#and possibly already started the process of getting someone to rent her place

[mydemonsyourangels]

im sorry but if my boyfriend let me move in with him only to immediately kick me out…like i ain’t coming back

[lovecla]

TAKE YOUR PAIN AWAY | quinn hughes.

chapter four:

<last chapter> <next chapter>

➴ chapter warnings: drinking and kinda suggestive? sex is mentioned!

➴ word count: 3k

💌 from me to you: i think one of you cast a spell on me because i cannot wait until friday to publish this. also, i listened to self righteous by bryson tiller while i wrote this. just saying!

౨ৎ

2024, APRIL.

liked by nickharris_img, imgmodels, lhughes_06 and 390,813 others

madisoncarter mood because bella and i are the newest vancouver girlies

View all 1,283 comments

vic_alonso 🤩🤩🤩

ellecanada Welcome, love 💛

madisoncarter_updates Omggg we’re so excited for you babe!!!!!!!

user1 she’s never beating the “idk who the hughes brothers are” allegations

nickharris_img I miss you already Mads 💔

lavieenrose Welcome home, Flower! 🌷🌼🌹

user2 bella looks so cute

౨ৎ

“WHAT DO you think, baby?”

Bella stared at you before she started running around the place, sniffing every corner.

It was officially your first day living in Vancouver. You had been coming and going to Vancouver ever since you’d signed your contract with La Vie en Rose, arranging things and getting your shit together.

Nicholas was right, their team took care of everything, and they got you a nice place too. You still had to pay rent but at least you didn’t have to go apartment hunting, which was something you hated.

You and Bella landed in Vancouver last night, and you didn’t have the energy to do anything but lay on your bed with her and sleep the entire Saturday. It was Sunday now, and you were trying to get Bella used to the rooms before you had to leave for your first shooting on Monday.

“It’s not so bad, is it?” You asked her, putting your hands on your waist. “I think it’s nice.”

Your phone rang and you picked it up, reading Quinn’s text with a smile on your face.

You’ve been texting everyday since that day at his house, and you felt like the world was finally spinning right again. Having Quinn back in your life— and consequently Ellen, Jim, Luke and Jack as well— made you so happy it was almost unbelievable.

He texted at weird hours, sometimes at three a.m. and sometimes at six p.m., but he always asked about you and how you were doing. Have you eaten? How’s the moving going? Do you need any help?

You’d stare at those texts and ask yourself the same thing you’ve been asking since you were eleven: why he was so kind to you? Not that you were complaining. It just felt weird to have someone who cared as much as he did again.

You told him you were now permanently living in Vancouver and he told you he’d come see you whenever he got back from Seattle. You felt your heart beating faster just with the thought of him at your place, both of you alone for the first time after that awkward moment at his house, with you hangover as fuck.

Now you would be sober and in your space, not his.

You sighed, watching Bella preparing herself for a nap in her massive bed by the balcony and you decided that napping was the right solution for you too.

౨ৎ

YOUR FIRST day at La Vie en Rose had been a success, not that you expected anything else.

Turns out your editor-in-chief, Victoria, was one of the nicest people you had ever met; she talked you through the process of working for La Vie en Rose and answered all of your questions with patience and kindness.

“You were our target for a long time before we managed to snatch you,” she joked when you mentioned that working with them was a dream come true. “So we’re the ones who should be thankful.”

She took you to her favorite restaurant and bought your lunch while she talked your ears off, in the best way possible. You never had a girl friend before. Between casting and auditions, you never got to make many friends. And in the world of modeling, there weren’t friends— you had to see the other girls as your opponents, people you had to defeat. Your body had to be better, your hair had to be shinier, your catwalk had to be smoother.

So when Victoria treated you as a friend, even if you’d met each other a few hours ago, it was like the universe was being kind to you again.

You were on your way home, enjoying the view as you walked down the streets, grateful that you still didn’t have a car because the city was really beautiful, even with the cold weather.

You arrived at your apartment, going all the way up to the ninth floor. When you opened your door, Bella almost knocked you down, jumping on you and licking your face.

“You’re going to hurt mommy, baby,” You laughed, caressing her fur. “I missed you too.”

She barked and you got up, finally closing the door and removing your heels. You left your bag on the couch and ran to your bathroom, desperate for a hot shower and pajamas. The best part of your house was the central heater system, and the fact that you got to wear your tiny pajama sets even when it was snowing outside.

You did your nightly skincare and spread the vanilla scented lotion on your entire body, before applying your favorite perfume— no need to specify the scent. You were a vanilla girl through and through and you would never leave the house unless you smelled like a bakery.

It was only eight p.m. but you were so tired that all you wanted to do was crash in your bed and sleep, but you still had to give Bella her dinner. So you walked to your laundry room, where you kept all of her things— you were that king of dog mom who buys your dog three hundred winter clothes and five hundred chewing toys— and grabbed her food pot, shaking it lightly to grab her attention.

Which worked momentarily because next thing you knew the doorbell was ringing and Bella was running to the door, barking loudly.

“Bella!” You reprimanded her, putting your index finger in front of your mouth and shushing her. “Quiet, please.”

You opened the door even without knowing who was on the other side, which was probably a bad and dangerous thing to do, but it was just Quinn, wearing a suit and holding a suitcase.

“Quinn?” You watched as Bella jumped on him, excited to see someone else. “Bella, down, please. Leave him alone.”

“Oh, hello there,” he bent over and patted Bella’s head, caressing her fur while she licked his hands. “Who are you, hm?”

“That’s Bella,” you said, opening the door so he could get inside. You watched as he got up and stared down at you, eyeing you up and down. You followed his gaze and realized that you were still only wearing your pink, almost see through pajama set and with the cold breeze that hit you when you opened the door, your nipples decided that now was a good time to mark through your shirt. “Um.”

Something flashed through Quinn’s eyes, but you didn’t know what. He coughed, closing the door for you. “I didn’t know you had a dog.”

“O-oh, right. Bella,” you looked at her, watching as she sniffed Quinn’s things. “I adopted her when I moved to LA. We were both alone and she was living at a shelter.” You smiled, remembering the day you took her home. “She was so small and so scared. She was sitting alone at a corner and I just… I couldn’t leave her there.”

Quinn chuckled, nodding. “You’re still the sweetest person I have ever met.”

“Oh, stop it,” you croaked, smiling.

“Just saying,” he shrugged, putting his hands on his pocket and resting his body against the door. “I just came to check on you. Nice place you got here.”

You looked around, agreeing with him.

“It is, I was just telling Bella this,” you started. “It’s not big but it’s perfect for us. I like it a lot. Especially the heater.”

“That’s nice too,” he agrees. “What are you having for dinner?”

You stared at him, confused. Only that you couldn’t tell him that dinner wasn’t something that happened everyday in your world.

“Hum,” you stutter. “Nothing? I was just ready to go to bed, actually.”

“That’s too bad,” he removed his shoes and started walking around your place like he’d been there a million times before. “I’m starving. We just got here from Seattle. What do you want me to cook?”

“You don’t need to cook anything,” he cocks his head at you, eyes staring deep into your soul. “I’m not hungry. But I can cook something for you if you want to.”

“I don’t like eating alone. And you can’t just go to bed without eating anything.”

“Quinn…” you sigh, placing your hands on your hips. “Don’t do this. Please?”

“I’m not doing anything, I’m just saying. So,” he claps his hands. “What are we having?”

“Jesus, I forgot how annoying you are,” you roll your eyes, holding back a smile. “We can maybe have a salad.”

“If you want to kill me, there are faster ways to do it,” he whines and you laugh. “Can I take care of dinner and you take care of Bella while I cook?”

“I wanna help.” You pout and he smiles.

“You can help by sitting there,” he points at your dinner table. “And looking pretty. You’re good at that anyway.”

You laughed out loud, wrapping your arms around your chest. “You’re old and annoying, Quinn Hughes.”

He opened your cabinets, searching for something with his eyes.

“What do you think about rice and salmon?” He asks, picking up the rice package.

“Maybe potatoes instead of rice?” You suggest, pointing at the potato sack sitting in your kitchen trolley.

“Alright,” he pulls up the sleeves of his suit, and goes to the sink to wash his hands. “Let’s get to work.”

To your surprise, Quinn moved around your kitchen with ease, even when he had never visited you before. He finely chopped the potatoes, putting them in the oven to let them roast before he moved to the salmon, seasoning it with the spices you had in your cabinet.

He listened to you the entire time, with you yapping about your day and how nice Victoria had treated you and how Nicholas had called you mid-shooting to ask how you were doing.

“What exactly do you do?” He asked, while you grabbed a wine bottle from your fridge.

“Well, it depends,” you replied, grabbing wine glasses from your cabinet and opening the bottle. “Sometimes I just take pictures all day, in different locations and outfits. Sometimes I have to go to runways. Sometimes both. Not to mention the social media work, the TikToks and all of that.”

“I don’t even wanna hear about TikToks,” he rolls his eyes, making you laugh. “The Canucks media team are always asking us to do stupid trends and answer weird questions. What does ‘very demure’ even mean anyway?”

“You’re too old for that, Quinny,” you joke, filling your glasses up. “Do you know what I think?”

“Hm?”

“I think you should come see me at a runway show,” you suggest, knowing damn well Quinn would never sit on a chair for an hour and a half just to watch women wear weird, provocative clothes and catwalk on a platform. “It’d be interesting.”

“Only if I get to bring my team with me so it’ll be less boring.” He fires back, checking on the salmon in the pan.

“I’m sure they won’t mind watching women in underwear or something similar.” You smile, watching as he nods with his head and sips on his wine too.

“I’m sure of that too.”

He resumes cooking while you finish your first glass of wine, already in for your second. You set the table, turning the TV on for Bella— she likes watching TV sometimes, and that’s fine!— before sitting down to eat Quinn’s tasty-looking meal. After you got your first bite of the salmon, you couldn’t help but moan.

“I didn’t know you knew how to actually cook, Quinn Hughes,” you say, chewing on the fish. “When did you even learn that?”

“I’m a grown man now, Maddie,” he laughed and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Like that means anything. I know Ellen would cook for you everyday if you asked her to.”

“Yeah, but I’m not around her so much anymore, so I just figured out it’d be good for me to know how to take care of myself. And turns out I really like cooking.”

“This is heavenly, thank you so much,” you sip on your wine as the same time he sips on his, smiling because you liked his company a lot.

౨ৎ

“AND THEN, Jack asked them to flash him and the worst part is that someone caught that on camera.”

You laughed, letting your body fall forward, feeling lighter than ever. You and Quinn were sitting on your couch, already in your second bottle of wine. Bella was chewing on one of her toys and it was already ten thirty.

Quinn was now wearing just his white, dress shirt with the first two buttons open, his jacket lost somewhere alongside his tie. You couldn’t help but notice how the fabric of the shirt held his muscles in all the right places, getting tighter every time he flexed his muscles.

Quinn was hot, and he had always been in your eyes. He was only twenty-four, almost twenty-five, but he looked older, mature. Something about him being a hockey player, the captain, made you feel confused and hot at the same time.

“Jack girlies must have gone crazy with that video,” you add after you stop laughing, watching as Quinn nods.

“Tell me about it,” he runs his fingers through his silky, somehow hydrated hair, and you find yourself wondering how it’d feel for you to do the same. “It was crazy. But I don’t really get the appeal.”

You scoffed. “You don’t get the appeal? Have you seen you or your brothers?”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “So what? We’re alright, I guess,”

“You’re crazy,” you roll your eyes at him, incredulous. “I spent my teenage years ignoring guys because you ruined all of them for me and you’re saying you’re just alright?”

He chuckles, turning his head around and staring at you, blue eyes darkening.

“What do you mean by that, Madison?”

Maybe it was the fact that it was already late at night and you were tired, or maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe the fact that the last time you had had sex with someone had been more than six months ago, but something about the way Quinn asked you that question, calling you by your name out of all things, made you wonder.

You were both grown up now. You weren’t fifteen anymore, innocent and afraid of voicing your needs. And Quinn looks like he knows how to make a woman see stars…

Besides what they say about big noses, you caught yourself thinking, before you could even stop yourself.

Crossing your legs and unconsciously squeezing your thighs together, you answered, softly:

“It’s silly,” you bit your lip, unsure of what you would even say. This is definitely the wine’s fault. “I had a crush on you growing up.”

You expected him to laugh and play it off, like he used to do whenever Jack or Luke mentioned that one of their girl friends had a crush on their older brother, Quinn. You expected him to give you that brotherly look he used to give you when you were younger and asked him questions about his life and family.

But the look he gave you had something different, something rawer. Something that made your skin crawl in the best way possible, that lightened something inside you.

“Did you now?”

“Mhm,” you nod with your head. “That’s why I’ve never had any boyfriends or hook-ups, even after you left. You ruined them all for me.” You wanted it to sound like a joke, but it hadn’t. How could it, when you were telling the truth.

“Should I apologize, Maddie?” He manspreads on your couch, and you let your gaze fall on his thighs for a brief second— just not brief enough for him not to notice.

“No, it’s— it’s fine. I’m not fifteen anymore.”

“I can see that,” he whispers, and you can feel yourself slipping into his little trap, slowly.

You were so fucked. Ultimately, stupidly fucked, and not even in the way you wanted to. After all these years of swearing to yourself that Quinn wasn’t meant for you, and that you wouldn’t see him again with lovey eyes anymore, you couldn’t believe the reactions your body was having to just his words and stares. This isn’t normal.

You needed to do something because— you will not fuck this up again. Quinn’s friendship’s too precious for you to ruin it with horny thoughts.

So what if Quinn looked like he could fuck you six ways to Sunday? He was your friend. It hadn’t even been a month since he got back in your life.

“Yeah, but I’m over it now,” you brushed it off, making a pft sound with your mouth. “Grew up and all of that.”

He takes a while to answer, but when he does, you can feel he wants to say something else.

“Got it.”

After that, the tension between the two of you is almost ten times bigger, and you have to stop your brain from blaming yourself. Whatever happened between you and Quinn seconds ago could never happen again. He was your friend.

“Think I’m gonna go now,” he says, getting up. Bella runs to his body, licking his hands and asking for pets. “Hey, baby girl. I’m going home now.”

“You don’t have to,” you suggest, the thought of him leaving because of you making you sick to your stomach. “I have a spare bedroom. You drank, it’s not safe.”

“You’re right, but I’m not drunk and I’ll drive slowly, I promise,” he smiles, leaning down to give you a peck on your forehead. “Great to see you.”

“Drive safe, please,” You watched him leave with Bella by your side, heart squeezed tightly inside your chest. “Text me when you get home.”

“Will do it.” He answers, before putting on his jacket again, grabbing his suitcase and closing the door of your apartment.

And just like that, you had to spend the night trying to convince yourself that you did the right thing by pushing whatever that was away.

taglist: @hischierswhore @ru-kru @alwaysclassyeagle @he6rtshaker @nope-i-am-done @nngkay 🤎

[thedreadvampy]

My housemate is moving out in January

She told us this a week or two ago, when she sat down and, after sitting with us watching TV for over an hour, said "hey so I bought a house and I'm moving out. We agreed on 2 months notice so I won't move until the end of January."

The last time she talked in the immediate terms about buying a house was in 2021, when the sale she was working on fell though and she was unemployed so it was a "when I'm back in a position to look I'll start looking again." Since then I've occasionally asked her how she's doing on the house buying front and she's been like "oh I'm getting there financially" but hasn't mentioned anything concrete.

She didn't tell us she was looking at places. She didn't tell us she had put in an offer. She told us when the offer was finalised. A week AFTER she emailed the letting agent about getting out of her part of the lease. And, it increasingly feels like, only because the letting agent's response was that we had to agree to change the lease.

The letting agent's response (which our housemate obviously didn't copy us into; we had to follow up separately and they copied us into the email chain) also includes that when we change the lease, they're empowered to change the rent, quote, "no cap". Rent was already going up in January - there's no possibility of Sam and I paying her share of the rent.

The really fucking upsetting thing is we're not strangers. This isn't a casual "housemate we found on flatshare" thing. She and Sam have lived together literally their entire adult lives. Me and her have known each other well over a decade. I lived in her and Sam's flat when I was homeless. We were the first people she came out to as trans. We're not super close but I thought we were fucking friends. And she's literally gone out of her way to not talk to us about this for what must have been months while the sale completed - which means she's lied to my face at least once cause I've asked her about her finances in that time (cause she's in a job she hates that she only took to get the house money, so it's like. when we've been commiserating about work stuff I'm often asking 'are you almost free?'). she literally went out of her way to talk to the letting agents before talking to us about putting us in a situation where we could lose our fucking home.

And she keeps. trying. to pretend nothing's happened. Every time I've seen her since then she's not mentioned anything or apologised or anything, she just keeps chatting away and offering hugs and fistbumps like nothing's happened. Like we're still fucking friends.

All it would take for us to still be friends and to be happy for her would have been one fucking sentence in the groupchat like "hey, just put an offer in on a house" or "I'm looking at properties, just so you know, that might happen in the next few months". Like nobody begrudges her for buying a house! It's very cool for her! She's 31 she's worked really hard to get the money I would love to be happy for her! Unfortunately she decided avoiding conflict is more important than giving the people she fucking LIVES WITH (who btw fronted her a month on the rent here while she was unemployed and agreed to take on a larger proportion of the move-in cost back in 2021, if we're still holding ourselves to shit we said 2.5 years ago), so no, you are not entitled to our friendship or to going back to normal.

like if she'd been honest with us it would have been something to process but we'd have had time to figure out our next steps. instead she's left us in a position where we have to find a new roommate before she gives her one month notice, which means finding someone by the end of December, which oh look that's the middle of the fucking Christmas holidays. and she didn't tell us anything until the START of December, or copy us into her conversation with the letting agent, meaning we still don't know what the rent on that space will be so we aren't yet in a position to advertise it. Has she offered to help find a roommate? Has she fuck. Has she offered to help out by moving her move-out date? Nah, she's moving as soon as she gets the keys because, quote, "that means her finances won't have to change". SOUNDS LOVELY. NOT HAVING YOUR FINANCES SUDDENLY CHANGE. I THINK THAT SOUNDS LIKE A REALLY REASONABLE FUCKING GOAL.

Thirteen fucking years she's lived with Sam. Four fucking weeks over Christmas she's left us to figure out a way to not turbofuck our living situation. And she's got the fucking nerve to try and pretend we should be interacting like nothing's changed. Jesus Christ. What a fucking unhinged way to treat...anybody, honestly. never mind the friends-your-entire-adult-life part. literally cannot imagine a scenario in which I would buy a house without telling the people I lived with.

(haha actually this is what my parents divorced over so apparently it's not unusual. although at least my dad had the decency to tell the woman he shared finances with at the point he put in an offer not the point the fucking sale went through.)

Like we'll be fine. It's a huge city centre flat with decent rent and queer housemates, hopefully even when the rent goes up it'll be an easy sell in a city with a huge housing shortage and big queer community. We've got a couple of people interested already, sight unseen - worst case scenario we have to live with someone we don't get on with. And it's given Sam and me a push to look at our own finances and as of today, we've got a mortgage decision in principle and can start looking at flats in the area - mind, we'll be transparent upfront and tell any prospective housemates that yeah, we're looking to buy and move out in the next 6-12 months, and we'll tell them if we put an offer in, because we're decent fucking people who aren't going to spring that on someone out of the blue.

But it's been I think 2 weeks and I'm so fucking angry I could spit. It's such a fucking betrayal. And frankly you know selfishly like. I just had a breakup a couple of months ago, I'm in the middle of moving jobs, both me and Sam have a history of housing instability and this has been the first decent, stable, safe, not-mouldy not-freezing home I think any of us have had, and this is so fucking triggering and upscuttling I could just start biting. like I was talking to my friend about it last week and it's just like. Can I have One Fucking Thing of the three main tentpoles of survival - home, work, relationships - that are fucking stable right now? because shit has been In Flux lately. and at least the work and relationship stuff has changed because of my decisions. going through all that work to make myself short-term unstable to gain long-term stability has been really hard and draining and then just as I was reaching the crisis point with work stuff BOOM, IT'S HOUSING INSTABILITY WITH A STEEL CHAIR. fuck. seriously fuck this and fuck her. we're going to make something good come of it but what a deeply, unbelievably shitty thing to do.

[imaginedreamwrite]

A Permanent Claim: Part 1

Your knee bounced to the tune of the song playing through the speakers of your Uber driver’s vehicle, your lips moving to the lyric you recognized.

It might have seemed as if you were paying attention to the ride or the direction of the driver as he took you to the house of your potential job.

The interview with someone he trusted, this Curtis Everett guy, and wouldn’t be with the man himself, a fact which had made you more anxious and unsettled about the interview processes that would make or break the job.

You had prepared yourself as best as you possibly could with background checks and re-certifying yourself in first aid and CPR, and you had sent your references and all your university coursework to the nanny agency that had set this up. You had presented everything you needed, you had gone through two interviews already and this, possibly, would be the last.

Your friend’s reassurance that this was a goo-paying, well-paying job, hadn’t made it any easier to potentially land. You had almost thought there were more hoops for you to jump through, even if it was slapped with a label of being a high-turnaround job. The job paid well, the kids were rather sweet and cute and yet they couldn’t keep a nanny.

Maybe you should have asked yourself why they couldn’t keep anyone down instead of being so eager to dive in.

However, the reality was quickly set upon you with the reminder that bills needed to be paid, rent was due and you had student loans that you wanted to get off your shoulders. There was more to be done than not and that required a steady income.

“We’re here, I can’t get passed the gate.” The driver informed you when he came to a stop outside of an iron-wrought barricade that kept you from accessing the rest of the property.

The tall barricade and fence were simple yet effective, the steel bars trapped between stone or concrete headers and footer had given somewhat of a glance at the house, or mansion rather, that lay beyond.

The gate itself would have opened both doors if you were given clearance but as it stood neither you nor the driver was given access now. To make it to the house, you could have had to hike it up the curved driveway to the front of the house and that was if they would even let you beyond the gate in the first place.

“I can take you somewhere else or you can get out but we’re not sitting here.” The driver had snarked, looking at you through the rearview mirror with a scowl on his face and his eyebrows furrowed.

You weren’t given much of a choice with the Uber driver, you could have tried calling the number given to you but the driver wouldn’t let you stay in the vehicle. You would have to get out of the vehicle and speak to the security speaker or at the very least get out and call the number.

“I’m getting out.” You unbuckled and tossed it to the side, scrambling to grab your purse and phone before you fumbled with the door.

You stepped out of the Uber and nudged the door shut with your hip, the latch catching and the driver starting to roll away from the gate. You threw your bag over your shoulder and walked toward the security box before the entrance of the gate, briefly listening to the driver abandoning you before you pressed your thumb into the call button.

You waited for someone to either let you in or deny you completely, the crackle of the system reminding you of the white noise machines your college roommate had used night after night until she moved in with her boyfriend. She swore she couldn’t sleep without the crackling background noise, even though you were vexed by the sound and didn’t find any comfort from the sound.

Despite your asking if she could wear headphones when she used the machine because it was preventing her from sleeping well, your college roommate refused and made the rebuttal that you could wear headphones instead.

“I’m here to interview for the nanny position.” Your voice and lips had moved without your knowledge, and you hadn’t been aware that anyone was even had spoken to you until you heard your reply.

“Y/N L/N?” The voice through the speaker had huffed, irritated by the intrusion or maybe it was you being here ringing the buzzer that annoyed them.

Regardless, the gate had begun opening after their snort of derision and you were given access to the grounds.

The mansion stood out against the dark asphalt driveway that extended from the road to the edge of the steps. The light-coloured brick and mortar seemed altogether unassuming and ordinary yet beautifully designed in conjecture with the double french doors that were shut tight.

Even as far away as you were, you could make out the design of the detailed glass set into the dark wood of the double doors. The overhanging arch that protected the door from less-than-ideal weather if it had inflicted itself upon the earth was made of light sandy and taupe-coloured bricks set into place with matching grout.

There was a set of matching arched cutouts above the welcoming arch that served no purpose but decoration, embedded with sconces and security cameras aimed at the front door.

The door opened before you even had an opportunity to ring the doorbell or use the brass knocker, the woman that had come peeling out of the house had knocked into you with brute force. You harrumphed and braced yourself against the wall as she passed you with a reddened face and spittle gathering at the corner of her lips.

“Those demons-“

“Y/N L/N.” another woman stepped into your view, looking you up and down with a passive smirk on her face.

You didn’t know what drew your attention first, whether it was the septum piercing she had that glittered in the light or whether it was the full sleeve of tattoos covering her right arm.

“You’re…” You stuttered and looked over your shoulder toward the older woman who couldn’t have gotten out of the house fast enough. “Is she okay?”

“Come inside.” The woman with long plaited black hair had stepped aside to let you pass into the house and as you passed you took notice of the largest tattoo on her right shoulder, the image of a goddess that wasn’t at all familiar to you.

“You have tattoos?” She wasn’t bothered at all by you staring at her, neither was she put off by your wide-eyed gaze when she closed the door with her foot, bringing attention to the piercing in her hips and belly button.

“No.” you squeaked, intimidated by the woman who looked as tough as nails and unapologetically in touch with herself. “I don’t…I’ve never-“

“Curtis trusts me to find the little hellions a good nanny.” She tilted her head to the side, an indication to follow her into the kitchen, neither waiting nor checking to see if you trailed after her.

“Twins, right?” You scurried after the woman as she crossed into the kitchen and immediately reached for a glass of water before pushing another toward you.

The kitchen, like the exterior of the mansion, was beautiful and aesthetically pleasing though it seemed as if it was relatively untouched.

There was a massive island in the middle of the kitchen with sleek marble countertops that were heralded by deepest cupboards and a breakfast bar on the far side. There was a dangling chandelier that hung above the middle of the island, accompanied by pot lights set into the indented ceiling although few were on.

“Theo and James are five turning six.” She had spoken, yet to give you her name, and looked you over once more before she rest her hip against the counter and lift the glass to her dark-stained lips. “Do you drink?”

“Not often.” You answered her directly, tapering off at the end of your speech while trying to be subtle about taking in every detail of the kitchen. “I’ve never been drunk before, I don’t know what it’s like to have a hangover.”

“You do drugs?”

“Do you?” You asked in retaliation without thinking, drawing a laugh from the woman whose name you still hadn’t known. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-“

“Curtis is protective of who comes around his kids. There have been more nannies coming and gone because of who they pretend to be or how they treat their kids. His kids are his whole world-“

“I’m not looking to make their mom mad, or try and infringe-“

“Curtis isn’t married, he brings women home but he keeps that away from his boys. He won’t let his boys see any of the everyday shit that could be harmful to their psyche.” She had continued to size you up, a smirk tugging on her lips until she rolled her shoulder back and exposed a waterlily tattoo on the side of her neck.

“I’m sorry,” you furrowed your eyebrows and pursed your lips, remunerating on what your friend had told you earlier about Curtis Everett being frightening without her ever giving up his profession, “but what does Curtis do?”

There was a moment of silence that fell between the two of you, the silence that lingered as she drank from her glass of water before eventually setting it back against the marble. The clink of the bottom rim against the smooth countertop had nearly been overshadowed by the sound of boyish laughter and thundering footsteps coming straight toward the kitchen.

The twins you might be in charge of had come bustling into the kitchen heading straight toward the woman you had been talking to. They hadn’t faltered in running up to her and slamming themselves against her legs, hugging her tightly while talking at the same time. She had somehow embraced them both while lifting them onto the kitchen island, neither one paying attention to you until she had whispered to them.

The twins themselves seemed to exude trouble from their matching green eyes that sparked with mischief and secrets. Their dark brown hair had been cropped short in a Caesar cut, the two nearly identical cuts making it almost impossible to tell one from the other and yet one had a slightly more pronounced jaw than the next.

“My name’s Theo,” the seemingly bolder of the twins had lurched forward to stare deep into your eyes, sprawled across the marble surface, “how old are you?”

“Have you ever eaten a spider? A live spider?” The other twin crawled across the surface of the island toward you, his fingers spread and squeaking upon the surface. “Are you allerganic to fun?”

“Allergic,” you corrected, glancing between the two boys as they rapidly fired off questions to you, one after the other, “I’m allergic to crustaceans-“

“What are crust-ashes-“ the quieter twin had piped up, kicking his feet twice.

“Shellfish,” you looked from James to Theo and back again, unable to keep your eyes on one and not the other, “lobster and crab, oysters…”

“I don’t like lobster. I like chicken.” Theo huffed and flopped onto his back, holding his arms and legs into the air stiffly. “I wish I was a turtle-“

“Pari.” She held her hand out to you to shake, delicate and light tracings of ink on her left hand and forearm drawing your attention, even momentarily. “It’s what my boyfriend calls me.”

“Pari.” You repeated the name she had given you, shaking her hand while the twins continued to rattle off questions one after the other. “Y/N-“

“Curtis trusts me to make a good decision. You seem well rounded and you’re not a psycho, the twins like you-“

“You like me?”

“Do you have cooties?” Theo bound to his feet in a single moment, standing on his tippy toes in the middle of the island.

“I took my cootie shot and islands aren’t for standing on.” Your gentle scold had been met with a bout of energy from Theo, and a startling scream as he jumped off the island and goaded James to follow him.

“I’ll show you around tonight, give you the schedule and all the codes.” Pari had motioned for you to follow her out of the kitchen, across the entranceway into a study. “Tomorrow you’ll meet Curtis.”

“What does Curtis do?” You asked again after not getting a direct answer the first time.

“I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out yet.” She opened the door for you to step into the study, a contract sitting in the middle of the desk with a sleek silver pen on the paper. “His reputation is usually well known.”

“Oh, but I don’t…” You sat down before the desk while she sat on the other side, another smirk toying at her lips.

“He runs a motorcycle club and has half the county’s richest men in his pocket,” her smirk widened at your silence, “I’m surprised you didn’t know.”

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[gon-and-killuas-mother]

EMERGENCY FUNDS NEEDED FOR DISABLED QUEER

my ONE source of income, my generous grandmother, has fallen ill and failed to tell me that she wouldn't be able to cover my rent this month. i've been operating under the assumption that i'd get my usual check today, but was informed yesterday by my father that no, she doesn't actually have the money and she's too sick to help me.

this is the worst possible timing bc i'm already a month late on rent, as a vet bill had set me back almost $400 last month. my landlady has lost her patience with me and told me if I didn't pay by tomorrow, they would be starting the legal process of eviction AND suing me for whatever pennies i have

i'm asking friends and family for donations and a few are able to help, but i'm terrified it won't be enough.

my disabilities prevent me from working any regular job, and there aren't a lot of places that will hire someone who moves as slow as i do, no matter how good my customer service is. i'm still applying for remote jobs and looking for other solutions. and my second disability application is still pending.

times are hard so i understand completely that most of y'all can't afford to donate every time you see one of these posts, but any support or advice helps!!

[all-the-gory-details]

Losing Time

TW: Blood, brush with death, medical stuff, captivity, helplessness, alcohol

Georgia didn’t know how long she waited. After Casey got pulled, after Alexei threw out the possibility of Felix’s death, time didn’t work in a regular way.

Not that it ever really did. Not here. The lack of a clock, of windows, of any tool that could be used to measure the passage of time, to understand it; well, it was getting on her nerves.

To make it worse, Alexei’s routines were sporadic at best and nonexistent at worst. They got fed, and every other meal contained a cocktail of vitamins and supplements. She didn’t think these meals had any specific times. Some days, Alexei would bring food when she wasn’t even hungry yet. Others, it seemed she was starved by the time he opened the door.

He was gone for a long time. Casey, too, didn’t reappear. Absentmindedly, Georgia started pacing the room, wall to wall. It was eight steps both ways, and she counted to keep her mind quiet.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8. 

Felix could already be dead. The look in Alexei’s eyes when he burst in, the blood on his hands and shirt… they could be gone. What then?

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8.

Would Alexei give more clients to Casey? Or would he start offering her up as well, to be punched and kicked and shaken around like a toy being played with by a particularly sadistic toddler?

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8.

How would Casey get along, without Felix there to stabilize him? How would she? She was just starting to get over the mindless panic that had consumed her days (weeks? months?) here so far. How would she make it through, without Felix’s calm assurance, their gentle protectiveness, their strength, their experience, their bravery?

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8.

Georgia had no clue what to do. There was nothing to do. Locked in this stupid room, with a few stupid books and no way out, she had never been more helpless. Useless. Pathetic, stupid, scared little girl, pacing her cage, worrying about her friends with no way to aid them, no way to fix the problems, no nothing.

She didn’t even know the fucking time.

Alexei had never had such a close call.

He sped the whole way to Lee’s clinic, trying not to take the turns too quickly. Lee was in the back of her van, trying to keep Felix alive, but they had lost a lot of blood, and the bleeding wasn’t stopping.

Made sense, as the client had ripped their fucking skin off.

Alexei usually kept a pretty close eye on the cameras when he had a client in the workshop. Some of the people he rented to weren’t as experienced as he was, and there was always a chance someone would go too far.

He had a shit ton of paperwork, though, and he needed some documents from a filing cabinet in his other office, and the guy was just getting set up. So he walked off.

One thing led to another, and he ended up with a bowl of fruit loops and a fresh cup of coffee, documents dropped on the kitchen table beside him. By the time he remembered the client and went to check the camera, Felix was already soaked in their own blood.

Alexei hadn’t run that fast in a long time.

Speeding through the dark streets, Alexei kicked himself for being so careless. The idiot who had done this would be paying double, which would hopefully cover Lee’s fees, but if Felix died, there would be a whole process of finding another rentable, and training them, and neither Casey nor Georgia were quite ready to pick up regulars yet. It would mean a major loss in revenue.

They got to Lee’s place, and Alexei helped her get Felix, who was now out cold again, to her workspace.

“Thanks, now give me space to work,” Lee ordered as soon as the wheels of the gurney were locked in place.

Alexei didn’t need to be told twice. Medical stuff grossed him out. He shut the door behind him and headed up to the kitchen.

God he needed a drink.

He rifled through the cupboards until he found the liquor, selected a particularly fancy whiskey, and poured a glass. Lee wouldn’t mind. He’d be paying her a fortune anyways.

It took 45 minutes before she came up the stairs, bloody and exhausted. She stumbled wordlessly over to Alexei, grabbed the glass from his hand, and drained it.

“That was mine,” he grumbled, grabbing the bottle and another glass.

“No,” Lee said, “It’s mine. You stole it.” She took the offered bottle and poured herself another drink. Alexei followed suit.

After a moment of silence, he cleared his throat. “So?”

Lee sighed. “They’ll live, probably. If it doesn’t get infected. I managed to stop the bleeding and get in some preliminary stitching, but it’s going to take some work. I’m going to keep them here for a while, if that’s alright.”

“Of course.” Alexei took another sip, anxiety melting a bit. “You are truly a miracle worker, Lee.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Lee finished the drink and placed the glass by the sink. “You can show yourself out, I’ve got to go back to keeping your toy alive.”

“Mind if I wash up before I get an Uber?”

“I don’t care, just don’t make a mess.”

“You got it.” Lee closed the door to her clinic, and Alexei made his way up to the showers. He was still covered in dried blood, and tonight was not a good night to get arrested.

[stealtharchaeologist]

My roommates and I are moving, again, and let me tell you, the process of finding and applying for a place has gotten SO much worse.

We find a place that is... okay. Willing to apply for it while we keep looking, because stuff goes off the market fast around here. Firstly, to confirm my income, they want the name and phone number of a supervisor at my company. I'm like... WHY do you need to waste someone else's time? Why can't you ask for pay stubs like a normal application? I had to give written permission to my HR manager to reveal my salary. Okay. Bullshit. Fine.

We get to the end of the application and find out we need to put down first month's rent as an application deposit. Not application fee, not security deposit. If we are approved, and we choose to live somewhere else, they get to just keep that. $2,095.

So we stopped short. That's a LOT of money. And the security deposit is another $2,095!!! What the fuck?

(Speaking of which, many places want EVERY OCCUPANT to be making 3x rent??? Like, we wouldn't be living with roommates if that were the case!! Sure, I get that you want security if a roommate moves out, but that's completely unreasonable!)

My weekend boss actually works for a law firm focused on tenant rights, so I asked her if she's heard of that before, and she wasn't even sure that was legal. We did some research and determined it IS technically legal, just very unusual... most places ask for a few hundred at most, if they ask for an application deposit at all.

As we're complaining to each other about this, I scroll down the page to see an arbitration agreement and a class action waiver. I'm now deeply suspicious and start Googling the company, and sure enough, they're being sued to shit because reports came out in October that they're literally manipulating rental market rates across the country. They even had to go before the Senate about it.

Also the realty group have been obnoxious in emails. Good job, guys. You're out.

So we move on, find another house to apply for (one we like much better, though they already have another applicant), and THIS application asks for height, weight, hair color, eye color, and citizenship. Firstly, why the FUCK do you need to know my height and weight??? On a rental application??? Are you checking my BMI against the floor strength????? More importantly, did you know it's ILLEGAL to ask about race for renting? This feels like a thinly veiled attempt to determine our races. Which is, again, illegal.

Aaaaand, they ask in the application if we are requesting "any repairs or accommodations". So, again, it's COMPLETELY ILLEGAL to ask if an applicant has any disabilities or health issues. They don't do that, but asking if we want any "accommodations" is not-so-subtly asking if we have disabilities. Sure, they could be asking to have as much time as possible to make the modifications, but also, don't ask that IN THE APPLICATION. Excuse me??

It also asked about our cars, which in and of itself is innocuous - most places want to know what you'll be parking there - but they also want to know the amount of our car payments??? Why the FUCK do you need to know that, except to decide that OUR DISPOSABLE INCOME isn't good enough for you! No! You get to know our income and that's IT. It is NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS what else we spend our money on!

Landlords are fucking trash. Just barely skirting the edge of legal to figure out what applications they can throw out. I'm so angry.

[spacecadetspe]

Dec. 8, 2023

I've put myself through hell this week.

I've put some time and effort into finding myself a house. Not that I'm displeased with my current living arrangements; W has had a flight of fancy due to his father becoming a real estate agent, and together he and I went to look at a few houses with a local agent.

Well, we found an adorable house. I loved it. It needed some fixing up, but that wasn't my biggest problem with it. As much as my agent provided helpful tips and encouragement, I felt rushed almost all the way through the process. She set the closing date on our contract for December 15th. My lease isn't up until August of next year.

She always offered me a way out, but whenever I looked toward the exit, she'd gently steer me away from it. "Don't be afraid." "Don't panic." "You love this house!" And it was true. She hit all the right buttons. And the last thing I wanted was to be afraid of anything ever again. And I can do any terrifying thing if I have someone holding my hand... right?

Well, the last weekend happened. I took W to the hospital. They found exactly nothing wrong with him, and now there's a hospital bill with my name on it. So I took care of him all weekend. And then Fortitude hit his limit and couldn't get out of bed all Sunday. I've also been trying to support a friend of mine who is facing homelessness and is trying to get back on her feet.

And Sunday afternoon, I finally started feeling it. That the whole world was an awful, terrible place, and I couldn't take care of everybody.

The realtor called me on Monday, trying to get me to put down my earnest money for the sale, and I started having flashbacks. I don't have it. If I gave it to her just now, I'd have $24 to my name. And as much as I scrimp and save, I couldn't see myself going back to living off pennies as I tried to care for my family. And I wasn't going to hound my mother for money, even if she was financially capable of supporting me. I'm finally paying for W's tuition and my rent, and living off my own hard work. I'm not willing to ask my mom for money again when she's already done so much for me.

So after I got off the phone with the realtor, I called my mom. I was having flashes of yellow light in my vision; flashes that came with sudden panic and hysteria. I was having flashbacks; feeling trapped, and feeling like I was being led into something I couldn't back out of. And at the time, I couldn't place what my trigger was; only that I needed my mom.

I called her crying, sobbing outside my office. She and my sister talked me down, and then kindly referred me to others in my support group; a cousin who is a real estate broker, and my step-sister who is a real-estate lawyer. They took me out to dinner, where I had a final flashback, and then got tipsy and ate possibly the best ramen of my life and yakked about everything.

And then in the morning, the mortgage lady called me, off the clock (for her; my workday starts early). Generally speaking, I like her. She was incredibly empathetic, and volunteered to call the real estate lady on my behalf; or perhaps call her off. When I told her that I'd spent the weekend taking care of everyone, she asked, "Who's taking care of you?"

That is the problem, isn't it?

If you've never heard of spoon theory, dear reader, it's something I really value in my life. "Spoons" represent the energy you have available to perform pertinent tasks. By a similar token, "fucks" are how much you care about said tasks. But since we live in a household with a kid, it has simply become "spoons and forks." But one day, W asked me a thoughtful question: "So what are knives?"

I had no idea. So I asked Fortitude.

"Knives are your support system," he said. "They're the things that cut tasks into bite sized pieces, whether it's more hands to do the job, or perspective that makes your job easier. Knives are what turns the turkey into turkey sandwiches."

So now I have a whole cutlery set.

Since my financing fell through, I've been able to back out of the contract, much to my realtor's dismay. But as my mom said, it's okay for me to just be comfortable in my own place for now. I'm in a good, safe, pleasant little apartment with everything I really need. And I can enjoy that. I am sad about the house, sure, but I'm not really in any rush, am I?

Gods, I need to go back to Surtr. My chakras are a mess.

[lyaenidae]

Meanwhile, Sakura

Sakura’s been doing a lot of thinking, taking meditative walks around the bamboo forest to clear her head and understand what she’s feeling. She’s reached the top of her career already, has been teaching painting to new students. And while doing that, she found out that she would love to pass more on than just her knowledge.

So when encountering a Forest Spirit, she surprises herself with a wish. She wishes she could have a child of her own. One that she could bond with, one that her dad could babysit when she goes out, one that her brothers would cherish. She wants her family to expand.

She attended her best friend’s wedding. He’s marrying her ex, so it was a bit weird for a moment there. But it helped her understand that she doesn’t necessarily want a partner, doesn’t necessarily need a partner.

She saw how much love there was between them, she put away any residual feelings she had about them being together. She thought it was going to be the worst thing she’d ever experience, but it felt almost more like a weight being lifted off of her shoulders. Like she was now going to allow herself to move on too.

Joining the celebration, she realised she was very happy not to be with Kaori anymore, and even though she was her first love, and her first heartbreak, maybe she could see herself be with someone again. Maybe not just now, she had more pressing desires, but maybe in the future, she could see herself opening that door again.

One morning, she had a talk with her baby bro Seiji, who asked her why she hadn’t moved out yet, if she was going to live with them for ever. She realised that, maybe, she was waiting to have someone to move in with. And she also realised she didn’t need to do that. That day, she started looking for a place to rent.

Meanwhile, she made sure to express her worries about the mountain excursion to her dad. Not that she didn’t trust him and her brother to get to the top, she was simply concerned with security. Especially since her friend the librarian died trying to climb a mountain in Windenburg a few days before her friend’s wedding. But on days when Etsuko came over, she usually didn’t push the matter. And her dad noticed how Sakura would often get distracted when her friend was over.

Once, they went to Sakura’s bedroom so she could show Etsuko the painting she had just made her. It’s abstract art, but she takes the time to explain her choices to her friend, and Etsuko can’t take her eyes off of her. 

They shared a lot of what they were seeing in their futures. While Sakura wanted a child, right away, Etsuko wanted to focus on her project of teaching history a better way. It felt like they were allowing themselves to get closer. Maybe Sakura’s walls were starting to come down, slowly. 

She took time to explain everything that was going to be changing for her. How she was going to rent a house, somewhere near so she could still be very close to her family, and how she was starting the process for a science baby. She was ready to be a mother. And Etsuko was truly happy for her.

When Etsuko left, promising she’d still come by as much as possible even with the new turn a career was taking, and all the other worlds she was going to visit, it felt almost a bit bittersweet. As if neither of them had been expecting to be separated any time soon. But they both had faith in the strength of their relationship and of their feelings for each other. And of course, Sakura gave her the masterpiece, to hang in her house and think of her when they couldn’t see each other.

The conversation with her dad was the hardest to have. Of course, he knew about how she had started to fill in the paperwork to have a baby (the scientific way), but he couldn’t help but to feel a bit bad when she told him she finally found a home she could move into...

“Will I be able to come visit you ?” he asked, thoughtful. “Of course Dad ! If you don’t, I will. I promise I’ll never be far. And you better come and help me out with the baby when it’s time, I’ll need your super parenting tips !”

She didn’t expect him to be so enthusiast, but she could see it in his eyes, he was already imagining everything he was going to be able to teach his grandchild, how fun it would be to come around and babble with the new baby.

And soon after this, she moved out.

[starryhyuck]

pride. (m)

pairing: sugardaddy!xiaojun x reader

words: 4.7k+

summary: stacked with two jobs, tuition bills and rent payments, an opportunity falls into your lap that leaves you wanting more.

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: creampie, breeding kink, semi-public sex, oral sex, degradation, overstimulation

It all started before you hit rock bottom.

When you enrolled in college and decided to study music, your parents refused to pay for your tuition as they had hoped you would pursue law instead. You’ve been passionate about music since you were younger, and financial burdens were not going to hold you back from pursuing your dreams.

You spend most school nights working a low wage job, and switch to a different low wage job on the weekends. You hardly had time to balance studies and work, but in order to make ends meet, you fill your body with caffeine and call it a day.

You’re in the middle of wiping down the counter of the campus’s local ice cream parlor, ignoring the email you received from your landlord minutes ago. It was yet another warning notice to pay last month’s rent, a task you’ve been putting off for weeks.

There’s barely anyone who comes into the shop this late at night on a weekday, only a few who have a midnight craving they have to fulfill. You’re surprised when Doyeon comes barging into the shop at half past midnight, dressed to the nines in her custom Versace gown.

She sighs and throws herself down on one of the parlor chairs. “I feel sick to my stomach. Is it possible for your intestines to hurt so much from champagne?”

You laugh at her. Doyeon was your first friend when you came to campus, and you were blissfully unaware of how wealthy she was until three months into your friendship. Her mother recently remarried and Doyeon despised her stepdad, but she never had any complaints about the money he carried with him. Doyeon’s offered to pay off some of your loans so that you wouldn’t have to work two jobs, but you always turned down her offer. You couldn’t take money from her — you had to have a little bit of pride.

“What happened now? More sleazy old men hitting on you?” You question, leaning over the counter to ask her.

“You know me so well,” she sighs, her curled hair styled perfectly down her shoulders. She removes her heels for a bit so she can breathe. “And Doyoung was complaining the entire time, pissing off my mom. You know how my brother is.”

You’ve met Doyoung once or twice, and he was very similar to Doyeon — confident, smart and not afraid to speak what’s on his mind. Doyoung had a very difficult time adjusting to their mother’s new beau.

“You know what would be nice?” Doyeon asks, eyelashes fluttering at you. “If you come with me next time.”

“You know I can’t,” you decline, moving to check on the tubs of ice cream. “I’m too busy with work and school. Can’t leave for a night of luxury.”

“But you can,” she whines loudly. “Just let me pay your rent for last month and we’ll call it even!”

You roll your eyes. “I hardly call that even, Doyeon.”

She huffs. “Please? I can’t stand to go to another one of these things and listen to those snotty people tell me how lucky I am that my mom found that douchebag. You would make it so much more fun, and save me from a night of torture.”

For the first time, you’re contemplating Doyeon’s offer. You’ve known for a long time now that you’re running low on funds, and you’re scared that if you don’t find a way to pay your landlord, he’ll end up evicting you. Your eyes glance up to meet Doyeon’s, who has her puppy dog gaze turned on.

You sigh. “Just one event. That’s it.”

She squeals, and almost jumps over the counter to hug you.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love you, thank you!”

You awkwardly pat her back. “Yeah, yeah.”

—

Doyeon failed to tell you that the event she was dragging you to would actually take place within a week.

You scrambled to find a dress and how to style your hair, knowing that if you showed up in an off-brand name, you would immediately look like an outcast. Doyeon saved you from the humiliation, shoving you into a Valentino dress that had your eyes rolling out of your head at the price tag. She also hired a hairstylist on the day of to come over and fix you up, which you clearly disagreed on until Doyeon told you it wasn’t up for debate.

And now, here you were, standing in the middle of the most luxurious place you’ve ever stepped foot in. Doyeon leans over to whisper to you while you’re eyeing the waiters and waitresses walking around with trays of champagne.

“Just smile and act like you only care about money.”

She tugs you forward and you try your best to match her pace. A girl approaches you two first, nails wrapped around the stem of her glass. She’s wearing one of the most beautiful gowns you’ve ever seen, a Chanel piece her mother imported for the event.

“Hyojung, you’re way too young to be drinking anything,” Doyeon scolds.

“Calm down, mom. No one’s snitching except you. Who have you brought?”

Doyeon beams and loops her arm through yours. “This is my friend from college.” She gives Hyojung your name and you offer your best smile.

Hyojung returns your grin. “Nice to meet you. Where do your parents work?”

Doyeon opens her mouth to tell Hyojung the truth, but you stop her.

“They own a few chain businesses in our hometown. Nothing too grand,” you inform. Hyojung nods in agreement, eyes darting somewhere else.

“Well, Chanwoo is here. I’m going to get the gossip that he owes me from last time.”

When Hyojung leaves, Doyeon frowns at you. “Why did you lie?” She questions.

You shrug. “I would rather not be a fish out of water here more than I already am. It’s better if people think I’m at least middle class.”

“Okay,” she says slowly. “You know I’m not ashamed of you, right?”

You giggle and pat her cheek. “Of course I know.”

“Finally!” You hear someone exclaim, and you turn to see Doyoung rushing over to the two of you. “Where the hell have you been? Mom’s going to murder you for showing up so late.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Relax. We took a long time getting ready.”

Doyoung smiles gently at you before tugging his sister away. You feel even more awkward, hands folding together as you sway in the middle of the room. The people around you are talking animatedly and you can faintly hear the sound of the violin in the back of the room. You wonder if you should pretend to go to the bathroom or find somewhere to sit-

“Never seen you here before.”

You turn to see a guy your age, dressed in a full Armani suit and Rolex watch shining under the sparkling chandelier. You awkwardly clear your throat.

“Uh, yeah. My friend brought me. Do I look that weird?”

He chuckles, running a hand through his chestnut locks. “You look beautiful. I’ve just been to plenty of these galas before and I’ve pretty much memorized the guest list.”

Your heart lingers on his compliment and you avert your gaze.

“My first one. Are they always like this?”

“Boring, you mean?”

You laugh and he joins in. You swear you feel butterflies frantically flying in your stomach.

“So, what’s your story? Also have rich parents?” You ask.

He nods. “My mother owns half of the city’s major businesses. I’m Xiaojun, by the way.” You give him your name and he smiles, motioning to the back of the room. “Want to talk where it’s a little less loud?”

You agree, smiling and taking his arm as he leads you to the less chatty part of the room. You both sit on a luxurious velvet couch, a piece of furniture that most likely costs more than your entire apartment. Xiaojun hands you a glass of champagne, his smile taking your breath away.

“Tell me a little bit about yourself,” he muses, eyeing you carefully.

You laugh. “Is this a job interview?”

He shrugs. “Could be.”

Your eyebrows furrow at his answer, but you figure rich people were always weird and vague like that. “I go to the same college as Doyeon, and I’m studying music. Not really much to say, I spend most of my time working.”

He nods, and you can’t place what the look in his eye is for.

“Music, that’s interesting. What made you decide to take on such a daunting major?”

“Daunting as in it’s not law or business?” You counter, giving him a look.

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Hey, no judgment here. In my world, I haven’t met anyone who isn’t a law or business major. It’s nice to have a change of scenery.”

He challenges your gaze, and you feel a warmth in your stomach you haven’t felt in months. You jump when you hear the shriek of your name and Doyeon comes charging towards the two of you.

“There you are! Jesus, I had to hear Doyoung fight with my stepdad for almost ten minutes.” Her exasperation turns into surprise when she sees Xiaojun seated next to you. “Oh! Hey, Dejun. Didn’t see you there.”

He offers a smile. “Hi, Doyeon.”

“Do you mind if I pull her away for a bit?” Doyeon asks, but she’s already looped your arm through hers. You slightly protest when she tugs you away from Xiaojun, but you’re immediately distracted by her next question. “What the hell were you doing talking to him? You know what Xiaojun is famous for, right?”

You frown, looking over your shoulder again to see him, watching as his line of sight carefully follows you and Doyeon.

“No, I don’t. He seemed nice. What’s the issue?”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “He’s a sugar daddy. Always looking for new sugar babies to satisfy him. He’s been blowing through girls like the wind for the past year. He’s not good, and I don’t want you in his company without me.”

You try to process that the man you were just talking to was, in fact, scoping you out to get a potential new sugar baby. You can’t wrap your mind around it, even when Doyeon drags you to the corner of the room, where Doyoung and her stepdad are still fighting.

Your eyes linger on Xiaojun’s table, but he’s already long gone.

—

“Nice shop you got here.”

You practically jump out of your shoes at the sound of the familiar voice, almost spilling a cup of ice cream down your front. You nearly get whiplash with how fast you spin around, eyes widening at the sight of Xiaojun standing in the middle of the ice cream shop. Your manager, Seojeong, raises an eyebrow at your skittish nature.

“Is there a problem here?” She questions, but you immediately brush her off.

“No, no problem!” You squeak. You immediately rush over the counter and push Xiaojun out of the shop. “Seojeong, I’m taking my 15!”

“Um, okay?”

Once you’ve got Xiaojun on the street, you take notice of what he’s wearing - another dark Armani suit, same Rolex watch, and hair styled in a way that’s meant to make your panties drop. You push back your thoughts and whisper harshly to him.

“I know why you’re here.”

He raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Do you now?”

“Yes, I do,” you state confidently, tilting your chin up. “Doyeon told me about your little sugar daddy scheme.”

He laughs. “Ah, is that what they’re calling it now? Didn’t realize I was such a bad guy for wanting to help out girls in bad situations.”

You scoff. “Do you get off on this? Lowering yourself to the underprivileged lives of the poor? Pretending to be the hero that saves the damsel in distress?”

He snickers at your line of questioning, shoving his hands in his pockets and eyeing you. He leans down so that you’re face to face, and you falter as he becomes closer to you.

“And if I do? What if I like giving you money so you don’t have to work two jobs?”

“How do you know I have two jobs?” You inquire.

“You looked so lost at that gala. I told you I’ve memorized the guest list — you’ve never been on it. It became relatively easy to discover the rest of the details. It must be exhausting doing this everyday, haven’t you ever wanted a break?”

You fold your arms across your chest and take a step away from him. “What’s in it for you?”

He grins. “The pleasure of your company.”

“What kind of company?” You ask, doubting him. You won’t lie and say the offer isn’t intriguing to you. You still have pride, definitely, but the weight of two jobs has really taken a toll on you lately. Plus, Doyeon said Xiaojun breezes through girls anyways. You could get a break from paying your rent for a few months and before you know it, he’ll move onto the next charity case he wants to help out.

There’s no harm in that, right?

Your thoughts are blown through the window, however, when his smirk grows wider. You’re sure there’s a large damp spot in your underwear right now.

“Whatever company you like, little one.”

You’re fucked.

—

You keep the relationship with Xiaojun quiet and under wraps. You know Doyeon would have many thoughts about your choice, and she would probably convince you to let her pay your bills instead of Xiaojun. You couldn’t place that burden on her shoulders.

Surprisingly, Xiaojun doesn’t ask for much. He swings by the ice cream parlor once a week, drops off a $1000 check, stays to chat for a little, and leaves. Seojeong doesn’t raise any questions, albeit you’ve seen her glance at the envelope you leave in the back room. You would’ve thought that Xiaojun is the type of guy who invites you over to his penthouse apartment to get to know him, but he’s been quite reserved. He never crosses the line with you, and his questioning stays on the topic of your classes and work. You continuously wonder how to captivate his attention and if the other girls before you failed to do so.

About a month into the deal, your patience wears thin. You’re not even really sure why you’re frustrated in the first place. Anyone would love a no strings attached deal like this, getting $1000 every week with barely any commitment. You quit your other job because you don’t need both paychecks now and you’ve been able to keep up on rent. However, a part of you expected to be close with Xiaojun in some way at this point, especially considering the way he was flirting with you when he first propositioned this.

You’re fully prepared to confront him on Friday night, the same day he usually drops off the check and chats with you for a bit. You practically throw yourself over the counter when he takes a step inside the shop, yelling over your shoulder to Seojeong that you’re taking your break.

Xiaojun laughs at your eagerness, allowing you to tug on his suit as you pull him outside.

“Someone’s excited today. Need the check that badly?”

You frown at the accusation and exhale. “No, as a matter of fact, the money you’ve given me so far could probably cover me for a year.”

“Then what’s with the frowny face?”

“There’s a catch here, Xiaojun, I know there is. You’ve been too nice,” you say, waving a finger at him.

He smirks. “Have I been? I told you, little one, all I need is your company. You’ve given that to me every week, haven’t you?”

You scoff. “Barely. We talk for a few minutes while I’m making orders for other customers and then you leave. I would hardly call that company.”

He gets even cockier, if that was humanly possible. Xiaojun has to know what he’s doing to you — the mystery of his true personality starting to make you curious.

Similar to your first meeting, he leans down until he’s a few inches from your face, eyebrow raised. “Didn’t mean to neglect you, little one. Did you want more from me?”

You shift awkwardly, tension building in your stomach from his words. He was clearly teasing you and his patience was stronger than you previously believed. He waited a month just to have you desperate like this, wanting something more than a few minutes of his time. You’re so wet at this point that you’re definitive Xiaojun knows.

To prove your point, his smirk grows wider. “What are you doing after your shift?”

“U-Um, I have some homework to finish-“

“Great, I’ll pick you up after work and you can finish it at my apartment.” He doesn’t give you any time to protest, moving closer to you, his breath hitting the shell of your ear. “Next time, little one, just tell me you need more attention. Daddy will gladly give it to you.”

—

You’re a nervous wreck when Xiaojun’s expensive Rolls-Royce pulls up to the curb after your shift has ended. His car looks terribly out of place on the streets of your dirty campus, but he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. You quickly get in and ask him to go before anyone can recognize you.

The ride to his apartment in the upper part of town is filled with silence, making you even more jittery. Xiaojun, on the other hand, is calm and collected with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the console. You try to swallow your nerves and reason with yourself.

This is just Xiaojun — son of a multimillionaire, heir to many respective companies within the city. This is just Xiaojun — the man who’s been giving you $1000 every week with no strings attached, the man who’s clouded your dreams for the past month on more than one occasion.

Unfortunately, you don’t have any more time to dwell on your thoughts when Xiaojun pulls up to the parking garage of his complex. The both of you exit the car and he hands the keys to one of the valet drivers. His fingers fall to the small of your back as he guides you inside.

You try to avoid the blatant stares from other residents. You’re still dressed in your work clothes, a simple t-shirt and pair of jeans, but you couldn’t look more like a fish out of water. Xiaojun doesn’t seem to mind, walking into the elevator and pressing the top floor button. You ride the elevator in silence, and your eyes nearly fall out of your head when you reach the penthouse.

The apartment is straight out of the movies. The decor is extravagant, and you’re afraid if you touch anything, you’ll have to pay a fine. Xiaojun leads you to the dining room, pulling out a chair for you, despite your confusion.

“You can finish your homework here. I’ll be in the study upstairs.”

“Wait wait wait,” you stop him, placing a hand on his chest. “You’re leaving?”

He grins. “Did you want me to stay?”

He was really going to make you beg for it. Your eyes narrow and you feel a burst of confidence run through you. You tilt your head up until you’re a few centimeters from his mouth.

“You said Daddy would give me more attention if I asked for it.”

He growls, eyes darkening. Before you know it, he has you pinned to the grand table, staring at you as if you’re his last meal. It’s your turn to smirk as his control snaps, fingers digging into your hips roughly.

“Think it’s fun to test me? The other girls before you were more behaved,” he hisses, eyes wandering to the valley of your breasts.

“But you don’t like that, do you? You like it when they disobey,” you murmur, pulling him closer to you. “You like giving them their punishment.”

Xiaojun’s lips are pressed to yours before you can even fully register what’s going on, his body locking you against the wood. You whimper, hands gripping his forearm to keep steady. It’s messy and frantic, and you can see all of the built up tension starting to show.

“What would Doyeon think of you whoring yourself out for money?” He snickers, making you feel small under his gaze. “I bet she would be so ashamed. Little one gave up her pride for a few thousand dollars?”

You whine. “It’s not like that.”

“But isn’t it?” He questions you, fingers unbuttoning your jeans and sliding them down your legs. You wish you had worn a sexier pair of panties today but Xiaojun seems satisfied nonetheless, snapping the elastic against your skin. “Can’t wait to get a taste of this cunt. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it, little one?”

You probably look pathetic like this — half of your body sprawled across Xiaojun’s dining table, pants around your ankles, and a large wet spot ruining the fabric of your underwear. You pitifully nod in response to his question, eyes locked on the bulge straining against his expensive trousers. He chuckles when he follows your line of sight.

“Hungry?”

You fall into the role so easily. “Yes, Daddy.”

He directs you on your knees, the cold marble floor sending a shiver up your spine. You eagerly watch him unbuckle his belt and exposing his leaking cock for you. The tip is red and angry, demanding to be touched.

“Go ahead, little one. Make Daddy feel good.”

You wrap your mouth around the tip, nearly moaning at the taste of him. You haven’t been intimate with someone in so long and his cock has your mouth watering.

“Good girl,” he soothes, pushing his cock further down your throat. Tears immediately spring into your eyes when he ignores your gag reflex, hands gripping the back of your head as he guided you. “Shh, doing so well for me, little one.”

You allow him to fuck your mouth, trying to brush aside the tears falling down your face and saliva pooling at the sides of your mouth. It’s filthy and you love it — you haven’t been used like this in months and you never realized how much you missed it.

“Your mouth is so perfect, fuck,” he groans. “I’ll pay for anything you want if you stay on your knees like this, all pretty for me.”

You gasp when he lets you breathe, pulling his cock away. He chuckles at you, fingers returning to stroke himself as he watches you regain yourself. He tugs you back on your feet, overlooking your wobbly legs and pushing you into the living room. You’re about to question him on what he’s doing until he’s shoving you up against his glass window. You gaze downwards, seeing a plethora of people passing by on the street and cars honking to one another. It’s a view you only see in the movies, and you know Xiaojun’s eager to fuck you into the fantasy.

His fingers slide into your underwear, breath hot against your neck. “Look at all of them down there, little one. Bet they want to be just like you, fucked so good for everyone to see. Even better when I cum inside you, hm?”

You freeze. “D-Daddy,” you whisper frantically. “I’m not on the pill.”

He’s silent behind your figure before you feel him playing with your folds, your wetness coating his hand.

“Isn’t that nice? What do you think of getting knocked up, little one? This entire place could be yours, you would never have to step foot in that ice cream shop again. All the wealth you never imagined, you could spend all day in bed with me while I stuff you full. You would look so pretty on Daddy’s arm. I wonder how many times we could sneak away from the crowd so I could fuck my cock into you. Wouldn’t that be a dream?”

You gasp, growing wetter by the second. He easily slides a finger into your heat and all common sense is thrown out of the window.

“Please fuck me, Daddy,” you beg. “Please please please. I’ll be good for you, I promise.”

He laughs at your desperation, pushing another digit inside. “Even though you’re not on the pill? How filthy of you, little one.”

It’s sick. You barely know this man but all you want is his cum inside you. You can imagine the headlines now — Millionaire’s Son Gets Poor Girl Pregnant. But you want it. You want it so badly.

You hear the tearing of your panties but you couldn’t give a fuck what happens to them, pushing yourself further into him. He laughs again at you, tip lining up to your entrance.

“Beg for it.”

You cry. “Please, Daddy! I want it, I’ve been so good for you! I’ll let you cum inside me and everyone can watch. I want them to see who I belong to.”

“Fuck,” he growls at your submission. You nearly scream when he pushes into you, his girth bigger and thicker than you’ve ever taken before. On top of that, you haven’t had sex in months and the stretch is almost unbearable. Your head rolls back but Xiaojun grips your chin and forces you to look outside the window. “Look at all those people, little one. They’re about to get a nice show.”

He gives you no time to adjust, thrusting into you like he wants to break you. His fingers tangle into your hair and he pulls roughly, causing you to yelp at the pain. You’re past the point of coherent thinking, Xiaojun’s cock fucking you so good you can barely talk.

“Good, little one?”

“Mmf,” you gurgle, gasping at the force of his movements. You can feel him in your throat, and it’s as if he’s waited all these weeks just to spill his seed into you.

You tumble over the edge when he pinches your clit, whispering the dirtiest confessions into your ear. “Needy whore,” he laughed sinisterly. “Probably can’t go a day without my cock after this. Going to be begging me for it, wanting me all the time now. I can’t wait to take you everywhere and anywhere I please. I’ll buy you so many cute outfits, little one. So many skirts that make it easy for me to slide right inside and fuck you until you’re crying for me.”

You clench around his cock and fall over the edge, your wetness spilling down your thighs.

“Daddy,” you breathlessly hiss, body going limp in his arms.

“You came so much for me, little one. Your slutty cunt is so good for me, isn’t it?”

“Please, Daddy,” you plead. “Please, Daddy. I want to feel your cum.”

“Yeah?” He grunts, the sound of his balls repeatedly slapping against your pussy echoes around the room. “You wanna get pregnant? All baby wants is a big fat cock to stuff her full of cum, hm?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you cry out, not even caring how pitiful you look at this point. “Want it so badly.”

Your desperation snaps the cord inside of him and he spills every last drop into you. You whimper at the warm feeling, some of his cum starting to drip out and coat the inside of your thighs. You both attempt to catch your breaths, your legs feeling like jelly.

You’re about to move away from him until Xiaojun keeps you pinned to the window, stopping you from leaving.

“W-What are y-you doing?” You ask, still out of breath from the fucking you just received.

“I don’t think that was the one,” he muses, eyes locked on where you two are intertwined. He offers an experimental thrust that has you scrambling.

“No, no,” you sniffle, trying to move away from him again. “I can’t, I can’t.”

“I think you can,” he chuckles, enjoying the way your cunt wraps so nicely around his cock. “And you will. Haven’t gotten you pregnant yet, little one.”

You spend hours fucking like bunnies with Xiaojun taking you on almost every surface of his apartment. You don’t even care that you’re impregnated, allowing him to use you in any way he pleases while the sun falls under the skyline.

Your pride didn’t matter that much anyways.

[uelden]

Vanity Fair interview translated

Just a side note before the actual translation; I don't know why, but instead of reporting the full questions and answers in full as she should, the journalist decided to report only summarized fragments of what Måneskin said and patch these fragments up into messy clusters. She also worded a couple phrases in a very confusing way (and yes, she's fully Italian). In short, she did quite a poor job, so the final shape of the interview is not that good. I didn't expect top-tier journalism from Vanity Fair but ffs. You'll see what I mean.

I translated it as it is, adding just a couple footnotes to give you insight on Italian pop culture references.

Translation under the cut

Måneskin: "Different from whom?"

by Lavinia Farnese, 09 June 2021

"True justice is being judged for what you do and not for what you are." The ones who are convinced of this are Damiano, Victoria, Ethan and Thomas who, by being the emblem of a generation that is finally free, refuse labels and conformism. In life, in love and on the stage. Where, maybe precisely because of this, they're winning everything

With the still unexpected (first place at Sanremo Festival) and the incredible (triumph at Eurovision) in their eyes, Måneskin are on the sofa of the house-studio they rented - to resume writing songs and rehearsing them - like you are after a won battle: lying in a calm and unreal silence, alert and a bit irreverent, happy.

In the garden there's the tennis table and the pool, the light of summer when it's starting and calming the country all around, and it filters inside from the large windows, and it goes onto the shining black of Ethan's hair, which blends with Thomas' eye shadow and the butterfly he has tattooed oh his naked forearm, which completes the picture of Victoria's golden crucifix hanging between neck and tank top and ends on the black nail polish of Damiano's stretched hands.

It's a human fresco, a Theatre of wrath [translator's note: "Teatro d'ira"] - to call it with the title of their latest album, a platinum record already - where their flaunted 20 years of age, their irregular femininity and virility are grown into proud and challenging custom, a pop glam rock generational manifesto of hard-earned liberties in a finally-unconditional expression of the self.

To watch them from any angle and from another age is to think that a great love will be born in those who'll understand: this new way of being in the world, the true and sovereign realm they hold where "diversity=exceptionality", the power of the artistic and cultural revolution of which they are healthy carriers in establishing in all lyrics and gestures the right to live according to one's own nature past the "people (who) talk, the people (who) unfortunately talk, and don't know what the fuck they're talking about." [tn: "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

We go where we're afloat, where the air isn't gone. [tn: journalist's own variation on "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

Miley Cyrus says hi – The numbers of a phenomenon

"The streams of Zitti e buoni are growing by the second, and they bring us above Muse, at the top of English charts, twelfth in the Spotify Global Chart. Followers almost tripled, in the post-Rotterdam period (from 1,4 to 3,3 millions, ed.) Contagious and universal folly: t-shirts and merchandising sold out in 10 minutes. Like the records, the tickets for a tour that keeps adding dates and expanding over geographic maps. They're contacting us even from some festivals were The Rolling Stones went." Thomas

"After the pretextual controversy over cocaine that France built against us, later disproven by my drug test, some graffiti popped up in Spain depicting me as a “No drugs” poster guy. Some tweets made us laugh: "Congratulations, Italy! I've never been more certain that four people have had sex with each other." Miley Cyrus started following us -You're great. -You guys are greater." Damiano

From the garage to the stars – Story of a flight

"It was only 2016, and we played in restaurants, in the streets, in via del Corso. Damiano without even a microphone, Thomas' guitar with wonky strings, Ethan was drumming on a cajón. During Rome highschools' sit-ins (Kennedy, Virgilio, Mamiani) we had our first confirmations and half-hours of celebrity, playing among those who criticized us and those who went "wow they're really cool." One of the rare times when they would have paid us – 50 euros each – we gave the money to the next band in the lineup so that they would make us play in their spot, later in the day, when there would have been more people. We had already realized how things worked. Visibility mattered more than money. And we still think that." Victoria

The intimacy of rock – Choice of a genre

"Music allows us the miracle of extending to others some very personal and private topics, sometimes even difficult and thorny ones. They are and they remain deeply your own, but at the same time they become a confession that reaches a wider audience, and in this passage that is alike a delivery, they find a place in you as well, a processing of them. You overcome them, you accept them. One second it's something aggressive, the next it's a ballad. Cathartic». Damiano

Against panic – The stage as therapy

"I've suffered a lot from anxiety and panic attacks, it's an issue I've worked on thanks to a psychotherapy course, my friends and my family. Playing helped me in not letting myself be paralyzed by my fears, not making myself limited in my private and professional life. I've learned to accept, to live with this side of myself. I don't hide it. I don't feel ashamed of it." Victoria

Analysis as necessity – Relying on someone saves you

"This belief that only madmen go to the psychologist is a widespread ignorance. No-one's born learned. [tn: common Italian saying] And it's often hard to understand the very reason why we're here, let alone the origin and direction of our desires. It's a long and legitimate journey towards lucidity, a kind of backing to become transparent." Damiano

Being out of our minds – But different from them [tn: "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

"When you feel a strong passion towards something that is not a canonical job but an artistic language, that already puts you on a level of anomaly, which is not superior or inferior to other people, but it puts you in the position of the one who breaks the mold and also works at a loss, the one who sustains great risks while trying to do something that who knows if it will take you anywhere. "Why do it if it doesn't pay?". You want to give this dream of yours an aesthetic, but it becomes "You're dressing so weird! You must be gay!" - now that I'm 22 I laugh about it, but when I was 17 it had an effect on me, too." Damiano

The beauty of uniqueness – Of believing in it and defending it

"And I mean, at the end of the day if we're all different it's not because we want be alternative but because, really, no-one is the same. Justice is being judged on what you do and not what you are. Justice is equality, respect, beauty." Ethan

Fluid sexuality – Pride is freedom

"Heels for men that like themselves in them, kisses among ourselves, we have an open, extended mind, and we're proud of it. The horizons become vast, past the oppression of conservative families. With the information on the web knowledge becomes greater and with it the possibility that minorities will be less and less minorities, because the majority will be less of a majority. This way we'll make insults and bullying grow quieter. If social media get to a village of 50 souls and reveal to a girl who's afraid of the dark that someone has felt her same fear, then there's no reason to give a name to that fear, to mark it with labels which also limit and restrict. Definitions always had this effect on me. You shouldn't even consider the gender when judging someone, let alone their orientation." Victoria

Sexism – A culture to be dismantled

"Emma [tn: Emma Marrone, Italian singer] drops the bomb: “At Eurovision when I was there they massacred me for a pair of shorts, while they said nothing to Damiano – bare-chested and in heels.” The easy judgment against women is more fierce, constant, debasing (if I have a lot of sex I'm cool while Vic is a whore, where I show myself strong I'm a leader while Vic is despotic and a pain in the ass who reached success because she's hot.) As a male I'm privileged, the abuse I get is not comparable to those a woman has to live through, the comments over my aesthetic are centered only on my aesthetic and don't insinuate anything about my professionalism and my competence, while women are victims of this kind of thought in a systematic way. It happened though to find myself standing with a woman who while pulling me to herself to take a selfie, started licking my face out of the blue... I mean, what the hell do you want? Who asked you? Consent exists, and it's due." Damiano

Grow yourself – The only commandment

"To me conformism is the opposite of education [tn: could also mean "politeness"] and is the asphyxia of expression. I fortunately never endured heavy bullying, heavy enough for the the judgement of others to change me. But the mold of the small crumbs of bullying I got and of the kind of aggression that scars is the same. If I'm a kid who dances and likes dolls you have to let me do what I like. I was a kid who wanted to keep his hair long and played with Barbie. As a teen, my friends looked at my hair: " You have to find a girl with short hair to be at your side." My grandparents took away my dolls: "Stop it, they're not for you." Ethan

"When I was six I was already sick of them, the distinctions between masculine and feminine. I've always had strong ideas about how I wanted to be. I refused things that were typically defined as girly, and all around me they mocked me because I went skateboarding, I played soccer, I didn't wear skirts, I was giving myself the chance to be as I wished. I endured it a little, I suffered a little, but I had courage, and now thanks to that courage I know that I could have gotten even much more hurt, otherwise I would have left to others the most important choice: the one about myself." Victoria

Love in progress – Music, girlfriends

"I've been married to music for the last 20 years. I can't wait to celebrate our golden wedding anniversary." Ethan

"Everyone makes their own experiences, sometimes it goes well, sometimes it goes wrong, but it's always not anybody's business." Thomas

"When I first felt feelings and attraction towards a girl it was a bit disorienting because I had never had the courage of going beyond the limitations I had put for myself. For society being heterosexual is the norm and so you often define yourself in that way automatically, depriving yourself of the freedom to live many shades and faces of love. Once I overcame the initial insecurity of having to call into question my certainties I've lived my sexuality in a very natural and free way, as it should be for everyone." Victoria

"I had paparazzi at my door every day and night. So, after four years of relationship, I revealed her name. I still have paparazzi at my door every day and nigh, but at least I don't have to hide anything anymore." Damiano

The worth of the group – Phenomenology of protection

"The true engagement though, the true family is among ourselves, our band. We've believed in it since day zero, even before we called ourselves Måneskin (Moonlight in Danish), even before Ethan drew a giant moon on the flier for the first concert we ever did. We share everything, even the pain for the tragedy of Seid Visin, who committed suicide at 20 because of racism. [tn: I think the journalist asked them their opinion about Seid Visin's death, which was a current events topic in Italy, and then pasted it syntaxically in the middle of Thomas' answer, which was not a great move] A group is what we all should be: stay united and not back down an inch in the face of oppression that is generated by a distorted view of diversity." Thomas

I'm not of the right age – Like Gigliola [tn: Gigliola Cinquetti won Eurovision with her song "Non ho l'età", which means "I'm not of the right age"]

"Before you the only one who won both Sanremo and Eurovision on the same year was Cinquetti (1964). If there's anything I feel I'm not of the right age for? No, honestly no. Maybe having children. Regarding children I'll be honest: I'm not of the right age." Damiano

Having touched the sky – The fears that remain

"We're more than inside the dream, we're in the conquered dream. When you fly high there's the risk of plummeting and hurting yourself, but we'll work hard not to end up like Icarus, who burns his wings with the sun. Everything is in our hands. And this - a bit pretentiously - reassures us rather than scaring us." Damiano

[pedropascalssimp]

More then you'll ever know

Din djarin x fem reader

Summary: the reader and din have a hard to get along with relationship, mostly because her teasing and joke cracking nature. But one night din realizes he can't keep pushing his true feelings for reader aside.

Warnings: mild language. Fluff.

Since I said I'd write more for din. I gift you... DIN!!!!

*Not my gifs!*

If you had a coin for every time din wrecked his ship, you'd be a rich woman. He was a good pilot, he could maneuver his way through a canyon and manage to survive, but he was a little reckless. And whenever someone could easily go over that canyon, his mind never seen that ruote and instead takes the hardest path possible. Which is what left you, him, and little Grogu standing outside the razor crest while you chuckle at his pacing, hands on his hips while his visor was focused on the ground.

The planet he crash landed on was a icey cold snow planet, it was freezing out, and the fact the sun was long gone and replaced by the moon didn't help.

"oh c'mon din, I can fix this ship tomorrow morning... A slight delay to tython won't hurt our adventure" you try and reassure him, amusement thick in your voice. This little crash gave you the opportunity to further more tease him and his piloting skills, something he hated. But it was fun seeing him get all defensive over his flying, you'd even say cute.

"we can't stay out here, the ships inoperative. We'll freeze to death out here" he stresses, finally coming to a stop as he looks at you, then his gaze falling on the innocent little child that plays in the snow.

"before you crashed us all the way out here I thought I saw a town that way" you point in the direction where you had thought you seen a town while you spiraled out of control. Thankfully though the ship wasn't damaged to bad and no one was hurt. "we can rent a place to sleep tonight and I'll wake up early in the morning and fix the ship" you shrug while scooping Grogu up and taking his icey little hands in yours and warming them.

Din sighs, something he seemed to do a lot you've noticed ever since you started working for him. Not only did you serve as a mechanic and caretaker for Grogu, but also a skilled medic. It was no secret din loathed droids, sometimes he found himself struggling to patch his own self up when injured greatly, so he hired you to assist him in medical ways instead of seeking help from a med Droid. You helped him greatly in medical and mechanical ways, soon he found the child and you helped in nanny ways.

Din turns around, back facing you now as he looks towards where you said a town was. The sky just barely illuminated by the dim glow of lights from the civilization. Facing you once more now he walks closer through the snow, gloved thump stroking Grogu's cold cheek.

"it will be a long walk... Probably even a days time..." he trailed of in thought, taking his cape off in the process and handing it to you so you can wrap Grogu up. "we'd have to use my jetpack to make it there tonight" he sighed out, watching how you wrap the cape around the little one. Covering up his mouth and ears along with his little body. He was swaddled up snugly.

You grin at din, "you're just looking for an excuse to hold me aren't you Mando?" you tease him, loving how he always stuttered and got nervous. He always retaliated with a harsh comment or the silent treatment, brushing your harmless flirting off.

Oh how you fell hard for the man though, he was something special. He acted like the toughest bounty hunter in the galaxy, he was really, but once you got to know the man under the armor? He was a big sweetheart, a softie who was passionate about little things and protective over the ones he considered friends, the one's he loved. You grew feelings for him one particular night spent on Nevarro, he was meeting with karga, in a cantina. You had joined him of course because you needed a drink, once you was both in there this one man wouldn't leave you alone, flirting, eyeing you like he was a starved man and you was a feast, his hands shortly falling on the small of your back and trailing down lower much to your dismay.

Now you was a good fighter, but before you had the chance to break the man's wrist? Din had done it for you, grabbing the man's hand and twisting it, showing his vibroblade against the man's throat, "touch her again and I'll kill you" was what made the man flee without a word. Wrist broke. He offered you a nod and made you stay by his side. It had made you fall for him hard, the feelings only growing as time went on.

"I could always leave you out here to freeze" din shot back at your earlier comment, he said it more teasingly, a welcome surprise to you.

"like you could do that, I know under all that beskar you have a soft spot for me din" you smile at him innocently, Grogu smiling as if he agrees with you.

"for him maybe" din was blushing hard under the helmet, heart beating rapidly as if he was afraid. Truly he was, he feared that if he let himself love you like he so desperately wanted, you'd leave him, that the galaxy would rip you away from him like every one else he ever loved.

Perhaps that's why he put up the facade he wore good when you flirted with him, acting as if he couldn't stand you, as if he loathed your presence. If only you could see the way his brown eyes sparkle with wonder and longing when he watches you work or play with Grogu.

You scoff with a smile, acting as if his little retort didn't sting a little. "let's get going before we freeze to death then" you say, hating how your heart skips a beat at how close he stood now, shuffling in the snow to jerk you flush against his warm side. The beskar was ice cold though, making you gasp with a shiver.

"hold on to Grogu tightly" he warns, worried you'd drop him. You wrap him up in your right arm, holding him against your chest tightly, little green hands fisting your short tightly as he snuggled up against your chest.

Din wraps a arm around your waist, his other placing a gloved hand over your arm that held Grogu. "are you ready?" he asks, pulling you against him tightly. You felt a little nervous, not to fond of heights. Din noticed and chuckles. "don't worry mesh'la, I won't drop you... Maybe" he teased. Saying the nickname he gave you, you had yet to learn.

Snapping your head towards him with wide eye's you give him a fearful look, "maybe!?" you didn't get a response because he had already taken off, forcing a shriek from you and your arm to hold him tighter. Heart rapidly beating as you closed your eyes shut. You try and ignore how his touch sends a tingling warmth through your whole body, how you wished he'd hold you more....

Grogu squeaks out what sounds to be a laugh, his smile and wide eye's enjoying being high up like this, but once you open your eye's and look down, you knew you'd made a mistake. "oh no, no, no, no" you muttered, burying your face in din's neck.

"don't worry, we're almost at the town, I can see it" din reassures you, although he wanted to tease and poke fun at your silly fear like you do him most time's. He would never do such a thing to you, he hated how your small whimper tumbled from your lips. Soon though, you arrived at the town and he landed, only stumbled a little.

Practically clinging to him you refuse to let go, "are we on the ground?" you murmur, Grogu making a little sad noise upon the adventure in the sky ending.

"yes, you can let go now" he pulls you off of him and backs away. You open your eyes and sigh, happy to be on the ground again. Holding Grogu with both hands now, you walk with din to town.

The place wasn't that big, but it also wasn't small. There was markets, houses and one small place that looked like a cantina. The people all wore heavy duty clothes, prepared for the cold. But you wore a flimsy old t-shirt and cargo pants. You shiver while walking behind din, people giving you looks.

Din finally comes across a large building, entering the building you sigh at the slight warmth it provides. The room was near empty besides a fireplace and two chairs, a large door by the left wall. Behind a counter a older woman worked, Grey hair and aged face. She gives you and din a kind smile.

"hello! Are you looking to rent a room?" she asks. Din leans on the counter and nods.

"two rooms" he spoke with his stoic tone, the modulater making his voice sound deeper, more intimidating.

"I'm afraid there is only one room... We've gotten a lot of traveler's this week" the older woman said, watching how din sighs and his shoulders slump.

Were you really that annoying to be around? You shake the thought away and sigh, looking down at Grogu who let's his gaze flicker across the room curiously.

"I guess we'll take that one then" he huffed while sliding some credits across the table, soon taking the card to enter the room he just bought for the night.

He walks over to the door you spotted earlier and opens it with a swip of the card, leading you to a hallway full of various other doors. Following him he stops in front of a certain one, swiping the card as the whoosh was heard and the door slides open.

He sighs and flips the lights on, stopping instantly. His abrupt stop makes you walk into his back. "owe! You nearly made me fall" you snap and walk beside him, "why did you stop all the su -

"there's only one bed?" he spoke as if someone had just slapped him across the face, you look up and noticed that there was indeed, one bed.

"I can always sleep in the floor" you shrug and set Grogu down, letting him explore the room. He instantly crawls in bed though. "not anything new" you flash him a sarcastic smile. Referring to how din made you sleep in the floor of the crest during your early days of knowing him. Finally though he noticed how stiff and in pain you was and bought you a small cot to keep in the cargo area of the crest.

"I can take the floor, you sleep in the bed" he starts taking his cape from Grogu, tucking him into the large bed fit for almost three people as he folds the fabric up and sits in the floor.

Scoffing you stand before him with a hand on your hip, "like hell I'm letting you sleep in the floor, we can both obviously fit in the bed" you point out, not having a problem with sharing the bed with him. Not one problem at all in fact.

"like hell I'm sleeping beside you" he retorts coldly, his words striking you hard as your face fell. Turning away from him so he doesn't see his words sting, you shrug.

"I for one don't have a problem with sharing a bed, but if you want you're back hurting you tomorrow that's fine by me" you crawl into the bed after kicking your boots off, Grogu fast asleep already. Once under the covers you turn your back toward din.

Why he hated you so much was beyond you, but alas, he hates you.

You try and not let it bother you, but after a few minutes of silence you turn on your side to face him again. He wore his beskar still, it had to be uncomfortable. "do you always sleep in the armor?" you mutter while hoping he wasn't asleep.

"only whenever people are around" he grumbled while his visor falls on you. You knew he refused to show his face, something you always respected, but you hated for him to sleep uncomfortably because you....

"you can take it off din and sleep in the bed... I know how you're back hurts you, you old man" you joke lightly, knowing he was older then you. And although he hated how you always cracked jokes either with him or about him, he knew it was harmless teasing. So.... He sighs and stands up.

"I'm leaving the helmet on" he grunts while slowly taking his beskar off, gently setting it down neatly. You watch with a adoring look, mind to tired to realize you was doing so, but din saw it. The sight of your dazzling eyes practically glued to him making his face flush in a beautiful shade of red. But thank the maker beyond that he wore a helmet to hide it.

"okay but if you ever decide it's uncomfortable to sleep in you can trust me enough to take it off....I'd never look at you without it on y'know" you say while he now stood in his underclothes. A long sleeved black sweater and heavy duty pants. Taking his gloves off your eyes are met with the familiar tanned skin you loved, having seen his abdomen and arms bare before do to attending his wounds countless times. It seemed he wasn't only reckless when flying the razor crest, but aslo fighting a bounty apparently.

Din slowly walks shuffles over to the bed, almost shyly. Waiting for you to scoot to the other side. You do so after scooping Grogu up, being sure not to wake him as you placed him in the middle of the bed, him snuggling up to you in his sleep. Din crawls in bed shortly and makes himself comfortable under the covers, laid out on his back. His head though turns toward you.

"I know I can trust you, you haven't given me reason not to.... I just - I don't want to risk taking it off" he stuttered, you could easily detect he was indeed nervous. But why? You was determined to find out.

"I understand, I'm not pressuring you into taking it off" you giggle, subconsciously stroking Grogu's little hand.

"I know...." he whispers, his visor still on you as you looked at him with soft eye's. "I'm sorry if I've ever been... Harsh with you" he forced the words out, eye's locked on your own, the y/e/c eye's he'd always find himself lost in....

You was speechless, didn't know how to respond to his abrupt apology. It was unexpected, here you thought he hated you, found you to be nothing to him but a medic, mechanic, and caretaker for Grogu. Whereas you saw din as a friend, someone to rely on, someone to talk to whenever need be. Sure you teased him a lot and made some jokes up about little things he does, like being a big softie or cute when he plays with Grogu. You never meant no harm, but din always made it out that way, pushing you away or making harsh remarks whenever you had done so....

Blinking at him you let a soft grin tug at your lips, "you don't have to apologize, I know I'm a little irritating and a pain in the ass to be around" you shrug and look down at Grogu, heart full of love at the sight of his peaceful slumber.

"you're not that bad... Maybe a little bit of a pain in the ass" although he was hidden by the helmet, you could hear the smile in his voice. You chuckle quietly and look back up at him.

"you're something else din..." you whisper do to Grogu shifting around, rolling over towards din. His heart swells at how Grogu laid his little hand on his bicep, a smile on the little one's face as he slept.

"is that a good thing or bad thing?" din spoke just as quiet as you did, modulater making his voice even deeper as he whispers, a husky sound you found yourself hanging onto with a undeniable yearning. How you wish you could hear it without the helmet....

"it's a good thing, definitely a good thing" you smile up at him, the sight enough to make his heart flutter wildy. "you big softie" you murmur, unable to stop yourself from letting the words roll off your tongue.

"I'm not a softie, I'm a bounty hunter" he knew you didn't mean anything bad by the nickname you've given him. But he couldn't help the way it sometimes irked him, why? He didn't know. Because sometimes he saw what you meant when you called him a softie, deep down inside he knew it was slightly true.

"to the galaxy yes, but to him... You're a softie. You spoil him rotten din!" you laugh a little loudly but managed to stifle them. "you treat him as if he's the most fragile, precious cargo to ever be created, you always buy him little things whenever you come back from hunts, and you always let him cuddle you" you grin at him with so much fondness din's heart nearly beats out of his chest with how gorgeous you are, glowing with joy, smile as bright as any star he's ever seen. "you're a softie, no denying it"

"and you are definitely a pain in the ass" he chuckles and shakes his head, visor still looking over at you as he laid on his back. "but even though you can really get on my nerves...i do have a soft spot for you" he confessed, nervous all the sudden as his hands fiddle with the end of his long sleeve shirt.

The smile on your face widens into one of pure happiness, eye's staring at din with love. He knew you was fond of him, and he was quite smitten with you, but he was afraid.... Afraid of losing you, afraid of watching you leave him in more ways then one.

But he was done being afraid, he couldn't live another day without holding you close, staring into those eyes of yours he adores. He wanted to hold you forever, kiss you until his lungs beg him for air, love you for as long as you or the galaxy will let him. Because din djarin was didn't want to spend another day without doing any of these things again.

"I love you" he blurts out, desperately. His voice holding nothing but truth, he sits up in the bed, careful not to wake Grogu as he does so, back pressed against the headboard while he only looks down at you with love. "I - I love you so much...." his voice cracks at the end as he stuttered.

You sit up fast, smile morphing into a more dazed gap, like a fish who was taken out of water. "din... I love you too. I've -

"Im so sorry I pushed you away and would always give you the cold shoulder but dank farrik y/n I can't go another day without saying it.... I love you" he rushed out, cutting your words off.

Tears fill your eye's, ones of joy, happiness. Heart overflowing with love for him. You smile so wide it hurts as you can see how nervous he has become. You gently grab his hand to stop his fidgeting, placing a kiss to each of his fingers. The act sends electricity through his veins, warmth over his whole being as his heart swells at the softness of your lips against his skin.

"I love you din... I always have, ever since you had asked me to work for you, I love you so damn much" you laugh breathlessly, tears threatening to fall.

"you and him" he nods down at Grogu, "are the only things in this galaxy that mean more to me then anyone could ever know...." he muttered, taking his hand out of your own, your eye's widen as you see him place both hands on his helmet, ready to take it off. Upon reflex, you screw your eyes shut, making din feel a wave of affection wash over him knowing you had so much respect for him. "open you're eye's" he said, but it sounded so much more different, much more richer and real.

Reluctantly, you open your eye's. Heart skipping a beat at the sight before you, two brown eye's full of love staring back at you, glossy. His dark hair a mess as his scruffy face was one purely adorable, handsome nose and charming jaw. Maker was din djarin a beautiful, handsome man. You slowly crawl more towards him, sitting in his lap, being sure not to disturb Grogu as you gently trace every detail of his face, starting at the few lines on his forehead, down his gorgeous nose, giggling once you find your fingertips brush against his mustache. He smiles, revealing his dimples. You smile up into his brown eyes and can't resist anymore.

You press a firm but gentle kiss on his lips, soft and warm as you always imagined them to be. Your palms press flush against his cheeks, scruffy little patches of hair tickling them. Din's hand lands on the nape of your neck as his other finds purchase on your hip. His eyes fluttering shut as his nose bumbs against yours. This kiss was perfect, as if it was the seal to your and his fate. You never wanted to live without him by your side. Hesitantly, you pull away from his soft lips, giggling whenever he chases your own.

"you are the most handsome man in the galaxy din" you breathlessly say, his eye's sparkling. It's then you noticed the golden specks, amber swirls amongst the brown of his gorgeous eyes

"I'm not much of a sight cyar'ika" he strokes your cheek with his thumb, so much affection swimming in his eye's. His soft smile bringing out his dimples again, he was truly something special....

"you're more then a sight din... You're more beautiful then anything else in the galaxy" you say, running a hand through his hair, fingers lightly scratching at his scalp. He relaxes with a content sigh.

"you're the beautiful one here" he smiles up at you adorably, your heart fluttering. You lean your forehead on his and grin. "i love you..." he whispers in his husky deep voice you couldn't ever tire of.

"I love you more" you say back while placing a kiss atop his nose. He scrunched his face up and chuckles at you, the sound even more beautiful now that it came out natural. "but we better get sleep since I've got a long day of mechanic work tomorrow, because a certain brown eyed beauty is a reckless flyer" you poke his cheek while crawling out of his lap, crawling back into your spot in the bed.

Din scoffs before scooting closer, his forehead nearly touching yours now as you both placed your hands on Grogu gently. "I'm a good pilot, you have to admit it" he grins at you, loving how you roll your eye's at him.

"I know you're a good pilot, but you're reckless din... No denying it" you kiss his nose again making him sigh dreamily, "I love you're nose..." you yawn, smiling at him afterwards with a sleepy grin.

"I've noticed, if you don't stop kissing it I'm gonna put the helmet back on" he jokes while he yawns himself now, eye's drooping as sleep crept up on him slowly.

"oh, do you want me to stop kissing you?" you say with your usual teasing tone.

"no! I'm not saying that" he instantly said, almost to loud. You laugh at his reaction and shake your head.

"I was joking din... I'd never stop kissing you" you peck his lips, pulling away to quick for his liking. But he watches as your eyes slowly flutter shut, no matter how hard you tried to keep them open.

This was exactly what din wanted, his little family in his arms. He smiles down at Grogu who snores lightly and then looks to you, who slept peacefully now. He was beyond lucky to have both of you, and he'd do whatever it takes to keep you both safe, because he loved you both more then anyone would ever know...

___________________________________________

[thetriggeredhappy]

in the dadspy au, what if jeremy was just going to be an assistant/cook/janitor at the base while his dad was being the mercenary (since spy didnt want him to follow the "career" but didnt want to be separated from him), but then jeremy turned out to be even better than the hired scout so they promote him to that position and spy is not happy with this at all

ok i was gonna put this in the queue to post but im impatient because im happy with this one. only thing i didnt have was spy being upset by this development

(warnings for canon-typical violence, discussion of mercenary-type things, paranoia, alcohol, and exactly one proper fight scene. consider this pg-13)

-

“Would you prefer the good news first, or the bad news?” Dad asked.

Jeremy looked up at him from where he’d snatched up the sunday comics from his dad’s newspaper and was doodling little hats on the characters while they waited for their food to arrive. “Uh,” he said, “good news first.”

“Alright. The good news is, do you remember that line I’ve been tailing? The one in New Mexico?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jeremy said, then nodded a little more confidently. “Immunity, safehouse, somethin’ like that, right?”

“...Something like that,” Dad agreed carefully, and that made him raise an eyebrow. “It went well, and I think there’s the very real possibility that I’ve all but closed the deal, all they want now is an interview.”

“...Interview, singular,” Jeremy said slowly.

“That’s where the bad news begins. Unfortunately... merde, how to phrase this?” He drew a hand down his face. “They’re fully willing to hire me on, but this is a more... corporate affair than I’m used to. They have rules, stipulations. Long story short, they will not hire you as a mercenary on the basis of your age.”

Jeremy tensed. “What?” he demanded. “That’s stupid, I’m old enough to drive and buy guns and whatever the hell else.”

“But not rent a car, at least in many places in the United States.”

“But—“ he started, and remembered they were in public, and lowered his voice to a hiss, leaning in. “We’re hired killers, thieves, criminals. Do they really think we’re above having fakes? False documentation?”

“Actually, that is one of their requirements,” Dad said dryly, taking a paper from his jacket and consulting it. “I’m not happy about it either, mon lapin, but those are their rules. Already they have slightly bent them for one individual, and already I am on thin ice. But I may have a way to manage this.”

“Yeah?” Jeremy asked, nervous now.

“I know the woman responsible for new hires and managing the team I’ve applied for. She owes me a favor—a fairly hefty one. When I go in for the interview, one of my demands will include you being hired on, not as a mercenary, but for... for custodial purposes, something like that. Cook, janitor, security guard, secretary—whatever job there is that needs doing there, and I am sure that there will be one. Something to allow you to live there. Pay will likely be her stipulation, and the play I hope to make is that really, you’re overqualified for the position and she’s lucky to have someone so competent available, and in the worst case scenario, the pay is still good enough even for just one of us that we will not cut too deeply into the savings.”

The savings. That made Scout blink, because they only ever brought up the savings when—

“You think this could be it?” he asked quietly. “Like, it it?”

A hard exhale, and he leaned his cheek on his hand. “Potentially,” he finally said. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, but the job promises a variety of things. Medical attention available, extremely low levels of danger, and most of all, confidentiality. The only people who will know any name we give them would be the woman in charge of hiring us and their singular medical professional. There is no mode of communication to or from the compound outside of emergency lines to the organization and a single secure payphone located two miles away, there is no civilization within a twenty-five minute drive minimum, and this operation has been going long enough that the local authorities have long since grown used to being paid off, and likely don’t even remember what for anymore. I cash in a few valuable favors and ask this employer to turn a blind eye, we’d have somewhere remote and secure to spend our time after our deaths are faked and once the contract is over, we can start over. No ties to the past.”

“Freedom,” Jeremy marveled.

Silence for a few seconds, broken only by the quiet chatter of the rest of the diner. “I want to warn you, this work may not be glamorous. It may not even be particularly easy. I’m giving you the option of saying no,” Dad said.

“What?! Yes, hell yes, are you joking? To get us to living like normal people? Steady work? Livin’ in one place? Count me in!” he laughed.

“What if the job is something you won’t enjoy? Long hours, boring work?” Dad asked, entirely serious.

“I’m still on board.”

“What if the other people working there are rude to you? Disrespectful?”

“Well most of the people I meet through our job now try to kill us, so really it’s an upgrade.”

“What if there’s no diner nearby?” he asked, and there was a glint of humor in his eye.

“Damn, sorry, that’s the dealbreaker,” he joked right back, and that made him snort, shake his head, greet the waitress as she came back with their coffee and soda and then informed them that their food would be out shortly.

“I’ll ask,” was what Dad said once she was gone again, and that was that, and they started driving to New Mexico two nights later.

-

“—A warm welcome to our two newest recruits. This is the Spy, and this is the Guard.”

“Guard?” asked one of the men at the table, his accent thick and distinctly Russian. It made Jeremy tense slightly, but he didn’t let it show.

“Night Guard,” Jeremy answered, voice clipped.

“He’s not technically hired on as a mercenary like you all, he won’t be joining you on missions,” the short woman apparently named Miss Pauling (Jeremy was fairly sure it was a fake name) said, hands folded in front of her neatly. “He’s here to work security. Keep an eye out during the night, filter through the camera footage, handle the archiving, things like that.”

“We’re hiring on a civvie now?” asked another man, thick Scottish accent a little harder to digest than the eyepatch and the grenade he was in the process of fiddling with the internal mechanisms of.

“He’s combat ready, and will still be armed. His job is to essentially make sure you’re all safe enough to sleep through the night,” Miss Pauling said.

“I’m not some chump,” Jeremy agreed. “I know my stuff.”

“How old is he?” another man asked, this one in a hardhat with a heavy drawl, looking concerned.

“Twenty, for your information,” Jeremy said, a little sharply, eyes narrowed.

“If you have any other questions, there’ll be time later on. For now, I do need to show our two newest recruits where they’ll be staying,” Miss Pauling cut in.

There was an audible scoff from one of the men at the table, a dramatic rolling of eyes. Jeremy glared at him. He unfolded and refolded his extremely tattoo’d tree-trunk-like arms, tugging the visor of his hat between. “Sorry,” he said, accent thick and distinctly Californian. “I just don’t have the most trust for some scrawny kid in slacks and creep in a ski mask.”

“Scout, don’t start,” Miss Pauling warned.

“Just saying,” this man, apparently called Scout, muttered under his breath regardless.

“Don’t,” she said again, more firmly, and ignored the second eye roll she got for the trouble. “If you two would follow me.”

And they were shown around the base, and Jeremy in particular was shown into a room stuck behind three locked doors, where he found camera feeds and recording equipment. She gave him a basic overview and a thick packet of instructions and policies labelled ‘highly classified’ and a phone number to call if he had any further questions, and a set of hours that were apparently meant to become the new standard for him (with the quiet addendum that if he finished early that was alright, and that technically he could turn in early if two or more members of the team were already awake for the day and he was caught up on the archiving of old tapes).

Then he was left to “get used to the equipment”, which he assumed meant his dad was getting a similar rundown of his job, and it took a pretty quick glance through the packet to understand that clearly this place ran on an extremely secretive and closely monitored series of systems. In the packet, between the sections on camera maintenance and operation hours, were a few sheets detailing what were apparently the movement patterns of the various members of the team, including frequented locations and previously recorded large-scale infractions (mostly on the part of the Soldier, the Medic, the Scout, and one from the Demoman).

He wasn’t the one with the title Spy, but fuck, it seemed like he might as well have it. His entire job wasn’t even necessarily to keep the team safe overnight—he was just meant to watch all of them to make sure nobody was anywhere or doing anything out of the ordinary.

The next time he saw his dad, waiting outside the infirmary to get some sort of physical evaluation, his face was arranged carefully enough that he could tell he’d figured out something was up, too.

“Got your job assignments?” he asked quietly in French, glancing towards the door into the infirmary.

A nod, a glance. “I’m intrigued by the methods used in employee evaluation,” he deadpanned. “Especially the fact that apparently, they’re willing to assign employees for the explicit task of doing them.”

“How often?”

“Weekly.”

“Thorough,” Jeremy deadpanned, and glanced towards the hall at the distant sound of laughter, echoing from somewhere else on the base. “That’s basically mine too.”

There was a long silence, and when Jeremy looked back over, his dad was giving him an almost expectant look, waiting. All he had to offer him was a shrug, which was returned after a moment with a vague shake of the head. “I don’t believe it will be a problem,” his dad said simply. “Not for us, at the very least.”

Jeremy nodded. “Yeah. Uh, anyways, good luck with the… physical, or whatever,” he said, and received a pat on the shoulder before he walked back off down the hall, hoping to figure out what exactly he was supposed to do with an entire room all to himself. He’d almost never had one before.

-

He was used to time changes and jet lag, to needing to switch his sleep schedule on the regular, but the switch to a straight up night shift was a rough one.

His nine-to-five was actually a ten-to-six, as in 10 PM through 6 AM. This meant that, assuming he managed to get his schedule in order, he’d be able to join in on the team dinners if he woke up early and could eat breakfast with them before he went to bed.

Very quickly he realized that going to dinner and breakfast with the team was going to become a staple part of his routine, because it didn’t take long before he began to feel extremely lonely all of the time. In a dark little room, everyone else asleep, scrubbing through tapes from during the day while half keeping an eye on the live feed from around the base that never showed much of anything, it was brutal. It was suffocating.

It was easy, at least. It didn’t take long before he got efficient at it and could start zoning out, and it wasn’t like he was under much pressure. His was the only room without any cameras in it. Security risk, apparently. 
And to be honest, what small amount he and Dad interacted with mercenaries and other criminal types, Jeremy didn’t really tend to like them much. A lot of them were loud and rude and had the potential to turn around and try and kill them whenever they felt like it. He didn’t expect that he’d like the team as much as he did. He especially didn’t expect to like them so much without ever really talking to them.

But watching the camera feeds from throughout the day, seeing what they were up to, they were just... nice people. Soldier out by the dumpsters practicing rocket jumps and wrangling raccoons and apparently trying to learn how to spin a rifle, Pyro’s regular minor explosions in the kitchen while cooking and the surprised and frantic way they cleaned it up every time, the Demoman’s tendency to whistle wherever he went, watching through the feed as they all played cards and argued and jostled each other. They all seemed really nice. Really cool. Really dorky, too, but mostly just really nice and really cool.

And there were a few of them he was less sure about—he couldn’t get eyes on the Medic most of the time, what with the one camera in the Medbay being tilted down at an angle that made it hard to see much of anything but the occasional bird (probably by those same birds). The Heavy tended to just sit and read, and was pretty much silent most of the time otherwise. The Scout tended to leave the base pretty often. And the Sniper didn’t even live on base, he had a van outside that he could only occasionally see movement in when he squinted at the far edge of the camera leading outside. But even then, Heavy and Sniper mostly just seemed quiet, and Medic just seemed busy, and the Scout just seemed like a little bit of a dickhead.

But then one day when Jeremy was at breakfast the Heavy caught him leaning to try to get a look at the cover of the book he was reading, and he blurted that he was just wondering what book was so great that he’d stay up until like four in the morning reading, and then the entire team was gawking at him and asking questions and insisting that it was insane that there was someone actually watching all those cameras, and he shrugged and said there was always supposed to be someone watching the tapes back it was just usually some office worker type a hundred miles away. And they seemed almost... upset with him. And maybe that was fair, it wasn’t like he ever talked to any of them much, mostly he just spent breakfast and dinner half-asleep and listening to their chatter. And Demoman admitted that he’d honestly assumed that Jeremy slept his entire shift, he just always looked so tired at breakfast. There was almost this discomfort. This distrust.

And so, now that the jig was up, he made it a point to say some things to certain members of the team. To tell the Medic that his camera was tilted down so that he couldn’t see most of the room, and to very pointedly say that it was weird how that happened and that he didn’t know why they set it up like that in the first place, but it was really none of his business. Made it a point to warn the Engineer in the morning that the previous night, Soldier had been doing something in the fridge for a while, and to maybe check the labels before he made breakfast. Made it a point to tell the Demoman that the camera in his workshop was right in plain sight, and that if he moved one of his blackboards an inch or two to the left, it would obscure the room a pretty hefty amount. Made it a point to tell the Sniper that the camera on the rooftop seemed to be glitching out, and it’d just sort of lost the tapes of the previous two nights, and that it was really unfortunate since for all he knew there might have been someone ignoring the signs about there being no personnel allowed up there.

In return, he found that Pyro would sometimes make little sparkly notes with smiley faces on them and stick them to the door to the security room. That Sniper started tipping his hat at the camera above the door into the base from the garage. That on occasional drinking nights, the team would suddenly turn and start waving at the camera, laughing the whole way. On one night in particular he could hear through the low-quality and tinny speakers that they were trying to cajole him into leaving the security room for a while to join them for cards, and god, but he wanted to.

And he noticed more things. Soldier walking with a slight limp some days when rocket jumps had rough landings. Being able to count the doves in the infirmary and even tell them apart to some extent through blurry close-ups. The Engineer making it a point to sweep really regularly regardless of what project he was working on.

And then he noticed a weird thing.

It took him a long time to get used to the patterns of hallways, the cameras not really lined up linearly after a while, too many branching paths. He learned to follow progress, to flick from one camera to the next as someone walked around corners. And for a while he thought maybe he wasn’t very good at it.

Until he realized two things. First of all, that in a hallway where he knew there were five doors, he could only see four—apparently the door to Pyro’s room was just barely out of sight of the camera. He only figured it out because one day it swung open wide enough to almost bang against the wall.

And then, when he realized there was somehow that massive blindspot, that there was a corner with a blindspot too. One where that Scout kept disappearing.

He watched a few more times to make sure, and yep. He’d see the Engineer walking around the corner, flick to the next screen, and there he was, continuing down the hallway. And then later that same day, the Scout, walking, and flick to the next camera, and he wasn’t there.

One of the worse parts of the job was that he never got to see Dad anymore, never got to just sort of hang out the way they did all the time when he was growing up, and he knew he would miss it but he didn’t know how much. And he found it was even worse when he had something important to say, doubly so when he had something important to say but no idea if it was actually important.

He tried to bring it up casually, in the like ten minutes of time he ever got alone to talk to Dad. Dad was fighting the kettle trying to make some tea and he was trying to stay awake long enough to figure out how he was going to say this.

“Uh,” he said, and Dad looked at him. “So, uh, what’s the read you’re getting on that Scout guy?”

“Lazy,” Dad shrugged, looked back at the kettle. “Arrogant. He seems to care very little about doing his job correctly and has horrible communication on the field.”

“Right, right,” he nodded, fought a yawn down. “Uh. So like, kind of a dickhead.”

“Indeed,” Dad said, nodding vaguely.

“So uhhh... not the best.”

“Where are you going with this?” Dad asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

“I, I dunno, the guy just likes hanging out in this one blindspot in the cameras, and it’s kinda freaking me out,” Jeremy said, scratching at the back of his neck.

Dad frowned. “Strange. I wasn’t aware that there were any blindspots in the cameras.”

“There’s only a few, and only for pretty small spaces I think? But apparently he just likes hanging out in one of them.” Jeremy scuffed his shoe on the ground, glancing over as voices started echoing down the hall towards them. “Just thought it was weird.”

“I’ll look into it,” Dad muttered, voice quiet, and then raised it again slightly. “I refuse to keep up with sports.”

“C’mon,” Jeremy said, knowing this game well, changing subjects into something more normal as people entered earshot. “I’m not even asking you to keep up with sports, I’m just saying, I’d kill to go to a baseball game right about now.”

“The American Pasttime!” Soldier called from the room over.

“Exactly,” Jeremy agreed, nodding at Soldier as he also entered the kitchen, a half-asleep Demoman in tow.

“Any ghosties or ghoulies on the cameras last night, lad?” Demo had enough energy to ask, blinking blearily at the contents of the fridge.

“Oh, a billion,” Jeremy said.

“Guard!” Soldier barked, the most awake person in the room. “Should these ghost-ghouls appear again, don’t be afraid to point me in their direction! I have significant experience with them already and do not fear the likes of them!”

“Yeah sure,” Jeremy shrugged.

“You’re a champion, Guard,” Demo said with what was either a really disoriented blink or a wink, slugging him on the shoulder and wandering back out into the common room with the entire carton of milk in his other hand. Jeremy gave him a mock-salute that Soldier copied with absolute conviction. He and Dad shared a glance after the two of them left, and Jeremy was the first one to break, snickering under his breath.

“I’ll look into it,” Dad said, and also left the kitchen, and Jeremy nodded and started trying to remember what else he’d been planning on doing before bed.

-

“So,” Dad said a few days later, materializing next to Jeremy when he was in the middle of his jog and making him almost jump out of his skin, skidding to a stop.

“You’re enjoying that new watch way too much,” Jeremy panted, out of breath and still very much startled.

“Maybe,” Dad said, and he was smiling. “But as I was saying.”

“All you said was ‘so’,” Jeremy pointed out, giving him a look.

“There’s a juvenile joke here about how I’m your father and so of course I say ‘so’, but if you wouldn’t mind it, I did have something important to say, mon lapin,” Dad replied, and Jeremy rolled his eyes hard at the horrible joke and cheesy name, fighting back a smile of his own.

“Go for it,” he said, and took the opportunity to bend and tighten his shoelaces.

“So. Regarding that Scout and his habits. You mentioned he spends time in blind spots of the cameras, oui?” Dad asked.

“Yeah. Keeps, uh, I guess he keeps getting infractions for going off base too much, too. I’ve logged him leaving like three times this week already,” Jeremy nodded.

“Indeed. Well, considering how new we are to the team, I did not want to jump to conclusions, and so contacted Miss Pauling and asked on your behalf for any older records, and I found out something very... intriguing.”

Jeremy looked up at him, blinking. ‘Intriguing’, historically, had always been a very, very bad thing.

“Apparently, it has been two years since they last had a Guard situated on base. The previous one was a much older gentleman, retired from being a full member of the team due to health complications but not entirely ready to part with the company. The previous guard was somewhat strict, and the Scout—the same as we have now—very much disliked the man. He continued acquiring near-constant infractions under the man’s watch for leaving when he was not meant to, so much so that the previous Guard proposed enstating trackers on the team when they went off-base. And before this policy could take hold, the previous Guard left the base one day and did not return, and finally was found dead a state over, one month later.”

Jeremy blinked once, twice. “Holy shit,” he said, and took note of the wary look on his face. “Okay. So we’re thinkin’ the same thing, right?”

“I would assume so. And…” Dad hesitated, moved to fidget with his cufflinks. “And I would not be particularly concerned about this, as I’m confident that you wouldn’t have gotten his attention from what you’ve been up to lately, and therefore wouldn’t be in danger yet should history attempt to repeat itself, but… he’s already taken a disliking to you.”

“What?” he asked, eyebrows shooting up.

“I believe it’s something as simple as some sort of shallow jealousy. Another American on the team, also relatively young, filling the position of someone he disliked previously. He regularly complains about the fact that you don’t need to go do the same job as the rest of us.” Dad shrugged, glanced over at him. “That, combined with the fact that you have somewhat conflicting duties, well, he tends to rather tetchy. He claims that considering he’s meant to be the first line of defense, they shouldn’t also need a guard at night.”

Jeremy had a number of opinions about that, but he stuck to the most relevant ones. “I really don’t like this guy,” he said. “Might be, uh. Worth keeping an eye on.”

“Agreed.” Dad glanced back over his shoulder towards the base, then at his watch. “Enjoy the rest of your run. Don’t forget to eat.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, hit the bricks already, old man,” Jeremy scoffed, waving him off, and Dad rolled his eyes, disappearing again in a cloud of smoke. “You’re gonna be using that thing all the damn time now, aren’t you?”

“Oui,” came a voice from nowhere, and Jeremy huffed a laugh, meandering his way back into the rest of his jog.

-

Jeremy hummed along to the radio, flicking between cameras on autopilot and wondering when exactly to take his lunch break.

He didn’t face the clock or anything, so he wasn’t sure, but he thought he had a pretty solid rhythm at that point. Click, click, click, between the camera to the road, the camera to the main entrance, and the camera in the hall towards the middle of the building, for about one second each. At just about any time after 11 or 11:30, those were the only three in real time that he needed to keep an eye on, mostly for people coming back late from bar hopping or if Miss Pauling was rolling in on a delivery. All the other cameras he could see out of the corner of his eye, and any movement he’d pick up on pretty quick, even if it was usually just the doves fluttering on the camera to the Medbay. After he cycled through those (and there was almost never anything there) he’d cycle back through to the tape he had in, put it on high speed, and watch it for about two or three minutes, get through a chunk of that time. Mostly he’d just be making sure nobody had been in the base while the team was away ni o(which indeed there never was), so there wasn’t much of a reason to take it off high speed, and the second part of the night would be watching the tapes for the time the team was back on base.

Movement on a camera made him click the pause, and he glanced off to the side. One of the doves had shuffled to face the other direction. He rolled his eyes, looking back at the bigger monitor again and pressing play.

The second half of the night was a little more interesting. He just had to look at the tapes for the time the team was there, check for discrepancies that might point to Dad messing with the disguise technology off-the-clock or the enemy Spy having infiltrated. For the most part things were straightforward, but he at least got to see his teammates up to funny things sometimes. Pyro’s antics were usually entertaining. Soldier he only caught some of, on the basis of him often walking off out of range of the cameras when he went on his excursions. Demo was funny sometimes. Honestly, just seeing the Sniper anywhere but as a fuzzy distant shape was interesting.

Movement on a camera. Same dove. He ignored it. Click, click, click, all three cameras clear, back to the fast-forward of the same empty hallway as before.

He really needed to figure something out, for the Scout. Maybe he and Dad were just being paranoid. It would be insane for him to try to outright kill anyone who inconvenienced him, not to mention reckless, and stupid to boot. Acting like that in their line of work would make him a lot of enemies extremely quickly. It would make more sense for the old Guard disappearing to be unrelated, to be honest.

Yeah. Hell, he barely knew the guy, and here he was assuming he’d straight up whacked a guy for getting a little too on his case about something. Maybe they were wrong.

Movement on a camera. He glanced over and froze outright.

It took him five seconds to come to his senses enough to pause the playback on his screen.

Figures. Shapes. Not at the front entrance, in the hallway, there next to the back way, by the garage. At least three, moving carefully, hard to make out in the darkness.

Okay. Okay, don’t panic, focus.

Jeremy ran through a few things in his head. He’d already done a headcount, the only people he wasn’t sure about were the Sniper and the Medic, but he hadn’t seen the Medic in any of the hallways out of the infirmary. Three figures were two too many to be any of the team, and besides that, they didn’t look like the Medic. Too short to be the Sniper, moving differently. Different clothes.

Three people. He hopped up, rushed over to the wall, yanked open the panel he had there. Three buttons, which he needed to hit in order. The first would send an alert to Miss Pauling, the second to whoever was assigned to be on alert that night, the third would set off the alarm.

He hit the first, hit the second, and hesitated on the third.

Okay. Technically if he didn’t hit that third button, he’d be breaking protocol, which was, according to the manual, ‘grounds for termination’. He was pretty sure that meant a long swim with some concrete shoes. And it was apparently recorded every time he hit these buttons, so they could deduct from his pay on false alerts. So they’d know if he didn’t hit this third button. He needed to think fast.

This was a different button than the alert button. The alert was more subtle, set for just one person. The alarm was throughout the entire base, over every loudspeaker. Louder than a fire alarm. If he hit this one, these intruders would hear that there was an alarm going off. Anyone smart would book it, high tail it the hell out of there. But he still didn’t know where they came from.

There hadn’t been movement on any of the screens, and he looked at the camera feed facing the road already, a few times even. He should’ve seen them. And if they found their way in once, they could do it again.

If he didn’t hit the button, on the other hand, whoever was on alert would wake up and wonder why they’d gotten an alert but the alarm wasn’t going off. If they were clever, which they probably were if they’d lasted this long, they’d come to the security room to see what was up and they could work from there.

He closed the panel again and moved to wait.

A minute later, still no movement from the hallway where most of the rooms were. That was fine, they’d just woken up, and probably needed to get dressed and grab their guns.

Another minute later, no movement, which was fair, they just needed a second to get their bearings. The intruders, meanwhile, were just lurking, slowly making their way down the hall.

Another minute later, no movement, and he opened the panel to press the button again before he continued waiting. Maybe they didn’t hear him the first time.

Another minute later and he took to standing next to the panel, mashing the button rapidly, eyes on the screen where the intruders were passing the kitchen, starting to get pretty far into the building.

Another minute later and he stomped his way into his sneakers, grabbing his flashlight and gun and guard cap from where they were hung on the wall. “Fine, I’ll fucking do it myself,” he grumbled, and carefully shouldered open the door, taking one last glance at the camera before he shut the door behind himself.

He kept his footsteps quiet, squinting into the darkness, waiting for his eyes to finish adjusting as he crept towards where he’d last seen the figures. It was near-silent in the base at night except for the distant, quiet hum of generators and occasional shift of plumbing. It was getting more and more familiar, and he found himself able to tune it out somewhat, instead listening intently for footsteps besides his own, making sure to click the safety off his gun while he was still alone and not when he was close to whoever had decided to break in.

Okay. Dad did this all the time. He could handle this.

He slowed as he approached the corner near the kitchen, peering around as carefully as he could, tugging down the brim of his cap to try and hide any potential shine from his eyes. He caught sight of a vague shape standing near the doorway, hesitating before it crept inside, into the common area.

Not ideal, on the basis of that being their goddamn kitchen, but at least there would be cover.

By the time he managed to sneak up to the doorway, he could make out the sound of vague whispering. It was far enough that it gave him the boldness to peer into the room, and just slightly lit by the glow of the clock on the oven he could see two shapes there in the kitchen, the third lingering nearer to him, there by the table.

Jeremy was only just starting to make a plan, relieved to have the jump on them, when there was the distant sound of a generator humming to life, and all the figures stopped, paused for a moment.

“Fucking spooky here,” one whispered, barely audible.

“Calm down,” another whispered. “What, scared of ghosts?”

Jeremy inhaled, exhaled, shifted onto the balls of his feet and started creeping a little further into the room. If he could just get all three of them to one side, so he wouldn’t need to pivot so much…

“You don’t know, maybe there’s ghosts here,” the first protested, and swore quietly at what sounded like their winging their elbow against the corner of the tale, and Jeremy tried to stick near the wall, managed to creep half-behind one of the chairs, trying to keep his silhouette indistinct. “These guys kill people.”

“So do we,” the third mumbled, moving out of sight in the kitchen, and Jeremy bit down on a swear, starting to inch behind the couch. “Don’t be a coward. And stop making so much noise.”

“You can’t shoot a ghost,” the first pointed out, moving a bit closer to the kitchen, giving the table a wide berth now. “Or punch it.”

“I can try,” the second said, and stopped at the sound of a rustle.

Jeremy held his breath, weight half-balanced against where he’d tried to step, newspaper trapped beneath his foot.

“That one wasn’t me,” the first whispered. There was another, more significant rustle throughout the room, and Jeremy could see a glint as the intruders drew their weapons.

Jeremy inhaled, exhaled, and just barely managed not to swear out loud.

The first one was the closest by, lingering beside the arm of the couch Jeremy was crouched in the shadow of. “Do they have a cat here?” they asked, voice quiet.

The second was approaching into the main room more carefully. From the sound of the footsteps, trying to keep a shoulder closer to the wall, clearly paying more attention to the door. “Are you stupid or something?” was the reply, voice also quiet.

The third didn’t speak, but huffed out a laugh, which was enough to tell Jeremy that he was out of the kitchen.

Jeremy inhaled shakily, exhaled shakily, shifted his grip on his handgun and flashlight, and took a split second to think. Inhaled one more time.

He leapt to his feet, swinging his flashlight like a billy club and clobbering the first figure across the side of the head, sending them tumbling to the ground. From the sound of the impact, a dislocated jaw at the very least. One down.

A shout from the other side of the room, arms moving to try to aim, clearly struggling to see him, but that third figure was in the doorway, silhouetted against the faint light from the oven’s clock, and that was enough to figure out where the head and chest were. He aimed, fired, got what he was pretty sure was the neck considering the brief spray of blood that splattered against the oven, darkening the room completely.

A swear from the second figure, and Jeremy wanted to swear too, because he’d hoped that second figure would be stupid and try and charge him, but now he was ten steps away and didn’t have time to fiddle with and cock the gun again, other hand full with a flashlight and no way to—

Oh, duh.

“Stay where you are,” the second figure ordered, but Jeremy’s eyes were a little better adjusted and besides that, he wasn’t the one talking. He lifted his flashlight and clicked it on.

The second figure cried out, recoiling at the sudden blindingly bright light in what had been near-darkness, and Jeremy had time to finagle his thumb up to cock his gun again, now able to aim with absolute accuracy, this shot connecting with the figure’s head.

He exhaled.

It took Jeremy two minutes to remember to fire a bullet into the chest of the unconscious guy, and another minute for the other mercenaries to start showing up, half-dressed and armed. Dad, presumably to prove a point, showed up pretty close to the middle of the pack almost fully dressed. Jeremy wasn’t entirely sure how long it took before Miss Pauling showed up, but he wasn’t even halfway through their questions by that time.

“Guard, headcount?” she asked before she even bothered saying hello, still wearing her motorcycle helmet and looking more than a little bit miffed.

“Uh,” he said, eyes drawn away from where Medic was assessing the bodies on the kitchen table, “seven present and accounted for. Sniper’s probably out at his van, don’t know about the Scout.”

“Alright. Pyro,” she said, and Pyro stood at attention, bunny slippers squeaking at the movement. “go wake up Sniper and get him in here.”

Pyro nodded, handing their weird unicorn plushie thing to Jeremy as they passed by, giving him a solemn nod before hurrying away.

“Okay. Guard, hit me with a rundown, then,” she said, and shot a glance around the room. “No peanut gallery needed. And Medic, please don’t take them apart too much. I gotta get rid of those later.”

“Uh. Spotted these guys on the cameras, hit the first and second alerts,” Jeremy said.

“And not the third?” she asked pointedly.

“They were, like, right next to the door, and—here’s the thing, Miss P, is I dunno how the hell they got in here,” he said, and there was a general balk from the room. “No, seriously. They didn’t come in on the main road, they were in one of the back hallways by the garage. There’s gotta be a hole in the cameras or something, because I seriously don’t know where they came from. And if they booked it, they’d take whatever vehicle they used to get here, too, and we might not figure it out. Thought I’d just wait for whoever the hell was supposed to be on alert so we could… I dunno, at least see which way they went.”

“Guard,” she admonished, and he shrank a little bit. “That was incredibly reckless. What if nobody had shown up to help you?”

“Uh,” he said, blinked, “but… nobody did show up.”

A pause. She blinked. “What? You’re the one who did that?” she asked, entirely shocked, pointing towards the three bodies on the table.

“Uh, yeah? Isn’t that my job?” he asked carefully, shifting the stuffed animal under his arm.

“No, you’re—you’re just supposed to be the Guard, you’re supposed to watch cameras, not—“ She paused, taking a second to push up her glasses and rub at the bridge of her nose, inhaling, exhaling. “Okay. Points for… going above and beyond, here, but Guard, don’t do that again.”

“Sure thing, Miss P,” he mumbled, tugging on the brim of his guard cap, and sighed to himself as Miss Pauling moved away to try and stop Medic from attempting to covertly steal a few organs from the corpses. Dad clapped him on the shoulder supportively, and that did make him feel a little better. He wasn’t expecting a clap to the other shoulder, and looked up, surprised to see Heavy there, looking just slightly less grim than usual.

“Little Guard man is credit to team,” he said simply, solemnly.

Jeremy straightened up slightly. “Oh. Hey, thanks,” he said. Heavy nodded at him.

“It’s true,” Demo called, and he looked over, got another approving nod. “Really saved the lot of us, lad.”

“I, I mean, hey, it’s… what I’m here for. Or, uh. I thought that was it, anyways,” he shrugged, glancing away. “I mean, yeah, I’m pretty cool, though.”

Dad bumped his arm for the last part, and he snickered. “My question,” Dad continued, doing his best to ignore him, “is primarily regarding who, precisely, was supposed to be present to help Guard with this. Who is meant to be on alert?”

“It’s meant to be Scout, ain’t it?” the Engineer asked from nearby, frowning. A general murmur of agreement. “Could he have slept through it?”

“Heavy doubts this,” Heavy grumbled, looking troubled.

“Why’re we awake?” asked Sniper from the doorway, and various teammates called out a greeting. Sniper seemed half-gone, and completely grumpy, but not as grumpy as Pyro, and not nearly as gone as the man leaning heavily against Pyro’s shoulder.

“Hey,” the Scout managed, grinning, speech garbled, visibly sloppy and unbalanced. “What’s up, guys?”

Groans from parts of the room. “Drinkin’ again, Scout?” the Engineer drawled, visibly irritated.

“That’s my trademark, lad, go on,” Demo laughed, but the enthusiasm wasn’t entirely there.

“Scout,” Miss Pauling said, voice firm in a way that made Jeremy almost flinch in sympathy. “Are you aware that we’ve had a situation here while you’ve been sleeping?”

“Weren’t sleeping,” Sniper murmured, and eyes turned to him. He scratched at the back of his neck. “Came stumbling in ‘round when I was heading in. He was out for the night. Bar, looks like.”

“What?” Jeremy demanded. “Why the fuck didn’t I see him leave on the cameras?”

“Alright,” Miss Pauling said, and Jeremy looked at her. Her expression was hard to read. “It’s possible he went through the back tunnel.”

“Back tunnel?” Jeremy asked, and glanced around. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t heard of it.

“For emergencies only. Scout’s the only one who I’ve given a key card to. I have one too. It’s supposed to be used for transporting especially sensitive information, most of the team isn’t supposed to even know it exists. If there’s a gap in the cameras around the back of the building, he might have been using it to… sneak out to go to town, even though he knows he’s already in hot water for leaving the base so much,” Miss Pauling said, glaring at Scout, who was looking increasingly annoyed.

“Whatever, it’s not a big deal,” he protested, scoffing.

“That tunnel is for emergencies only,” Miss Pauling stressed. “I trusted you with the privilege of knowing about it account of having worked here for so long, and you’re using that privilege and key card to mess around?”

“He was coming back from around the front of the building, at least,” Sniper chimed in, and Pyro nodded. “Not that I’d understand the point of sneaking out if he’s going to just walk back in the front door.”

“Key card?” Medic repeated from near the table, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, it’s, it’s a magnetized card, that can be read by a card reader, used like a key,” Miss Pauling explained, deflating a little bit.

His eyebrows furrowed further. “Would it happen to look anything like this?” he asked, picking up a lanyard from the table and holding it up, showing the room the card clipped onto the end of it.

Two beats of silence. “Spy, would you mind?” Miss Pauling asked politely, nodding towards the Scout, who had gone pale.

“Not at all,” Dad said just as politely, and walked over towards the Scout and Pyro, then circled around behind them, and sank a blade into the Scout’s spine. He promptly crumbled to the floor, dead.

“Well. At least that’s that mystery solved,” Miss Pauling sighed, and rubbed at the bridge of her nose again. “Now I’ve gotta block off time tomorrow to get rid of three bodies, and then hopefully that’s the last we’re gonna hear of this or else the Administrator is gonna kill me.”

“What about the Scout?” Heavy rumbled.

“…Scratch that. Four bodies,” she mumbled, face dropping into her hands. “And then I need to find his replacement. Ugh.”

“Can’t imagine you’d need to go far,” Demo said, and Jeremy looked up, and Demo was very obviously tilting a thumb in his direction.

“He’s proven himself to be better at this job,” Dad agreed, shrugging. “And I would say on a bad day he’s still a better runner than the previous Scout on a good one.”

“He can clearly handle a firearm well,” the Engineer noted, looking over one of the bodies.

“And a blunt object,” Medic chimed, just a bit too pleased. “This jaw is almost completely shattered!”

“Okay, okay, fine, sure,” Miss Pauling waved off, one hand still pressed to her face, clearly overwhelmed and tired. “We’ll get his paperwork in tomorrow. Congratulations, you’re the new Scout, any questions? Can the questions wait until morning? Great, thank you. Good night, everyone. Medic, have the bodies in bags for me at least, okay?”

A distracted thumbs up from Medic, and Miss Pauling was groaning, wandering back out of the room, and most of the team followed, yawning amongst themselves. Sniper half-attempted to ask again why the hell any of them were awake, but gave up halfway through. Pyro, for one, made sure to at least retrieve the plushie from Scout’s arms before wandering off, giving him an appreciative pat on the shoulder.

“So,” Dad said, and when he looked over, he was smiling. “A promotion, mon lapin. Congratulations, new Scout.”

“Do I gotta wear that stupid outfit he always wears?” Jeremy asked, entirely serious. His reply was a laugh and a pat on the shoulder before he disappeared in a puff of smoke. “Pops, I’m serious. Do I? Dad!?”

-

“—So that’s why I figured, y’know, might as well tell you guys,” Jeremy finished rambling, hands in his pockets, continuing down the hallway. “Because… I dunno. I could tell Miss P, but it’s nice having secret stuff, y’know?”

“You think this is how they actually got in?” Demo asked, looking dubious. “Little blind spot in the cameras?”

“Only a couple feet wide, you said?” Sniper grumbled.

“Sounds possible,” Heavy said hesitantly.

“I dunno. Maybe. But if I tell Miss P about it, they’re gonna fix it,” Jeremy shrugged, turning the corner and stopping. “There. I knew it.”

They stopped with him, following his line of sight. “You’re takin’ the piss, mate,” Sniper deadpanned. “You want to tell me he’d been climbing out a window like a teenager?”

Jeremy shrugged, moving to open the window in question. It swung open easily, just large enough to push through with only a little bit of a problem, barely needing to turn his shoulders. “He’s not much bigger than me, and what the hell else would he be doing here?” he pointed out.

“Heavy cannot fit through that window,” Heavy deadpanned.

“Yeah. Sorry, big guy,” Jeremy apologized, leaning back inside and closing it again. “But hey, mystery solved, right?”

“Well, if I ever need windows to climb out of, now I know just the lad for the job,” Demo said, nudging him. “Thanks, Guard. Or, er, Scout. Och, now that’s going to take getting used to, aye? Might just stick to calling you ‘laddie’, laddie.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he laughed, nudging him right back. And as much as they ribbed him for it, he did see a kind of appreciation there. Just like he’d figured, they seemed to take note of him taking their side and not just Miss Pauling’s.

Now he just needed to switch back over to the day shift.

[ignitedbynatsu]

I Trust You pt. 2

A/N: Ah, yes, humor as a coping mechanism, I totally don't use that every day 👀. ANywayz, @xbay-beex here is the last part your request, I hope you liked what I did with your request ❤ 

Genre: angst to fluff with a little bit of crack

Warnings: reader being hurt, self-loathing

Previous ~ next

⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡

He shouldn’t have listened. He shouldn’t have let you convince him, nor should he have let his ego get the best of him. It was foolish and reckless of him to believe that he could successfully take that shot. How could he have been so naïve? He knew he messed up badly in the past, but when you joined the guild, heard of what he did, and didn’t even care, it was at that very moment when he vowed to never hurt you. You had told him that his actions in the past didn’t define the man he was now, that you were certain that he was a good man, you believed in him, even with all the mistakes he made. And yet here he was, being the one responsible for putting you in that bed. He was the one who made you walk the fine line between life and death. He always had to mess it up one way or another. 

Freed placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, snapping him out of his destructive thought process. The blonde glanced at the other male for a second before fixating his eyes back on your resting form, hoping for you to wake up. Wanting nothing but seeing your beautiful eyes again. “You should get something to eat” 

He shook his head “I’m not hungry”, but the rumble in his stomach that followed contradicted his statement. 

“We’ll look after her. Just go, please” Laxus hadn’t even noticed that Bickslow and Evergreen were in the room as well. He looked up at them, meeting the same pitiful looks he received from everyone. He shouldn’t deserve their sympathy, he was the one who put you in that state anyway. If anything they should resent him, but none of them did. “Alright” 

Once Mira-Jane caught a glimpse of Laxus figure, she quickly whipped up a meal and placed it in front of the seat he took at the bar “thank you” Nobody dared to speak to him. Not even Natsu dared to open his mouth. They didn’t know how to act around the sulking mage since they had never seen him so deflated before. Everyone knew the two of you were very close, but for you to have such an impact on the feared S-class mage was a whole new world that opened up. 

 Laxus was aimlessly poking his food around, hardly eating anything, when suddenly his name got called “Laxus! She’s awake” His eyes shot up and met Bickslows hopeful ones. He wanted nothing more than jump from his seat and sprint to your room, but he couldn’t move. He was frozen in his seat. The relief he felt just now was completely overshadowed by guilt. How could he ever face you after what he did? 

“Laxus?” all eyes were trained on the dragon slayer who could do nothing more but stare at the ground “I… I can’t face her. Tell her I’m sorry” With that he stood up from his seat and walked through the front door, ignoring the shouts from his grandfather to get back. He just couldn’t do it. Too afraid of the rejection in your eyes. He always messes everything up, so it would be for the better if he just left you. 

 A loud explosion stopped him in his track and made him snap his head back towards the guild. “(Y/N)” this time his legs didn’t hesitate for a second as they carried his body instinctively to wear you laid. 

“Oh how nice of you to come and visit me” He took notice of the now broken vase on the bedside table and the sheepish smile that played on your lips. It was a smile you only displayed when you had done something you shouldn’t have. “I swear we tried to stop her” 

“Freed, Bickslow, Ever, could you give us a moment?” You interrupted Freed before he could completely snitch on you, even though you were sure that Laxus had figured out by now what you had done. The three nodded their head and closed the door softly after them, giving you all the privacy you needed. 

“So how much money did we make?” You started, a playful glint evident in your eyes. If he hadn’t known better Laxus would’ve never guessed you were on death’s doorstep only moments ago “this is not a laughing matter, (Y/N)” 

“I know it isn’t. I need to pay my rent” You agreed making him scoff and roll his eyes. You never liked serious moments, it made you feel uncomfortable, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to joke your way out of this one, not this time. “Hey”

Laxus glanced at you for a mere second but quickly averted his eyes again. He could not deal with the disappointment that could potentially fill those beautiful orbs of yours “It’s not your fault, you know?” 

A scoff passed his lips once again as he heard those words everyone kept telling him “how could you say that when you’re laying there like that?” 

“Simple, I just said it, didn’t I?” A smile was playing on your lips once again, but when you saw that your attempts at lightening the mood were going nowhere, a heavy sigh escaped your lips “Laxus, it was a joined decision. I told you to do it. It sucks that it didn’t work, but we had no other choice” 

“Maybe there was, and we just didn’t think hard enough” He shook his head. You were just trying to make him feel better. There was no way you didn’t resent him at least a little. 

“Okay fine, let’s think about it then. How could we have possibly escaped from that moment without at least one of us getting hurt?” you challenged him, but what followed was dead silence. He couldn’t think of anything. “You see what I mean? We didn’t have many options and that one had the most chance of nobody getting hurt.” 

“Why do you have so much faith in me? You keep giving me second chances no matter how hard I mess up” You were a bit taken back by the sudden revelation of his emotions, but quickly regained your posture “You’re not a bad man, Laxus”

 “You keep saying that, but yet here you are, laying in this bed all because of my doings” He didn’t care how vulnerable he was right now. He had to let it out, or he would explode “I was terrified of the thought of losing you, of never seeing those two beautiful eyes look at me again, of never seeing that warm smile greet me every time you see me.” 

“Laxus… What are you saying?” You had a hunch of where this was going, but you wanted to hear the words coming from his mouth. 

 “You’re the reason why I wanna be better, (Y/N). I aspire to be a man worthy of putting your faith in one day. Worthy of giving your heart to even. But, I know I’m not there yet, and I know you deserve someone better. I… Just give me a bit of time, I promise I’ll love you unconditionally until the day I die” He vowed, making you chuckle a little “Was that too much?” 

“You already own my heart, silly” you smiled lovingly at him and for the first time he realized that that smile was the same smile you gave him every day when you greeted him. “Why?” 

“As I said before, you’re not a bad man, Laxus. Sure you’ve made some mistakes in the past, but you’ve learned from them. And even so, all your mistakes were always born out of good intentions, even when you tried to rebrand Fairy Tail. You may put on this unbothered façade, but I know you’d sacrifice your life in an instant for anyone in this guild, and that right there is a man deserving of my love” You explained as you placed your hand softly against his cheek. “You’re the only one I’d trust with my heart, so you better take good care of it” 

“You can never be serious for longer then 10 seconds, can you?” he chuckled as he placed his forehead against yours. You closed your eyes and hummed in satisfaction “just shut up and kiss me”

[bqstqnbruin]

F is for Friends - part 1

Uhhhh, hello, yeah, this is that Nolan fic that I started yesterday that wasn't on my WIP list but I've decided that this is going to be multiple parts so I hope you like this.

Anyway, it's 4:30 am, ignore typos, the MC is a high school chem teacher (because that is all I know and I'm not sorry, enjoy pretending to be an expert on the basics of chemistry)

Read part 2 here!

_____________

You knew you and your friends were being a little bit loud, but you didn’t think anyone was around to hear you. When you had gotten into your apartment, the cars that were normally there indicating that your neighbors were home were gone, the only cars there being your own and one you hadn’t seen before. If you were being honest, you didn’t even know who your neighbors were, you had just pieced together that the cars you had seen regularly were ones you assumed belonged to the people who lived around you.

It’s not like you were being that annoying, you just had music playing while you guys were hanging out. It was a rare afternoon where you were home before the traffic got bad, and your friends, working together at the same company, had the day off for whatever holiday they tried to claim it was. You and Lindsey were sitting on the couch, Francesca leaning against the coffee table as she set cross-legged on your floor.

“Do you guys hear that?” Lindsey yells over the music, interrupting the attempt you three were making at trying to figure out what you wanted for dinner later that night.

You turn the music down, not even realizing how loud it had gotten even with the screaming you all were doing trying to communicate with each other. “What?”

“Y/N, someone’s knocking at your door,” Fran says, not looking up from her phone.

You hear the knocking they were talking about, short and fast as if whoever it was was annoyed they had been knocking for a long time. You get up to answer it, two tall men standing in the way of your door. “Hi!” you greet them, a smile on your face, probably seeming slightly fake.

“Your music is loud,” the brunette deadpans.

“Oh,” you say, starting to put the pieces together about who they probably were, “sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was home at this point.”

“Who is it?” Lindsey calls.

“I think they’re my neighbors.”

“You think?” the red headed one says, clearly confused as to how you wouldn’t know who they were. “We are your neighbors. Did you just move in?”

You smirk at the slight attitude that came through in his voice, used to it by now based on who you interacted with everyday. “No, I’ve lived here for about a year now. I’m just normally the first to leave in the morning and then the first home in the afternoon, so I don’t really cross paths with anyone else who lives here.”

“What do you do?” the still nameless brunette asked.

Before you could answer, you heard Fran yelling from the other room. “Invite them in! That way we can turn the music back on and they can’t complain!”

You can’t help but cringe because of your friend's words, gesturing for them to come in because you now had to. “If you want.”

The two of them walk in, finding Fran with her legs up on the coffee table while her back is on the floor, Lindsey taking up the entirety of the couch. You groan at the sight of your friends sitting there like that, rolling your eyes before turning back to the guys. “That’s Francesca on the floor, Lindsey on the couch, and I’m Y/N. I can grab some chairs from the kitchen if you don’t want to sit on the floor,” you tell them, knowing that your friends won’t move from the way the positions they were in.

The shorter one follows you, grabbing two chairs from the table to your one.

“Uh, I’m Kevin and that’s Nolan,” the other one says, Fran and Lindsey looking incredibly unamused by your neighbors.

“So, you never said what you did,” Nolan asks, his eyes scanning you up and down.

You could feel the heat rush to your cheeks, about to answer that question again when Fran decides to answer, “Linds and I work at KPMG.”

“Excuse you, but I believe he was asking me,” you respond, the fake sweetness in your voice prompting an eye.

“Why does that sound like the voice you use when that other guy is trying to explain to you your material that he borrowed?” Fran asked.

“Because it is,” you say, using the same tone as before. You see the confused looks on the guys faces, unable to help the laughter from slipping out of your lips, “I’m a high school chemistry teacher, one of the other teachers steals my lessons from me all the time and tries to explain how to teach them to me.”

Lindsey and Fran change the subject, sucking Kevin into their topic with them while Nolan turns to you, scooching his chair closer to you.

“What could you possibly have been doing that your music was so loud?” he asks you, the other three practically screaming with laughter.

You sigh at their antics, explaining, “We were actually just talking and hanging out. If you couldn’t tell, they’re pretty loud. They come over and take over.”

“That’s Kevin, too.”

“Is he your roommate or just a friend?” you ask him.

He looks at Kevin interacting with your friends, the conversation seeming so natural, easy for him to act like he had been friends with them forever, even if they had just met. Nolan was almost never like that, more quiet, off to the side just watching whatever was around him unfold while he silently passed judgement at the poor decisions people were probably making. With you, though, it already felt different. He already felt like Kevin in this case. “Roommate and teammate,” he tells you, explaining that he played for the Flyers. “What about these two? Roommates or just friends?”

“Friends, but they live together. My roommate is almost never here.”

“Oh?”

“She works the graveyard shift at CHOP a lot, so Maddy normally just spends the day at her boyfriends since he lives right there.”

He notices your change in expression, watching Fran and Lindsey. “You don’t like it,” he tells you, as if it were fact.

You shrug, looking at him. You weren’t sure if the color on his cheeks was there for a reason, but you didn’t really care either way. Part of you almost hoped it was because he was nervous to talk to you, or whatever feeling he may be experiencing. “I spend all day with kids. Sometimes it’s nice to just come home and be alone. Plus, as long as she’s paying rent while her name is on the lease, I don’t really care where she is,” you joke, finally pulling a laugh from him.

The two of you fall into conversation, not paying attention to how much time was passing by you.

“Hey, Y/N, remember when we were going to order dinner?” Fran asks, snapping your attention away from Nolan.

“Right, oh my gosh! We haven’t figured out what we’re getting, but do you guys want to join?” you extend the offer to the guys.

They accept, starting to list off places that you could all order from. “Oh, don’t forget Keelan is coming for dinner, too,” you mention.

“Keelan?” Nolan asks.

“Her boyfriend,” Lindsey moans, not looking up from her phone as she scrolls through what was either Grubhub or Uber Eats.

“You don’t have to say it like that,” you spit. Lindsey and Fran didn’t particularly like Keelan, and they made it known. You were sure part of it was because they were both single and still bitter about it, the other part was they assumed he was a douche, no matter how many times you told them he really wasn't, no matter how many times he proved to them that he wasn't.

“You have a boyfriend?” you hear Nolan say, unsure if he was asking you or if he was trying to process that sentence.

“Uh, yeah,” you tell him, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “He should be here by now? Maybe he’s stuck in traffic?” The other three go back to talking, figuring out where to order from, an awkward silence between you and Nolan.

He starts looking around your apartment, the decorations that he figured you put more effort into than Maddy had, only on the basis that she was never there. “Wait,” Nolan asks, spotting the one thing hanging behind your TV that he wished he hadn’t, “You like the Penguins?”

The conversation between your friends and Kevin stops, Kevin’s head following Nolan’s gaze to the “Reserved parking: Penguins fans only” metal sign that you tried so hard to hide. Fran and Lindsey start laughing, you rolling your eyes. “Keel is from Pittsburgh. His biggest flaw is that he’s a Pittsburgh sports fan. He left it here so I just put it on the wall because I kept tripping over it on the floor.”

“It could be worse,” Nolan says, a smirk on his face as he looks at Kevin. “He could like New England sports.”

“Watch yourself, Patty,” Kevin says, causing a bickering match between the two of them. You listen to them, watching Nolan become more animated than he had been when he first came in, becoming more comfortable around you and your friends.

You didn’t even remember why they had knocked on your door in the first place, you were just happy they did.

“Hey, it’s me,” you hear someone call from your door.

“We’re in here,” you respond, knowing it was Keelan, finally arriving from work.

“We?” he finally appears, forgetting that you were at least going to be joined by the girls, definitely not expecting the boys to be there, too. “Hey, I’m Keelan,” he introduces himself to Nolan and Kevin, saying hi to Fran and Lindsey despite their lack of acknowledgement of him before he kisses you hello. He wanders into the kitchen to grab his own chair when you look over to Nolan. He was staring at his hands the red in his cheeks burning brighter than they had been before. Before you can ask him if something was up, Keelan was back, putting his chair as close to yours as he could, his arm slung around the back as if to mark you as his.

“Where did we order from?” Keelan finally asks once Fran pointed out that the food would be getting there soon.

“Snap,” Lindsey says, popping the ‘p’ at the end.

Keel turns to you, waiting for you to tell him what he was getting. “I got you the Sweet n’slow.” He scrunches his face up at the mention of what you thought was his favorite pizza from there. “What? That’s what you always get.”

“Yeah but last time I said I wanted to have something else.”

“Sorry,” you apologize, even though you really didn’t think you had to.

“Well what did you get, maybe we can trade?”

Nolan was sitting awkwardly next to you, listening to what you hoped wouldn’t turn into any sort of argument between you and your boyfriend. “I got the Kennett Square.”

“Oh, I’ll just eat yours then,” Keelan says as if it weren’t a big deal.

You look at him, confused as to how he would miss the biggest reason why you wouldn’t eat that pizza: “Then what do I eat? I don’t like the Sweet n’slow, that’s why I don’t order it.”

“He can have mine, I’ll take the pizza,” Nolan offers.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to,” you start, only for Keelan to cut you off.

“Thanks man, I appreciate that.”

You scoff at him. How could he take a pizza from a guy he doesn’t know, when you had ordered him something he had gotten time and time again since you frequent the pizza place often enough? You get cut off again, something that was happening a lot today but Fran asking you to help her bring in the pizzas.

“I can’t carry six of them by myself!”

You let out a sigh, leaving Nolan and Keelan to fend for themselves with your empty chair between them. “The boxes aren’t even that big you totally could have grabbed these by yourself.”

“Well, yeah, but oh, my god!” Fran starts squealing, “Nolan totally likes you!”

You give her the side eye, taking the pizzas from the guy who clearly felt awkward by the conversation. “I just met him.”

“Love at first sight, duh.”

“I have a boyfriend,” you counter.

“You’re not denying it.”

“I’m not acknowledging it, there’s a difference.”

“You two are going to fall in love,” she tells you.

You stop outside your door, keeping your voice down so no one on the other side has a chance to hear it. “If he does, then that’s his problem. I’m dating Keelan, I love Keelan, and that’s that.” She shrugs, clearly not believing what you were saying. She reaches for the door, you sticking your foot out to stop her from being able to open it. “What?”

“I think you like him, too.”

“I mean he’s a cool guy from the, what, hour that I’ve been talking to him?”

“You like him.”

“As a friend. If that. I barely know him. I didn’t even know he and Kevin were my neighbors until they knocked on my door because you two are too loud.”

“Whatever,” she huffs, trying to open the door again, your foot still in its way, “I’m just saying, when you and Keelan break up, we both know that Nolan is going to be the one who you run to and who you end up being with.”

“Excuse me?” you say, not getting anything out of her as she manages to open your door, barging back into your apartment and figuring out which pizza goes to who.

There was no way she could see something between you and Nolan, could she? You met that day, and sure, he was easy to talk to, sure he was attractive, but that didn’t mean anything. Finding someone pretty does not always mean you are attracted to them. You were attracted to Keelan, turning to your boyfriend as he eats what should have been Nolan’s salad. You loved him, you loved everything about him. So why is that something you need to remind yourself of now that you’re sitting next to Nolan?

“Buddy, cat, why are you eating pizza? You don’t like pizza,” Kevin’s words pull you out of you the trance you fell into.

You turn to him, just watching him shrug as his cheeks get more red, picking at the over abundance of meat that was on the pizza. You turn to Keelan, watching him as he eats the salad like nothing was wrong. “You’re being an ass,” you say, getting up and retreating to the kitchen, leaving the five of them there in your living room.

Why would Nolan offer up his food if he didn’t like pizza to begin with? There’s no way that Fran could be right about him liking you, right? He just met you. He didn’t know you. You had been talking all of an hour of your life, barely knowing anything about him. But fuck, why was it easy to talk to him?

“Hey,” you hear Keelan say, turning to him and scowling at him.

“You really couldn’t eat the pizza I ordered for you? The same pizza that you get every single time, even when you do say you’re going to order something different? He doesn’t even like pizza and now he has nothing to eat.”

“I ordered him new food.”

“For what?” you ask, clearly not amused, “So he can sit and wait to eat while we finish everything, and then he awkwardly sits there eating by himself while the rest of us are talking? He doesn’t really seem like the kind of guy who enjoys something like that, Keel.”

He looks down at his feet,while the two of you stand there. You were tempted to walk up to him, giving in and pushing yourself away from the part of the counter you were leaning on. You wrap your arms around his waist, his own snaking around you and pulling you close to him. “What’s up with you? You’re not like that.” Keelan kisses the top of your head, lingering there as you hear him mumble something. “What was that?”

“He likes you.”

“Oh, not you, too,” you whine, pushing away from him.

“It’s obvious! Come on!” he says, his voice raising a little bit. You were hoping that the rest of them couldn’t hear you in the living room, but you knew they all could. The apartment was small, the walls thin, and if the boys could hear your music from their place, they could hear the two of you talking in the kitchen.

“If it were so obvious, then I would have picked up on it,” you try to counter.

“Babe, I liked you for three years before you finally caught on. For someone whose entire livelihood involves teaching kids that one of the most important things in life is noticing what’s going on around them, you don’t see anything.”

“That’s mean and you know it,” you tell him.

“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. And, plus, they’re Flyers,” he cringes.

“You’ve lived in Philly for six years now and Sidney Crosby is never going to fuck you, get over it,” you counter, knowing that his love of the Penguins captain was the only thing keeping him from liking Nolan and Kevin as guys and not as two of the Flyers.

“The Flyer’s are our biggest rivals!”

“You say ‘our’ like you’re on the team but we both know you can’t skate for shit.”

“Hey, when you’re a fan, you’re part of the team.”

“Jesus Christ, what are we even fighting about?” you yell, silence falling around you as you know that your friends and neighbors heard every word.

He rubs his hands on his face, letting out a deep groan. “I don’t even fucking know. Just don’t get too close to him.”

“He’s just my neighbor. That’s it.”

“Please?”

You roll your eyes at him, knowing that he was being ridiculous. “Fine. I won’t. But you have nothign to worry about with him. I'm dating you. I have been dating you for, what, three years almost?”

He pulls you close to him, tilting your chin up towards him with his thumb before he kisses you. “I love you,” he tells you, holding you tight.

“I love you, too,” you say, resting your head against his chest for a minute.

The two of you go back and join everyone else, Nolan sitting there quietly while Fran, Lindsey, and Kevin were deep in conversation. If they heard anything that happened between you and Keelan, they were doing a good job of pretending they didn’t. “Oh, Y/N, perfect. We were telling Nolan and Kevin about that one night in the library when Danielle brought the roller blades.”

“Oh, no,” you groan, knowing exactly what she was talking about.

“So Danielle and Alli are rollerblading across the bridge that connects the new side and the old side of the library, the same floor was connected that way so you could cross over without having to swipe in and out,” Fran starts to explain, “but the old side was built lower than the new side, so when you went from new to old, there was a decline in the bridge. Danielle turns to Y/N here and says, ‘Hey, we’re the same size, do you want to try skating?’”

“Please don’t” you beg, even though you had a smile on your face. It was one of your more embarrassing moments from college, but looking back, you couldn’t help but laugh at the antics you guys had pulled when you were supposed to be studying.

“Oh, no, we’re going to. So she puts on the skates, and Dani practically launches her down the atrium bridge and she has no balance whatsoever.”

“Yeah, she couldn’t stop either,” Keelan says, “Luckily I was there to catch her before she fell flat on her face.”

You roll your eyes, leaning up against his shoulder as he wraps his arm around you. “Yeah, and then you said the worst pickup line ever.”

“Oh, what was it?” Kevin asks, his face red from laughing probably too hard.

“I think I said, ‘Wow, I knew one day you’d fall for me.’”

“I don’t know why I went out with you after that,” you joke, Keelan kissing the top of your head. You glance over to Nolan, the stoic expression covering his face.

“Me neither,” Fran mumbles, Lindsey nodding in agreement.

“I don’t think you want me to expose some of the shit you two did when we were in the library,” you counter, feeling Keelan’s touch retreat. He knew pretty much everything they did in there. The library at your school was the most social place on campus, an academic building where absolutely everyone hung out no matter what was going on. People would meet there, leave their stuff unattended for hours, the unspoken rule that if you had a table with your stuff there, no one would take it. You could get up and leave at any point, you could mess around like you did when you were rollerblading, and even do the things Lindsey and Fran did.

"Hey, maybe Nolan could teach Y/N how to skate," Kevin offers, seeing where the conversation was about to go, only earning and small, 'dude,' from Nolan.

“Like what?” Lindsey tempts you, none of you acknowledging what Kevin had just offered.

“Like when you got drunk on a Tuesday night before your accounting exam while we were there?”

“She didn’t!” Kevin gasps.

“Oh, she did,” you say, not looking away from Lindsey as her face turned bright red. “We had a few water bottles in our fridge our sophomore year, so before we left our place, Linds had grabbed one to take with her. Apparently, someone had mixed in the bottles filled with water with the bottles filled with vodka that we would take with us to parties. Lindsey tastes it, says, ‘ah, fuck this is vodka,’ shrugs and downs the entire thing, spends the rest of the night vomiting, and had to have public safety drive her home instead of walking with Fran and I since she was too drunk to walk.”

“How’d you do on the exam, though?” Keelan asks.

“I think I got a B-?” she tries to remember. “It was accounting, though, so who cares?”

You look over at Keelan, knowing that it was another jab at him. He was a CPA, the nerdiest thing he could be, but it was something he loved, so who really cared? You could tell he was biting the inside of his cheek at her words, pulling his arm from around you. “I think I’m gonna go, I have an early morning tomorrow,” he says, kissing you before getting up.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” you point out, getting up with him.

“Yeah, I’ll see ya,” he says, practically running to the door, turning to you with his hand on the doorknob. He takes in a deep breath, his eyes closed, “He was staring at you the entire time. Please, keep your promise, ok?”

“I was telling a story, people tend to look at the person telling a story." He gives you a look, telling you to take it seriously, "You’re being paranoid, but ok, fine,” you tell him, clearly unamused.

He goes out the door and to his car, leaving you standing in your doorway watching him walk away. What were he and Fran seeing that you couldn’t? Nolan couldn’t possibly like you already, if at all. You didn’t know him. You were barely friends.

You go back into your living room, mad at your friends for practically chasing your boyfriend out of your apartment. “Can you go one day with him without being mean or rude to him?” you scold them.

“Oh come on, I wasn’t mean,” Lindsey says.

“‘It was accounting, who cares?’ He’s a fucking accountant, Linds. What about when he helped you pass your marketing classes, you know, the ones for your major? But it’s marketing, anyway, who cares?” Her lips press into a thin line, the other three silent as you talk to her like your students would be if you were in your classroom and one of the kids was acting up. “You don’t like that too much, do you?”

“God, I hate that you’re a teacher,” she mumbles, knowing that you made her feel bad for 'misbehaving.' “I’ll apologize to him next time I see him,” she says, not looking you in the eye.

“Good.”

“I think it’s time we get going,” Fran says, getting up off the floor.

Kevin stands up with Lindsey, “Yeah, we should probably go home, too.” Fran and Lindsey leave without another word, Kevin waiting for Nolan to follow him, “You coming?”

Nolan looks at you before turning to his roommate, “I think I’m going to help Y/N clean up, if you want?”

“Uh, yeah sure,” you say, watching Kevin shrug and leave. He was just being nice, you tell yourself. There were pizza boxes, napkins, utensils, whatever Keelan had ordered to make up to Nolan. The two of you start gathering everything in silence and bringing it all the kitchen, you definitely not wanting to be the first one to break it.

“So, they seem like fun,” Nolan says.

You let out a small laugh, hearing the sarcasm in his voice. “Yeah. Keelan being brought up or around turns them feral.”

“They don’t like him.”

“Oh, no, not at all. They make that very clear every chance they get.”

“Why don’t they? Like him, I mean?”

“Lindsey and Fran were on the crew team at our school,” you start to explain, “and so was Keelan. The men’s and the women’s teams did not get along at all. The guys team was favored over the AD all the time and the guys knew that and flaunted that, so any guy who was on the team during the four years they were, they automatically hate.”

He nods, trying to tie up the now full trash bag. “He doesn’t seem that bad, aside from eating my salad.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what that was,” you laugh, hopping up on the counter while he still struggles to tie the bag. “That’s not like him, at all.”

The two of you remain how you were for a moment, a comfortable silence between you as Nolan stands there with the trash bag. “Um, well, I can take this out for you,” he tells you. You follow him to the door with the intention of locking it behind him, not expecting him to turn around when he does. “Do you think I could get your number? You know, Kev and I are away a lot, so if we had someone watching our place that we trusted?” he spits out.

You were definitely caught off guard, but why shouldn’t you have your neighbor's number? You pull out your phone, handing it to him as he continues to ramble, “And, of course, we can do the same for you, you know? If you’re ever away with Fran and Lindsey, or with,” he pauses, trying to swallow the lump that was forming in his throat, “with Keelan. Or anyone else.”

“Thanks, Nolan,” you tell him when he hands you your phone back. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he says, leaving to bring your trash out. You lock the door behind him, letting out a groan. He was just awkward and quiet, that didn’t mean anything about whatever feelings he may or may not have towards you.

Nolan goes back into his place, expecting and hoping that Kevin was already tucked away in his room for the night, only to find him sitting on the couch waiting for Nolan like a parent waiting for the kid who was coming in past curfew. “Dude, you’ve got it bad.”

“What are you talking about?” Nolan huffs.

“You like her.”

Nolan turns to Kevin, arms crossed over his chest. “We just met her.”

“Oh, come on,” Kevin eggs on, getting off the couch and following Nolan to his room, “when she was scolding Lindsey like that, you were so turned on.”

Nolan shrugs, trying to act like it wasn’t a big deal: “So what if I was? Sexual attraction doesn’t mean that much.”

Kevin narrows his eyes to call his roommates bluff. “With you it does.”

“Whatever,” Nolan says, trying to shut Kevin out by closing his bedroom door on him.

“Just, wait,” Kevin says, stopping him from closing it completely, “She has her boyfriend, who you just met. He’s not scrawny, he could probably take you.”

Nolan’s mouth hangs open at Kevin’s words. “What, do you think we’re going to physically fight over Y/N?”

Kevin shrugs, “You never know. Just be careful. As long as she’s with Keelan, you two are just friends. And hey, you can teach a friend how to skate."

Nolan rolls his eyes, finally getting his bedroom door closed. Just friends.

[broadwayandnetflix]

OMG- BO FIC REQUEST

a fluffy fic where he takes you out to a fancy dinner. picks you up at your house & meets your parents, driving to the place, all that pizazz- and more if you decide to write! Im a big fucking sucker for the romantics as you can see LMFAO.

Meet The Parents - Bo Burnham x Reader

Warnings: Language

Theme: Fluff! Slight bit of Angst.

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: picture this as like his what tour cause it fits up with the college timeline hoes. also, I hope you like that I added an airport, cause rom-com shit amirite? I’ll stop. wooooooo this is so long. I hope y’all like essays cause fuck.

It had been too long since you had last seen your boyfriend, Bo. The two of you had met in college at NYU briefly before he dropped out to pursue his comedy career.

Of course, you have been supportive. Why wouldn’t you be? You just really missed him, especially when he went on long tours, you in school, and him touring the world.

The two of you kept in touch. Bo often taking the time to call you before or after a show to hear your voice and call himself down. You knew what they did to his anxiety, and not being able to hold each other was difficult for the both of you.

He’d do the same for you, without a shadow of a doubt. Especially when school was stressing you out, and exams and essays were becoming a pain in the ass to handle. Even if it was just little funny texts or messages, he helped you.

It’s what you did for each other. You were a team, even if it was states away from each other. Except, luckily for you, his tour was ending soon. Or it should be, judging by the tiny calendar of dates that he gave you.

It was nearing Thanksgiving Break, and it just didn’t seem applicable that you’d be able to meet up in time. Given the short week window and Bo riding down from nearly a year of touring.

So you didn’t say much, as you packed your bags for the week and left for your home state.

The airplane ride wasn’t that bad. You wished that you had Bo beside you, cracking jokes to calm the inevitable way that your heart would jolt when you went up in the air. Unlike Bo, you absolutely hated flying.

Earbuds in, you strolled into the airport a tad bit jet-lagged and went to grab a bite from a small coffee shop. Slipping the cashier a twenty, you walked the airport in search of your luggage.

Through a sea of people, you trudged, already feeling fatigued and just wanting a nap. You didn’t even realize that you were gonna run smack dab into someone. That is until their hand shot up and held you steady.

You laughed pathetically and cringed quickly, going to apologize, hoping that the person who caught you would just keep moving on. Except, they still stood in front of you, silent as ever.

“Hey man look I’m so sorry, I’m just so tired I didn’t even see where I was going.” you mumbled before realizing just who you were speaking to.

Bo.

You froze, staring at the man in pure confusion. How was he here when he was supposed to still be on tour? You rubbed your eyes, wondering if he’d still be there when you reopened them.

News flash, Bo was still there. Fuck.

“Holy shit,” you murmured, realizing your hands were still full with your bag, phone, and lunch.

God, you were gonna cry; this wasn’t happening. He looked so fucking good, the glasses, the hair.

He watched you quietly, a soft smile resting upon his lips. While you clumsily pull on his arm to get out of the ongoing traffic of people around you, preferably a spot with a place to put your stuff.

Your tall boyfriend lumbering after you unbeknownst to you, trying to compose himself. It had practically been months since he had seen you last, and you had never looked more beautiful.

Once you set them down gently, you practically ran into the man’s arms. His bags gently fall to the floor as his arms are securely wrapped around you. Nearly lifting you off the ground.

The two of you rocked gently in the embrace, completely lost in each other. Bo resting his head on top of yours, pressing soft kisses upon your head. Tears softly pour down your cheeks and onto his shirt. Giving him enough time to wipe them away and plant a soft kiss against your lips.

“Bo, what are you doing here? I thought you were still on tour.” you sniffled, still wrapped up in his arms.

“Managed to make things work, I wanted to see you. Or I was gonna try and surprise you at the gate, but you kinda…ran into me.” Bo smirked, looking down at you.

“Well you definitely surprised me, man I really missed you.” you said quietly.

“Honey, you don’t understand how long I’ve waited for this moment. I swear my agents are probably sick and tired of me talking about you.” he exclaimed, causing you to smile.

This long-distance was really starting to get to the two of you; of course, his tour was gonna be over soon. Except, especially two different states away from each other, it made your heart hurt.

Moments like these, you wanted to just pause the time and exist in them forever. It seemed like between the two of you, you were running out of time. Just how much time exactly?

It was almost as if he could sense the hesitation as he swept up his bags and yours in the process.

“Just realized, we’ve got places to be.” he chirped, and you eyed him curiously.

“Like where?” you said, grabbing your coffee and bag from the coffee shop.

“Patience is a virtue my dear.” he tuts and slips his hand between yours. “Now, where’s your luggage terminal?”

-

It was roughly a forty-minute drive from the airport to your place. Bo had rented a car for the next couple of days, so it was smooth sailing from that point on.

Bo behind the wheel, and you are sitting in the passenger trying to figure out what music to play.

It didn’t help that you were in the car with a comedian, as whatever song you picked, Bo would pretend to critique it. Only sending you into a fit of hysterics.

“Oh okay, well you pick the music then!” you cried, pretending to stare daggers at him.

“I’ve got something for you, it’s this brand new artist I found while on tour.” he grinned, looking over at you briefly before focusing back on the road.

“His name is….Bo Burnham I think? I could be wrong? He was good-“ he said nonchalantly before earning a quick swipe to his arm from you.

“God, you look cute when you’re angry. You’re missing out on that Bo Burnham guy, he’s got potential.” he said.

“I hate you.” you giggle before finding a more comfortable position in the car.

“Oh shit you know what I just realized?” Bo yelped, causing you to slightly jolt in your seat.

“What?”

“Isn’t this the first time I’m meeting your parents?” he asked, causing you to slightly stiffen in your seat.

Technically, yes. It wasn’t like your parents didn’t know, it’s more so that there was never really a good time for them to meet. You wondered what they’d think, dating someone who dropped out of college to pursue comedy.

Not that your parents were judgmental. They wanted you to be happy, as any parents would. You just were worried if they wouldn’t respect and love Bo as much as you did. It had been close to two years at this point; what else did you have to lose?

“You are right, oh dear god. I wonder how that’s gonna go, hopefully well, right?” you ask, more so to yourself than Bo.

“Oh please, I’m great with people’s parents. Plus, they raised you, I’m sure they are great people. Babe, you’ve got nothing to worry about.” he reassured before continuing on the route.

-

It wasn’t long before he pulled into your family driveway, pulling the car into park, quickly placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“You ready?” he says quietly, looking at you sweetly.

You eyed the front door before looking back and meeting his eyes, nodding, as he leaned in to give you a quick kiss.

God, you missed those.

“Here goes nothing.” you smirk before slipping out of the passenger side and gather your bags.

Bo now follows suit as you knock on the door, his taller frame towering over you. One hand pressed on the small of your back, holding you steady.

The front door opens with a swing, with your mother greeting you at the door. A firm grin upon her lips as she rushes out to hug you, your father appearing behind her.

“Oh I’m so glad you were able to come home! We missed you so much!” she exclaims, squeezing you tighter.

Before giving you a slight nudge and knowing look towards Bo, who had remained oblivious, while he shook hands with your father.

All of you gather inside your house, Bo taking control of the conversation when acceptable.

Sitting down at the kitchen table, your parents are engulfed in his stories and laughing at his jokes. All the while getting to know the man that you loved so much.

Bo was pretty much a natural when it came to impressing others, and you knew it wasn’t gonna be an issue with your parents.

The two of you answering almost any questions, Bo excitingly telling the story of how the two of you met.

-

“Oh I almost forgot, I need you to do me a favor.” Bo murmured when the two of you had a moment to be alone.

You looked up at him in confusion before he mentioned something about dressing up nice. A knowing look upon his lips before giving you a slight wink and walking off towards the guest room.

There you stood, gaping like a fish in wonderment at what he possibly could be planning. Slowly walking into your childhood bedroom, looking for anything that would meet his description of nice.

You settled for something that you wore to a formal gathering that still managed to fit you. Giving yourself a quick look in the mirror, you left your bedroom to find Bo standing there.

You had to hold back a gasp; the man looked rather handsome in a dress shirt and pants. His hair was nicely done, and his hand gestured out for you to take.

“Bo what is all this for?” you exclaim, as he only smirks and leads you towards the front door.

“Shut up, I’ve been wanting to take you out for months.” he says as he opens it and leads you towards his car.

The man practically doing the whole nine yards, all the while you looking at him in pure wonderment. Of course, the two of you had been on dates prior, but never like this.

You had to practically stop yourself from grinning as he suavely got into the driver’s side of the car., Giving a quick glance over at you unbeknownst to you, trying not to melt at how gorgeous you looked.

“Where are we going?” you ask as he starts the car slowly pulling out of the driveway.

“You ask a lot of questions my dear.” he says, keeping his eyes focused on the road.

“Oh shit is this my execution?” you smirk as he dramatically nods.

“Babe, how the hell did you find out? Who told you? Was it my manager? I knew she’d rat me out!” he exclaims.

“You know I had to be certain, you did make me dress up all nice and all.” you play along, grinning ear to ear.

“Oh well, I can’t give away the entire surprise so zip it with the questions sweetie.” he quips as he continues the drive.

-

It’s not long before he pulls into a fancy Italian restaurant, way out of your usual pay range. You could feel your stomach do somersaults, giving the man an incredulous look.

Bo simply grins as he gets out of the car, rushing over to open yours for you. Eyes wide, still staring at him like he was fucking insane. He shakes his head and carefully pulls you out of the car.

“Now no complaints. Or whatever you plan to do. I’m paying, I’ve been wanting to treat you like this for over a year now. I’m doing it, and I’m gonna enjoy doing it.” Bo huffs, all dignified.

You simply nod in disbelief before he slips his hand within yours. While he enters the restaurant, he mentions his reservations to the hostess, and they seat you at a table.

Once the butterflies subsided in your stomach, you took the attention of the man in front of you. Never had anyone done something like this for you. You were trying to not look like a genuine fool with the smile you wanted to express.

You knew he was the one for you, but the way that he had looked at you. The pure adoration in his eyes and how he had planned everything, you were practically melting.

“I love you.” you whisper, wondering if he could hear it.

He did.

Bo looked up from his menu, a blush now practically kissing his cheeks. He dimples, rising at the declaration before reaching across the table since he was large enough to kiss you gently.

He was quick enough as the waitress came over to take your order. That goofy lovesick grin still plastered across his face as he straightened up in his seat.

The two of you ordering whatever looked best on the menu, clinking glasses when they arrived and looking dreamily into each other’s eyes.

“Man, I missed you. Like I know I say it a lot, but I mean I did. Going on tour is….well it’s lonely. I know you’re still in school, but sweetie. When I’m done, you’ll be sick of me. I promise.” Bo said insistently.

“No I won’t, I’m sure it’s gonna be the other way around. I don’t know if I say it enough, but I really am proud of you. I am so proud to call you my boyfriend, to call you mine. I don’t mind waiting.” you say quietly.

“How did I get so lucky?” he paused, eyeing the plates of food that were coming your way.

“Thank NYU, they did all the work.” you joke, thanking the waitress before digging into the meals.

The food was excellent; it was incredibly worth the price. Even if it was steep, the dinner was lovely. Bo is cracking jokes and telling you his favorite fan encounters that have occurred since his tour began.

It was hard to believe that the man who was often so quiet and shy could be so loud and brave enough to yell at hecklers. Except you could believe it, you had obviously been to one of his shows.

It made your heart begin to flutter at the fact that he wasn’t afraid to be himself around you; it made you feel secure.

The way his stage presence dominated the scene, it was practically impossible to keep your eyes off of him. No matter the situation.

Even now, his eyes glimmer while he tells you whatever story he had dug up. This was his passion, and you reveled in it all.

The night went well as the two of you caught up, knowing it would be quite some time before he’d meet up with you again. As he too had Thanksgiving to celebrate with his family in Massachusetts.

You shared a nice dessert, and he left a rather hefty tip simply because he could. Bo never made it necessary to note that he had money, but you knew he was excited to spend it.

All the while, you spent the night in a dizzying smile. Not giving a shit whether anyone knew it or not, even in the parking lot. The two of you waltzing messily towards the car, giggling and sputtering like a bunch of fools.

He was your fool, and you were his, who knew how long you’d have with him for now. You were destined to make the most of it.

Even as the ride home dwindled and you knew he’d have to catch a flight soon. You weren’t surprised or shocked even; days with him tended to be like this.

As the two of you reached your front door, Bo carefully leaned down to a comfortable position and kissed you softly. Not desperately, just tenderly. As if by the time he’d kiss you again, you’d simply wouldn’t be there.

His lips grazing yours, hands pressed carefully against your cheeks. You reciprocating all the while leaning into him in a warm embrace.

When you finally pulled away to catch your breath, he gave you a look that you knew all too well.

“I’m not saying goodbye.” you whisper into his arms.

“I’ll be back soon don’t worry.” he murmurs into your embrace.

With one last kiss on the forehead, you watch as he walks back to his car. Judging by the way his schedule worked, you knew he’d be back sooner than he would in the past.

Yet, with the soft ‘I love you’ said between the two of you couldn’t help but shed a tear and just hope that the next time would last longer.