#anyway in other news my bluetooth speaker just fucking DIED

[scattered-winter]

root beer and graham crackers for dinner tonight lesgooo

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

pt.1: the swapping begins

-> 4-fking-am masterlist <-

b:katsuki / f.reader

genre: neighbor au, pro-hero bakugou

warning(s)!!: bakugou's potty mouth (ofc)

status: on-going!

synopsis: you had just moved into your new apartment and like every other college student under the sun, you had the worst sleep scheudle known to man.  due to this, you find yourself playing music through your speakers at 4 am. your neighbor slides you a note under your door about your ‘shitty’ taste in music, thus the note swaps begin.

a/n: the first part has arrived! hopefully, updates on this particular series won't be so drawn out since i'm planning to keep all written parts on the shorter side along with the smau parts being just easier since it's all just dialog LOL (ive done smau in the past for other things but they weren't so hot but hopefully i'm better now lol rip)

-x-x-x-

w.count: 1.3k

-x-x-x-

Why did you decide to go back to school to pursue further education again? If it wasn��t to stress yourself into early grey hairs or to rip out those grey hairs until you were bald, then why?

Collapsing over your desk- textbook open and notes out in messy piles with doodles across every edge and corner from wandering concentration- you groan. Exams were right around the corner, but you couldn’t for the life of you get your brain to focus on one thing- much less multiple things- for more than a couple hours, so studying quickly turned into a failed attempt to study.

Normally, studying wasn’t so difficult for you and you actually found it therapeutic in its own weird way. You enjoyed learning new things and the pride and wholeness you felt after succeeding to teach yourself something new was well worth whatever the process to get there was to you. But, this current college burnout was making all those end results hard to get to.

You glanced at the clock on one of the elevated shelves of your desk, the dimly glowing orange letters showing the time of 3:54 am. You groaned again, pushing your forehead into your written words and definitely smearing pencil lead on your forehead while you were at it. Maybe you’d soak up the words this way and have the knowledge transferred automatically into your brain if you pushed just hard enough.

Another dull and unrelenting amount of minutes pass you by before you officially call it quits for the night. Giving up, you walked to the other side of the room and plopped down on your bed’s edge next to one of your nightstands, your wrist rubbing your forehead to hopefully clear away the mess of leftover lead on it. On this nightstand was your radio and beneath it along the shelves and below the drawer was a collection of CDs.

In a world where albums were digital and everything was Bluetooth compatible and no one carried around a portable CD player anymore, you felt somewhat awkward sometimes at the seemingly large and ridiculous collection of yours. There were still plenty of people with CDs and even vinyls, but still- the awkwardness of your ‘retro’ thinking at your age did make you feel a bit self-conscious; no matter how idiotic it sounded.

You leaned over the bed and down to the bottom shelf cubby and grabbed a thin, plastic album case. Popping it open, the cheap plastic threatened to break and bend as you pushed open the top of your radio and placed the CD inside, shutting it again and turning it on.

A small little baby blue boombox that resembled a sort of bubble-like structure- a late birthday gift from your friends back in your hometown.

You figured if you didn’t absolutely blast your music, it would be fine to play aloud. Plus, you decided to put your bedroom in the backmost room, and the second room closer to the front room of your apartment was used for storage- since renting a storage unit was way too expensive. In your mind, the room closet to the door for a single living tenant would definitely be their bedroom- so you did the opposite when you moved in.

With your legs still handing off the side of the bed, you threw yourself back onto the mattress with your arms out to your sides. You stared at the ceiling of your room, thinking that at some point you’d need to purchase some cheap glow-in-the-dark stars to tack up there just for nostalgia’s sake.

As you heard the radio read the CD in small hums, you shut your eyes and smiled when the first track started. To be honest, you weren’t really pressed for what music you were going to be listening to, so you just kinda pulled from your cubby and popped the CD in without even looking at what you grabbed. You almost laughed when an older album your mom used to listen to started playing.

You weren’t exactly sure how it happened or when, but the next thing you knew, you were staring blankly and tiredly up to your ceiling again. The sun outside had risen and you heard birds, outside chatter, and basic roadside living outside. Even being up on the fourth floor, you could still hear the world below fairly well since you almost always had your window open with a fan inside of it.

Your body was sore from how you were laying on your back with your arms out, and you felt stiff. Legs partially numb from hanging off the bed all morning when you turned to look at your clock on the desk with squinted eyes.

Almost noon.

“God,” you moaned, forcing yourself up and wobbly making a path out of your room and into the kitchen to solve the problem of your severe cottonmouth. Stepping out of your narrow, short hall, you yawned and stopped before stepping into the kitchen when you saw a note at your doorstep. It had been slid under the front door and was face down, small blotches of black bled through to show that the other side had something written on it in marker.

More intrigued with the mysterious note than ready to deal with your dry mouth and throat that demanded water, you trotted to the paper and flicked it up. Your eyes quickly scanned the note and you gasped, slightly slapping a hand over your mouth.

‘Your taste in music really fuckin’ sucks’

Oh my god, someone heard that? Were you too loud? Was it annoying? Who in their right mind has the further room from the door other than you who did it on purpose so that this situation could be specifically avoided? Would you need to move rooms? No, then you’d have your other neighbors slipping you notes or even knocking on your door.

Maybe this neighbor has a roommate and had no choice but to take the room furthest from the door. Would you need to move out now before you died from overthinking the situation?

Racing back into your room, you tore out a sheet of lined paper and a mark erfrom your jar of pens, pencils, highlightser, what have you, and began to write in large letters a note back.

‘I’m so sorry about the noise! I’ll make sure not to play it that ungodly early again! (also, no it doesn’t, my taste in music is fine).’

You felt a little silly putting the added small text at the bottom of the paper in parentheses, but you felt the need to nip this particular neighbor’s opinion about your music in the butt- you boiled the choice down to comedies sake.

Making your way back to your door, you unlocked the bolt and unlatched the chain as you poked your head out. For it being almost the middle of the day, you made sure no one was in the halls before you jogged out your door and to the left. Your room was the furthest left room and they heard it, so clearly it had to be the left side neighbor... right?

Taking one last left-to-right look down the hall, you knelt at the door, pushed your paper under it, and dashed back into your own apartment before locking it back up. You let out a breath, as you pushed your back into the door, feeling awkward and almost embarrassed at the idea of passing notes with your neighbor. Trying to be secretive about it and acting like if someone saw you push a note under their door you’d be looked at strangely.

In a somewhat awkward way, you felt like some weird criminal.

“Whatever,” you shook your head, slapping your hands on your cheeks and heading to the kitchen. Finally ready to get that glass of water you had been craving to soothe your aching throat with. You had other things to get done today anyway. Now that you were awake, better get your day started.

Even if you may have just completely fucked your sleep schedule.

[pascalpanic]

Alpha Beta Charlie- A Frankie Morales Story

Summary: Frankie is a lonely man with a big heart. His life changes when a new girl comes into his life.

W/C: 4.1k

Warnings: This one is a little heavy. Lots of language, talk of poor mental health (Frankie has depression and anxiety), Frankie’s recovering from a coke addiction, alcohol is prevalent here, harm to animals, lots of talk of blood and injuries.

A/N: This story is different than I normally write. There’s no reader in the story, this is just a story about Frankie Morales and a moment in his life. Please note that this is darker as it centers around an injured animal. Be warned of that. P.S. some of my friends might see ur names in here :) thank u to all of my friends who helped me pick Charlie’s name, and to @ilikechocolatemilkh who helped me create this whole story!

Frankie Morales is a kindhearted man. Anyone who meets him knows it instantly. He’s got a wonderful laugh that’s warm and inviting, and it’s often on display to anyone who chats with him for more than a few seconds. He’s caring, it’s clear, with big brown eyes that radiate compassion. 

His friends would describe him more as an idiot. Frankie, who they call Catfish from their days in the military, insists that they’re the idiots. He’s the voice of reason in their group, making the rational decisions and de-escalating fights within their group. 

That’s not to say Frankie is entirely sunshine and rainbows. He’s now several months sober from a long and grueling addiction to cocaine. It ruined him: it took away his pilot’s license, his everything in life. Flying helicopters was Frankie’s passion, but he’s recovering. He’s on the right track.

He had a girlfriend, who became his fiancée, and left him not long after he returned home from a dangerous mission in South America. It didn’t matter anyway; her child, who Frankie had dedicated all of his heart to before the birth, was revealed to be another man’s. As much as she resented him for taking the mission, he resented her for cheating and lying and holding the information back.

So now Frankie lives on his own. He resides out in a more rural town, not far from where Benny has his weekly fights and Will (also known as Ironhead) works with young military recruits. It’s been a couple of months, and it’s hard to be alone. Santiago pops into town once or twice a month, and it’s always the highlight of Frankie’s very being. His best friend brings light and laughter into his life. When he leaves again, Frankie’s small home feels massive and quiet.

He plays lots of CDs. He has bluetooth speakers all around the home and blasts his favorite songs. He’s learned how to cook and clean and has even learned how to bake a decent, basic version of a nice loaf of bread. He works as a mechanic at a shop in his small town’s center, working the odd hours that no one else wants, the hours where others want to be home with their families.

He’d considered different options to make the house more home-like, more welcoming. He tried his hand at gardening, only to find that he had the opposite of a green thumb. He painted the walls a warmer color, then painted them again. He was currently considering changing the colors for the third time. He’d burn candles that he thought smelled nice. He’d hung up a few photos of him and his friends, or his family. Nothing really worked.

A typical night for Frankie held one of two patterns:

-Night A: Frankie gets home from the shop at about 7:30, hands covered in grease and smelling of burnt motor oil. He gets in the shower and cleans up, then either ends up at Benny’s arena to cheer him on, or at the bar with both Miller brothers.

-Night B: Frankie gets home at the same time. He showers to clean himself, simply because he hates leaving smudges over his home. He cooks a nice dinner or orders takeout. He eats it on the couch and watches a new Netflix series. He gets sad and feels alone and drinks a beer, then a few more, to drown the sensation. He goes to bed early and calls into the shop to see if any of the morning shift workers want to go home early, because he can come in an hour or two before his shift. He claims it’s for the overtime pay. It’s really to avoid the loneliness.

Frankie likes patterns. He likes routine. It’s soothing. Maybe it’s a remnant of his military days, where not a second would pass without having a title affixed to the very second he was living in. Predictability made the hurt easier.

Tonight was an A Night. Frankie and the Miller brothers sat at the bar of McCreary’s and talked about everything and nothing at once. Will talked about the new girl he was seeing. Benny made lewd comments. Frankie smacked his arm and ordered another round for the other two, then nursed one beer for the entire night.

Winters were the worst for Catfish. He lived in the South, where snow was uncommon, but the dreary February weather stole whatever energy he could muster up and sent it up to join the gray masses that hung in the sky, yet never shed their raindrops. It gets dark early, another thing Frankie hates. It reminds him of the look on Tom’s face when he died. Of the way his bachelor home never made sounds unless he created them. Of the way the craving for one more hit of that devious white powder felt, the way it scrambled his brain until he thought it was the only thing that could take it away. 

This A Night, which also happened to be an especially chilly Tuesday, Frankie drove home from the bar at 12:21. The backroads that lead from the suburbs out to the rolling hills are dark, with a rare streetlight or two illuminating a fork in the road that led to a house. The radio droned on, some old Waylon Jennings song that was threatening to send Frankie into a fit of rage and smash a fist into his dashboard. He turned off the radio instead.

Another car drove the opposite way, far in the distance. He could see the lights approaching, then dim slightly. Frankie turned off his brights, instead allowing the road to be illuminated just by his front headlights. He turns up the heat in his truck as a shiver runs down his spine.

Something is running across the road. Frankie can see it now. It’s far from him, but visible in the other car’s light. He slams on his brakes, his body jerking forward.

The other car doesn’t slow.

He slams his horn several times, for whatever is in the road and the other driver.

The thing doesn’t move.

The car doesn’t slow.

The car and the creature- oh fuck, it’s an animal- collide.

Everything that happens next is too quick. The car stops for a moment. Frankie whips the truck into park and turns on his hazards.

The other car stops for a moment. Frankie can just make out a silhouette inside. He gets out of his truck, eyes wide and frantic. He runs to the animal’s side.

The car drives off.

Dust swirls across the road as the car’s tail lights fade into the distance. Leaving just Frankie and his truck and the mangled mess of fur and blood.

“Fucker!” Frankie screams after the car. “You fuckin’ bastard! You didn’t even check, you motherfucker!”

He gets closer and realizes it’s a dog. Its fur is white and brown and so painstakingly red with its own blood, and it whimpers and cries and Frankie realizes the poor fucking thing is still alive. Whether it’s his caretaking or his military instincts that kick in, Frankie isn’t sure, but before he knows it he’s ripping off his jacket and picking up the poor poor baby, oh you little angel, he coos to it, wrapping it in the denim and setting it in his passenger seat.

It’s still whimpering and crying, and Frankie gets in the driver’s seat and grabs his phone. “Nearest 24-hour pet hospital,” he shouts into it, hands shaking. He doesn’t realize either reaction is happening. It gets the words wrong. “No, fuck,” he groans, shifting the truck into drive and whipping a U-turn. He types in the words as he starts to speed back in the direction of the town. He knows he shouldn’t text and drive and normally he doesn’t, but he’s a fucking former military helicopter pilot, he rationalizes with himself, he can handle this. He finds the directions and types them in and tears start dripping from his eyes.

“Hang in there, buddy, hey,” he says and rubs the poor dog’s big ears as they drive. “It’s gonna be 30 minutes. Think you can hang on for me?” he asks it, not expecting a response. He wants to check the dog’s sex but now is certainly not the time, not while he’s doing 85 in a 60 zone and the dog’s blood is seeping into his denim jacket and his passenger seat.

The tears are flowing freely from his eyes now, his heart breaking. He can feel the animal’s shallow breaths as he drives, and he sobs to himself. “Hang on, buddy. It’s gonna be okay, I gotcha. I’m Frankie,” he introduces himself to the dog, “and I’m gonna take real good care of you. You’re gonna be alright and we’re gonna get you fixed up and back to your owners.”

The drive takes 24 minutes when Frankie is flying down the backroads. Fuck if a cop sees him. Fuck blowing a tire. That can be cared for later, when there’s not a dying creature next to him. A steady murmur of ‘it’s okay’ spills from Frankie’s lips. He’s not sure if he’s saying it to the dog or himself. One hand firmly grips the steering wheel and the other never leaves the animal’s body. He comforts the poor creature, murmuring more reassurances the closer they get. 

“Please hang in there for me, cariño,” Frankie whimpers, chewing his bleeding lip. “I gotcha. It’s all gonna be alright, bud.”

When he sees the hospital, he drives a little faster. He pulls into the emergency room area and parks in front of the door, turning on his hazards and running inside. There are a few veterinary nurses inside and they greet him, but their looks turn to fear when they see the denim-wrapped animal. “Please, please, Idon’tknowthisisn’tmydogitwasahitandrunandIpickeditup-”

“It’s alright, sir, come with us. Please breathe and tell us again,” a kind woman tells him with a hand on his arm, rushing him and the dog back. Frankie calms down after a moment and explains what happened. “It’s not my dog, I don’t know whose dog this is, you gotta check it for a chip-” he rambles.

“It’s alright, sir,” the nurse tells him kindly and takes the dog from his arms. Frankie clutches after it and a new woman pushes his arms down. “We’re going to take it back and operate on it. Would you please wait here for us? We’ll come give you updates as we get them,” she tells him, gesturing to the waiting room. He nods. “And is this your dog’s first time here?” She asks.

The tears come back, choking his throat as water falls steadily from his eyes. “It’s not even my fuckin’ dog, man,” he whimpers, worrying his lip between his teeth again.

The woman is still kind. “I see. Please, sit, Mr….”

“Morales,” he manages out.

She nods. “Mr. Morales. I understand you’re worried. Please just wait in here for us and we’ll bring you information when we have it.” He nods softly, grabbing a tissue from the front desk. He wipes his eyes and nose. “My truck is parked right outside, it’s in the way, I’ll go park it somewhere else,” he tells her.

“That’s perfectly fine, sir. You can even leave and come back if you’d like.” He shakes his head. “I’ll be right back,” he tells her and walk-jogs outside, getting in his car and bringing it around to park.

-

Frankie enters the emergency room again and sits in a chair. He worries and worries for hours, texting his group chat with the Millers and Santiago. He gives them a play-by-play, but only Santiago responds. He sits awake for another hour, nervously wringing his ball cap.

The dog must be alive, or at least be able to save, he rationalizes with himself. After a while, the worry fades and he falls asleep. Two hours later, no other patients around to disrupt him, he’s woken by the nurse who took the dog back. “Mr. Morales?” She calls out gently.

He jumps awake. “Yeah, yeah, that’s me.” He sits up from his slumped state, readjusting the cap from where it had been resting over his eyes.

The nurse smiles softly at him and sits in a chair across the waiting room from him. “The dog is safe now. We had to amputate her front left leg, and she had a lot of stitches, but she’s stable and looks like she’ll do well.” He lets out a sigh and her smile becomes more genuine. “You told us she isn’t yours?”

She. The dog is a girl. Of course she is, Frankie smiles a little. The smile falls as he remembers the fact again. “No, no. It was a hit and run. I saw it happen, the other guy took off, it wasn’t me who hit her, I’m-”

“Mr. Morales.”

“Right. No, she’s not mine.”

The nurse nods and writes that down. “Well, we scanned her several times. She has no chip, no identifiers at all. Our options now are to send her to some rescue or kennel of some sort, or you can take her home with you.”

His heart breaks at the image of the sweet dog in the front seat of his car going somewhere without daily love and affection. “She’ll come with me,” he answers before he can rationally think about it.

“Wonderful,” she nods, marking that down as well. “She’s looped up now on some drugs. We’ll let her sleep them off for a bit and then she’s all yours. We do have some procedures we’ll need you to follow, for caring for the wound and such. But after that, it should be all good. You’re free to head out now. We can call you when she wakes up.”

Frankie nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that would be great.” He looks down at his watch and notices how early in the morning it is. “Thanks,” he tells her with a genuine smile, taking off his cap and running his hands through his hair before replacing it.

- From that moment on, Frankie was enamored with the dog. He called in from work when the shop opened bright and early at 6:00 A.M. 

“Hey Carol. It’s Morales.”

“You can stop asking if you can come in early, Frank. Just do it,” the woman chuckles on the other line. A loud slurp is audible- it’s the coffee she’s always drinking, the dark sludgy shit that she brews in the break room that Frankie can’t stand but she absolutely adores.

“No, uh. Actually, I was calling in to see if someone else could cover for me today.” He explains the whole story to her, wringing his cap between his hands. “So. I was kind of hoping I could take the day to look for the dog’s owners and care for her.”

There’s a beat of silence over the phone. “Of course, Frankie,” the older woman says kindly. “You got a real big heart, kid. Real big. That’s awful kind.”

He smiles a little. “Just doing what I can. Thanks, Carol.”

“Keep me posted, Catfish.” The woman hangs up.

Frankie’s in more comfortable clothes now. He didn’t sleep at all once he got home, waiting for the hospital’s call. He distracts himself, cooking a breakfast he only picks at, watching his new series halfheartedly on the couch.

The animal hospital calls him again at 7:30. He gets off the couch immediately and into the truck. There’s a bit of blood on the passenger seat, from where the dog wasn’t immediately covered by his jacket. It’s not a worry, though, he thinks to himself. He’ll get some stain remover and maybe a new and nicer jacket. 

When he arrives, they usher him back to a check-up room. The dog is lying down but she wags her tail at Frankie, looking up at him with big brown eyes that could rival his own. “Hey, sweet thing,” he calls softly, and the dog stands and walks over to him. It’s pained, that much is clear, but she’s already adjusting to walking with one less limb. She rests her head on Frankie’s lap and he scratches her ears gently. 

Some paperwork is filled out and Frankie leads the dog out to his truck with the leash and collar the hospital provided. He lifts her into the passenger seat and she snuggles in. The scent is familiar to her. 

Frankie drives her to a pet store nearby, smiling over at her. She looks at ease with him, relaxed and trusting. Of course she is. This is the man who saved her. 

He helps her down once they arrive and leads her inside. Her walking is pained, he can tell. “Aw, honey,” he frowns. There are carts right inside; Frankie sees the immediate solution. He scoops her up and sets her in a cart. Her tongue hangs out happily as they go through the store. “We’re gonna get you all kinds of fun stuff, huh?” He asks, scratching her head. 

Frankie spares no expense for the dog. As they cross through the store, the cart fills: bags of food and treats, a new leash, and a pink collar decorated with donuts “because you’re such a sweetie, right cutie?”, doggie bags, and food and water dishes. Finally they reach the toy aisle. “Do you wanna pick your own toy?”

He picks her up and sets her down on the ground, unclipping her leash to allow her to explore the toy aisle. She meanders, sniffing toys here and there, even considering one big bone. A few moments later, she comes tottering back to the cart with a toy in her mouth. It’s a big plush hedgehog.  Frankie grins. “Aw, that’s a good one! Good choice, cutie.” He kisses her head as he puts her back in the cart. 

They check out and drive home, and Frankie allows her to wander inside. “Welcome home. At least for now. I suppose I should put an ad out for you online.” 

The dog doesn’t respond, just wanders around the house, sniffing the furniture warily and looking back at Frankie. Asking if he’s coming. He smiles and leads her to the couch, sitting down on it. “I know they say you shouldn’t let dogs on the furniture, but I think you and I can share.” She jumps up and Frankie praises her, giving her a smooch and earning a big lick in return. “Oh, pretty girl, I think you’ll like it here,” he coos to her. She snuggles into his side with a sigh and Frankie sighs too. 

Over the next few days, he posts ads for her, but no one responds. He reaches out to people from the area he was driving in, but no one responds. After Day 4 of searching, there’s no response and he allows himself to sigh in relief. “You’re mine now, baby girl,” he coos to the dog, who’s happily panting and grinning. 

During the first week, Frankie tries out different names for her. None of them seem to stick. He wonders if she ever even had a name before. Ada, Lucille, Thea, Sunny, Miki, Zulu, Fox, Pancake. None of them work right for her personality. 

It’s not until late one night when Frankie’s coke cravings decide upon a name for her. 

It’s 2:24 in the morning and Frankie is quaking like a leaf. The dog is cuddled up into his side on the bed. Wherever he goes around the house, she follows. He’s biting his lip so hard it’s drawing blood. Normally when he’s this anxious, when he yearns to call his dealer, he rides it out by balling his fists so tight his knuckles turn white. But his dog seems to notice. 

She rests her chin on his hip, wagging her tail against the mattress with a steady thump. She whines quietly. She knows. 

Frankie’s at least momentarily distracted. “Hey, beautiful, what’s wrong?” He asks her, scratching his head and rolling over to pet her. He’s still desperate but the focus shifts from the sensation of one last hit to the feeling of her soft fur beneath his fingers. She sighs happily and snuggles into Frankie’s side, and he starts to cry. 

No one has ever needed him. Not his plants: they’re succulents. He deals with them once every other week. Not his former fiancée. She didn’t need him, just liked him for his money and his dick late at night. Not his friends. They had other friends to go to. No, this dog needs him, and it makes his heart feel like it’s going to burst. 

Sitting up, Frankie turns on the television. He hits a random button to choose a channel, and Princess and the Frog comes on. He chuckles a little. “How about Tiana?” He asks his dog and scratches her ears. She doesn’t react. 

It’s near the beginning of the movie. The relaxing music soothes him as the movie starts. The dog lies with her head on his thigh, happily receiving scratchies from her new father. Her head perks up when she hears a shrill noise from the television: Tiana’s best friend in her puffy pink dress. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay baby. It’s just Charlotte.”

Charlotte. Her ears perk up and she looks at him. “Charlotte?” He asks again, and she looks at him in confusion. “Do you like that one? How about Lottie?” No response. “Or Charlie?”

The dog pounces on him with her one front paw and licks his face. Frankie laughs happily scratching her sides. “Is that your name, pretty girl? Is your name Charlie?”

The answer, it seems, is yes.

It’s funny, Frankie thinks. Charlie is the third letter of the military alphabet, after Alpha and Beta.

Before Delta.

She would be, he realizes. She’s more important to him than his Delta Squadron guys. More important to him than the terrible things he did in the military. She comes before Delta.

And that’s how Charlie got her name. 

-

The guys finally came over to Frankie’s house on Night 9 of owning Charlie. 

All of the men are dog lovers, and Charlie takes to Benny quickly. He gives her her favorite kind of scratches: one hand behind the ear, one hand on the tummy. “Yeah, that’s a good tripod,” he teases her as he snuggles her. 

“Hey man, cut it out,” Frankie frowns and smacks his arm. “She’s insecure about it! Be nice.”

Santiago laughs. “Hey, you know what, Fish? This isn’t what I meant when I said that you should get a girl, but I’ll take it. Especially when she’s such a sweetie- oh hi, beautiful,” he coos as Charlie hops his way and licks his face. 

Frankie shakes his head. “Isn’t she a cutie?” He laughs happily as he watches his dog. “I tried posting ads for her, but no one answered. She’s such a sweetheart, potty trained and everything. I can’t believe I got so lucky.”

Benny grins. “And all because we asked you to get a beer and you caved and said yes.”

“What the hell do you mean caved, Ben? I get beers with you two fuckers three times a week,” he laughs and shakes his head. 

He’s been home alone with her all week, but he hasn’t felt as anxious as he normally does. Her companionship is all he needs, the way she snuggles up tight against him, the way her meal schedule motivates him to eat more. He has a purpose now. 

After the initial excitement, Charlie finds her place sitting at her dad’s feet, panting happily and looking around the room. “She fits in well,” Will nods and leans over as he scratches her head. “She’s the newest member of our group, I suppose.”

“She’s much less work than Fish. Maybe we replace him with her,” Santiago teases and Frankie flips him off, chuckling softly. 

This was a pattern that came to be known as the newly named C Night in Frankie’s head. These are the nights where they order a pizza or takeout and hang out in Frankie’s living room with Charlie. She’s the entertainer of the group, giving the men each some individual snuggles and wandering around the room. She’s funny, flopping onto her back at a human’s feet so that she can get tummy rubs, spending an absurd amount of time sniffing one specific spot on one man’s jeans. They all adore her. 

Life improves for Frankie when he has Charlie. He works shorter hours, spends time brushing her fur. He sleeps at better hours and cares for himself better as a result of caring for her. 

He takes her on a jog every morning. At first, he was nervous to do it. It’s been a long time since he’s been able to pass those Special Ops fitness tests. The thing that encourages him most is that Charlie is just the same speed as him. She runs along happily on three legs at the perfect pace for Frankie to match. 

Frankie lovingly refers to her as his copilot. She loves riding in the passenger seat of his truck, letting the wind from the open windows run through her fur. She gets excited when she hears the word truck and demands that Frankie snuggle her when they’re on a long drive. She even fell asleep on his lap once, with her face resting in the curve of the steering wheel.

Charlie is Frankie’s baby, and Frankie is her favorite human. The two of them are each other’s soulmates, Frankie thinks. His baby girl, his fluffy baby, his cuddlebug. His girl. His one true love is his dog, his Charlie. 

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @luxurybeskar @binarydanvvers @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal

[ihearthes]

Golden Rod

(inspired by Golden MV)

Author: @ihearthes Pairing: Harry x Reader Insert (2nd person) Rating: Smut (18+ only) Word Count: 2829

“Thanks for the ride, Ryan!” you call, waving at Lambert’s assistant as he drives away to the garages on the Vesta. “Ciao!” 

Excited to show Harry your new lingerie, you enter the villa where the team has been staying. “Is he done for the day, Ben?” The words are muffled behind the cloth mask you’ve insisted is essential despite the drop in Italy’s coronavirus cases. 

The Fulwell 73 producer points upstairs without a word before bending over the video footage he’s scouring with the director. The opulent surroundings have been modernized, and you grin while mounting the stairs to the top floor where the master suite consumes the entire space. From the expansive open windows, you view the Tyrrhenian Sea, causing you to literally pinch yourself. How had life blessed you in such a way? Giddy, you continue up the stone steps.

Kicking off your sandals, you curl your toes into the cool, smooth tile. Fuck. This had been the perfect day. Swimming in the infinity pool during the morning with endless fresh fruits at your fingertips whenever you stepped out of the water to feel the warm sun on your skin. A socially distanced lunch of Insalata Di Mare Campanese (Seafood Salad) with Molly in a local restaurant. A trip to the stores with the adorable stylist Ryan -- where he’d introduced you to a new designer of gloriously sexy lingerie! 

You’d bought four pieces. 

Harry was going to love all of them, and you couldn’t wait to showcase them in your own private fashion show on the secure top floor of the Italian villa. 

Stopping in the marbled bathroom, you draw in a deep breath at the chill on your heated feet. Quickly, you wash your hands, singing “Happy Birthday” twice like you’d been taught to ensure 20 seconds has elapsed. No way were you going to be responsible for inadvertently passing along the virus to your boyfriend during the Golden music video shoot. He’d end up missing out on filming the music video and the upcoming Don’t Worry Darling if he tested positive. Carefully removing your mask, you toss it into the laundry hamper before washing your hands a second time. 

Tiptoeing out of the bath, you wonder where the man of the hour might be. Napping? Nope. Not in the bed. On the loggia, you spy Harry settled in a chair, staring into space. 

“Can’t blame you, Styles. That’s one hell of a view.” Gazing over the colorful boats moored in the sea near the coast, your eyes feast on the sky with its tints of reds, pinks, yellows, and oranges as the sun begins to sink into the water. Honestly, you expect to hear a sizzle as the bright ball of gases descends into the blue serenity of the sea. 

“Indeed.” His quiet voice doesn’t sound normal for Harry, and you approach slowly, like one might a wounded deer. Wouldn’t want to frighten him away. 

“Harry!” The gasp leaves your throat, and you press your hand to your mouth to capture the sound too late as it has already escaped. “What the hell happened to your knee?”

He shrugs, finally glancing in your direction. “Skinned it. Hi, love. Did you have a good day?”

“I had a beautiful day, but what the fuck did you do to your knee?” Crouching down, you examine the spot where blood is flowing. It’s not an overwhelming amount, but enough that you want to clean it. “My poor baby,” you coo, “Let me clean that for you.”

Rising, you glide to the bathroom again. 

“Bring some ice too, love,” he requests, tacking on a “please” at the last minute. 

Stopping in the suite’s tiny kitchen, you search the small freezer for ice as requested. Ransacking the cabinets in the bathroom, you manage to locate cotton balls, an antiseptic, and a bandage. Returning to Harry, you kneel at his feet. “This might sting a bit.” Cautiously, you cover the cotton ball with the antiseptic and press it to his wound. 

He winces, but the only sound he releases is a mild hiss. 

“Sorry, baby.”

“It’s not a big deal, love.”

As the blood vanishes with its absorption into the cotton ball, you agree with him. The wound is relatively minor. Should form a scab in the next day or so. Carefully, you remove the adhesive from the bandage and press it over the small scratch. 

“Don’t worry, darling,” you tease, “you’ll heal soon enough.”

“Gonna run that one into the ground, aren’t you?” he jokes. 

“Might as well,” your shrug, grinning. “Don’t worry, H. You’re so golden.” His smile gives away his mirth at the pun. “Soon enough, you’ll be done filming, and moving on to something else. And I’ll give you hell about whatever the next thing is too.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” he confesses with intense eye contact, and your insides start to flutter. 

As an afterthought, you hold up a bag of frozen peas. “No ice, H. I’m so American that I forgot Europeans don’t do much ice. Will this do?”

“Sure.” Grabbing the bag of peas, he smirks before placing it on his crotch. 

You raise an eyebrow. “Your dick needs ice?”

His eyes rake over you. “Kind of went running without an athletic supporter today.” 

Planting your hands on your hips, you glare at him. “Why would you damage the goods like that?”

Raising his shoulders, he grins, “The fans will love it.”

Your lower lip juts out as you pout at him. “Does that mean it’s off limits to me?”

“It’s sore, love. Not broken.” Harry emphasizes, but that doesn’t make you feel any better. 

“But I’ve got lingerie,” you state clearly. 

He sits up quickly, shifting the bag of frozen peas on his crotch. “You do?”

“Yep.” You allow the ‘P’ to pop. “Ryan introduced me to a new designer. I bought four sets.”

“Fuck,” he breathes. 

“Not with your dick wounded,” you remind him with a tiny hitch in your breathy voice. 

“Fuck,” he repeats. 

“Should I model the first one or wait until tomorrow?” You’re definitely pushing the envelope here, yet how dare he give fans priority to his most precious bits?!

Eyes darkening, he sweeps his gaze over your light trousers and loose shirt. “Ummmm...now please.”

“Are you sure? Wouldn’t want you to hurt your dick more.”

The exasperated roll of his eyes makes you smile. “I wanna see, love.” 

Examining him, you come to the conclusion that he’s an adult and knows what he wants. With a nod, you grasp the handle of the bag from the designer. “Be right back!” Hurrying to the bedroom, you set the bag down before rummaging in it for the most sedate look: a white lacy baby doll bit that hits mid-thigh and comes with a long peignoir. Putting on frilly high heeled slipper with it, you strut in front of him with the robe tightly covering your body, watching as his eyes darken. 

“Like this one?”

“Shit, love. It’s…” 

When you part the edges to reveal the concoction underneath, Harry has to catch his breath, shifting in the seat as he adjusts the frozen peas. 

“Hot?” you taunt.

“Mhm. Come here, and check my temperature.” His voice is throaty, and you recognize the signs quite easily. 

“Nope. Three more to go before I get within touching distance, H. Sorry.”

“Dammit,” He mockingly shakes his head. “You know I could easily see all of them on separate nights. Let’s just start with this one.”

Purposely, you push your lip out in a pout. “But then the other lingerie would get jealous, and Ryan went to a lot of effort to get me a private viewing. After all, this stuff isn’t available to the general public.”

“No?” He sighs, and you catch the hitch in his comment. “Bring on the second one then.”

Confidently, you swagger from the room. With shaky hands, you withdraw the bright red lace camisole and boy short. Is this the appropriate one to wear next? The red might just push him over the edge. Best to stay out of his reach then. Smirking, you pull the outfit on and waltz onto the balcony with a twirl, your hair on pointe as its curls bounced with you. 

“Holy fuck. That’s the second one?” His strangled cry makes you laugh in joy. 

“How’s that cock feeling now?” you gesture in the direction of his crotch. 

“The peas have melted I believe.”

“Mhm. Maybe you should go get something else from the freezer then.”

“Nah. I’d rather you come get this bag for me. I might be too injured to walk inside.”

“Oh, you’re so funny. I know this game. I get close to you, and the other two lingerie outfits never see the light of day. Nope. You want more frozen food for your genitals, you can get it yourself.” Laughing, you smack your rounded ass as you amble into the bedroom again. 

“Fuck!” Harry yells behind you. 

The dialogue combined with the strutting has your pussy feeling damp as the waves of arousal rush over you. Sure you’d fucked last night, but today was a new day, and you wanted to feel that dick inside you -- regardless of the damage he did by jogging in the city for the video. 

The third one is pink -- and you’re well aware from experience how much Harry loves pink. The baby doll dress is silk and lands just at the top of your thighs with a black lace bodice that laces in the middle. Kind of laces anyway. Plenty of boob still visible. Or barely hidden. Whichever you prefer.

“Oh my god. You’re killing me!” Harry whines as you parade just out of his reach. When he starts to rise, you shake a finger at him. 

“No, no, H. You need to recuperate from running today. Better stay seated.”

He chokes as you twist around to show him all sides, including the g-string with its bare backside. 

“You’re evil!” he calls as you dance back into the bedroom. 

This is the final one, and you prepare carefully. It takes extra time to put on, and you smile as you observe your image in the room’s mirror. Deftly, you slip a couple of condoms in the bodice of the bralette. 

You find a playlist of romantic Italian music and set it to play on the Bluetooth speaker in the bedroom, ensuring the volume is high enough to be heard on the loggia. 

Harry gasps the moment he sees you. “You’re not wearing anything under that!”

Playfully you glance down at the last lingerie set. “Oh, damn. I guess when I put the garter skirt and stockings on, I must have forgotten the panties. Forgive me?”

His head bobs up and down as he gulps. 

“Now,” you murmur, approaching him. Grasping a pillow from a nearby chair, you plop it on the floor in front of him, settling on your knees there. “I think the best thing is if I take a look at this dick to make sure you didn’t do too much damage.”

Removing the no-longer-frozen peas, you toss the bag to the side. No one will be eating those. Ever. Silently, Harry waits while you carefully peel down the top of his elasticized shorts and remove his cock. You have to catch your breath every time you get to glimpse it, and today is no exception. 

Your mouth waters, and you lick your lips as you hold his rigid length in your hand, your eyes flickering up to his where he’s staring intently at you. Maintaining eye contact, you run your tongue over the tip of his cock, paying extra attention to the slit there. 

“Mmmm,” you murmur. “The tip seems to be okay. Let me check the length.”

Using your saliva as lubrication, you run your hands down his shaft to his balls. “Doesn’t appear to be broken,” you smirk, “In fact, seems pretty solid and firm to me.”

Harry raises an eyebrow, “Might want to apply some suction there, love, just in case.”

You don’t really care what he means by that last phrase. You’re more than happy to test out the equipment to ensure that it’s in full working order. Spreading his legs more firmly, you lean in, sliding his entire dick into your mouth until the tip hits the back of your throat. Harry grasps the hair at the back of your hand, bunching it in his hand as he guides you along his length. You hear him sigh, and you’re confident he’s tilted his head back and closed his eyes, but when you glance at him, you find that his eyes are still on your lips. 

Fuck. It turns you on even more, and you can feel your pussy dripping onto the pillow. You make a mental note to remove the cover and wash it before leaving the villa. 

As your lips glide along him, you’re frustrated at not having full access to him. As you apply suction to his tip, you pop off him with an audible sound. Both of your hands reach for the waistband of his shorts, and you gently encourage him -- “Lift your bum, H” -- so you can fully remove the garment, throwing it over your shoulder and hoping it doesn’t sail into the pool below. Harry smiles, adjusting his stance into the biggest man spread you’ve ever seen. 

Before you return to your ministrations on his cock, you grasps your chin, drawing your face forward and upwards until he can lock lips with you. 

“Not much longer, love, or I’ll explode.”

“I don’t mind,” you purr. 

“Mhm. But if we’re fully going to test the equipment, then that should include more than a bj.”

“Ah, I see,” you grin. “But of course. We want to be thorough.” 

First, though, you are compelled to play with his balls, so you take him into your mouth again, adding one hand to his length while the fingers on the other play with the balls underneath. Fuck. You could do this all day. Breathing through your nose, you deepthroat him and suck for a solid ten seconds before you release him completely. 

With a grin, you stand, kicking aside the pillow. “Hmmmmm...trying to decide the best way to do this.” Your voice has a catch in it, and you wipe your mouth before bending over and capturing his lips in a searing kiss. Tongue darting forward, you taste him, allowing him to suckle your tongue briefly. 

As you come up for air, Harry moves his legs together while slipping his hand between yours and nudging your legs apart. With one finger he teases your clit, flicking it from side to side as he watches your face and eases another digit inside you. Oh hell. This feels…

“Fuck, H.”

“You’re so tight, baby. Come sit here. Let’s test out the equipment. Make sure everything works properly.”

At his invitation, you step forward as he shifts his bum down on the chair a bit. 

“Shit. I forgot…”

With his words, you remove the first condom from your bralette where it has conveniently been nuzzling your nipple, the hard corner of the foil packet hardening your nip. 

Grasping his dick, he uses the tip to slap at your pussy a few times before using your internal juices to lubricate himself. Your eyes roll back into your head as the two of you work together so you can slide onto him without any additional moments wasted. 

When you’re fully seated on his dick, you grind just for a moment. 

“Hmmmm...seems sturdy enough,” you pant. 

“Oh, you’re so funny,” he drawls, but his eyes roll back in his head when you glide along his length, your stockinged thighs surrounded by his large hands. “Fuck, love.”

“Working on it,” you laugh breathlessly as the rhythm becomes easier. His hands move to your arse as he assists you in riding him. 

Draping your arms over his shoulders, you shake your tits in his face, and he grins as he bends his head to press a kiss at the juncture of your boobs. 

As your climax begins to arrive, your movements become less steady and more sporadic. Harry, knowing you as he does, reaches between your bodies to tease your clit as you throw your head back and cry out two thrusts before his seed spurts into the condom and his eyes roll back into his head. Spent, you collapse on his chest, still joined. 

“I think,” you whisper as you kiss his neck while playing with the curls at the nape of your neck, “we can agree that the equipment still works just fine. No damage here.” Picking up your head, you glare at him. “But no more, H! What’s mine is mine. The fans get enough of you.”

He laughs as his arms surround you, and he buries his head in your shoulder. 

“Of course, love. Whatever you say.”

A/N:  Reblogs are love, my readers.  If you liked this even just a little tiny bit, please take a second to reblog so that others might find it.  Getting likes is nice, but it doesn’t help me grow my readership.  Thanks for your consideration!

[legionofpotatoes]

we decided to watch all story cutscenes from the new resident evil village videogame on a whim, since it’s not really our cup of tea gameplay-wise but seems to be this massive zeitgeist moment that made us morbidly curious. And I know how much everyone cares about my thoughts on things I know very little about, so. let’s get into it huh gamers. and yeah spoilers?

for context, I’ve only played resident evil 4 and a small portion of 5. I also read the wikipedia entry for 7’s plot recently. all this to say I was only vaguely aware of how tonally wacky the series was going in

I also completely gave up following the plot of the mutagens’ soap opera, so that paid off in spades here as you might imagine

anyway so that baby in the intro. that baby’s head is just massive. humongous toddlerdome. when ethan finds the baby’s head in a jar later on. there is no way that head would fit into that jar. bad game design. no not even game design. basic stuff. one hundred years in prison for jar modeler

if I see a single functional hetero marriage in video games I will cry tears of joy. I understand their misery is kind of The Point irt them badly working through the hillbilly romp trauma but like. sheesh. at least set that up as an emotional story goal the plot will help resolve. but nope they start off miserable and it goes nowhere

I know I know the mia thing has a huge wrinkle in it but like. not really in terms of dramatic function?? set up a happy end to the re7 nightmare (miranda can keep up appearances for all she cares) and then take that all away from angry griffin mcelroy for manpain. it will still absolutely work to set up the dramatic forward momentum. why throw in this cliche Hollywood Tension in their marriage if you’re not going to address it oh maybe because it’s normalized as automatically interesting because nuclear families are a self-propagating pit of a very narrow chance at emotional happiness relying on social stigma to preserve their empty function oops my baggage slipped in yikes abort mission

I called him griffin mcelroy because I saw his face on twitter and. yeah. I will continue to do this occasionally. my house my rules

... fuck the reason I’m hung up on this is specifically because the rest of the game is so tonally dexterous (which is a shining point to me! more on that later!), and yet they felt weirdly compelled to create the aesthetic trapping of a family-at-odds trope without following it through too well. a sign of both the good and the bad stuff to come

but listen the real reason why I wanted to talk about any of this is to nitpick the fascinating backwards-engineered nucleus of the entire thing; in that this game essentially creates a melting pot of just SO many disparate horror tropes and then makes a no-holds-barred unhinged effort at weaving thick lore to piece them all together. it is truly a sight to behold. like straight up you got your backwoods fright night situation, your gothic castle vampires, your rural-industrial werewolves, and don’t forget your bloated swamp monsters over there, with then a hard left turn into robotic body horror, and the entire ass subgenre of Creepy Doll writ large, and the bloodborne tentacle monsters, and a hellboy angel bossfight, which rides on the coattails of a mech-on-mech pacific rim bonanza, and just jesus henry christ slow down

almost all of these are textural hijack jobs that don’t really get into the metaphor plain of any of those settings but the game sort-of makes an argument that the texture IS the point and revels in it. It is kind of admirable almost. The same reason why the intro felt boxed in and unmotivated is also why the rest of the game just blasts off of its hinges to the point of complete and self-indulgent tonal abandon. I kinda loved that about it. lady dimitrescu made sure to hold her hat down as she bent forward in mahogany doorways and then suddenly she’s a giant gore dragon and you settle in your temp role as dark souls man with Gun to take her ass down. Excellent??

this rhino rampage impulse to gobble up every horror aesthetic known to man comes to head when the game wrestles with its FPS trappings in what is the most hilarious solution in creating visceral player damage moments. Since most cinematics and the entire game is in first person, that leaves precious little real estate for the devs to work with if they really want to sell griffin’s physical crucible. To wit. This dude’s forearms. Specifically just the forearms. They are MASSACRED throughout the story. The poor man lives out the silent hill dimension of a hand model. by the end cutscene he looks like a neatly dressed desk clerk who had decided to stick both his grabbers into garbage disposal grinders just a few hours prior. like in addition to everything else it manages to rope in that tinge of slapstick violence into its general grievous genre collection except this time it IS for a lack of trying! truly incredible

but wait his miracle clawbacks from everything his poor paws go through are retroactively explained away, yes, but far too vaguely and far too late to console me as I sat and watched everyone’s favorite baby brother reattach an entirely severed hand to his wrist stump by just. placing it on there. and giving it a lil twist ‘n pop terminator-style. and then willing his fingers back into motion right in front of my bulging eyes. this game just does not care. it does not give a shit. and boy howdy will it work to make that into one of its strongest suits

cause generally speaking resident evil was THE premiere vanilla zombie content destinaysh for like a decade, right? and as the rest of the world and mainstream media started encroaching and bloodying its blue ocean it went and just exploded in every single conceivable horror trope direction like a smilodon on catnip. truly, genuinely fascinating franchise moves

yeah the big vampire milf is hot. other news; grass... green. although I do love the implication that her closet is just identical white dresses on a rack. cartoon network-level queen shit

apropos of nothing I’ve said there’s also this hobo dante-devimaycry-magneto man, and I can’t believe this sentence makes sense. anyway he made that “boulder-punching asshole” joke referring to chris redfield and it was probably the only easter egg that really landed for me and boy did it land hard. I have not seen him punch the boulder in re5, mind. I had only heard about how funny it is from friends. and here this dude was, probably in the same exact mindset as me, trying to grapple with that insane mental image. with you on that ian mckellen, loud and clear

I advocate vehemently against the shallow pursuit of hyper photorealism in art direction but I gotta admit it works really in favor of immersive horror like this. the european village shacks especially gave me super unchill flashbacks to my rural countryside retreat in western georgia. I could smell the linoleum dude. not cool

faces are weird in this game. can’t place it. nice textures, good animation, but the modeling template is... uuh strange? and the hair. it has that clustered-flat-clumpy look that harkens to something very specific and unpleasant but I just don’t know what. sue me

griffin’s mental aptitude to take all this shit in stride and end every seemingly traumatizing bossfight involving some fucking eldritch being yet unseen through mortal eyes by essentially throwing out an MCU quip is just. What the fuck dude? I mean that was funny how you casually yelled the f-word at a god damn werewolf that you considered a fairy tale an hour ago but are you like, all right?? it was swinging a sledgehammer the size of a bus at you, ethan

oh oh the vampires are afraid of cold and your last name is winters. I get it haha

Pro Gamer Nitpick: boss fights seemed a bit unnecessarily long?? idk why the youtuber we picked decided the ENTIRE propeller man fight counted towards the vital story scenes he was stitching together, but man mr big daddy lite there really had some get up and go huh??

why are they saying dimitrescu.. like that. is it really how you say that word or is the english language relapsing into its fetish for ending every single word with a consonant at all costs

I’m not saying it’s a dramatic miss of a twist in context of all that’s going on, but the “you died in the last game actually and have been DC’s clayface ever since” revelation is low-key. it’s. it’s just funny to me, I dont know what to say. century-old god-witch fails her evil plan after she mistakenly removes heart from what was definitely NOT just some white guy with eight fingers after all

chris realizing he’s about to become the player character and immediately swapping out his tsundere trenchcoat for the muscletight sex haver sweater

the little bluetooth speaker-sized pipe bomb he taped to his knife was nuclear?? really??? I must have missed something because that is just too good. I buy it though I totally buy it. chris just got them fun-sized nukes in his car trunk for, you guessed it, Situations

anyway this is all for now just wanted to briefly touch on how unexpectedly funny and tonally irreverent this seemingly serious game turned out to be. did not articulate any cathartic story beats whatsoever but my god it had fun connecting those plot points. he just fucking put his severed hand back on his stump and it Just Worked todd howard get in here

[call-me-rei]

Chapter 7

I woke up the next morning to a pillow whacking me against the face. I groaned at the impact at first, then became angry. My eyes shot open and were faced with the shit-eating grin of my younger brother.

“The fuck?” I asked with a scowl. Mike kept the smile on his face from my doorway as he shrugged.

“You needed to wake up. It’s beach day!”

I rolled my eyes. “Seriously?”

He shrugged again. “Get up. We need to buy food and shit. Oh, and Mom’s home so there’s breakfast.”

I sighed as I leaned back onto my pillows. Mike had left quickly after his sentence which gave me some time wind down from getting attacked. I glanced to my left and saw the pillow Mike had thrown at me. It was his cherished memory foam pillow that he had begged our mom to buy for him. I was surprised that he’d chosen to throw that one at me, even more surprised that he’d hit me from the threshold of my bedroom door.

I decided not to dwell on it and sat up. I stretched my arms over my head to pop whatever needed to be popped then reached for my phone.

“Shit,” I groaned when I tapped on the screen. My phone had died overnight. I guess it wasn’t plugged in like I thought. I made sure it was connected to the outlet before getting out of bed and going to the bathroom. The smell of bacon wafted through the hallway and put a smile on my face as I walked across the hall to prepare for the day.

Sundays were always nice at our house because our parents didn’t work. They usually got some shopping done while Mike and I were asleep, but other than that we could all spend the day together. Mom would cook us a nice breakfast and Dad and I would play soccer in the backyard. Then at night we’d settle down with a family dinner and watch a movie. It was a welcomed contrast to our parents never being at home during the week.

“There’s our star athlete!” I blushed at my dad’s comment as I entered the kitchen. “Michael showed us some of the tape from last night. You were amazing!”

“Gracias papá.” Mom put a plate of hot food in front of me as I sat down next to Mike at the table.

“So is the team doing anything to celebrate?” she asked.

“Bonfire!” Mike answered excitedly. Our parents looked at each other and laughed.

I shook my head with a smirk. “It’s not the team, more like Mike and me and the guys, but we’re inviting the team too.”

Dad nodded in approval. “Sounds like fun. Tengan cuidado.”

“Sí papá,” Mike and I answered at the same time. Satisfied with our response, our parents started talking about having a little date night since their children had plans. Mike and I tuned it out and focused on eating. Or I did at least.

Mike nudged his elbow into my side as I was about to bite into my French toast. “We’re going shopping after this, right?” he whispered. Confused, I just nodded.

He gave me a sly smile before focusing on his food.

“Wait, why?” I asked, now curious about his intentions.

He just shrugged and kept his smile. I didn’t know what he was planning, but I had a feeling I wouldn’t like the outcome.

***

I pushed the shopping cart behind my brother. He was going down aisles tossing things into the metal basket on wheels. It was obvious that he didn’t care about what he was picking or how much it cost. I stopped him from getting some snacks that he’d never eaten before, knowing that he’d buy them then regret it.

We were going through the store getting snacks for the bonfire. I told Mike that it wasn’t necessary, but he said we’d need them. When I asked him why he just told me to trust him. I wanted to, but I knew better.

Mike always loved parties. We never hosted one at our house, but our friends did occasionally, and Mike was always there to help get things ready. I know it was because he wanted to figure out how much he could fuck things up without getting in trouble.

I watched as he put two huge bags of marshmallows in the cart. We already had an assortment of chips and paper plates. I wanted to question my brother once again, but I knew it would lead to nothing. He was the partier out of the two of us, so if he said we needed those items I’d go along with it.

“We need beer.”

I focused my attention on him. “Beer?” That was an item I didn’t think I could agree to.

“Beer. We should get beer.”

He’d said it like it was a fact. Like, “the sky is blue; the sun is bright. ‘We should get beer’.”

“Great, but neither of us are old enough to do that.”

I was going to turn eighteen in a couple weeks while Mike was still sixteen, going to be seventeen in December.

“Jaime’s brother is.” Jaime’s older brother, Javier, had turned twenty-one earlier in the month. He was always down to help us with some things, but I wasn’t sure he’d want to buy alcohol for a bunch of teenagers, especially since he wasn’t going to be hanging out with us.

“I don’t know…,” I said skeptically.

“Trust me,” was the response I received. With a devilish grin on his face Mike pulled out his phone and typed on the screen.

I sighed. I knew Mike was texting Jaime asking him to ask Javier for help. Of course, Jaime would agree because he was always down for making bad decisions. I would’ve texted Jaime and told him not to indulge Mike, but I had left my phone at home to charge. Sadly, that meant that Mike was in charge of telling our friends about his plans, no matter how bad they would become.

“He’s in.” I shook my head.

“I don’t believe it,” I mumbled.

“Lighten up, bro.” Mike patted me on the shoulder. “You’ll have even more fun tonight. Don’t be a buzzkill.”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. Just don’t be dumb. I don’t wanna have you drive your drunk ass home.”

He smirked. “You’re gonna have to do that anyway. We do live together.��

***

We’d driven back home to get coolers for all of the drinks, tables for the setup of everything we bought, and to pick up my phone. Once I had it I sent a message to my teammates telling them about the bonfire. Mike was in such a hurry to leave that that quick text was all I was able to do before he made me drive to Jaime’s house.

Mom was nice enough to let us use her car since she and Dad planned on having their date night. Mike was excited to not have to call shotgun and to have me as designated driver. He planned on getting fucked up, as he put it, so I had to be the responsible one. Not that it was my party or anything.

We got to Jaime’s and picked up the alcohol. Javier had gotten us way more than just beer. There was also vodka, seltzers, gin, tequila, and mixers. It was more than any of us expected. “Have fun, just don’t get me in trouble,” he’d told us. Mike and Jaime just looked at each other like they were planning to go against everything Javier had said.

After leaving the Preciado household Mike and I went to the beach to set everything up. We found a spot where we wouldn’t bother other people and unloaded all of our supplies: the plastic tables, food and drinks, and a Bluetooth speaker. Jaime, Tony, and Curtis arrived a bit later with logs and newspapers for the bonfire.

By the time the wooden teepee was assembled the sun had begun to set and people were arriving. My teammates trickled in, then some other people from school. I had expected as much since we were out in the open and word always spread quickly at school. The word “party” was like an invitation for anyone to come through. No one really minded, as long as everyone was respectful of the space and other people then anyone was welcomed.

People entered the area and immediately grabbed the red cups on the tables and filled them with their drink of choice. Tony turned on the music and soon the party was in full swing. The soccer team members toasted to yesterday’s game and to me for the winning goal. Then everyone went off and did their own thing. There was some dancing, some mingling, but mostly drinking.

Time went on and the party went on and got rowdier. A lot of us went into the ocean and either swam or played chicken. There was a game of truth or dare going on somewhere that crossed with seven minutes in heaven. I knew that that game would lead to someone fucking in the sand.

Javier had gotten us enough alcohol that most of the people at the party were borderline drunk or buzzed. I felt kind of lame being one of the only sober ones there, but someone had to look out for my brother and friends, who by the way were almost too far gone to know where they were. At first I had been talking to them and some of my teammates, then they went off to do whatever. Next thing I knew they were taking bets on how many shots they could handle. Once that part of their night was done, they moved on to playing beer pong.

I could only watch from the sidelines with a bottle of water in hand. I didn’t want to be a buzzkill, but I couldn’t get too out of it; I needed to be the responsible one. I only hoped that the drunk people I would be driving home wouldn’t get on my nerves too much at the end of the night.

But let’s face it, they would.

Mike and Jaime would get into a stupid argument about something they wouldn’t remember when they sobered up, but it would be so important that they’d be yelling all the way back home. Then eventually they’d tire themselves out and end up apologizing and hugging before one of them would say something stupid to make the other start a new fight. Then they’d go around in circles until I dragged them out of the car and forced them into their home.

I hated that I would have to go through that exact scenario again.

I watched as a ball landed in a cup on Mike’s side of the table. He downed the contents without hesitation and screamed with pride.

Yeah, he’d be too far gone by the end of this party. And I’d have to carry him to his room while trying not to wake our parents up. They’d be pissed if they saw him the way he was at that moment.

I tried not to think about it and went to sit with Curtis and Tony. Since they had driven themselves to the party they weren’t interested in getting shitfaced. Maybe I could convince one of them to take Jaime home so I could avoid an argument in my car. It was worth a shot.

“You guys having fun?” I asked as I sat next to Curtis. He hummed before taking a sip of whatever was in his red cup.

“It looks like a lot more fun is happening over there.” I looked toward where he was pointing. Sure enough, there was a group of people around the table of drinks. They had their own cooler and were pouring various bottles of alcohol into it. By the looks of it they were making a very potent jungle juice.

“Five bucks that Mike and Jaime are gonna compete to see who chugs it the fastest.” I shook my head at Tony, not wanting to acknowledge that he was right and that my brother and one of my best friends would actually do something like that.

“I don’t think there’s a reason to bet anymore,” I said. The guys looked back at the scene and sure enough, Mike and Jaime were racing to chug the jungle juice. I would’ve liked to say that Jaime won that one, but really, there were no winners there.

I saw Mike say something to Jaime before he stumbled over to the three of us.

“Vic, I think I’m drunk.”

I nodded. “I think you are too. Here.” I handed him my water bottle and gestured for him to sit in the sand. He did and silently drank from the bottle. Sad to say that that was the calmest he’d been all night.

With my brother finally taking a break I was able to relax a bit. I took the opportunity to check my phone since I’d been so busy earlier. I knew I had a couple of notifications from social media apps and I wanted to clear those. Unread notifications bothered me to no end.

I checked Twitter and Instagram then posted a story of the guys and I and the party. Even if I wasn’t a major player in it, I still wanted to commemorate the night.

Once I posted the story I left the app and opened Facebook Messenger. I assumed the notification I had received was from a friend asking about the party; I was about to open it then immediately close the app. That was until I saw his name.

Kellin’s name was bolded with a blue dot at the end, indicating that he had sent me a message. A mixture of emotions clouded my brain. I didn’t know whether to be excited that he was talking to me again or nervous that he was talking to me again.

I eventually settled on scared. I opened the message and felt scared. Panic coursed through me as I read and reread the four words he’d sent.

JAN 27, 10:24 PM I want to die.

Over and over those words ran through my mind. That message had been sent almost twenty-four hours before. And I abandoned him. Fear mixed with dread and regret and self-loathing. How could I let him down like that? Why couldn’t I have been there for him?

Twenty-four hours was more than enough time for him to have hurt himself. And if he did because I didn’t answer when he needed me, I would never forgive myself. I needed to know if he was okay, so I sent him another message.

Are you ok??

But he wasn’t even online when I sent it, and he wasn’t online for five minutes after. In fact, it showed that he hadn’t been active since he sent me that message the night before.

Maybe he didn’t get on Facebook daily, or maybe he was just busy like I had been. Or maybe…

“Vic?”

Tony’s voice seemed far away with the thoughts in my brain screaming at me, telling me that I hadn’t kept Kellin from doing something he couldn’t take back.

“Dude, what’s wrong?”

I absentmindedly shook my head and stood up. I needed space to think and process so I walked farther away from the party and took a few steps into the ocean. An idea to calm myself popped into my head; it seemed as good as any. So without a second thought I pressed the phone icon at the top of our conversation and put my device to my ear, hoping to hear his voice on the other line.

[something-tofightfor]

Christmas in Wyoming - Four

Pairing: Logan Delos x Reader (!)

Word count: 6750

Rating: M (language)

Author’s Note: WHY IS LOGAN BLEEDING?!?! And some other things. 

Taglist: feel free to ask me to remove you… or to add you!

@banditthewriter @breanime @obscurilicious @madamrogers @suchatinyinfinity @chibiyanai @songtoyou @ethereal-heavcns @editboutique @marauderskeeper @drinix @ilkaeliseb @delicatelilyflower @king4thesirens @blah-blah-fuckit-shit @ymariejp @mr-robot-x @rageshots @shinebrightlikeafanbase @littlemermaidprobz @introvertedlibrary @writing-for-a-chance @yesixoxo @ilikebeachessushiandsmallanimals @likeorions @swiftyhowlz @dylanobrusso @benbarnestongue @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @the-blind-assassin-12 @dreamwritesimagines @waytoobsessedwithmyfandoms @lexxierave @ms-delos @elanor-of-imladris @lynne1993 @dreams-with-thoughts @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mfackenthal  @traeumerinwitzhelden @bucky-is-my-precious @weallhaveadestiny @ladyblablabla @sweetybuzz25 @luminex3 @christinawxxx @thesumofmychoices @audreychaz @tc-elliot @kind-wolf @gollyderek @honeyydippaa @thesandbeneathmytoes @malik-payne @geeksareunique @bellastellaluna @agentlingerie @elioelioeli0 @wangmangagavroche @projectcampbell

Your hands were once again gripping the steering wheel tightly, but this time, it wasn’t out of annoyance - it was from fear. Logan had sounded absolutely panicked, and before he’d even finished speaking, you were out of bed and pulling clothes on, phone pressed tightly to your ear. 

“Logan, where are you?” You could feel your heart beating, even as you stuffed your feet into boots. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me where you are.” He groaned. “Logan, please.” 

 “I… don’t know, it’s dark, and it’s snowing, and…” He sighed. “‘I’m a fuckin’ idiot.” You closed your eyes, waiting. “I know I’m on the highway, but…” You frowned, wondering what he’d been doing driving so late at night, but Logan spoke again. “I’m between Fireside and Jackson Hole, and…” 

 “Logan, you need to call the police, you need to get a tow truck out there, and to -” 

 “No!” He spoke so loudly that you pulled the phone from your ear, wincing. “No police. No… this can’t get out.” He took a deep breath. “I can’t… I can’t be in the news right now, it’s not…” You closed your eyes, teeth biting into your lip. “Can… fuck, if I… can I share my location with you? You know these roads better than me, and…” He took a deep breath. “Will you… can you come and get me?” 

 You’d left less than five minutes later, letting your own car warm up only slightly before backing out of your driveway, mindful of the snow and the unplowed street you lived on. There wasn’t as much snow as you’d expected, but the wind was whipping it around, and you had to fight to keep your car from drifting along the road as you drive slowly south, toward Logan. The fifteen minute drive was going to take you close to 30 in the weather, and though he’d been against it - telling you to focus on the road, you had Logan on bluetooth, talking to him as you made your way to where he was. “It’s not that bad, Logan. I’ll be there soon.” He was muttering to himself in the spaces between your words and his, and for the first time, you wondered if he’d been drinking before the accident. You have no right to assume. “Logan, I’m crossing Snake River right now, I’m only a few minutes away.” 

 “Alright.” He took a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have called you, I should have -”

 “Stop that, Logan. It’s fine. I’m almost there.” Your fingers tightened more on the wheel, eyes on the front windshield, looking for any sign of Logan’s vehicle. “I should be able to see you soon, Logan.” The snow was heavier in the open area, and you felt your tires slipping, too, but you pushed on, eyes finally falling on headlights pointing in your direction - the first vehicle you’d seen in your entire drive. Logan. “I see you, Logan. I’m going to drive past and turn around,” You hung up, and only a few minutes later were parked on the highway next to Logan, hazards on. He got out of the car slowly - from the passenger side, and made his way into your car, not saying anything until he was sitting, eyes focused forward. 

 “I’m sorry.” He sounded sad - defeated even, but then he spoke again. “I put a glove in the window, I read you’re supposed to do that?” You laughed, causing him to turn and face you. He’s not drunk. “What?”

 “That’s good, Logan. Did you lock it?” He reached into his pocket and you heard the beep of the car locking. “Good, Logan. Let me see... Where are you bleeding?” Pushing the button for the overhead light, you turned to look at Logan, not knowing what to expect. “Oh, damn, Logan.” You reached down, picking up the towel you’d brought with you and holding it up to the left side of his face, which was covered in blood. “Does it hurt?” He shook his head, and you wiped gently at his face. “I’m not cleaning it here, I just need to know if I need to take you to the hospital, or -” 

 “It doesn’t hurt much, I didn’t even realize it was bleeding until I looked in the mirror, and…” He closed his eyes. “I swerved because there was something in the road - a fucking moose? I don’t know, it was huge and it was a surprise, and I felt the car slipping, and …”  He shrugged, reaching up to cover your hand with his, taking the towel from it. “I got out after I stopped moving, and I slipped - that’s when I hit my head; I tried to grab the front of the Jeep when I fell, but I hit the ground.” He pulled the towel away, turning. “I think it’s just a scrape, but…” 

 You leaned in, looking, fingertips pushing the strands of hair away from his face gently, though they were sticky with blood. “I think you’re right, Logan, but I still want to… we need to get this cleaned up.” He raised the towel up again, pressing it to the side of his face. “I can clean it up at the cabin, Logan, but I have more stuff at my house, if that’s alright.” You heard him exhale. Are you really doing this? “I have a spare bedroom, and you can stay there tonight, that way if it’s worse than it looks, I can take you to the hospital, or -”

 “You aren’t going to ask where I was comin’ back from?” His voice was quiet and you shrugged, keeping your eyes on the road - the wind had died down, and the snow intensified. “Why I was drivin’ so late?” 

 “Not my business, Logan.” You licked your lips. “Can you do me a favor, and unlock my phone - the code’’s 114477 - and call Michael? It’ll go through the speakers, so…” He did as you asked, and the man answered on the second ring, identifying himself. “Mike?” You waited, hearing the concern in his voice as he asked if you were alright. “I’m fine, I’m just letting you know that if you get a report of one of our Jeeps out on 22 between Strop’s and Calcutt’s, we’re aware.” You paused. 

 “Everything OK?” Michael’s voice was calm, but had changed to a more official tone. “It’s pretty late, are you -”

 “Everything’s fine, Michael. One of our guests was driving back from Jackson Hole and since he’s not familiar with the area or the weather conditions, he got startled by what he says was a moose, but -”

 “No, actually,” the man laughed. “Greta Strop called the other day and told me there was a moose in her front yard, so…” Oh, damn, well… “Is there any alcohol involved?” You glanced over at Logan, who looked into your eyes and shook his head once. “No, Mike. It honestly was just an accident, and I told him to call the police, but he said that he needed some discretion, so he called me to come get him instead.” You saw Logan tense next to you, and without pause, took one hand off the steering wheel and squeezed his knee. Trust me. “Michael, I wouldn’t lie to you about this, I just didn’t want you to worry if you got the call and it came back that the Jeep was ours, and since we’re not going to the hospital for his injury, unless it’s worse than it looks… I needed you to know. The Jeep looked fine, he just slid into the ditch and couldn’t get it out on his own, I’ll call for a tow in the morning, and -”

 “Is this guest of yours a certain someone that made the news earlier tonight?” Michael’s voice was patient, but before you could speak, Logan beat you to it. 

 “Yes, sir.” He cleared his throat. “I know that you have no reason to believe me, but I am stone cold sober, I was just not prepared for the weather, and ditched the Fireside Jeep.” Michael laughed, swearing under his breath. “If I did any damage to the property that it’s on, I am fully prepared to reimburse the owners, I’m just trying to keep my stay here as quiet as possible, and…”

 “Got it, Mr. Delos. Though it seems that your presence here is a little less hidden now that the news ran the story about you and Ms. Bailey.” Logan groaned, but Michael continued. “Anyway, the storm’s not supposed to let up until tomorrow afternoon, so don’t worry about getting the Jeep out until then, the tow drivers are going to be busy as it is, and if everyone’s alright… is it completely out of the road?”

 “It looked like it, Mike.” You Sighed quietly as you turned back onto 390. “But I’m going to let you get back to whatever it is you do overnight in that station, and focus on this road, it’s gettin’ bad out here.” You swallowed. “Thanks, Chief.” 

 “Be safe out there, alright? Don’t need to come pull you out of a ditch, too.” You hung up and the car’s interior was quiet as you made your way up 390 - still slowly, but more confidently, since the surrounding trees and homes kept a lot of the snow from blowing across it. 

 “Chief?” Logan’s single word question was the first thing that he said after a few minutes and you grinned, nodding. 

 “Yep. Chief Michael Thomas, he’s Brandon’s best friend, and works overnights, usually. Police force up here is kind of small, so we look out for each other.” You passed Fireside on the right, Logan’s gaze going back to the window. “He’ll keep it quiet that you’re here and staying with us, Logan. I trust him.” Neither of you spoke again until you parked, pulling into your driveway and all the way into your garage. “Let’s get you inside, Logan, get that blood off of your face. 

 The wound stretched from Logan’s temple to the top of his cheekbone, but it was exactly what he’d described it as: a scrape, with  few deeper scratches. You cleaned it thoroughly for him, fingers moving gently across the skin as you applied Neosporin in a thin layer. “I didn’t really hit my head, you know.” Logan was sitting on the closed toilet seat, perfect height for you to finish. “I can do this myself, I’m not -”

 “You called me, so I’m going to take care of this to my satisfaction, Logan. There was a lot of blood, but it’s stopped, so I think you’ll be alright.” You turned from him, washing your hands, and then reached back over with a clean towel, the corner dampened as you wiped at the hair closest to that cheek. “Head wounds always bleed more, Logan, but -” He reached up, fingers of his right hand closing around your wrist to stop you, his left hand pulling the towel from your hand. “What?”

 “Why are you doing this?” He looked up at you, skin paler than usual and a look in his eyes like nothing you’d seen before. “I called you at two in the morning and made you drive in that to come and get me, and you’re taking my word that I’m not drunk, even though you… and you aren’t asking where I was or who I was with, or what I was doing... “ It doesn’t matter. 

 “You’re a guest at Fireside, Logan, and you needed help, and…”

 “That all I am to you, a guest?” He narrowed his eyes, fingers squeezing tighter. “You take all your guests out for waffles and coffee and -”

 “You’re being an asshole, Logan.” He stopped talking, watching you. “Why… I’m doing what any normal person would do. You called, I came to help.” You pulled your hand away from his, shaking your head. “It’s three in the morning and you’re trying to pick a fight with me.” You stepped back, crossing your arms. “No, Logan, that’s not all you are to me, and you know that, so -” He stood, leaning over to drop the towel into the bathtub, and the small space suddenly got smaller. “Where you were and who you were with and what you were doing are none of my business, Logan.” You shook your head. “Although since you’ve only been here a few days, meaning you know no one, I think I have an idea.” His lip curled, but he nodded, his eyes almost black in the fluorescent lighting. “But you’re here now, and you’re not hurt, and that’s all that matters.” You rubbed your face with both hands, shaking your head. “Accidents on that road in the middle of the night don’t usually have good outcomes, Logan. I’m glad you’re OK, and I’m glad you called me.” 

 You weren’t going to let him twist the situation, giving you a reason to be mad at him, giving him the ability to push you away. You figured he’d been with Emma almost as soon as you’d realized where he was at the time of the accident, but it didn’t matter. He’s not yours to worry about, not yours to question. He said your name, reaching out for you but you stepped back, shaking your head again and turning to leave the bathroom. “Wait, stop.” He followed you down the hallway, where you stopped in front of the guest room. “I didn’t mean-”

 “It’s late, Logan.” You closed your eyes. “I just want to go back to sleep, and we can deal with this in the morning. This is the guest room, there are some clothes in there that you can change into - this used to be Brandon and Elle’s house, and they left some stuff here, so it might be a little big, but you’re just sleeping in it, there’s no one here to impress.” You said the last part with more of a bite than you intended, but felt no guilt. It’s the truth. He said your name again, moving closer, but you shook your head. “Help yourself to anything in the kitchen or bathroom - there’s pain medication in there, and there’s stuff to drink, or if you’re hungry, you can…”

 He moved before you could stop him, his arms going around you tightly and pulling you into his chest. What the hell? “Thank you.” He cleared his throat, and though you wanted to keep your arms at your sides, they moved, hands pressed flat against his back. “Thank you for comin’ for me. Thank you for letting me stay.” He took a deep breath and you felt his chest expand, felt his ribs through the thin material of the shirt he was wearing, felt him shudder slightly as he let it out. “A year ago… hell, a few months ago, I probably wouldn’t even have known I had an accident, let alone been able to call anyone for help.” Logan squeezed once more, and you could have sworn you felt his lips against the top of your head before he pulled away, turning and going into the spare room. “See you in the morning… or, well, later this morning, I guess.” He gave you a tight-lipped smile and then closed the door, leaving you standing in the hallway. What the hell just happened? 

 ---

 You woke up at ten, after six and a half hours of fitful sleep, and stood in front of the window in your room, frowning. The storm hadn’t stopped, in fact, it looked like it had picked up, and if the radar was any indication, wouldn’t be letting up until at least the following morning. Your street wasn’t plowed, and the tire tracks from your trip to rescue Logan had been covered completely. Still have to call about a tow. You got dressed - choosing another pair of leggings and an oversized sweater with thick socks before you secured your hair atop your head without brushing it. Done, you quietly made your way downstairs and into the kitchen, starting the Keurig to make coffee. You had groceries and were prepared to wait out the storm, but you hadn’t planned on Logan being stranded with you. 

 Turning the TV on after you set your mug onto the coffee table, you switched to the weather and watched silently, listening to the newscasters talking about the “perfect combination” of atmospheric conditions that led to the storm, and what it meant for the area. Snow on Christmas was not atypical for Jackson Hole, but this wasn’t like the usual storms. When your coffee was gone, you picked your phone up, dialing a familiar number. It rang twice, and you heard your friend’s voice on the other end. “Ana? Good morning!” Forcing some cheer, you waited until she greeted you again. “Is Max out working today, or is he stuck?”

 “He’s gotten some calls, but he’s trying to stay close, why?” You nodded, sighing. 

 “One of our guests was driving last night, and he ended up ditching his Jeep. A tow will be covered under the rental agreement with us, we just need to get it out of the ditch and back to Fireside.” 

 “Why are you calling?” She sounded interested, but you rolled your eyes, standing up and moving back into the kitchen for another coffee. “Elle usually -”

 “I’m the one that called Michael about it, because I’m the one that he called when it happened. I had to go and pick him up last night, so I thought I’d just make sure to take care of it, since I know who to call.” You shrugged, looking out your kitchen window. “But with this storm, it’s no big deal, I’m sure he won’t want to go anywhere, so…” Ana agreed, and you gave her the information about Logan’s Jeep and where it was located so that she could relay it to her husband. “Thanks, Ana. Just give me a call when you’ve got it back at Fireside and then you can bill the usual way.” Hanging up with your friend, you decided to call your aunt and Uncle, letting them know that Logan wasn’t in his cabin, and to be expecting Max with the Jeep at some point when the storm let up. 

 “He’s staying with you?” Elle’s tone was curious, and you could picture the smile on her face. “You haven’t had a guy over to your place since Colin, have you?” Not that it’s any of your business, but no. 

“Elle, I didn’t know how bad he was hurt, and I have more stuff here to take care of a wound than I would have without rummaging through the lodge in the middle of the night.” Your aunt laughed. “I’m serious, I’ll probably bring him back later today, it’s not a big deal.” 

 “We’ve had a few cancellations.” Her tone turned serious. “More than a few, actually. Delayed flights in the east, because they’re also going to be getting this storm… some people cancelling because they did the weather insurance, and don’t want to risk it.”

 “How many, Elle?” You gripped your phone tighter, eyes closed. We needed these guests, needed the cabins filled. 

 “Five.” That’s half. You heard the frustration in her voice, but it was overpowered by sadness. “So we probably won’t need you to come in on Monday, we can handle the check ins ourselves.” Shit. You felt a tear squeeze from beneath your eyelid. We needed those guests. “So… see you Tuesday, I guess?” She laughed, but it was forced. “Or whenever you drop Logan off, you can come say hello. Brandon’s out plowing right now, but…” 

 You ended the conversation, still staring blankly out the window and into the swirling snow. No one was staying for as long as Logan, and if half of the guests had cancelled already, it meant that more would likely follow. We’re screwed. Still staring out the window, you let out a quiet yelp when you heard a voice from the bottom of the stairs say your name. “Hey, sorry.” Logan frowned, walking fully into the room, and immediately your concern for the resort was pushed aside as you looked at his face, which was bruised around the scrape. “I’ve been callin’ your name for a few minutes, but…” He frowned. “What’s wrong?” 

 “Your face is bruised, Logan.” Blinking back tears, you shook your head. “It’s still snowing so I can’t take you back yet, but let’s get some ice on that, it’ll help the bruising and will probably feel…” You trailed off as Logan entered the kitchen, and you noticed for the first time that he wasn’t dressed fully - wearing a pair of your uncle’s flannel pants and a black t shirt. I’ve never seen his arms before. And they were small - thinner than you would have imagined them to be, but you saw the muscle in his biceps, saw the way his fingers flexed and the way that his watch fit snugly on his wrist. 

 “I don’t need ice.” He stopped next to you, looking down at you, and you stared back at him, noticing the way that his eyes moved over you, the way that his hair was messy and loose around his face. No one looking at Logan would ever confuse him for a multi-millionaire businessman, but you saw it on his face - the determination and focus, his drive. “I need you to tell me what’s wrong.” He took a step closer and you took one back, trying to keep enough distance between you to allow you to keep breathing. You let him kiss you yesterday, and now you want to keep him away from you, what’s the issue? “Please?” 

 He stepped closer again, and you shook your head, finally looking away from his face and down at the floor. “It’s nothing, Logan, don’t worry about it.” Why does it matter? “Just stuff with Fireside, I had to call Elle and let her know that Max - that’s our local tow driver - would be bringing your Jeep back at some point.” You finally looked back up at him, trying to smile. “That’s all.” 

 “That’s bullshit, and you know it.” Logan’s eyes glittered, and he looked angry. “Why are you lying to me?” Blinking quickly, you opened your mouth to speak, but he continued before he could. “I’ve never once lied to you, so do me the courtesy of being honest with me. You take me out on a date yesterday, I kissed you, we planned dinner this weekend, and now what, you’re gonna make up some bullshit  about your place and expect me to believe it? You’re not cryin’ because you had to call about my car. There’s something else going on.” 

 “Fine, Logan!” You reached out, pushing him away from you with both hands - surprising both of you equally. “You want to know what’s wrong? My aunt and uncle are barely making it as is, and we were counting on having the guests that were confirmed for Christmas, but because of this storm, half of them canceled on us. Not everyone is like you, Logan, paying almost $13,000 for two and a half weeks here, we need the people that stay for a few nights and spend a thousand bucks, or stay for two and spend a few hundred. That’s how we survive, and it’s not happening this year.” You smacked your hand on the counter, shaking your head back and forth. “We can’t compete with the real resorts… I know that, we never could, but it’s never been this bad before, it’s never…” You trailed off, finally looking at Logan, the anger coming back. “And, yeah, I did take you out yesterday, and we had a good time - had a great time, actually, if I’m being honest with you… and then I drop you off and think that things are going well, and then I see a news story about you and Emma, see a video of you kissing her - and you know what, Logan, you look a hell of a lot more interested than you told me you were. But that’s fine - whatever, right? You’re just visiting here, and you’ll be gone soon enough, and it won’t matter how good that date was.” You paused, shaking your head and stepping around him, walking to the back of your house. 

 “You…” He spoke quietly and you knew he’d followed you. “You don’t…”

 “But the kicker, Logan?” You chewed on your lip again, shaking your head back and forth slowly as you turned to face him again. “You go and you see her last night, because who the hell else would you be seeing in Jackson Hole at that time of night? You weren’t at a bar, weren’t drinking, you weren’t in public, because there would have been pictures. You were with her, and yet when you get into an accident, who do you call at two in the morning to come get you? Not her.” You felt the tears leaking down your face but you didn’t stop them, not caring what he saw or thought. You asked for honesty. “You’re not just a guest, Logan, but I shouldn’t have… I should have kept it that way, because this hurts. You say you didn’t lie to me, but you told me you didn’t want to see her again, and then you just go straight to her.” Swiping at your face angrily - but angry at yourself, not at him, you continued. “Did she show you a good time, Logan? Did she get more ammo for the tabloids?” 

 His lip curled into a snarl for just a moment and then his face relaxed, head tilted slightly to the side. “I was with Emma last night.” You felt your breath release, felt your body deflate. So he confirms it. “I won’t deny that, there’s no reason to.” Logan pressed his lips together and you felt your heart hammering against your ribs, the anger leaving your body, replaced with a calmness that you didn’t expect. He’s the same as he has been. You stared at Logan, looking as comfortable in your kitchen as possible, watching as he shook his head slowly back and forth. “You dropped me off, and I went inside, got some work done, and then spent the rest of the night relaxing.” He stepped forward, and you realized that you had nowhere to go; the wall behind you stopped your movement. “My phone started blowing up at about eight, but I ignored it, until my sister called me at nine.” 

 “Yeah?” You swallowed, crossing your arms over your chest. “Wh-”

 “She asked if I’d seen the gossip sites.” Logan’s lip was curled again, the angry glint back in his eyes. “And I hadn’t, because I had been busy all night, right?” He licked his lips. “Well, I’m sure you know what I saw - those pictures, the video, which, by the way, starts after she grabbed me and kissed me, and ends before you can see me push her away. There was even a fuckin’ update on the official Snow King website - all of their social media, too, with a picture of me and Emma at dinner, bright and fuckin’ clear.” He shook his head, and you again felt your emotions changing. He’s angry about this. “I didn’t tell anyone where I was comin’, I just picked Fireside and booked it and took the jet and left Los Angeles.” He laughed. “But they found me now, so I guess it’s out there.”  He looked down, taking a deep breath. “Anyway.” Logan cleared his throat, bringing his gaze back up to you. “As soon as I hung up with Jules, I contacted my lawyers to see if anything could be done about them usin’ me for advertisement, photographing me for profit and releasing a video that makes it seem like I’m stayin’ there, or that that dinner was more than it was.” Oh, no. You felt yourself deflate further, feeling guilty for the way you’d verbally attacked Logan. 

 “Logan, you don’t have to explain yourself, I -” He stepped closer again, nodding. 

 “I do. I really think I do, because I need you to understand.” He drew out the last word, eyes locked on yours. “So after I talked to the lawyers, they advised me that I can in fact go after them for lying about where I’m stayin’, but only if I disclose where I really am, and why I’m here.” He shook his head. “And I don’t wanna do that, not yet. It’s not... “ He stopped, looking out the window, and you let him have a few moments of silence, studying the side of his face. “I didn’t want to throw you guys under the bus.” Logan looked back at you. “So I called Emma, asked if she wanted to see me again, asked if she wanted me to come over for a while.” Fuck. “All I wanted was to get her talking - that’s it.” He closed the distance even further between the two of you, and your eyes were locked on the bruising on his skin, the angry scrape next to his eye. “She said yes, of course.” Logan licked his lips again. “So I went. Left about 10:30, and the snow was bad already, but my privacy… it’s important to me, especially now.” You nodded, feeling one of Logan’s hands move up to your hip, fingers tightening slightly. 

 “Lo-”  He shook his head, pulling you closer to him and you allowed it, wanting to know where the story was going - how he’d ended up in the ditch, why he’d called you, what had happened in those two and a half hours. 

 “So I get to her house, and she’s all dressed up, like we’re goin’ out somewhere, and I tried to be nice, I tried  to keep it civil, but the first thing out of my mouth was ‘got anymore cameras set up, Emma?’ and she was not happy.” You laughed, despite the situation, and were happy to see the corners of Logan’s mouth lift up, too, his cheeks going round for a split second. “But she invites me in, right? And we go into her living room, and her phone is going nuts too, it’s on the coffee table.” He shook his head. “And so she immediately tries to kiss me again, and I stopped her, said we had a lot to talk about, said that I wanted to know what she was trying to gain from releasing the pictures and video.”

 “She said she was going to post pictures of the two of you, Logan, but I didn’t think…” You shook your head. “I should have told you, but I didn’t think it was going to be this - maybe just a picture of the two of you in the restaurant…”

 “Nah,” he continued, his other hand settling on the other side of your body. “Instead she’s trying to convince everyone that I’m here and interested in her or her resort, based on a few pictures and an hour and a half of my time.” He grinned. “I spent longer than that with you in the car on the way from the airport.” He winked. “But, lemme talk, alright?” You nodded, allowing yourself to lean into Logan slightly, hands resting on the bare skin of his arms and moving with him as he stepped backwards, toward the couch. “So we talked for a little while, and she kept flirting, and finally, after an hour or so of bullshit, I asked her point blank what it was going to take to get the pictures taken down and a statement issued that I’m not only interested in investing in Snow King, but that I’m not interested in her, ether.” Oh, no. 

 “She didn’t like that, did she?” You pulled away from him and sat, waiting for him to do the same. When he was comfortable, Logan reached over, taking your hand and moving his fingers over the Teton Village bracelet you were still wearing. “They’ve got money, Logan, she can make -”

 “Not as much as I do.” His eyes were hard. “And their lawyers aren’t as good as mine.” He raised an eyebrow. “Trust me on that, after the shit I’ve been through, an unlawful use case is nothing to me.” He shrugged, leaning forward. “I told her that I was trying to do things without involving anyone else, just… asking her to take them down, to issue an apology, to say that I’m not staying there, that guests won’t possibly see me…” Is this what his life is like all the time? “She said no, of course, and then tried to convince me that there was no harm in a little buzz, no… fuck, nothin’ wrong with letting everyone think there’s something going on between us.” 

 “But that’s not what you want. Logan. You just wanted to be here and enjoy the holiday, and…” You stopped, looking down. “I misjudged you, Logan. Again. Because I was jealous, and I saw the one thing I didn’t want to see: you kissing someone I know.” Neither of you spoke until you felt Logan’s hand on the side of your face, urging you to look back at him. 

 “You were jealous of her?” You nodded, ashamed at the admission. You’d known him for only a few days, and you were jealous that someone else had gotten the chance to kiss him, to touch him. “What happened with her was nothin, darlin’.” Logan shook his head, still staring at you. “What about me, hmm?” Furrowing your brow, you watched as he nodded his chin toward the front of the house. “You hangin’ misteletoe in here so that you can kiss anyone that walks in under the guise of ‘holiday tradition’?” Oh, I forgot about that. You turned your head to look in the direction Logan was, his fingers still against your jaw and trying not to laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

 “No, Logan, that’s… Elle used to hang it there when I was growing up, and I just always…” You trailed off as you turned back toward him, and were met with Logan’s face much closer than it had been, his long torso leaning forward. “Logan!” You gasped his name, watching as he stared at you intently. “I’ve never actually kissed anyone under the…” His eyes lit up and he leaned back before standing, pulling you to your feet by both hands and tugging you across the room until you were standing in your entryway, directly beneath the greenery. “What are you doing?” 

 “It’s almost Christmas,” Logan replied, shrugging his shoulders and reaching up with a hand to put his palm against the back of your head, his other arm wrapping around your waist. “And you said you’ve never kissed anyone under mistletoe.” He leaned down, slowly closing the gap between the two of you and you swallowed, getting lost in his eyes. “I’m gonna change that.” You registered the nodding of your head right before his lips met yours, pressing harder than they had on the mountaintop. You also registered a surprised little noise coming from the back of your throat as he curled his fingers into your hair, pulling you closer. Your hands fisted in his t-shirt, and though you were disappointed when he pulled away, he didn’t go far. “Now that that’s taken care of,” Logan breathed the words out, his forehead pressed against yours. “Let me finish my story.” You nodded, gripping his shirt tighter and hating yourself for it, but waited without speaking. “She said no, said she was keeping the pictures up, because it didn’t matter, even if they were taken down, they’d still exist. And she’s right, but that’s not the point.” 

 He went quiet, rocking slowly back and forth with you in his arms, thumb moving over your lower back as he paused. Something’s coming, I don’t know what it is, but I feel it. Thirty seconds passed, and just as you were about to say something else, Logan spoke again. 

 “So, I finally realized that she wasn’t going to agree because she didn’t think she’d done anything wrong.” He was speaking quietly, words for only you to hear, and you heard an anxiety in his voice. “Everyone thinks… they know me, but they don’t.” He sighed - deeply - and went on. “I think she thought I was joking, or that I was just trying to see… she suggested that the pairing would be ‘mutually beneficial’ as if I need to fake a relationship with someone like her for publicity.” He scoffed and you swallowed hard at the way he was jumping back and forth between emotions. I couldn’t do it. “So I walked out, after telling her that she had 48 hours to take the images down, or at the very least, explain them… or she’d be hearing from my lawyer.” Oh, shit. 

 “She won’t take them down, Logan.” He nodded again, the hand sliding from the back of your head to the side of your face, his fingertips moving over the smooth skin of your cheek and comforting you in a way that you’d never felt before. “She could be watching this right now, and it wouldn’t matter, in her mind, you’re already hers.” 

 “See, I think that that’s untrue.” He kissed your cheek, lips lingering. “I’m not hers, and I won’t ever be, there’s no way…” He broke off and you felt the skin of his forehead wrinkle against yours as he thought. “But when I pulled out of that driveway and headed back here, I wasn’t thinking straight. And the weather was horrible, it took me almost 30 minutes to get to where you found me.” Should have taken less than ten.”I wasn’t paying attention, and then that fuckin’ moose was right there, and the next thing I know, the car’s off the road and I’m stuck.” Logan’s lips fell against your skin again. “I got out because was gonna see if I could push myself back onto the road, but then I slipped and said ‘fuck it’... and I was just gonna call 911 but I didn’t want to… people make certain assumptions about me, and a 2 am car accident on top of the Emma thing?” He shook his head. “No. So I called you, because there’s no one else I knew that I could… that would… I wanted you to come, even though it was dangerous, because…” He stopped speaking, waiting, and you felt how hard he was breathing. 

You raised a hand up, careful to only touch the uninjured side of his face, your thumb pressing lightly beneath his eye before your hand moved further up, fingers disappearing into his hair as you pushed it away from his face. It’s so soft, how is it so soft? “I’m glad you called, Logan.” He smiled again, leaning in to your touch, but instead of giving him a chance to respond, you raised yourself up, meeting his mouth with yours. Though he was surprised and you felt im take in a deep breath, he didn’t pause or pull away. You closed your fingers around as much of his hair as possible, pulling, and Logan rewarded you by parting his lips, a soft grunt the only thing you heard. You were ready, sliding your tongue past his lips and into his mouth without hesitation at the noise. Do it. 

 Logan’s hands wandered the curves of your body as you kissed and he pushed you backwards, your back hitting the wooden molding of your entryway wall with surprising force. You’d started this kiss - the first real kiss between the two of you - but it took Logan very little time to take control, his hand back behind your head and tangled in your hair as he changed the angle of the kiss, making it feel as if he was trying to devour you with every stroke of his tongue against yours. You were breathless by the time Logan pulled away, his own chest heaving and his eyes as wide as you’d ever seen them. Somehow, his free hand had worked its way underneath your sweater during the kiss, the entire thing pressed against the small of your back; strong fingers flexing against your bare skin. He leaned in, taking your lower lip between his teeth and sucking for long moments before releasing it and pulling your head to the side, lips finding the skin of your neck easily as he kissed his way across your throat. 

 He stood upright, straightening his back and looking at you with an uneasy expression on his face. “There’s somethin’ else I need to tell you.” Still unsteady, you nodded, dropping your hands to his shoulders and squeezing, waiting. What else? “I probably shouldn’t have done that before you knew.” What? “I’m not lookin’ to buy anything in Jackson Hole, or invest there.” He took a breath, and you were surprised to hear how shaky it was. “But I didn’t pick Fireside by accident, and I’m not just here on vacation. That’s part of it, but...” What? “I want to buy it.” 

--- 

[jewishaxelwalker]

Driving Faster, Windows Down

It’s that Lyft driver AU I said I’d write back in 2017, finally finished after 10 months. Also available on AO3.

It was an abnormally slow Friday night.

Axel’d been driving around aimlessly for a while, patiently waiting to be pinged for a fare, but no one was biting. Keystone had a good public transit system, and its people were abnormally obsessed with cars, but that didn’t mean that there weren’t tourists out there that’d rather take a Lyft than a taxi. Maybe they just hadn’t made the switch from Uber yet. Like come on, read your Facebook sidebar sometime.

His phone made a noise, and Axel jumped. It was just Joey calling, so he put him on speaker.

“You’re on with Ron.” He deadpanned, and on the other end of the line, Joey snorted.

“Dead night?”

“I’d get more action in a graveyard, dude.”

Joey laughed out loud, and Axel pulled into a Shell station. No need to roll and waste when he wasn’t getting fares to fill his gas tank. He and Joey chatted for a bit about the usual junk; Axel’s online classes were inane, Joey’s brother was still bugging him about moving to Gotham so he could use him as a free babysitter (”Seriously dude, how the hell is your niece so cute? Jack is as pug-ugly as they come.”), Kesha’s Instagram feed, the Combines having yet another fantastically losing season-

And then his phone pinged with a ride request. Three blocks away. Single passenger, some shitty little motel not a mile from the airport.

“Gotta go, man. I think I’m about to be some flight attendant’s ride of triumph.” He hated the other term. Getting laid was nothing to be ashamed of.

“Oh, sweet. If she’s hot and heading to Gotham, I’ll be on the next flight.” Axel shook his head, switching the bluetooth back to his Google Play. Hitting on customers was how Joey’d gotten dismissed from his last two jobs. He loved his best friend, but thinking with his dick was gonna get Joey killed someday.

And failing to pay attention to who he was picking up was going to get Axel killed. He didn’t even glance at the passenger notification until he’d pulled into the motel parking lot. He was expecting a blonde Cindy or a brunette Sharona, not a redheaded Owen.

“Axel?” The guy asked as he climbed into the back seat, and Axel swallowed hard.

“The one and only.” Owen grinned, and there was a slight chance Axel gunned it a bit too hard on the way out of the parking lot.

Axel liked driving for Lyft because he got to meet a lot of new and interesting people he could subject to his musical taste. Yeah, some of his passengers were hotter than others, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be getting the Indie Girl Kitchen treatment.

“You got any preference, or can I just put on whatever?” He asked, flicking through his playlists as they waited at the light. Owen frowned.

“Maybe something chill? I’ve been stressing out of my mind for the last two hours, and I don’t want to look like a psycho when I get there.” Axel immediately flicked over to artists. Fuck the playlists, Owen was getting The Valley. Yeah it was a breakup album, but it was also the best thing he’d heard all year and it relaxed him like nothing else.

Owen sank back into his seat as the album started. Axel wondered if he should interrupt what was clearly going to be a pivotal moment in his life with small talk, but Owen beat him to it.

“Is it a slow night or something? You were there less than three minutes after I called for a ride.” Axel shrugged, glancing up at the rearview mirror. Owen was watching him intently.

“It’s always slow in this town but yeah, tonight was dead. Pretty much the only people that use Lyft are teenagers with no cars and tourists. Driving is a huge thing in Keystone.” His eyes wandered to the mirror again, but Owen was looking out the window now. “Where you from?” The accent had a northeastern touch to it, but Axel couldn’t quite place the state.

“Oh, uh, Gotham. But if tonight goes good, I’m probably gonna end up moving here.” Owen cut himself off by sticking his index finger in his mouth, chewing on the nail. “Hey, can I like, vent something? Taxicab Confessions style?” Axel nodded, not wanting to interrupt what was bound to be an excellent bit of wordvomit. “So uh, my foster mom died two weeks ago.”

“Holy shit man, I’m sorry-“ He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, berating himself. No more outbursts. “But go on.” Owen bit his lip, staring down at his hands.

“My foster mom died two weeks ago. I mean, I’m 23, I’ve been on my own for a few years now, but we still kept in touch. She raised me from when I was 8. She was my mom. I was in her will and everything. What she left me was, uh, well aside from some money and a few of her things, she left me the ability to find my dad. My biological dad. He’s been living in Keystone for like ten years now, and she tracked him down ages ago when she found out that he’d been looking for me. She told him that I was healthy and happy and not to fuck up my life by coming into it unless he meant to stay and raise me.” They were lucky for the traffic. Some Kinda Wonderful slid into You Can Cry Tomorrow, and Owen cleared his throat.

“I can turn this off, if it’s bothering you.” Axel offered, but Owen just shook his head.

“No, I like it. Anyway, I got in contact with him last week. He told me he’d book me a flight as soon as he could, because he’d been waiting years to meet me. Which leads to today. I told him not to pick me up at the airport, that I’d meet him for dinner somewhere, and I’m kinda freaking out? I don’t even know what he looks like. I mean, what if we look nothing alike, and he loses it because I look like the mom I’ve never met? What if we look a lot alike and it turns out I’m gonna age like shit? And those are just the petty, superficial fears!  Like, what if his family has a history of cancer or depression or erectile dysfunction or something?”

Axel started when he realized that Owen’s question didn’t seem to be rhetorical. 

“I think it might be a good idea to just breathe, Owen. Start with the simple stuff, like how you both probably loved Pacific Rim, then get down to the medical histories.” Owen was looking at him again, his mouth quirked in a crooked little grin. “What?”

“I totally loved Pacific Rim. I lost my shit when Cherno Alpha got taken down by Leatherback.” Axel could fall in love with this man. He could. Owen wasn’t protesting The Valley and remembered details about Pacific Rim. It didn’t hurt that he was hotter than the surface of Mercury.

He selfishly hoped that the traffic would keep up the glacial pace. It didn’t, of course, and they were at the restaurant less than a song later.

“I’m sure your dinner will go fine. And if it doesn’t, just call for a Lyft. I’m pretty sure I’m one of like six people driving tonight for the whole city, you can vent again.” Which wasn’t an exaggeration, Lyft just had not taken off in Keystone the way it had in places like Gateway City and Metropolis. Sometimes when he was strapped for cash, Axel crossed the bridge into Central and got fares there. They had a different center of industry, after all. Owen was smiling again, actually smiling, and it felt like his heart had crawled up into his throat.

“I’ll keep that in mind. And, thanks man. For the ride and. Yeah.” Owen reached out, snagging his hand and giving it a little squeeze. He left behind a $10 bill. “Hope I get you again sometime.”

After Owen left, Axel lurked in the area until after midnight. No pings ever came. It was disappointing, but it also meant that Owen and his father had peacefully reconnected, which was nice. He turned off his active status and drove home.

***

A few weeks passed and slowly, Axel began to forget about his handsome passenger. School let out for summer, which meant fares by the dozen. His grades came back eventually, and as he’d expected, he’d aced everything. Joey’s brother finally wore his best friend down.

“I still can’t believe you’re actually moving to Jersey.” He complained one night while they packed up Joey’s half of their apartment. Jack had paid Joey’s part of the rent for the next six months, more than enough time for Axel to find a new roommate, but still.

“Moving back to Jersey,” Joey reminded him. “And me neither. But Janice has had to travel a lot for work lately, and they don’t want Becky to be raised by some nanny.” 

“You better come back to visit.” Axel grumbled, shoving the contents of one of Joey’s drawers into a box a bit harder than necessary. “So I can show off how awesome my new roommate is.”

Joey went quiet, the clacking of DVD boxes coming to a slow halt. “You already found someone?” Axel sighed.

“Dude. I haven’t even put out an ad yet. I’ve got six months of walking around naked without someone yelling at me to get some damn pants on to savor, first.”

They laughed, and Joey pulled him into a hug.

“I’m gonna miss the hell out of you, Ax. Now c’mon, my flight is in two days, and we’ve still gotta get all this shit to UPS.”

At least one upside to this moving business, Jack was footing the bill for everything. Which meant that Joey’s few boxes of possessions that wouldn’t fit into his plane luggage were making it to Gotham in style.

All too soon, it was time to make their way to the airport.

“Don’t let the new guy do anything weird to my room.” Joey said. “And you lay down the fuckin’ law in regards to all prog rock.”

“Yes to Yes, Rush can suck dicks in hell.” It had been literally the first thing Joey had said to him two years ago, when he’d shown up at their apartment, looking to rent the other room. “You call me when the plane lands, okay? Like, from the runway.” They hugged again, and Axel felt his spine pop a little when Joey lifted him off the ground.

As soon as Joey was through his gate, Axel turned his Lyft notifications back on. He was already at the airport, after all, and it wasn’t like Jack was throwing in money for groceries. Within seconds of making it to his car, the app pinged with a ride request. The name made him blink, a grin spreading out onto his face.

Owen M is requesting a ride.

He met Owen back at the same terminal he’d just left, taking note of the pair of huge canvas duffel bags. The dinner with his dad must have gone amazingly well.

“Axel!” Owen was all smiles when he hopped out of the car to help him with his bags. “Man, you really are the only Lyft driver in this city, huh?” Axel snorted.

“Nah, my roommate needed a ride. He’s moving back to Gotham, to be closer to his family.”

“What a coincidence, that’s exactly what I’m doing here.”

When they stood side by side to shove everything into the trunk, Axel noticed that he was a good foot shorter than Owen. Yowza. 

Don’t pull a Joey, you’re good at this driving shit.

As they left the airport and got onto the highway, Axel wondered what he should say. Should he ask about Owen’s flight? The route he was taking wasn’t leading to the motel, but to a residential area. He was probably going to be staying with his dad while he looked for an apartment. In the end, it was Owen who drew first blood.

“I looked up that album you were playing when I got back home, it was really killer." 

I need to call my mom, because I’ve met the man I’m going to marry.

“Yeah?” He said instead, feigning casual. “Which songs did you like best?”

“Wellll...the cover of that Donna Lewis song was somehow earworm-ier than the original, but Blue Heaven Midnight Crush definitely did the most for me. The rest of the songs were so sad, when you actually listened to the lyrics. But that one, it’s so hopeful. I like songs like that.” Giving random strangers mixtapes was weird, right? It was definitely weird, calm down. “Oh, so in case you couldn’t tell, I live here now. My dad is putting me up until I find a place of my own.”

Thank god, a change of subject.

“You shouldn’t have too much trouble, plenty of people out there are looking for roommates.” A glance in the rear view mirror showed that Owen was watching him intently. “What?”

“Didn’t you just ship your roommate off to Gotham?”

Bad idea bad idea bad idea.

“Yeah, well. You could probably find a better part of town to live in-” Owen grinned, and Axel’s hands gripped the wheel hard enough to dent it. “I don’t even need to put out an ad for a couple of months, his half is paid up for a while.”

Mercifully, they soon pulled up in front of an unassuming apartment building not ten blocks from his own. Owen caught his eye in the mirror again, then glanced away.

“Hey, maybe this is weird but, would you mind if I gave you my number? It could be cool to have a local to hang with that isn’t my dad.” As if on cue, a tall-ish, pudgy man with auburn hair rushed out of the building, practically ripping the driver-side rear door open.

“Owen! I got th’ day off after all! Did yeh flight get in early?” The man had an accent that was definitely not from around here.

“This is your local?” Axel asked, eyebrow raised, and Owen laughed.

“He’s lived here for like, a decade. He knows which Denny’s is the good Denny’s, and that’s all that matters.”

“No such thing as a good Denny’s.” Axel and Owen’s father said, practically in unison, and Axel groaned, head thunking to the steering wheel. I’ve been set up.

“Friend of yers, Owen?” The older man asked curiously, looking Axel up and down as he got out and popped the trunk. “Bit young, innit he?”

Axel huffed as he helped Owen drag out one of his insanely heavy duffels. “I’m 20. And what the fuck is in here man, a dead body?”

“Close, it’s the bones of the guy that took me to the airport back in Gotham.” Owen was cheeky, when he wasn’t anxious. That was. Definitely dangerous. “So...your number? That way I can just throw you gas money next time I need a ride somewhere.”

“I knew you had ulterior motives. Everyone only wants me for my sweet wheels.” Axel replied dryly, but he grabbed a marker from his center console anyway, scribbling his number on Owen’s wrist. Owen grinned down at him as Axel kept hold of his wrist a few seconds longer than necessary, and that’s when his father reasserted his presence. 

“And I’m George!” He said, a bit too loudly to be casual. “Folks called me Digger. And you are, boy that’s bound to be ‘round for tea at some point?” Owen snorted, lips clamped shut to keep from laughing.

“Axel.” He was good at parents, parents always loved him. Other people’s parents, at least. “I’m one of the two Lyft drivers in town. I actually live like, two miles from here.”

That admission sent Digger off on a spiel about some restaurant in the area that had kicked him out last year, and Axel suddenly realized why he’d had a prickling feeling of familiarity this whole time. “I was there for that!” Digger stopped himself mid-sentence, jaw going slack. “Yeah, you got kicked out of Marcela’s at like, one in the morning after you tried to fight the waiter and he totally-” Kicked your ass, Axel didn’t say, but the sentiment hung in the air regardless. “I’m uh. Gonna go. I think I have another ride.”

He didn’t, but it sped up the process of getting Owen’s bags out of his car. Axel drove around aimlessly for a little bit afterwards, his phone off in the passenger’s seat. He only turned it on again once he was in his apartment, and it immediately rang.

“Dude I’ve been calling for like an hour I almost hopped back on the goddamn plane.” Axel sighed, flopping down onto the couch, kicking off his shoes. 

“I miss you too, buddy. How’s that glorious Gotham smog?”

“Like a party in my lungs and everyone’s throwing up. Why was your phone off?” The sigh was deeper this time, and Axel thunked his head against the arm of the couch a few times.

“Remember that guy I told you about, from a month back? Well...” As he spilled out the story, Joey helpfully laughed at him. Multiple times. “Hey, shut up. Unlike you, I don’t make a habit of chasing down every warm body that turns my head.”

“Yeah but also unlike me, you’ve dated like, half a person in all the time I’ve known you.” He had a point. “And does it really count as a date if the guy leaves the theater halfway through to-”

“Point taken!” Axel yelped, frowning at the continued buzzing in his ear. “Were you blowing up my texts, too? I’ve got like ten.”

“Don’t look at me, you know my fingers don’t like texting.” It was true, Joey had hands the size of Axel’s head. Which meant- 

“Oh my god he’s been texting me almost this whole time, what do I do.”

“Depends, there an unsolicited dick pic in there?”

“Joey! Also, no.”

Sorry about that, my dad can be...a lot :( But I promise he’s lonely and weird in a good way.

I honestly didn’t think you were 20, btw. I was convinced a fetus had somehow conned its way into the DMV.

That was a joke.

Shit you probably don’t text and drive. Which is good, don’t text and drive.

It’s wild that it’s only like 7pm. My body is convinced it’s later. I mean I know Keystone and Gotham are only an hour apart, but this city goes to sleep earlier.

Do you wanna get something to eat? I don’t start my job until Monday, so I have like three days to kill and I want to explore things.

The city, I mean.

Oh my god I’m just blowing up your phone like some kind of desperate creep I’m so sorry

If on the off chance you haven’t blocked me, I’m walking over to the park we passed on the way to my dad’s place, to bang my head against a tree for a while

“...wow, he’s a loser.” Axel snorted but honestly...yeah, he kinda was.

“He’s a cute loser. And he likes my music.”

“Keeper.”

“Definitely. I’ll call you tomorrow, Joey. I’ve gotta go save some trees.” Just as he was about to hang up, his friend got in one last jab.

“So when he eventually moves in with you next week, turn my room into a game room so I don’t have to think about you two fucking in there.”  There was a click as Joey disconnected, and Axel covered his face with his hands.

***

The park, funny enough, was only two blocks from his house so instead of wasting gas, Axel grabbed a hoodie off the hook by the door and walked over. He was halfway there before he realized that the jacket he was wearing was one of the ones Joey had shrunk in the wash and left behind. Still didn’t fit him right.

By the time he’d made his way past the last few joggers and couples out for a nice little nighttime stroll and spotted Owen, the taller man was fully laying down on a bench near the small playground, messing with his phone. Moments later, Axel’s own phone buzzed.

I’m by the playground, because I’ve knocked down every tree in the park.

“Yeah, I noticed the path of destruction on the way over.” Axel said as soon as he was close enough, and Owen visibly jumped.

“Jesus! I didn’t think you’d get here that fast! Or at all, really. I was pretty sure I’d basically destroyed the chance of you ever wanting to see me again by sending you fifty texts in under an hour.” Axel shrugged, perching on the very edge of the bench until Owen got the message and sat up properly.

“Man, don’t even worry about it. I’ve screwed up at least one thing a day, every day, my entire life. I’m like a unicorn! Of failure.” That caused Owen to laugh, and Axel grinned to himself. “So what caused you to flee into the night this soon after coming to town, huh?”

Owen coughed, looking down at his feet. The playground was covered in tire mulch, and it looked like some of the bits had made their way into his boots. “So uh. As it turns out, my dad has been seeing someone for a while, and it’s serious enough that he wants me to meet her and her kids sometime this week, because they’re probably going to end up moving in together within the year.”

Yikes.

“Wow that is. You weren’t kidding about your dad being a lot, huh?” Owen grimaced. “Don’t tell me it gets better?”

“The woman he’s been seeing is my biological mom."

Well, holy shit.

Owen ended up spilling the story over the course of the next few minutes, about how his dad and mom had dated briefly years ago, she’d gotten pregnant, and her family had forced her to cut off all contact with Digger and put the baby up for adoption...only for her to run off with a man they absolutely hated (but who was, by all accounts, basically the best guy ever) a few years later. She and the other guy had gotten married, she’d given birth to a pair of twins, and then a few years after that, the guy just up and dies on her. She and the kids bounce around the States for a while, finally settling down across the river from her shitty family that, despite everything, still want to be in her life and get to know her sons. She and Digger ran into each other at the supermarket a couple of months before Owen contacted him, and-

“He didn’t even tell you that your mom was back in his life?! Man, that’s about twenty times the legal limit on ‘a lot’.”

“To be fair-” Axel made an angry little noise, and Owen winced. “To be fair, she’s the one who’s scared as hell to meet me. I mean, she was like, your age when she gave me up. Then she just turned around and started another family without bothering to even try and find me. Dad says that Meloni, that my mom, she’s felt guilty for the last 23 years. Because I’ve been out here all this time, becoming a person, and she doesn’t know anything about me.” There was a little hitch in Owen’s voice there, and they both got very still. “Ah, shit. Ah, geez man I’m-”

“Parents ain’t shit sometimes, even when they’re trying their best.” Axel said quietly, reaching over to hold onto Owen’s elbow. “I uh, I’ve kinda been on my own a while, too. I moved in with Joey like, three months after I turned 18. And, and my situation ain’t anything like yours, but I get it, you know?”

Owen propped the elbow Axel wasn’t holding up on his knee, resting his cheek on his closed fist. Go on, then, his eyes seemed to say in the reflection of the dim lights that were flickering on around the playground. Tell me a story, weird boy. 

The summer before his senior year in high school, Axel’s mom found out Axel’s dad was banging one of his coworkers. They filed for divorce later that same month. Dad moved out, and mom and Axel spent the entire school year selling off or hiding anything valuable he might try and take in the divorce proceedings. They sold the house and split the money down the middle. Dad, now living with his coworker (soon to be fiance), told Axel he couldn’t live with him. Mom, who was planning on taking off for middle-of-nowheresville, Iowa to stay with some cousins, told him that he was welcome to come along, but she’d understand if he wanted to stay, as he’d been accepted to a couple of in-state colleges. He couldn’t afford to go to them, but he also didn’t want to leave the only city he’d ever known.

He stayed. He got a million different shitty jobs. He found a good roommate after one or two bad starts. He enrolled in online classes. He managed to save little odds and ends here and there, enough to do some fun shit, like buy the albums he really liked on vinyl like some kinda hipster, and see a couple of movies a month in the theater. He could afford Netflix, so long as Joey paid for their joint Hulu account. He wasn’t living the dream, but he also wasn’t just straight up surviving. He had a life.

“And then one day, I picked up this weird ginger from a shitty motel by the airport, and here we are.”

Owen was quiet for a while, just watching him and processing. Finally, he spoke.

“When do you turn 21?” Axel blinked.

“Uh, April 17th.” Owen scowled. “What?”

“Well this just means you’re gonna need to wait outside or in an alley or something while I buy liquor, because I think we both need a drink right goddamn now.”

***

In the end, Axel managed to convince Owen to just meet him back at his apartment with his booze. The walk from the park to the closest liquor store should take about half an hour for someone who doesn’t know the area and is just going off their phone’s GPS, which gave him a solid hour to turn the half-empty wreck that was his home into something presentable.

Joey was, of course, in hysterics.

“You’re telling me that not only is he coming back to your place after the two of you had a heart to heart in a public park, but he’s planning on bringing alcohol, which you’re actually planning on drinking?! Was it me? Was I the one holding you back from reaching your true potential? I’ve been gone like half a day and you’re already on the track to getting hella laid.” 

“I’m not gonna get laid.” Axel protested, throwing the boxes they’d never gotten around to taking to the homeless shelter into Joey’s room, as well as the small stack of empty pizza boxes from his goodbye party the week before. “We’re gonna watch a movie, I’m gonna try not to hate beer for once, maybe he’ll crash here. Nothing’s gonna happen.”

“Dude...it took me like a month to get you to tell me the deal about your folks. This guy just levels the right look at you and you’re singin’ like a canary. You’re gonna have one beer and just throw yourself at him.”

“So then I won’t drink, and we’ll just watch the various Jurassic Park movies until we fall asleep.” The couch pillows were shitty, so he grabbed a couple of his own (one which was shaped like BB-8, the other that was shaped like R2-D2) from his room, as well as a blanket from his closet, just in case.

“We don’t have any of the Jurassic Park movies on- oh my god you’re gonna use Netflix.”

“Uh, obviously?” Axel replied, triple checking to make sure that there wasn’t any random embarrassing junk in the living room. “Why?”

“Axel. You’re gonna Netflix and chill. I’m so proud of you, my baby bird is finally leaving his nest.”

“You’re the worst friend I’ve ever had.” There was a knock on the door, and Axel froze. “I gotta go, he’s here.”

“There should still be condoms under the c-” Hanging up on Joey had never felt so good.

***

“Okay but like, what I wanna know is, if they clocked the T-Rex going like 30 miles an hour in the last movie, and she couldn’t catch a jeep, how come she can’t catch a single one of these people running away from her on foot in this one??? She’s been hunting wild for years, get your head in the game, girl!”

Axel might be a wee smidge drunk.

In his defense, Owen hadn’t come bearing beer, he’d brought whiskey. Whiskey with honey in it, that tasted amazing with the coke he had left in the fridge. He’d had almost an entire Flanigan’s cup already. Next to him on the couch, Owen laughed. He’d lost his boots during the second half of the first Jurassic Park, and currently had his legs slung over the arm, the bottle he was drinking from on the floor. He was using one of Axel’s stupid Star Wars pillows so that his head was propped up enough for him to actually see the TV.

“Jeff Goldblum is a shitty dad.” He said, words muffled a little by the way BB-8 was pressing against his cheek. “Also doesn’t he have like, three kids? I thought he said he had three kids. Where are the other two?”

“Safe, somewhere that’s not an island filled with fucking dinosaurs!” Axel yelled that last part, causing his downstairs neighbor to throw something hard at the ceiling. “Sorry, Mrs. Oberman!” He went to take a long sip from his cup, finding it empty. “Oh...shit...I should probably like. Get some water. You want some water?” His legs buckled as he tried to stand, sending him toppling back down to the couch with a surprised yelp. BB-8 slipped out from under Owen’s head as he laughed at him some more, reaching over to pat Axel on the arm.

“Chill, young padawan. Gimme your cup, I’ll get you some water.” Owen didn’t seem to have any trouble sitting up and walking around, the bastard.

“Why aren’t you drunk?” Axel demanded, taking his cup back with a frown. Owen just shrugged.

“I’m twice your size and give my liver regular workouts?” A good point. “You wanna pause this hot mess and go to bed?” Axel frowned. It was barely past midnight.

“You gonna be okay getting home? It’s late, and all.”

A look passed over Owen’s face, something that later, after a few aspirin and a shower, Axel would be able to identify as nerves. “I was actually thinking maybe I could...crash here? I’ll make you breakfast in the morning, promise.”

“If only all my dates were so nice.” Axel said dryly, then yelped in a very different kind of surprise. “Joking! Okay cool, goodnight!”

But again when he tried to stand, his legs refused to cooperate only this time, he fell directly into Owen’s lap, sitting sideways on his knees like some kinda princess. 

I’d like to die now please.

As though it was his default reaction to everything, Owen laughed.

“Hey hey, I’m not the kinda guy that expects multiple bases on the first date.” He was teasing him. Making fun of him. Awesome. “First base is perfectly fine. I’m honestly just happy to be up at bat.”

Or, maybe not.

“Was this a date?” Axel asked. He couldn’t rightfully tell, but his eyes felt huge. Disney-esque, even. Keep on the lookout for singing bluebirds, and shit. Owen didn’t stop grinning, though he did shake his head.

“I kinda wanted it to be like, the precursor to a date? Hang out, see if there’s more than just that ‘oh shit he’s cute’ vibe. And then my dad had to. Y’know. And it got real heavy real fast and-” Owen snapped himself out of his rambling before he got too far into it. “Anyway. Yeah. You’re cute, and you’re funny, and you’ve got good taste in music and movies. And I wanna know more about you, like what kinda toppings you like on your pizza, and where your ideal road trip destination would be, and what you look like when you get kissed senseless. But like I said,” Owen tilted his head just so, pecking a short kiss on the end of Axel’s nose. All of his freckles felt like they were glowing red-hot. “This wasn’t a date, and I like to think I’m the kinda guy that can wait until the first date to make a move.”

Oh. Oh, good lord. Oh man.

“O-Owen,” Axel started quietly, even as he felt his face get pinker and pinker. “I uh, I like black olives and sausage and extra cheese. And I wanna go to California some day, maybe check out Joshua Tree and Disneyland and LA, but hit the Grand Canyon and Vegas and Four Corners on the way there. And you uh, you already kissed me once, so like, maybe..?” He let out a nervous, helpless little giggle.

Owen snorted.

“What’s your last name?” He murmured, palms hot against Axel’s hips.

“W-Walker.” Axel stuttered, squirming when one of Owen’s thumbs found a ticklish spot on his side.

“Mine’s Mercer.” Owen replied, leaning in and pressing his lips a little too firmly against Axel’s. His scruffy little goatee was itchy, where it rubbed against his chin and lower lip.

Later, Owen would confess that he’d been trying to think of something suave and cool to say before kissing him. That he’d been worried that Axel would laugh at him, or hate the way his mouth felt, or a million other tiny anxieties that crawled through his brain whenever he got the opportunity to be with someone. Later, Axel would confess that he literally had no standards, because this was the first time he’d ever made out with anyone and if you asked him, Owen had done fine.

“Did we Netflix and chill?” Owen would ask the next morning, after they’d fallen asleep on the floor in a tangled heap of blanket and limbs and novelty pillows. And Axel would groan in return, from a combination of the intensity of his hangover, and Joey being right about something.

“Romance is dead.” He moans. And Owen would just laugh, kissing his forehead.

He disagrees.

[letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked]

Fall for You

A/N: Thank you, loves, for dealing with me and my laptop problems! I am trying really hard to get everything written and re-written (from the ones I lost)! It’s just been very busy these past few months! Anyways, enjoy! (Side note: I am Minnesotan, and the cabin is based off of my friend’s cabin! And this actually happened to me, because her puppy was a hyper little shit!)

Also, happy birthday (last Saturday) to @glitterquadricorn !! This is dedicated to you! Hope you enjoy it!

Summary: Soulmates are born with the tattoo of their significant other’s name over their heart.

Word Count: 4200ish (Holy shit this is so long LOL)

Masterlist

James Buchanan Barnes

Ever since I was a baby, my parents covered up the fact that I had a soulmate. I was never allowed to be babysat with the fear that someone would see the name scrawled across my little baby chest. When I was old enough to understand what the words on my chest meant, I was forced into hiding it – never to tell anybody that I had someone destined to be with me.

A supposedly dead someone.

When I was fifteen, I found the real reason my parents were so obsessed with hiding the name.

My parents were HYDRA.

They knew that Bucky Barnes – the man that I had learned about in the history books, the man whose name was tattooed over my heart, the man that was not allowed to be talked about in our household, and my parents’ killer – was The Winter Soldier. Not that they ever told me the truth, before their deaths. I was kept in the dark, my entire life. I was never aware that my famous soulmate was actually alive.

They took that secret to their graves.

I had been at school when it happened. I was standing in the lunch line with a few of my friends, chatting, when the principal and the freaking Secretary to the World Security Council – Alexander Pierce – pulled me out of lunch with grim looks on their faces. I had wondered if they had found out the name over my heart, but that was not the case. Instead, they pulled me into a room with a grief counselor and told me the news: my parents had been murdered.

I had no idea why Alexander Pierce – of all people – was there to tell me my parents had died, but I had been so consumed with grief that I had just brushed the thought aside.

I was not old enough to get emancipated, so I was sent to Minnesota to live with my grandparents. My grandparents had no clue that their daughter and son-in-law had been involved in something horrible like HYDRA. I didn’t even know, until a SHIELD army showed up at our home to question us. They thought that I would know something – anything – that could lead them to HYDRA, or The Winter Soldier.

There was nothing I could do.

My grandparents held a strong resentment towards my parents, after that. I did, as well, but they held on to that resentment until the day that they both died. Car accident. My grandfather had a stroke at the wheel and they had crashed. I had been staying at my cousin’s house for a wine and movie marathon, and got the call in the middle of the night.

More funerals. More loss. More pain.

My heart was broken.

I ended up coming into a lot of money, after that. My parents’ life insurance and my grandparents’ life insurance money all went to me. Way too much blood money for me. My cousin, Makayla, and I had decided to move in together, after that. She wanted to keep an eye on me, and I wanted someone who understood some of the pain that I was feeling. After all, those were her grandparents, too.

Makayla and I had moved into the cabin, which was nicer than most houses. It was more of a lake home, than a cabin, but she refused to call it anything else. She loved the thought of having a cabin on one of the many lakes in Minnesota. It was beautiful. Two stories, wrap around porch, deck coming off the porch, and a beautiful view of Moccasin Lake.

Once we had lived together for a while, I sat her down and told her everything that had happened with my parents. We talked about how I had learned that The Winter Soldier murdered them, when I moved in with our grandparents, how they resented my parents, and how my parents were actually bad people.

I had never realized, but I had held a lot of resentment towards them, as well. They were not supposed to die like that. They were never supposed to turn out as bad people. We were supposed to be the happy family that they convinced me we were. They were supposed to live long, full lives and I was supposed to meet my soulmate and have their grandchildren, and they were supposed to grow old.

“Haven’t you been keeping up with the news?” Makayla had said, eyebrows furrowed with concern, “They released a bunch of files on SHIELD and HYDRA. We could look at your parents’ files. Or files on The Winter Soldier.”

I hadn’t been keeping up, but after splitting 2 bottles of wine with her, we had decided to grab my laptop and start Googling.

“I- I can’t fucking read this.” I sniffed, tears streaming down my face as I stared at a file that contained photographs of my parents… In HYDRA uniforms.

“Well, do you want to see his file?” She asked, rubbing my shoulder in comfort. “The Winter Soldier’s file?”

I knew it would be a bad idea. I should have never Googled it.

James Buchannan Barnes.

My supposedly dead fucking soulmate was him.

He was The Winter Soldier.

The man who killed my family.

I had burst into tears. Makayla had no idea I had a soulmate. No one but my parents, and my grandparents, had known. After my initial break-down, I had to tell her.

“I cannot even begin to fathom what you are feeling right now, Y/n.” She sighed, wrapping her arm around my shoulders, “Do you want to stop?”

“No.” I sniffed, wiping under my eyes, “I need to know.”

I was not expecting what I had found. My heart broke. He was tortured. His mind was messed with so badly that he couldn’t even remember his own name.

The videos were awful. I could barely stomach watching them, but I couldn’t look away.

I had seen his picture many times, throughout my life. He was famous, after all. This man… The Winter Soldier… He was a broken shell of the man that I had learned about in all of my history classes. Gone was the man who had fought bravely in the war - alongside his best friend, Captain America. Instead, he was beaten into submission, broken, and controlled.

He didn’t even know he had me. His tattoo was practically gone. I could faintly see the first letter of my name, from his tattoo, but the rest was torn away. It had been replaced by the metal covering his shoulder and replacing his arm.

He didn’t know my name, anymore.

That was the moment I had decided to forgive him. The Winter Soldier was not my soulmate. James Barnes was my soulmate. Bucky. I just hoped that he was okay…

Makayla and I never talked about what we found. I couldn’t talk about it.

After that, I started keeping up with the news. I saw him a lot. Especially when he was a wanted fugitive after The Sokovian Accords. There was a lot of negative talk about him, and it had started to make me mad. I had forgiven him for my parents, why couldn’t other people forgive him, as well?

A year after Bucky went missing, he was spotted at The Avengers Tower. Apparently things had blown over. For the most part, at least. I could accept that. I just had to accept that I would never meet him. There was no way. He was too famous, and I wasn’t sure if he would even believe me. By then, I had come to terms that I was going to be alone for the rest of my life.

About two years after shit had blown over, fate decided that enough was enough.

I was mowing the lawn, and some man had stopped by, informing us that we had to sign Non-Disclosure Agreements about some people who had bought the abandoned cabin next door that shared a driveway with us. Not really caring about who they were, Makayla and I had signed the agreement.

I was shocked when I saw a team of workers completely renovating the cabin the next day.

Two fucking weeks. Two weeks of constant construction. To say that we were pissed was an understatement. Especially when they started working at the ass-crack of dawn, and didn’t stop until the sun was setting. It got worse after Makayla decided to take in her parents’ dog, Jarvis. He was a hyper, six year-old Golden Retriever – that was named after my Aunt’s admiration for Tony Stark. Every time there was a loud noise, he would bark like he was going to die.

It was horrible.

Thankfully, it was peaceful after those two weeks were up. Occasionally, there was voices or some music, but nothing we couldn’t handle. We hadn’t even met them, yet. They were barely ever there.

“Are you going to help me, or not?” Makayla snapped, pulling me from my thoughts. We were just about done staining our deck, and the heat was starting to get to her. It was 85 degrees (F) outside, with the sun beating down on us, and we needed to get it done before we lost the good weather for it to dry. “Why the hell are you wearing rain boots? You look ridiculous. Aren’t your feet on fire?”

“I kept hitting the bucket of stain,” I smiled, brushing one of the last few boards until it was well coated. “I didn’t want to get any more stain on my skin. This shit barely came off, last time.”

She rolled her eyes, continuing the task and slightly dancing to the loud music that was coming from her Bluetooth speaker on the cement porch.

The deck looked marvelous when it was done. It was a pretty big deck, built as an extension to our cement, wrap-around porch. The wood was nice and dark again, and would look nice on those days that we wanted to eat dinner and overlook the lake. The place was paradise.

“Hey, I think the neighbors are here, this weekend. I saw some people sitting on their deck, when I was mowing the lawn, earlier.” Makayla commented, as we put away the stain and brushes, “There’s a bunch of them. I was thinking about baking something and bringing it over there to introduce us. You in?”

“After I jump into the lake and cool down.” I was dying. It was too hot. I missed fall weather when it was 60 degrees and there was a breeze. That was perfect Minnesotan weather. “I’ll take Jarvis down with me, so he can jump in, too.” She waved me off, walking inside.

I found the dog sniffing the bushes in the front yard, and walked down to the dock with him, holding a stick for him to fetch. After a couple throws, Jarvis - spotting a small animal near the drying deck – took off towards the woods.

Stripping off my tank top – so I was just in my bikini and boots – I noticed that the group of people next door were heading to their dock and beach about 50 yards away. Some of them waved, and as I was waving back, I noted – in confusion – that they looked a bit familiar.

My thoughts were broken, though, as Jarvis decided to come running at me full force. He bumped my legs, sending me slapping against the water with a shriek.

Okay, that hurt. Idiot dog.

I kicked my legs to swim up, but was met with a great resistance. My boots were too heavy. What the fuck?! A surge of panic shot through my veins as I realized that my rain boots were full of water and causing my feet to sink into the muck and suction cup my feet in. Pull them off! I reached down and pulled at my legs and boots, trying to separate them. It was no use. The boots were stuck. I was stuck.

The panic was starting to build more and more, as I thrashed around under the water. I could see the surface. I was so close. The lake was not that deep at the end of the dock. I could faintly see the dog standing at the edge of the dock. I could see the sky, vision darkening as I desperately held my breath and tried to reach for the surface.

My chest was burning. A cold panic was setting into my bones. I needed to breathe. I had to, but I couldn’t. I would drown if I did.

I leaned down, clawing at my boots in distress.

Come on! Please! Let my foot go! Please, someone help me! Oh, fuck, this is not good.

There was an underwater explosion as someone had jumped into the water from my dock. I could faintly see somebody large swimming towards me, something glinting in the water catching my eyes as I tried to cover my mouth and nose with both hands, willing myself not to inhale the water. My vision was starting to darken from the lack of oxygen.

I felt large hands try and pull me up, but the boots were really sunk into the muck. The hands moved to my legs, yanking my feet out of the boots – by tearing the rubber – and freeing me. A cold, hard arm wrapped around my body as we shot upwards, towards the light.

As we broke the surface, I could hear the dog barking and people yelling. I choked as air finally filled my lungs. The person pushed me up onto the dock, rolling me onto the solid wood. I rolled to my side, coughing and shivering. A pair of small, warm hands lifted me into a sitting position, wrapping me in my towel that had been hanging from the boat lift.

“Holy shit, are you okay?” A woman’s voice came from my side, thick with a foreign accent.

I nodded, still coughing into my shaking wrist. I opened my eyes, shoving my hair out of my face.

HOLY SHIT!

My eyes widened in shock. The Avengers were crowded onto my dock. The Avengers. That means… I turned, and let out a shriek – startling everyone. BUCKY BARNES IS LITERALLY LESS THAN A FOOT AWAY FROM ME. I slapped my hand over my mouth in shock at my scream. Bucky Barnes was currently dripping wet, wrapped in a towel, staring at me in confusion. He saved me.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked, running his right hand through his wet hair and furrowing his brows.

Before I could answer, I heard Makayla scream from the cabin, “OH MY GOD, Y/N!” She was probably running across the wet deck in a panic, and probably creating foot prints in our hard work. I couldn’t look away from Bucky to look, though. I couldn’t stop looking at his eyes. His icy blue eyes, framed by thick, dark lashes.

He is gorgeous.

Clearing my throat, I tried to speak. “Sorry. Yeah, I’m alright.” I pulled my towel off to dry my hair a little bit. “Now I know why I had to sign the N.D.A.”

A chuckle came from behind me, as someone helped me up. Sam Wilson. “Well, luckily we were here, or this could have been really bad.”

“Y/n!” Makayla was in front of me with a dry towel, and I replaced my sopping wet one with the dry one to scrunch-dry my hair, “Oh my god, thank god you’re okay!” She crossed her arms with a serious look on her face, “I told you those boots were ridiculous.”

After rolling my eyes, I turned to face the group of people standing on the dock, “Sorry you guys had to come to my rescue.”

“Holy shit.” Sam laughed, nudging Steve Rogers, “Well, would you look at that!”

They were all staring at me. More importantly, they were staring at my chest.

My tattoo!

I moved my towel over my chest, cheeks turning red, “Um…” I turned to Bucky, who was staring at me in shock. His eyes were wide, and stance frigid. He looked ready to bolt. “Yeah, about that-”

“No.” Bucky’s voice was sharp, cutting me off.

My heart stopped. No? What does he mean ‘no’? “Excuse me?”

“No. This isn’t happening.” He grabbed my arm, roughly, with his metal hand, “Your tattoo is fake.”

I my jaw locked in anger, a hot rage surging through me. “Who the fuck do you think you are, accusing me of faking my tattoo, like some creep? I didn’t fake this!” I ripped my arm out of his grasp, rejection causing my heart to squeeze, painfully.

His icy eyes flashed with anger, “You’re lying!”

“Go fuck yourself.” I yelled, stomping towards the cabin, leaving the shocked group on the dock.

Unfortunately, Bucky followed me, and I didn’t get very far before he grabbed me and spun me around to face him, “How are you my soulmate?” His voice was laced with venom.

This was not how I had imagined us meeting, at all. This was the complete opposite of what I had imagined. I was not expecting the anger – on either side. “If anyone should be asking that question, it should be me, Winter Soldier!” I screamed, poking him in the solid chest, “Why would I want the man who killed my mom and dad as a soulmate, huh? What fucking sense does that make?” I slapped my hands over my mouth in horror. Oh, god, Y/n. He froze, mouth dropping open. I instantly felt horrible, and tears were threatening to spill over. I looked down to our feet in shame, “Oh, my god. I’m sorry. That was a terrible thing to say.”

“Is it true?” His voice was thick, and I could vaguely see his flesh hand start to shake, “Did- Did I kill your parents?”

“The Winter Soldier did.” I whispered, tears spilling, “Not you. I’m sorry I said that. I didn’t mean it.”

He shook his head, taking a step back from me. Then another. Then, he walked back to the cabin, but not before he could hide a tear that had slipped down his cheek.

My heart hurt so bad, I couldn’t catch my breath. What have I done? Why the fuck would I say something like that? That was so mean… Crap. Would it be more beneficial to talk to him, or to leave him be? It’s not like I really knew him, and I just offended the crap out of him… and probably hurt his heart worse than mine ever hurt.

“Well, that was unexpected.”

Turning, I saw Steve standing a few steps above me, arms crossed. I shook my head, thumb absentmindedly tracing my tattoo. “I’m a shit person.” Tears were still running from my eyes, leaving a hot trail down my cheek. “I want to go after him, but I don’t know if he will want to speak to me.”

“Everyone is going on a boat ride,” He smiled, “I think you guys should talk about… whatever just happened.”

Nodding, I looked down at my attire, “I should probably not have this conversation in a bikini. I’m going to go change, first.”

He let out a small chuckle, “Whenever you’re ready. He’s on the deck.”

I ran by him, yelling out a thanks. There were footprints on the deck, already, so I ran up the stairs on the deck and burst into the cabin. Makayla was still down at the dock, so I stripped on the way to my room.

As I was standing in my shorts and a sports bra, I heard a knock at the front door. What the hell?

Throwing on the first tank top I could find, I ran to the door. Bucky’s silhouette was in the frosted glass of the door – I could see the small glint from the sun shining on his arm and shoulder.

“Bucky?” I opened the door, anxiety burning in my chest, “I was just going to-”

“I’m sorry.” He cut me off, gazing at the script that was exposed at the top of my tank top, “I- I don’t even know what to say about your parents… and my behavior earlier-”

“Bucky. I was a dick, earlier, as well. You don’t need to apologize.” I grabbed his hand, pulling him into the cabin and shutting the door. “As for my parents, I forgave you a long time ago.”

“How?” He asked, letting go of my hand and sitting down on my couch in frustration, “How could you forgive me for that?”

“They were HYDRA.” I admitted, looking down at my feet. I heard his gasp, and I tried to explain quickly, “I didn’t know they were HYDRA. Not until people from SHIELD came knocking at our door to ask questions, but I saw their files when Natasha exposed everything on the web… including stuff about you.” I looked up, my eyes meeting his.

He flinched, shoulders stiffening, “Y-you saw the videos?”

Slowly stepping over to where he was stiffly seated on my couch, I leaned down to crouch in front of his rigid form. He looks so sad. I gently took both of his hands in mine, a small grimace on my face, “I did.” Staring down at his metal hand, I examined the little details carefully, running my fingers over the smooth, cool vibranium. “I am so sorry that happened to you. You didn’t deserve that. I forgave you a long time ago.”

He let out a shuddering breath, pulling me up from my crouch and into a hug, wrapping his arms fully around me. My arms wrapped around his waist, face pressed into the warmth of his chest. I could hear the fast thumping of his heart, and feel each shuddering breath fill his lungs. He buried his face into the hair at the top of my head, hot breath warming my scalp.

After a few minutes of silence, his arms loosened a little, “Can I see the tattoo?”

I leaned back, brushing my hair out of the way so he could get a better look at the script. His metal fingers left a cold trail as he gently traced his name that rested under my collarbones, causing goosebumps to spread across my body.

“My tattoo is ruined.” He murmured, continuing to trace his name, “The first letter is the only part that is still there. The rest got ruined.” He reached up, pulling the collar of his shirt down far enough for me to see, “Steve says that I was eager to find you in the 40’s – dating a bunch of dames in hopes that someday it would be you. When I got free from HYDRA… I thought you had died, and I didn’t even remember your name.”

“Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n.” I whispered, bringing my fingers up – cautiously – to touch the small letter of my name.

“It’s a beautiful name.” His eyes were closed as I traced my letter, and running my finger slowly along where the rest of my name should be. “I wish I was able to remember it. Steve remembered your first name, but nothing else.”

“I’m sorry. I should have sought you out. You could have known sooner.”

“Don’t apologize.” He brought his hand up to my cheek, warm flesh tracing along my cheekbone and stopping at my jaw, “I’m happy I finally found you.”

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I stared at his smooth lips. Taking a small chance, I leaned in and pressed my lips against his. He responded right away, pulling me closer and burying his flesh hand into my hair. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss. My breath caught in my throat and my arms wrapped themselves up and around his neck, pulling myself as close as I could. This was the greatest moment of my life. I was finally kissing my other half. His soft lips fit perfectly against mine.

Pulling back for air, a small grin made its way to both of our faces as he leaned his forehead against mine, “Even better than I imagined.”

Things were going to look up. In both of our lives.

I was sure of it.

I finally had my other person.

James Buchanan Barnes.

My soulmate.

___

TAGS: (I do forever tags, if you want to join the party! *wink*)

@luckynumber1213  @castellandiangelo @sassyandclassyx @mrsnegan25 @impossiblepizzapeace @glitterquadricorn

[buttercream-me-up]

Crash // Maynard Brothers

Word Count: 1842

Summary- You get into a car crash, and suddenly your twin starts acting weird.

Warnings; car crash, mention of a coma, & swears? (don’t actually remember, this was written in like a 3 day span and I can’t be bothered to check.)

A/n; I thought I’d try a different writing style, tell me what you think?? Also I’m lowkey really happy with this one, but at the same time, I’m not. Idk. Let me know your thoughts.

Requested; Yes.

req; Is it ok if you do an imagine with jack? It takes place post car accident (with both reader and jack in the car, without jack, either is fine. You can even write the accident if you wanted idc) and he is TERRIFIED of you getting anywhere near a car? It's ok if you can't, I know it's a lot XD

*ITALIC WRITING- FLASHBACK

*NORMAL- PRESENT

-

“Can you pick up some Nando’s on the way home?” Jack asked, his voice playing through the car’s speakers. “Sure thing Jack.” You said, your eyes not moving off the road. You were thankful cars had Bluetooth, especially for calls. It made everything so easy. “Anything in particular you wan-” You began to say, but were cut off by a huge smashing sound, glass flying and the world spinning rapidly, before you hit your head and everything went black.

You shot up out of your bed, drenched in sweat. You had tears rolling down your cheeks, and you were panting heavily. You mentally cursed yourself for still shaking at the thought of that day. It still haunted you like a fresh wound; as if it were only yesterday. Even if for half of that period you weren’t awake, it was still hard to believe. You expected it to scar you, but you didn’t think it would be quite like this.

Beep. Beep. Beep. “Please, Y/N, please..” You faintly heard, the sound familiar, but indistinguishable. “I need you, please..” You groaned, the bright light nearly blinding you as you peeled open your eyes. The room you found yourself in was unfamiliar, ugly light yellow walls surrounding you and very bright long lights stretched across the ceiling. You weren’t sure where you were, but you knew it wasn’t your room.

The crash. Thankfully, no one got hurt. No one else, anyway. The truck that hit you spun out of control and smashed into the side of your car. You were in a coma for a month. Or so you were told. You struggled to wrap your head around the situation. A whole month. A whole month you were in complete darkness. It felt like mere hours, the distant beeps you now know was the heart monitor, a noise in the background of the dark abyss you found yourself in.

You rubbed your eyes. When you raised it, your arm felt slightly restricted, and you looked down, you realized there were IVs in your arm and hand. “What the..” You whispered, throat sore. “Where am I?” You rasped, as if you hadn’t spoken in weeks. “Y/N?” You looked up at the sound of a voice, your blue eyes meeting the concerned, yet relieved ones of your twin. “Jack?” You whispered, unable to speak fully with your dry, sore throat. Jack looked stunned, but shook his head, jumping up suddenly, running to the door and throwing it open. “Doctor! Nurse! She’s awake!” He called out to the room, and a bunch of people crowded in.

You shook your head. You knew you weren’t the only one who was suffering. For you, it was terrifying; and the worst part was; you didn’t even see it coming. You only felt the impact; mentally, and physically. Jack, on the other hand, was taking it harder than you. You couldn’t imagine what he’d been through in the last month. You on one hand, were trapped in the abyss of nothing, unknowing of time or anything around you. Jack had to spend every day, waiting agonizingly for his other half to wake up, praying she would come back. Praying you would come back. Maybe you would know, but he refused to look at you, let alone talk to you.

“Hello, dear. I’m a doctor. You’re in the hospital. Can you tell me your name, some facts about you and the last thing you remember?” A man told/asked you. “My name is Y/N Maynard, I’m 22 years old, and I have a twin brother named Jack, and older brother named Conor and a younger sister named Anna. Last I remember is driving my car and a loud crashing sound.” You said, slightly confused. The doctor smiled, though it was bittersweet, you didn’t know why. That’s when the news came. “You’ve been in a coma for a month, Y/N.”

Jack was always a very secluded person. He liked his feelings to stay his; to keep things to himself. Always, ever since you were a kid, you were his only exception. You were the one he’d go to for everything, from girl problems to anxiety attacks, you were his rock. Now, you felt like you were missing your other half. Jack had shut himself from not only you, but everyone. All his friends were worried, Conor was worried. You weren’t worried. You were absolutely terrified.

After the news, the doctors left, and you were sitting in silence. The door creaked, and in walked several sets of footsteps. The watery eyes of Conor, Anna, your mum and dad met your own, and a smile illuminated your face. “Hi.” You croaked, and they all ran over, squishing you in a Maynard hug. Except one. “Where’s Jack?” You asked, the pain evident in your groggy voice. “He said he needed time.” Conor whispered, tucking your hair behind your ears and scanning your face, as if unbelieving you were awake. “I’m sorry.” Conor said, he knew how much you wanted your twin, and he wasn’t there.

“Jack. Let me in.” You pleaded, banging on his door. “No.” He said, and you distinctively heard his voice crack. “Jack please..” “Leave me alone, Y/N!” He yelled, clearly annoyed. “No, Jack! Stop whatever this is! I want to know why you’ve shut me out since I got back! You didn’t even visit me in the hospital for god's sake!” You screamed, and the door swung open.

“Why not?” You asked, wanting to know at least a decent reason Jack wasn’t here. Conor looked at your parents, as if asking if he should tell you. They look to each other, unsure. Anna steps up to your bed, and only then did you notice the tears running down her cheeks. “He thinks it’s his fault.” She whispered, choking back a sob. You took in a sharp breath, completely stunned by the news.

“You wanna know why I wasn’t there? One month, Y/N! An entire month without my sister, without you! I watched you for weeks, sitting in absolute silence! I talked to you, and you didn’t reply! The doctors said you could’ve died! By the way things were going, I thought you already were dead! What the hell would I have done then? I need you! You’re the better half of me, and I’m scared, alright? I’m scared of losing you!” Jack screamed, and you fell silent. You quickly realized the tears running down his already stained cheeks, his eyes red and puffy from crying.

“How would it be his fault? That doesn’t make sense..” You stuttered, your heart rate increasing. “Relax, relax, Y/N.” Your mom said, stroking your forehead gently. “You were on the phone with him when you were driving, yeah?” Anna asked, and Conor looked about ready to pull her out of the room. He stepped forward, presumably to do so, but you cut him off. “Yeah..” You answered, and suddenly, it all made sense.

“Jack..” You whispered, tears blurring your own sight. “No! I spent a month talking to your limp body. I prepared myself for the worst. I shut out everyone because all I wanted was you. I wanted my twin. You weren’t there, and it was all my fault!” He sobbed, and you ran over engulfing him in a hug. He tensed, but let his arms swing around your torso and pull you close. “I was so scared, Y/N..” He whimpered, and you realized just how hard this must’ve been for him.

“He thinks he distracted me because he was talking to me on the phone? He thinks I crashed because of that?” You asked, your voice cracking. None of your family answered, but Conor was giving Anna a look, as to say ‘you’ve fucked up.’ She backed away slightly, an apologetic look in her eyes. “Sorry.” She muttered, mainly to Conor. “B-but, I didn’t even crash! The truck ran into me!” You said, trying desperately to make an excuse for Jack not to feel guilty. You failed.

“Jack, I’m right here. I didn’t die. It’s not your fault, you know? The truck hit me, not the other way around.” You said, pulling him back to be face to face with his. “I was calling you, I was still distracting you from the road. It was my fault.” He stuttered, trying to control the seemingly endless stream of tears. “Jack, it’s fine. I’m fine. You’re fine. We’re both fine. It was not your fault, okay? I promise.” You said, and he broke down, sobbing into your shoulder.

“I want to see him.” You said, looking at your family. They all gave each other looks. Anna gestured for Conor to speak, as besides Jack, you were the closest with him. He ran a hand through his hair; a nervous tick of his. He stepped forward, looking down at you sadly.You could see up close, he had tears blurring his eyes, and you knew the news wouldn’t be good. “Y/N.. He doesn’t want to see you.” Conor said, softly.

“The Uber is here.” You muttered, rubbing his back soothingly. “No!” Jack exclaimed, grabbing you tighter. You frowned, confused. “Jack, why not? We have to go to Conor’s.” You said, looking into his eyes. “W-what… what if we crash?” He stutters, nervously. “Jack, we won’t. What happened to me was a rare occasion. It won’t happen again. I won’t leave you again, okay? This time, you’ll be there for me too, right?” You told him, and he nodded.

“How could he not want to see me! This is ridiculous!” You cried, tears running down your face. Your family smiled sadly. “He’s been here for a month, Y/N. He thought you were going to die.” Anna blurted, being shushed once again by the eldest Maynard child. “Did you all think that?” You asked, vulnerably. Conor frowned. “We didn’t know what to think, Y/N. For all we knew, you could’ve already been dead.” “But I’m not.” You defended, saddened by the thought your twin didn’t want to see you. “We know, and he knows too. He’s just scared you wouldn’t be.” Your dad said, grabbing your hand and squeezing it lightly. “It was a bit of a shock for us all.”

“Now let’s go before we get a complaint from our driver.” You teased, and he wiped his red eyes. “I look like shit.” He said, looking at his reflection in his phone camera. “You always do. Come onnn!” You said, pulling his arm. He looked at you in mock offense, storming off in front of you. He took off into a run, calling back “Last one there is a rotten egg!” You laughed at the childish nature of your twin, but you were glad he was back to normal, and you’d much prefer him like this than have him shut you out at all. “I win, Y/N!” Even if he was an annoying twin, he was your annoying twin, and you wouldn’t change it for the world.

[hanarutos]

OKAY JACKASSES.  IT’S 2017 AND YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS.  IT’S TIME FOR THE HIGHLY REQUESTED MEME LIST OF 2016. DON’T MESSAGE ME MEMES I FORGOT.  I REALLY CANT DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT. It fills up my inbox and is just really bothersome. YES I’m gonna do one for 2017 because I have no self respect and too much time on my hands anyways in no particular order, the memes of 2016

jennifer lawrence being a huge jerk to the person on their phone cuz they wwre trying to translate somethint

cumslutscootaloo

me: why are aliens destroying the earth??? aliens: [x]

me: thats fair i understand

you fucked up a perfectly good monkey is what you did! look at it! its got anxiety!

mercrury retrograde

the boys are back in town

chungy

congratulations you played yourself

tag yourselves im the x

mario 64 HALF A PRESS

squidward dabbing

the fine bros copyrighting react videos

that one photo of marge simpson

waste his time (what it started out as was pretty shitty but then it got fuckijg funny)

bernie or hillary?  be informed. compare them on the issues that matter

jean stuff

is dabbing a meme or a trend

i heard that kylo ren has an 8 pack. that kylo ren is shredded.

that blond kid with the kazoo and the youre my special friend i dont know who he is but??? hes a meme

daaaaaaaaaamn daniel

ted cruz is the zodiac killer

jeb bush got bullied outta the election

pokemon sun pokemon moon

its time to stop

kanye wests cover art for his album

the death of the leonardo di caprio not getting an oscar memes was a meme itself

when the sun hits the x just right 👌🏻

i wondered why this movie was so visually pleasing (golden ratio used wrong everywhere)

let lesbians live (The 100 killed off another lesbian cuz god forbid we let the queer women live)

[glass him]

the snapchat face swap feature

a photographer took photos before and after tellijg people they were beautiful

who are you? im you but stronger

WE DEM BOYS

#memehistory

need me a freak like that

history of japan (that video was fuckin art)

•christian memes tbh that shit is wild 

sausage party

get a man who can do both

that one photo of mr krabs and everything is turning

this is descision 2016 (tumblrs april fools joke once again)

“can we listen to something other than ___”

breaking news

be careful who you call ugly in middle school

vaporwave

tumor toileta

HE RUINED MY DREAM JOURNAL!

Ｉ ｄｉｄ ｎＡＵＧＨＴｔ！ Ｍｉｓｔｅｒ Ｅｌｅｃｔｉｃ ｓｅｎｄ ｈｉｍ ｔｏ ｔｈｅ ｐｒｉｎｃｉｐａｌ＇ｓ ｏｆｆｉｃｅ ａｎｄ ｈａｖｅ ｈｉｍ ＥＸｐｅｌＬｅｄ！

that one photo of skai jackson

that one photo of beyonce

the skai jackson photo beingg used with the beyonce photo and the kobe photo (the oned where they are silently like passive aggressivley exsisting)

power puff girls reboot???? might count as a meme??? just general hate for it its terrible

dark [x] show me the [thing that is hard to find with that x]

nanalan

the photo of squidwards eyes closed and they stay closed

LEMONADE and honestly wverything about that album was eventually a meme to some degree

FRESH AVA CA DOO

the image of a finger pressing a key on a keyboard and its blue and it says something

chaotic good

dog or muffin?

youre on our radar!

dat boi (oh shit waddup)

to be continued/roundabout

boof

we are all

obi juan whoever the fuck you are… youre my only ho

honk if you love x

me.       my mutuals. 

dover

anything involving pokwmon sun and moon ESPECIALLY the starter pokemon

captain america civil war came out and thus became a meme again 

art vs artist 

please disconnect from the bluetooth speaker.  we need to talk. come downstairs

mutuals do this it’s really fun

the pic of caveman spongebob

x has been found dead in miami

that one thing of captin anerican saying “hail hydra” became a meme cuz i guess ppl were so mad they didnt know what else to do.  basically you drew a character saying something theyd NEVER in a million years say

alright tommy im leaving the house to do some errands see you in a bit

tthose photos of like “apple [a character u think is a bottom] jeans”

*inhale* you can be in the LGBTQA+ community and-

are you a or b? c or d? e or f? (cat person or dog person? day person or night person? things like that)

the cursed child plot became a meme itd SO BAD 

we are gamers

cracking ur knuckles and then writing crazy fast

britian left the european union

i would literally die if a boy did this to me (image of somehtig that would kill u)

old friends senior dog sanctuary facebook page

another spongebob one! using spongebob screencaps to represent similar things (ie each game in a series, characters in a series)

matpat gave undertale to the pope

that one image od the guy running towards where a green sign is pointing like hes middair 

clap 👏🏻 between 👏🏻 every 👏🏻 word 👏🏻 in 👏🏻 a 👏🏻 sentence 👏🏻 or 👏🏻 something 👏🏻

a submeme is dont call yourself an x if you havent y with the hands between each word

does pokemon go count? we had that meme that was like “but ms! theres a (pokemon) in (place the pokemon would likely be in our world)” but now the game came out and theres just pokemon go shit EVERYWHERE 

mighty number nine

that one picture of squidward lying in bed hella fucking terrified and spongebob outside his window (a lot of spongebob memes this year)

wholesome memes? like memes that r normally made at the expense of others being turned around to be nice to othwrs

taylor swift is a snake/rat

THE NUT BUTTON

snake emoji

*inhales* BOI

north korea declaring war on the us

arthurs clenched fist 

photo of two guys waving at each other"same ___! same ___!“

"oh now this! this is beautiful”

michael phelps game face

how deep is this pool

IM RICK HARRISON AND THIS IS MY PAWN SHOP I work here with my dad and my son, Big Hoss. Everything here has a story, and a price. If there’s one thing I learned after 20 years, you never know WHAT is gonna come through That door.

i like dropping hints that im ___. im ____.

roses are red (weird headline or phrase)

#dicksoutforharambe

“the pupil of your eye can expand as much as 55% while looking at something you love”

100 layers of x

we out here

ghat huy in a green body suit saying “im gay”

🐍

“RANDY YOUR STICKS”

nut

hooty hoo

does bruno mars is gay

“are you sure about that”

iphone 7 not having a headphone jack 

u vs the guy she tells u not to worry about

steven hawkings first post

the jackson hole live stream webcam thing

date a terf who… posts

HE BOOT TOO BIG FOR HIS GOTDAMN FEET

stranger things titlecard

“this user [blank]” userboxes

HACKERMAN

cursed image

BORN TO DIE WORLD IS A FUCK

that photo of tom from tom and jerry coming out of a door with a hat on

me, an intellectual:

zoo wee mama

those amazon button press things

his hair? wack. me? tight as fuck

that one image of that black guy mid whip

hand slamming the blue button

2016 presidential debate

wow try this! close one eye, tilt your phone, and look at this from the charger hole!

the water bottle flip trick

the naming ur kid after things u like but its like a tv show

pulling the lever to make the train kill one oerson instead if five people

how to start a conversation with a girl “hi” WRONG

idk if this is a meme persay, but there were a fuck ton of creepy clowns in the USA in October.  like.  that was a thing that happened.

owo whats this?

remember the psat memes from a year or two ago? that happened again this year

my longest “yea boi” ever

friendship ended with x now y is my new best friend

cryptid

name a more x …..ill wait

PERSIAN IN POKEMON SUN AND MOON IM SO MAD

nintendo switch

UH! PINEAPPLE PEN

“what  he listening to?”

vine being shut down (2016 was a bad year guys)

i arrive at the x

y: z (z is a state of being and y is a noun)

dick: out

i am forcibley escourted out of the x

i voted banner edits

[person] is real and they sucked my dick behind [chain store]

“theyre okay but they died”

2016 election memes

can’t relate

me to me: that one picture of kermit the frog and another kermit who’s mouth is a tiny bit open and who has a black cloak on

anything from lazy town, specifically we are number one

joe biden and obama memes

had it not been for the laws of this land i would have slaughtered you

lightning mcqueen dies

the definition of perfection but its fuzzy, a thing of glasses being wiped, and then a character who you love

the mannequin challenge isnt a meme persay but i feel it has a place on this list

bode

name a more iconic duo…. ill wait….

no x we y like men

this bitch empty. YEET

x but y.  this meme had several subsets:

x but every time y happens z happens. (especially with replacing it with other things.) this was extra popular with the bee movie and we are number one from lazy town

x but every time y happens it gets faster

x but it keeps getting faster

the thing of one dude passing a sheet of paper to anoher dude and something dumb js in it

bone app the teeth

bee movie kinda made a comeback witht he whole the bee movie but

25 miles <-  ¼ mile ->

If This Guy👦🙏 AINT Under My Tree🚷🌲On Christmas Morning🍆👌IM GON B PISSED🐸🍷Santa🎅👋Dont Come If U AINT Bringing Him 😏💦💯

take a fucking sip babes

youtubers exaggerating wildly in video titles

three images with the same content but they get more and more badly drawn and the descriptions get more ans more overly specific (increasigly verbose meme?)

example

nutshack theme

pinkest pink vs blackest black artists pettiness

removing the middle two panels of ctrl+alt+del strips

pinkest pink vs blackest black

me at the beginning of 2016 and me at the end of 2016

send nudes

also i guess tumblr cant fucking bullet images so here’s the images that i had originally spread throught the list but fuck me i guess

what he listening to?

• that thing where the drawing gets worse and worse and the words get more and more extra descriptive (it was originally here but tumblr hates me i guess? anyways)

happy new year everyone. i hope 2016 is writhing in it’s grave

[ex--animo]

boring shit that’s been in my head. 

I’ve been having a lot of thoughts lately. I don’t know why. I thought I was over all this but I’ve been having a lot of feelings and thoughts and stupid shit like that. It has also been a while since I’ve written out my thoughts. Since xanga died years ago I never found another platform like that where I can just write my random thoughts. i don’t know what I’ve been doing with them since then. And I don’t know why I’m feeling this way. I don’t know a lot of things.

I wonder if it’s because of the books I’ve been reading or the movies I’ve been watching. I finished two books recently. That’s more than I’ve read in years. That’s sad. I used to read a few books a month. But life happened and I couldn’t/didn’t want to find time to read anymore.

I think one of the reasons why I’m feeling the way I’m feeling is because in the books, well in any story it seems, the protagonist is struggling through some shit but they always had people or someone to go to or lean on. I don’t think I’ll ever have that. I’ve never had that. And I thought I was okay without it but here I am being emo as fuck over it.

These past few weeks I’ve been surrounded by people and didn’t feel weird, awkward, or uncomfortable…that much. But these weren’t my people.

I just wonder what it’d be like to have people around me where I can be myself…and be around people who like the same stuff I do. I really don’t have any friends…like I don’t think people really believe me or understand what I really mean. It seems like everyone’s definition of ‘friend’ is different.  I say people are my friends, but I don’t really think they are in the way I think a friend should be. The one ‘friend’ i have in this town i’ve know since college and the only thing we really do is go watch a movie together…actually we only did that twice and it was kind of embarrassing because once they started clapping and cheering in the middle of the movie…anyways, they only seem to want to hang out when they have no one else to hang out with. But I still find them very tiring. Are your friends supposed to be tiring? Like, I feel like i have to put in so much effort when I hang out with her. Is that normal? The other friend I have is also from college but I only see her maybe once or twice a year since we live in different states now. But we can usually have pretty long conversations and talk about random shit and I don’t feel like i have to put so much effort in it. But she’s super religious so I have to reserve myself a lot. I swear like a mother fuck and am gay as fuck…well maybe not that gay, but probably too gay from them anyways lol. so i never feel like i can be my dumb ass self.

I like doing simple things. Like maybe heading downtown, getting coffee, and just sit by the water. I feel like everyone is in go mode or they don’t know how to be okay with silence. Like why can’t we just stop and take in our surroundings and if you have something to say,say it. if not, that’s okay too. we can sit in silence.

To whoever is still readying this, why? lol

I really wish I can find another blogging platform like xanga.

All the songs I’ve been listening to have been hella sad. I used to listen to music as I fall sleep. The only way I can do that now is have my bluetooth speak constantly charged and my phone plugged in all night. I don’t want to do that. And the speakers on my old ass laptop is shit. So i’ve been looking for a small boombox type thing that will play mp3s.

oh speaking of music. I’m going to see The Dangerous Summer at the end of the month and Tonight Alive next month and possibly Senses Fail in March. I’m super excited. The last show I went to was in October.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about Tonight Alive’s new album when it came out. But as I’m listening to it, I feel like I’m getting it now. I’m creating my own narrative and it’s making sense to me….probably in the wrong ways since I’m probably not listening to the songs close enough but whatever. So far my favorite songs are Disappear, Just For Now, and The Other. I would link all these but i’m lazy as fuck.

I will link this song though because I’m feeling emo as fuck #foreveremo

You might as well forget me A memory will say more than I ever did I’m nothing more than The paint that covers the room Watching in silence I spread myself thin My absence was more than just an escape I always find that I’m running away If I were to leave I don’t think I’d be anything worth remembering I don’t think I’ll ever shed my own skin I am a house with no keys to get in Disappear Burn away Like the ashes that land in the rain Feel it shake Feel my insides misplace I’ll keep telling myself it’s okay

……

there’s more in my dumb head but it’s getting late