad, how in the hell was David so happy all the time, why was he happy all the time, a slight shuffle in Davids direction made Max turn to him, the redhead was beaten, bloodied, bruised, and trying to get up, he staggered as he found his footing, a hand clamped on his side, he slowly faced them, and to Maxs utter surprise, David was...

Smiling,

Half his face was covered in blood, his eye was swolen, he could see that the man was holding back his tears,

But god damn it the idiot was smiling,Smiling,

Half his face was covered in blood, his eye was swolen, he could see that the man was holding back his tears,

But god damn it the idiot was smiling,

"I-it's okay kids, e-everything is a-alright, n-nothing t-to worry about..." his smiled was so strained, so forced, so sad...

"I-it's okay...it's o-okay..."

Tears spilled, he folded his arms around himself as if he were shielding himself from the world,

"It's, I-it's okay..."

He took a few feet backwards, back hitting the wall,

"It's o-okay,"

He seemed to be trying to convince himself, he slid down, pulling his knees to his chest,

"It's o-okay, it's ok-okay, i-it's o-okay, I'm o-okay, I-I'm o-okay, I'm f-fine, I'm-I'm f-fine, e-e-everything is f-fine..."

His voice cracked and tears streamed down his face, he kept on repeating his mantra, again and again and again, until he felt something lightly touch his shoulder, he flinched and covered his face, but when he felt nothing, he timidly looked up, and saw the sad but glaring face of Max, he looked around and found Gwen standing beside him, worry written all over her face,

He cracked a small smile, even thought the tears didn't stop, "I-I'm sorry Max, but I p-promise everything will b-be alrig-oof!"

Two tiny arms were around him, hugging him, Max was hugging him, Max was hugging him,

David looked shocked, and his shock only increased when he heard light sniffles, oh no, Max was crying, and it was all his fault,

"M-Max, I'm s-so sorry y-you had to s-see that, p-please don't cry, it'll b-" he was cut off when Max broke the hug, Max was glaring at him, but he was in tears,

"You're an idiot, you told me I could stop pretending, so why can't you?"

David stared back at Max, eyes wide, slowly his face crumbled, he burst into tears, sobbing loudly as he hugged Max, and Max surly returned the hug, he felt other arms rap gently around him, realizing it was the Gwen as he sobbed harder, breaking down in the arms of those who cared about him, who loved him like a family, a family he never had,