#artie would for sure try to name them all after herself just for shits and giggles | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hrina · 5 years ago

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In The Ring, Pt. IV - Uppercut

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M WORD COUNT: 10.6k REQUESTED: yes!

well lads................this is it 🥺🥺🥺 thank u guys so much for all the love you’ve given this series. i would’ve never expected to receive such a positive response, but u guys rly went above and beyond. i adore u all so much

warning: parts of this fic will contain mentions of blood, violence, mild stalking, and sexual content. if any of that makes you uncomfortable, please take care of yourself and keep scrolling <3

as always, my masterlist and my inbox are both linked in my bio! i worked really hard on this last part! i wanted to make sure it was all perfect, so i hope everyone enjoys it. gentle reminder to reblog the fics you like! it’s a great way to show appreciation as well as give authors more exposure. ok that’s all hehe can’t wait to hear your thoughts! take care 💙💙💙

PART I: Jab

PART II: Cross

PART III: Hook

~*~

March 20, 2021

Harry keeps his promise, and Artie brings your car back around to your place the next day. You sit up straight at the table when you hear the familiar honking of a horn sound from outside. Your feet suddenly seem to have a mind of their own, carrying you out of the kitchen quickly with your father’s confused inquiries ringing in your ears. You open the front door before Artie even has the chance to knock.

“Thanks, Jason,” you tell him, breathless.

He hands you your keys and accepts the quick hug that you bestow upon him. “No problem, little girl. Is everything alright?”

Harry didn’t tell him.

“Yeah,” you lie, nodding. “I just—I had a bit too much to drink last night, that’s all.” Your voice drops an octave. “Don’t tell my dad, okay?”

Artie presses two of his fingertips together and drags them over the seam of his mouth, metaphorically sealing his lips. You smile, your heartbeat returning to its regular pace beneath the confines of your ribs.

You step back, extending an arm and gesturing for him to enter.

“Are you hungry? We were in the middle of eating lunch.”

“Sure,” he says, kicking off his shoes and arranging them against the wall. “Thank you.”

He and your father talk about anything and everything during the meal—boxing, the economy, the basketball game that had aired late last night. You just sit there and eat your food, not wanting to attract any unnecessary attention.

They include you in the conversation for a bit—Artie asks how classes are going, and you tell him that you’re waiting for medical school acceptance (or rejection) letters to start rolling in. Other than that, they don’t bat an eye when you rinse your plate in the sink and politely excuse yourself from the table. You hide behind the fact that you have to work on an assignment that’s due in a week—the paper is worth a third of your grade and it’s crucial that you ace it.

But once you hobble back into your room, you’re crawling into bed and pulling the covers up over your head. You reach around blindly for your phone, snatching it up from where it’s charging on your nightstand. You unlock the device, scrolling through all of the grey messages that pop up right away—sent last night, one after the other, each of them unanswered, growing more and more desperate as the hours pass.

Can we please talk about this?

I’m sorry, please let me explain.

Are you ignoring me?

I know you’re seeing these. Please respond.

And then a final one, dejected and crestfallen, laced with palpable weakness even through the pixels of your screen.

Goodnight.

April 6, 2021

Harry’s on a losing streak.

A five-match losing streak, to be precise.

He’s never been bested this many times in a row. Your father is baffled by it, unsure of why he’s been so distracted in the ring. It’s even more confusing, he thinks, considering the fact that he’s at the gym every single day, lifting weights, practicing his technique, throwing himself into the sport. But once the actual fights roll around, things change. You’re not there, and you’re his lucky charm, and because of that, he finds himself meeting the ground far more often than he’d like to admit.

Your father said that the end of the semester was approaching—as a consequence, you were buckling down with school. Harry supposes that the timing is right, so the pretext must be true. But his opponents don’t know that (nor would they care). Your absence doesn’t stop them from knocking him down with snarling faces and heavy fists. The crowds holler loudly, goading him to get back up, but Harry doesn’t. He refuses to give them the satisfaction of watching him get beaten to a bloody pulp.

He stopped trying to reach out to you a week after the night of the kiss. He composed several texts a day, but each message had been met with silence. He remembers staring down at his phone one time, watching as three grey dots wiggled on the screen for a minute or two before disappearing entirely.

That’s when he gave up. If you didn’t want to talk, fine.

It hurt like hell, though.

And it’s still hurting like hell, even a week and a half later.

You told your father about James. He had mentioned it in passing to Harry, having to end practice earlier than usual because he had to set a court date to deal with some bastard who wouldn’t leave you alone. And that’s comforting, Harry thinks, because at least he knows that you’ll be safe, now.

He just wishes that he could’ve been the one to bring you that bit of solace.

That’s why, when your father invites him over for dinner one night after a particularly strenuous evening of training, he jumps at the opportunity. You’re making lasagna, your father says, having taken a break from studying for exams. Harry agrees to come over, because it’s been a while since he’s had a real, curated, love-infused, home-cooked meal.

And because you’ll be there, too, obviously. But he refrains from letting that incentive slip loose.

His heart is racing nervously when he parks his truck in front of your house. Memories flood his brain, reminding him of what had happened the last time he’d been here—the glint of your necklace under his fingers, the alluring twinkle in your eyes. The softness of your lips against his, the sensation of your nails carding through his hair—

Your father taps on the window of the driver’s seat.

“H?” he says, muffled through the glass. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” Harry chokes out, unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding out of the vehicle. “Yeah, sorry.”

He follows your father up the porch steps, waiting anxiously as the other man unlocks the front door. It swings open; they both step inside. Harry’s eyes widen when your father calls out, “Gioia? I’m home!”

“Hi!” comes your reply.

He freezes when the sound reaches his ears, because he hasn’t heard your voice—much less seen you—in over two weeks. He shuts the door discreetly, removing his shoes and trailing after your father as he pads down the hall. The closer he draws to the kitchen, the more he can smell it—meat, spices, cheese. His stomach rumbles in anticipation.

“Hope you made enough for three,” your father says, entering the room.

Harry lingers behind you, leaning against the wide threshold with his arms crossed protectively over his chest. He’s still a bit sweaty, but he hopes that the lasagna in the oven will mask the musky scent of the perspiration gleaming on his skin.

“Three?” you ask. You’re standing at the sink, your back to them. “Hi, Jason.”

A beat of silence passes, and then—

“Er, not exactly,” Harry grunts.

You stiffen immediately before spinning around. He doesn’t miss the quiet little gasp that leaves your mouth.

Your gaze locks with his, lips parted in surprise, and he can’t help but wonder if coming here was the smartest or the most foolish decision he’s ever made.

~*~

He and your father set the table.

After a few minutes, three plates and three collections of cutlery are laid out over a pristine white cloth. Harry eases into his chair as you carry over a hot tray of lasagna, your hands sheathed in a pair of red oven mittens. You put the pasta down in front of your father, who is sat at the head of the table. He inhales deeply, a small smile forming on his face.

“Smells amazing, sweetheart,” he tells you, nodding in approval. “Even better than your mother’s.”

“That’s a lie,” you tease, chuckling quietly and removing the crimson gloves from your fingers. You cut a large piece from the platter and deposit it onto his dish. “There you go.”

“Thank you,” he says.

He waits patiently as you separate another chunk of pasta for Harry, setting it down on his plate without a word.

“Thank you,” Harry tells you, his voice hoarse.

“You’re welcome,” you say. The response is short, painfully clipped—it makes him wince.

As soon as everyone has food in front of them, you sit down in your chair, reaching for the fork and the knife resting a few inches away from your dish. Before you can dig in, however, you pause, lifting your chin and squeezing your eyes shut.

“Shit,” you murmur. “Forgot the drinks.”

“There’s juice in the fridge, I think,” your father says through a mouthful of pasta.

“No.” You wave his suggestion away. “How about some wine? I’ll grab a bottle from the cellar.”

“Alright.” He nods, but then speaks again as you stand. “Wait—I think the treadmill in the basement is blocking the door. Harry—,” Harry’s head snaps up, nostrils flaring at the mention of his name, “—would you mind going with her? She won’t be able to move it by herself.”

“Uh,” he says stupidly. “Yeah, sure.”

He quickly excuses himself from the table, glancing over at you to register your reaction. Your expression is stony, betraying nothing. You swallow heavily, looking away and marching quickly out of the kitchen. He follows you without another word, hot on your heels.

The basement is dimly-lit, stocked with a few shelves of non-perishable foods and household supplies. Harry remains silent as you make your way over to the far wall, approaching the dark grey treadmill pressed against the door of the cellar. You place both hands on the side of the machine, giving it a firm push and grunting when it budges only an inch.

“You going to help me, or what?” you ask, casting an expectant glance at Harry from over your arm.

He blinks. “Right.”

Together, the two of you manage to ease the treadmill a few feet to the left. It’s enough space for you to open the door of the wine cellar and slip inside. Darkness envelopes your bodies, dissolving only when a small click! echoes through the still air. A moment later, the alcove is illuminated in a dull glow, compliments of the scrawny yellow bulb hanging from the ceiling.

You release the thin string attached to the light, turning around and gasping when you find Harry perched directly behind you. Your chests brush together—the contact sends sparks whizzing down his spine. You spin back around quickly, clearing your throat and scanning all of the different bottles balanced on the shelves.

“Thanks for your help,” you say dryly. “You can go back upstairs, now.”

“I’m good,” Harry mutters.

He clasps his hands behind his back as you trail your index finger along dozens of cream-coloured labels. Your hair is gathered in a low ponytail; a few shorter, wispier strands peek out from behind your ears. You’re not wearing makeup, today—and why would you, Harry thinks, when you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen?

“So,” he starts, itching to break the silence, “your dad told me that you’re filing a restraining order against James.”

“Yeah,” you reply curtly. He waits for you to continue, but you say nothing else.

“Feel better now that you’ve come clean?” he questions. Immediately, he knows that it’s the wrong thing to ask. But it’s out there, now, and he can’t exactly take it back.

A hollow laugh tumbles off of your tongue. Behind you, Harry notices the way you shake your head in disdain.

“You’re ridiculous,” you say under your breath.

“What was that?” He cocks an eyebrow challengingly, frowning at your tone.

“I said that you’re ridiculous,” you gripe, whipping around and fixing him with a fiery glare. “Need me to repeat it again?”

“If that means you’ll finally be speaking to me, then yeah, go for it,” he snaps, folding his arms over his chest.

“I—,” you break off, surprised by the bite in his rebuttal. Harry clenches his jaw when you turn back around. Your hand quivers as you reach for a random bottle of red wine. “I’m not doing this with you right now.”

“When, then?” he demands, taking a step closer. His front skims along your shoulder blades, and when you face him once more, your eyes widen in shock at the close proximity of your bodies. The little room suddenly feels much smaller, walls looming forward and closing you in. Your chest swells as you suck in a deep breath.

“When are we finally going to fucking talk about this?” Harry presses, meeting your gaze. Desperation drips from every syllable of his query.

You purse your lips, exhaling raggedly.

“Soon.”

A feeble assent.

An insipid shake of your head.

You angle your torso to the side, easily slipping past him and out of the cellar.

“But not today.”

April 10, 2021

Your nose is buried in a textbook when the message comes through.

Cell biology. So much information to remember, so many reactions to list, so many molecules to name. And weeks of studying, just for a two-hour-long final that’ll take place three days from now. If you weren’t so stressed out, the sheer nonsensicality of the situation would have made you laugh.

So when your phone chimes with the alert, you figure that it’s time for a break. A quick conversation with one of your friends, maybe. Something to take your mind off of the looming exam, even if it is just for a few minutes at a time. After that, you’ll get back to revising.

Sadly, nothing is ever that simple.

We need to talk. Come to the gym.

Your eyes widen when the words sink in. As you rub your clammy palms against the grey material of your sweatpants, another text pops up below the first.

Please.

You shouldn’t. You need to study. But even as you warn yourself against it, your brain is already coming up with a multitude of reasons to meet with him. It’s just one night. Your exam isn’t for another few days. You have time. You deserve to take a break.

Your keys jingle cheerfully as you toss them into your bag.

~*~

Harry is going to town when you walk into the gym.

You’re not quite sure how that poor punching bag has managed to stay balanced on its hook. Harry’s coming at it from every angle, pummeling the leather with hard, heavy fists. He’s wearing a black tank top today; deep armholes cut into the sides of the fabric and expose most of his torso. The dark tattoos on his skin glisten under a thin sheen of sweat; a small, stupid part of you expects the ink to run and smudge before you remember that the designs are permanent.

What’s even worse? Dangerous Woman by Ariana Grande is playing on his phone. The soft, feathery croons of her voice mix with the low grunts that escape Harry’s throat—sounds that claw their way out of him with each blow delivered to the bag. Under normal circumstances, the juxtaposition would have made you snort.

Now though, it just reminds you of that night all those months ago, when you’d asked him to teach you how to box. This entire train wreck could have been avoided if you’d simply kept your mouth shut.

Harry still hasn’t noticed you. How could he, when you’re standing behind him?

You clear your throat. He freezes mid-strike.

His grassy eyes are wide when he turns around.

“Hi,” he says, surprised. “I—I didn’t think you would come.”

“I was halfway here when I realised that I didn’t text you back,” you reply, scratching awkwardly at the nape of your neck. “But, like…no handheld devices behind the wheel, and all that jazz.”

His lips twitch. “Yeah. Good.”

You cross your arms over your chest, scanning your surroundings. You don’t know why you do that—nothing in the gym has changed. You’re just trying to avoid Harry’s gaze, which is a lot easier said than done.

“You, um…you wanted to talk?”

“Yeah.” He nods, walking over to the ring and pausing the music streaming from his phone.

He then reaches for two pairs of boxing gloves, nestling one in the crook of his elbow and tossing the other at you. The strap of your purse slides from your shoulder as you catch the leather in your arms. You peer down at the gloves, eyes narrowing in confusion before you train them back on him.

“I don’t get it,” you deadpan.

“Really?” Harry asks. He hoists himself onto the raised platform of the ring and slips through the gaps in the ropes. “Because you’ve been begging to go up against me since January. Are you seriously gonna back out now?”

“Go up against—” The rest of your sentence fizzles out. “I…I thought you wanted to have a conversation, not a competition.”

He shrugs, regarding you evenly as he pulls his gloves on and tightens the straps around his wrists. He then bumps his enclosed fists together, tilting his head to the side.

“Why can’t we do both?”

~*~

You look pretty, Harry thinks.

Standing on the far side of the ring, wearing a black tank top, grey sweatpants, and bright pink sneakers—yeah, you look pretty. You’ve cuffed your bottoms so that they’re rolled up to the spot just below your knees, and your hair has been pulled back into a low bun. There’s no emotion on your face as you stare him down, taking a few steps closer and assuming a fighting stance.

You’ve gotten better—he’ll be the first to admit it. But he’s going to beat you, and you both know it. It’s just a matter of when.

He decides that, for the time being, he’ll go easy on you. The two of you will talk things out, and afterward, he might let you win. Maybe. He’s still on the fence about that.

You both begin to move in a circle. After a long moment of silence, Harry says, “You go first.”

“No, you,” you grit out. He just shrugs.

Fine. Have it your way.

You block the straight, pointed jab that he throws, and pride swells up in his chest. It’s a simple punch to deflect, but nevertheless, it tells him that you’ve learned something over these past few months. And that means that he’s done a good job as your teacher.

As your friend…not so much.

Do friends kiss other friends the same way you’d kissed him in front of your house?

He really doesn’t know.

“Right, then,” Harry starts, nodding. “Let’s talk.”

“About what?” you ask. Your nose wrinkles in concentration as you direct a blow toward his stomach. He blocks it easily. “About how you kissed me back and then told me you didn’t have feelings for me?”

“I—,” he’s stunned, because okay, you’re coming right on out with it. “I’m sorry.”

He’s sorry for lying, but you don’t seem to realise that.

“I was so fucking embarrassed,” you say, lunging forward and throwing a cross at his nose. He bats your fist away like it’s nothing more than a pesky fly. “But I guess that I’m mad at myself, too. Here I am, starting to like you, meanwhile I barely know anything about you.”

“What do you want to know?” he asks, keeping his arms in front of his face.

(Deep down, beneath his stoic exterior, he can’t believe what he’s hearing. You had been ‘starting to like’ him? He’s scared, then, because that means he ruined everything that night in his truck. Do you still feel the same way?)

Harry blinks—shakes his head free of those thoughts and continues. “Ask me, and I’ll tell you.”

“Really,” you reply, though it isn’t exactly a question.

You drop your hands, taken aback by his offer. He’s not usually this open—you should seize the opportunity to probe while it’s still available. You will, he thinks. Over these past few months, he’s learned how you operate. You’re not predictable, by any means, but he knows that you can’t resist inquiring about his personal life when given the chance.

You want to know him. If he thinks about it for too long, his affections become exceedingly difficult to bear.

“Really,” he says.

He steps forward and curves his right arm in a powerful hook. You yelp jarringly when the rough leather of his glove makes contact with your left shoulder. He just shrugs, pulling back.

“Remember: don’t let your guard down.”

You clench your jaw and raise your fists once more.

“Fine, then,” you say, sidestepping another one of his jabs. “Where were you born?”

“Redditch, England,” he answers simply. “Moved to Holmes Chapel when I was a kid, though.”

You nod. The two of you continue to circle each other.

“Got any siblings?” you ask, charging him and attempting to deliver a series of punches to his torso. He deflects each of them with his forearms, never faltering.

“A sister,” he says, unbothered. “She lives back home.”

“And what about your parents?” you press, retreating and watching him with careful eyes.

He swallows roughly, shaking his head. “Dad left when I was seven. Mum died when I was fourteen.”

At that, you pause. You heed his earlier advice and keep your hands in front of your face, but it’s clear that his confession has caught you by surprise. Your gaze softens, and he watches as your lips curl down into a sympathetic frown.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him quietly, your shoulders slouching. “That’s terrible.”

He shrugs. “It’s in the past—can’t change it, now.”

He takes advantage of your pitying nature, springing toward you and aiming a punch for your hip. You barely manage to avoid the blow, jumping back at the last second. His glove scrapes swiftly against your side. The attack seems to snap you out of your emotions, because you scowl deeply and return to your original stance.

“What happened after that?” you ask, breathing erratically.

“They put me in foster care,” Harry says, shaking his head. “It was shit, though. I ran away after a couple of years. Went off on my own—that’s when I met your dad.”

“And he started training you?”

“And he started training me,” he confirms with a curt nod. “Couldn’t actually fight until I turned eighteen, but after that…I was taking up as many matches as I could.” He chuckles warmly at the memory. “Your dad said that he’d never seen anything like it. Told me I had to slow down.”

You smile a bit at his words. Your fondness quickly melts into shock, however, when Harry aims a hit for your face. You block the punch, retaliating quickly and throwing one of your own. Your fist makes contact with the barrier of his chest, and he stumbles backward, his eyes widening in disbelief. You got him.

Only once, but still.

You got him.

“Not bad,” he grunts, squaring his shoulders. “Maybe I should actually start trying, now.”

You grit your teeth, glowering at him. “God, you’re such a dick.”

He flashes you a contemptuous grin before lunging forward. You dodge two of his punches, but the third one catches you right in the stomach, making you double over and cough. Harry retreats, a mischievous smirk on his face.

“Done getting to know me?” he simpers.

You shake your head, straightening back up. “Not yet.”

You make a valiant effort, Harry thinks. Your dedication is commendable. But he’s had a decade of training, whereas you’ve only had a few months. Your technique—though improved—is still sloppy. And that’s what allows him to sidestep all of your strikes and react quickly, enough so that he’s got you pinned to the ground in just under two minutes.

You’re panting heavily; one of his forearms holds your crossed wrists down over your head. His other hand is planted on the floor just above your shoulder, the flat front of his boxing glove providing a stable surface to keep him balanced. His knees are next to your waist as he hovers over your stomach, giving you no room to worm out of his grip. You flail your legs in frustration, but he’s perched too high up on your body for the action to do any real damage.

“I win,” he says simply, arrogance dancing in his eyes. He leans down so that your noses are only inches apart. “Any more questions, baby?”

“Just one,” you bite, panting heavily.

He cocks an eyebrow, waiting for the inquiry to leave your lips. Once it does, however, it knocks every molecule of air from his lungs.

“Have you…,” you inhale deeply, “…ever been in love?”

The expression on your face tells him that you know exactly what you’re doing. Your chest heaves with exertion, and when his gaze flickers down to your breasts for only a fraction of a second, your eyes illumine with realisation.

“You want me,” you tell him, breathless. A thin, reflective layer of perspiration has gathered at your hairline. Your arms twitch from where they’re pinned beneath his. Despite the gloves still covering your hands, you grasp at his slippery skin, hoping that the contact will somehow make his already-weak resolve crack and crumble into nothing.

“No,” he says, his voice hard.

His green irises burn into your face. Who is he trying to convince?

“You’re lying,” you wheeze, shaking your head. “You want me.”

Your skin is hot. He can feel you radiating warmth like a fireplace. Heated, cozy, welcoming—it’s everything he loves about you, everything he’s been craving since he first became conscious of how badly he desired you. And, to top it all off, you’re looking at him like that—with eyes that could persuade him to jump from a skyscraper, if you so much as asked.

Just like that.

“Fuck,” Harry spits. He pulls back sharply and stamps his own eyes shut. His nose screws up in frustration. “Fuck.”

And then he’s kissing you.

The elated moan that slips from your lips has his cock twitching fitfully in his shorts. You arch your back to get closer to him, because with his hand still pinning you down, it’s not like you can throw your arms around his neck and bring him to you. The kiss is messy and frenzied and hot and carnal. Harry licks into your mouth, savouring the squeak that echoes in your throat.

You’re vocal—he’s going to fucking die.

When the two of you pull back, no words are exchanged. Harry stares down at you, taking note of how your pupils have dilated immensely. Your chest is still heaving, but this time, it’s for a completely different reason. He releases your wrists from where they’re pinned beneath his forearm, watching you carefully as he sits up.

He lifts his fist to his face and takes the strap of the glove between his teeth. The sharp riiip! that ensues may as well be a starter gunshot.

You both dive back into a sea of teeth and lips and tongue. Harry throws off his gloves easily. You struggle with yours, but he wastes no time, helping you discard them in a matter of seconds. With your hands finally free, you bury them in his hair, pulling at the soft, damp tendrils as he presses several hard kisses to your mouth.

“Fuck,” he mutters, slanting his body downward so that his crotch is level with yours. “You—you have no idea—”

The rest of his sentence fades into a groan when you suck harshly on his jaw. He shudders at the sensation.

Gradually, you bring your legs out from beneath his own, lifting your knees up to your chest and then wrapping your thighs around his waist. It’s an impressive feat, if he’s being honest. And it gives him more room to lean over you, to grind his cock against your centre through the layers of fabric separating your skin.

“Off—,” you choke, tugging at the bottom of his black shirt. “Get this off!”

He complies, sitting back up on his knees and ridding himself of the fabric. You take advantage of his instability, wrapping one hand around his bicep and giving it a hard shove. He topples to the side and you scramble up to straddle him, a small, smug smile ghosting across your face.

“What are you—?” he starts, but you place one finger against his lips, cutting him off.

You start to roll your hips gently into his—he groans, wishing more than anything that there were no clothes in the way. Goosebumps erupt on his arms when you lightly scrape your nails down his bare chest. You settle at the butterfly inked into his abdomen, tracing the insect’s wings with a wondrous look in your eyes. His palms sweep up your thighs.

“Why did you lie to me?” you murmur, keeping your gaze trained on his torso. “You feel the same, don’t you?”

He nods wordlessly.

“Why, then?” you press, frowning gently. “I—we could’ve avoided this whole thing if you’d just told me the truth.”

“Your dad,” Harry says weakly. “I can’t—you’re his—”

“My dad has no control over who I date or who I fuck,” you say. He’s stunned by the crudeness of your claim. “And if I want to fuck you right here, right now, then that’s what I’m going to do.”

“You—Christ,” he swallows heavily, squeezing his eyes shut. “You can’t just say shit like that.”

“Why not?” you smirk, grinding against him harshly and feeling the stiff outline of his cock in his shorts. “You seem to be enjoying it.”

“Fuck,” he grunts. You shriek when he flips the two of you over so that he’s back on top. His nose brushes against yours as he speaks.

“If we do this,” he warns, hot breath fanning out over your chin, “I won’t be gentle. In every single one of my fantasies, I’ve ruined you—made you drool, made you cry. You name it, I’ve done it. You sure you can handle that?”

“Yes,” you breathe, utterly enthralled. “I’m sure.”

Harry tucks a loose piece of your hair behind your ear, peering down at you tenderly.

“Look so pretty,” he coos, fingers skimming down the side of your throat. “Can’t wait to wreck your cute, little—” He sucks in a deep breath, weakened by the shamelessness of his own thoughts. “Gonna make sure your knees knock together once I’m through with you.”

And maybe it’s not smart to get you naked in the middle of the gym, where anyone walking by could easily peer inside and witness him fucking you into oblivion. But he can’t find it in himself to care—he’s been waiting for this moment for years, and damn him if he doesn’t seize it while you’re like this: open, inviting, presented to him like gourmet food on a silver platter.

And speaking of food…

“I’m gonna stretch you out,” Harry states. “You’ve got to cum first if you wanna take my cock, understand?”

You nod rapidly.

He shakes his head. “Need to hear you say it, baby. You want it, too, right?”

“I want it,” you confirm, breathless. “I want it, I understand.”

He smiles. His fingers ruck up the material of your tank top, and you lift your back from the ground to help him remove it. Your bra is next, pale pink with a simple bow resting between the cups. He swears when you unclip it quickly, letting the straps fall down your shoulders before tossing it away.

“Christ,” he says, blinking. “Can’t believe you’re real.”

He lays you back down onto the floor of the ring, ducking his head and enveloping one of your nipples in his mouth. You moan. The bud hardens between his teeth, sensitive to his touch. He sucks harshly before pulling off, littering kisses along the skin of your breasts. His head swims with lust, transforming him into someone nearly unrecognizable. You seem to like it, though, so how bad could it really be?

“Next time,” Harry murmurs into your flesh, “I’m gonna get a proper taste. Eat you out ’til you go blind. But for now—,” he dips his hand past the waistband of your sweatpants, “—my fingers will just have to do.”

You shimmy your bottoms down, kicking them off unceremoniously and spreading your legs. And fuck, he nearly loses it right there, because this is what he’s been picturing for months, if not years. Having you laid out in front of him, exposed and ready and willing. Your thighs stretched wide, miles of soft skin leading inward and morphing into sticky, wet folds. He closes his eyes for a brief moment and inhales deeply—the scent of your arousal floods his nose, rendering him utterly helpless. Something akin to a man unhinged.

He rubs you over your panties, first. They’re nothing special—simple black cotton covering your mound and your hipbones. But fuck him, he wasn’t expecting the ocean of excitement that seems to have pooled and soaked through the fabric. His fingertips are damp when he pulls them away.

“You’re drenched,” he groans, shaking his head in disbelief. He hooks one digit into the elastic of your underwear, looking up at you with inquisitive eyes. “Can I take these off?”

“Yes, please.”

He tears the material down your legs, and then you’re naked beneath him, save for the rose-gold pendant resting on your sternum. He sits back on his heels as you spread your thighs wider, chewing on the inside of your cheek. His index finger taps the skin just below your navel, tracing a path down to where you need him most. You whine when he bypasses your clit completely, dropping instead to gather some of your wetness before trailing back up. He smears your arousal over the nub—just to get a steady, slippery rhythm going—and then leans down, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Don’t wanna be too far,” he says sheepishly, sweetly kissing the tip of your nose. “Missed you.”

You seal your lips to his.

He makes you cum after a few minutes, slipping one finger into your channel, and then another. The entire time, his thumb stays perched on your clit, drawing expert circles and pulling wanton moans from your mouth. And when you cum—oh.

Oh.

You’re glorious, with lidded eyes and warm cheeks and teeth bared in pleasure. You ride out your high, spasming gently. Harry lays a firm hand on your stomach, feeling the muscles of your abdomen twitch beneath his palm. He continues to stimulate your clit, basking in the little aftershocks that zip up your spine and make your legs tremble.

If you were aroused before…good fucking God. He didn’t know it was possible for a woman to be this wet.

You kiss him as you come down from your orgasm, nipping softly at his bottom lip and sighing in relief. Both of his hands find your face—you seem unbothered by the fact that his fingers are coated in your juices, smearing messily against your cheek. He melts into you like he’s dying of thirst and you’re an oasis, lush and green and good. So, so good.

“Do you—,” he exhales raggedly, “—do you still want to?”

You nod, a soft smile forming on your face. It’s crazy, Harry thinks, how quickly you can oscillate between actual human sunshine and the devil personified. One minute, you’re asking him to fuck you, and the next, you’re giving him those eyes that make him feel as though every cell in his body has been liquefied.

“What were you saying about not being gentle?” you tease.

He chuckles quietly, shaking his head. You gasp when he hooks a finger into the chain around your neck. He takes your pretty pink pendant between two fingers, lifting it up and dragging the cool metal along the seam of your lips. You inhale sharply.

“I don’t have a condom,” he murmurs, sighing mournfully.

“I have an IUD,” you whisper, playing with the curls at the back of his head. “We’re good.”

He groans, dropping his face into the column of your throat. “You’re fuckin’ marvelous.”

You giggle.

He shudders when you begin to push his shorts down. You look up at him with raised brows when his cock slaps against his stomach, completely unrestrained.

“No underwear?”

“Always sticks to my balls when I get sweaty,” he whines, squeezing his eyes shut. “Need to let the boys breathe.”

A loud laugh flops out of your mouth. Harry snickers, too, trailing his nose up over your jawline so that he can catch your lips in a quick kiss. He moans as you wrap your fingers around his length, giving a few experimental pumps. Instinctively, his hips buck into your grip.

“You’re big,” you murmur. “Are you sure that it’s going to fit?”

“It’ll fit,” he promises.

He guides your legs up so that they’re wrapped around his waist, allowing him to slot himself closer to you. You gasp when his hand finds your cunt again, dipping two fingers inside before sweeping his palm over the length of your folds. He then smears your wetness along the shaft of his cock, makeshift lubrication to facilitate the first breach of your channel.

“You ready?” he says, positioning the tip of his dick at your entrance. “Deep breath for me, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You inhale, and he nudges his hips forward. You gasp as he slips into you, inch by thick inch, stretching you out in a way that you’ve never felt before. Harry reaches for your hands, tangling your fingers together and lifting them above your head. You arch your back with the new position, and he’s unsure of whether you’re trying to wiggle away or bring him in closer.

When the heels of your feet press against his ass, guiding him deeper, he assumes that it’s the latter.

“Fuck,” he stammers as your tight heat surrounds his cock. “How—how do you feel this good?”

A wheezing laugh punches its way out of your throat.

“Feel that,” Harry says hoarsely. “So fuckin’ hot and—and wet. Not gonna take any time at all, is it?”

“For me, or for you?” you taunt. He grumbles quietly, and you snicker.

After a brief moment of silence, you squeeze his knuckles reassuringly. “You can move.”

“Thank you,” he moans, capturing your mouth with his. Your breathing hitches as he pulls out before slowly sliding back in. When you sigh in response, he takes it as encouragement to pick up the pace.

Soon, he’s fucking into you quickly, your skin slapping together in a series of brutal thrusts. With each drive of his hips into yours, soft whimpers escape your lips, floating up into the hot air and melting like ice cream under the sun. Harry growls, sinking his teeth into the junction between your neck and your shoulder. The pain makes you writhe—in a good way.

“You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined this,” he grunts, laving his tongue over the indents on your skin. Your necklaces clink together—silver and rose-gold tangled in a mess of thin, delicate chains. “My—my hand could never—”

“Neither could mine,” you tell him, breathless.

His spine stiffens at your words, brain overcome with the thought of you lying in bed, your fingers buried between your legs and low whines pouring from your mouth. He groans; his next thrust is hard, keen, unforgiving.

He keeps you close, your bodies never separating. Your skin is slick with sweat, chests gliding together. Adrenaline rushes through Harry’s veins—he drives ahead, plunging inside of you with each fierce snap of his hips. You can’t do anything but lie there and take it, take it, take it.

“I want you,” he gasps, warm air washing out onto your collarbones. His hands are clammy, still locked with yours; he wouldn’t have it any other way. “I want you, I want you, I—” He gulps. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“Harry,” you murmur, grazing your nose against his temple. “Harry, look at me.”

Reluctantly, he pulls his face away from your throat. Your eyes are soft when they land on his, forehead shining with sweat, lips swollen and raw. The bun holding most of your hair back has come loose (Harry is certain that it’s due to the way your bodies shift along the ground with every thrust.)

You swallow roughly and shake your head, staring past his features and searching for something deeper.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say, nearly crushing his fingers in your grip. “I’m here.”

Your walls pulsate around him, and his rhythm falters. He swears softly, releasing one of your hands so that he can bring his thumb down to rub haphazard shapes against your clit. You moan, surprised.

“Cum for me,” he orders, nodding rapidly. “Cum for me, and then I’ll do the same. Where do you want it, hm? Tell me.”

“Inside,” you pant, your nose screwing up in pleasure. “Cum inside me.”

“Shit, you’re serious?” he asks, awestruck. His stomach twists hotly at your invitation. “Want me to claim your pretty cunt? Is that it?”

“God,” you say. You squirm beneath him, nodding frantically. “Please!”

“Fuck!” he cries, and when you clamp down on his cock, he’s gone.

The two of you ride out your highs together, quivering and grunting in unison. Harry wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close to his chest. You dig your nails into his back, clinging to him like a piece of wood drifting through the stormy sea. Colourful spots dance in his vision—he tries his best to blink them away. Your thighs tremble around his hips, caught in an endless cycle of vibrations.

“Holy shit,” you whimper, exhaling shakily. “That was…”

Harry braces himself over your face, keeping you shielded from everything outside of your little bubble.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

A low laugh falls from your lips, but it quickly morphs into a moan when he pulls out of you. He pauses for a moment, watching as white liquid trickles from your abused entrance. The erotic sight nearly has him ready to go again.

“Fuck,” he mutters. He scoops his release up with two fingers and plugs them back inside of you. “That’s hot.”

You gasp at the slight overstimulation, wrapping a hand around his wrist reflexively. He just shoots you a wicked grin, which has you giggling girlishly in response.

“I want a kiss,” you say, craning your neck.

Harry hums, crawling up your body to fulfill your request. You smile against his lips, tossing your arms over his shoulders. The two of you exchange soft pecks for the next few minutes, basking in the aftereffects of your orgasms. Warmth unfurls in Harry’s chest, potent and contagious. It spreads through his veins, dousing his senses in a golden glow.

“You’re fucking incredible,” he tells you, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. “And I like you. So much.”

“I like you, too,” you reply, tracing your fingertips over the muscles in his back. “But if you ever lie to me again—” Your expression grows serious. “—let’s just say that you won’t have to worry anymore about your boxers sticking to your balls, okay?”

It’s an earnest threat—he knows that you mean every word—but nevertheless, it makes him laugh. You giggle along with him; he rolls off of you, his spine meeting the floor of the ring, and you cuddle into his side. Your nails tap languidly against his sternum as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. The two of you lie there for a few long moments, enjoying the peaceful silence.

“They’re taking my case against James to trial,” you say at last.

Harry stiffens, lifting his head so that he can look down at you properly.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” he asks.

“Yeah.” You nod, refusing to meet his gaze. “But, um…my lawyer said that it might be a good idea to bring a witness to the stand. Just to seal the deal and stuff.”

You peek up at him shyly, and it clicks.

“Oh,” he says softly. “You want me?”

“Only if you’re comfortable with it,” you say hurriedly, resting your chin on his chest. “Please don’t think that I’m forcing you—”

“Hey, no,” he cuts you off, sweeping his fingers through your hair. The action soothes you, makes your eyelids flutter shut and your lips tremble with a nervous exhale. “’Course I’ll testify. I don’t want that piece of shit coming anywhere near you.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, pressing your mouth to his skin. You litter a few grateful kisses along his pectorals, and he smiles. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Don’t have to keep saying that,” Harry mumbles, chuckling tenderly. He takes your face between his hands, thumbs trailing idly over your temples. “I wanna keep you safe. Or—or make you feel safe, at least.”

Your eyes glisten.

“I do feel safe around you,” you say. Your lips twitch. “Except for when you’re trying to punch me in the gut.”

He snickers, shaking his head. “If you want to start tussling with me more often, you’re gonna have to get used to that.”

“Duly noted.” You smirk.

Harry sighs, letting his head fall back against the ground.

“Speaking of keeping you safe…,” he mutters, staring up at the ceiling. His fingers resume their previous ministrations, stroking languidly through your hair. “You should go pee, yeah? Heard it’s important for girls to do that after sex.”

You laugh, surprised by his words. “How—how do you know that?”

“Sister,” he reminds you. His cheeks dimple as he grins.

You nod, mouth curling into a fond smile. “Right.”

April 26, 2021

The crowd is deafening, encasing him in a cloud of noise. He refuses to let it distract him, zeroing in on his opponent with the intensity of a thousand suns. An experimental jab comes his way, gauging the distance between them, but Harry sidesteps it easily. He retaliates with a right hook, catching the side of the man’s head. It’s not a powerful blow, but it succeeds in disorienting him for a few milliseconds.

He charges forward, then, sensing an opportunity and seizing it before it can fade away. In a flurry of fists (and the odd kick here and there), he backs his opponent up until the ropes around the ring are digging into the man’s waist. He’s ruthless, giving him no chance to react, delivering blow after blow until his rival can barely stand on his own two feet. At that point, he retreats, stepping back and letting his victory come to him.

He needs this win. He needs this win. He needs this—

His challenger falls into the trap, stumbling forward with double vision and throwing a sloppy hook. Harry bats his hand away effortlessly, lunging forward and curving his arm up. Pride flares in his chest when his fist makes contact with his opponent’s jaw, making the man’s head snap back on his neck. He drops to the floor in an unconscious, muscular heap.

The seconds pass by like molasses, but at last, the referee is climbing into the ring and lifting Harry’s hand high above his head. The crowd roars. He closes his eyes for a moment, basking in the praise. When they flutter open again, they’re trailing upward, searching for one particular face in a sea of strangers.

And there you are.

You’re beaming, clapping frantically and pausing every so often to cup your hands around your mouth and amplify your cheers. Harry smiles, tilting his chin upward and letting his head fall back in relief. He doesn’t tear his gaze away from you, even as the referee releases his wrist and crouches to rouse his opponent from the ground.

He hears someone call his name and turns to the side. He finds your father peeking at him through the ropes circling the ring, a wide grin on his face. He beckons him over, a water bottle clutched tightly in his outstretched hand. Harry complies, breathing out a heavy sigh.

Meanwhile, you’re pushing through the throng of people that have now started moving toward the exit. Going against the current is difficult—you murmur quick apologies as you nudge past countless shoulders and elbows—but finally, you emerge from the crowd, unscathed. You see Harry chatting with a few people approximately thirty feet away, but before you can take another step, a big, burly security guard blocks your path.

“No spectators beyond this point,” he tells you gruffly.

“But, I—,” your mouth opens and closes, though no words come out. Instinctively, you point over the guard’s shoulder, your finger pinned on a very sweaty, very shirtless Harry. “That’s my boyfriend.”

You only have a moment to feel shocked by your claim. Boyfriend?

It’s been weeks since that night at the gym, and yeah, you suppose that the two of you are a thing, now. You’re going out. You’re exclusive. Whatever the hell you want to call it.

But you’ve never referred to him as your boyfriend, and he’s never referred to you as his girlfriend. You haven’t talked about potentially putting a label on your relationship, despite the fact that you’re both clearly interested in seeing each other and no one else.

Is it time to have that conversation?

Harry jumps in surprise when he hears you call his name. He turns toward the sound and then grunts when you barrel into him a moment later, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. One of his hands reflexively falls to your bottom before quickly moving away. The feeling of his calloused palm on your ass sends a shiver down your spine.

You bury your face in his shoulder. He’s sweating all over, skin wet and muscles bulging from exertion. You know that you’ve caught him off-guard, because he whispers your name incredulously into your ear and presses a gentle kiss to your jaw. When he finally sets you down, you peer up at him with bright eyes and a large grin.

“That was incredible,” you gush, your hands falling to his biceps. “You obliterated him!”

“Thanks,” he chuckles. His cheeks are pink—you don’t think it’s because of the match.

In the periphery of your vision, you catch sight of your father. He’s standing there with raised brows and parted lips, and you suddenly remember that he hasn’t yet been made aware of your…situation. You gasp, stepping away from Harry quickly and draping your arms around your own torso. He seems to recognize your blunder as well, because his shoulders tense and his eyes nearly pop out of his head.

The two of you speak at the same time.

“Coach—”

“Dad—”

“I don’t want to know,” your father announces, holding up one hand and cutting you both off swiftly. His eyes bounce back and forth between you, features betraying no emotion whatsoever. Finally, his shoulders slump.

“I’m gonna call it a night, gioia,” he tells you. He then looks to the left, directing his next words at Harry. “Congratulations on your win, H. Have her home by midnight.”

“Dad, I’m a grown woman—,” you begin to scoff, but he gives you a pointed glare.

“Midnight,” he repeats.

You shrink away and nod.

~*~

Before leaving, Harry decides to take a quick shower in the men’s locker room. You sit on one of the benches, tapping your foot against the tiles as you watch him get undressed. It doesn’t take him long—he’s only wearing a pair of shorts, after all—but you savour every moment, your eyes raking over his muscular back as he bends down to pick his bottoms up off of the ground. He tosses the fabric into his drawstring bag before peering over his shoulder at you.

“Sure you don’t wanna join me?” he asks, a coy smirk playing on his lips when he catches you staring.

You look away quickly, picking at your nails and feigning indifference. “Where anyone could walk in? I’m good.”

He shrugs, snickering quietly. “Suit yourself.”

You ogle his plump ass as he walks away.

A moment later, one of the showers turns on. You can hear Harry humming softly as he steps under the spray. You sigh, leaning back against the wall and fishing your phone out from your pocket. For the next few minutes, you scroll distractedly through social media, bored out of your mind.

You grunt softly and set your phone down, tiptoeing over to the door of the locker room and fastening it shut. The lock above the handle slides into place with a low click!

“Fuck it,” you mutter.

You flick open the button of your jeans, shoving the material down your thighs. Eventually, you’re naked, goosebumps pebbling on your arms. You set your clothes back down onto the bench and grab a spare towel, fiddling with the necklace hanging from your throat. A thought occurs to you; you unclasp the chain, pulling it off and letting it pool in the palm of your hand.

Harry’s idle singing grows louder as you approach the row of showers. It’s not hard to find his cubicle—it’s the only one with the curtain drawn over the entrance. You pad toward it, hanging your towel next to his and calling out, “Harry?”

“Yeah?” His hums stop.

You grasp the fabric of the curtain, pulling it back and peering inside. Immediately, Harry’s gaze locks with yours. He’s completely bare, standing beneath the water with hooded eyes and shampoo foaming in his hair. You slip into the cubicle, not missing the way he gawks at your naked body.

“I changed my mind,” you murmur, peering up at him shyly.

He presses his lips together to fight back a smile. “Yeah. You sure did.”

“Shut up and let me rinse your hair.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Before you can bury your hands into the wet strands, however, you remember the jewellery clutched between your fingers.

“Actually—,” you say, hesitating. “I, um—I wanted to give this to you.”

You scoop the necklace up from your palm, holding it out nervously. Harry recognizes it immediately, and his eyes widen in surprise.

“What for?” he asks, not unkindly.

“It’s my lucky charm,” you tell him, shrugging your shoulders. “I just figured…maybe it’ll work for you, too.”

He kisses you, then, grabbing your face in his hands and crushing his lips to yours. You whimper into his mouth, finding his wrists and encasing them in a tight grip. The kiss is passionate, bruising, fiery—you’ve never felt so wanted.

Harry pulls back once the two of you run out of air. Even then, he keeps his forehead pressed snugly against yours, staying close. He’s breathing heavily, and you’re starting to sweat, the humidity of the stall seeping into every last pore on your body. Harry shakes his head, gazing into your eyes.

“You’re my lucky charm,” he says.

Your heartbeat stutters in your chest.

“But,” he continues, smiling softly, “I’ll take the necklace. It’ll be good to have for when you’re not there.”

You nod wordlessly, and he steps back. His hands find his throat, fumbling with the chain dangling over his collarbones. He reaches over his shoulders, unclasping his own necklace and presenting it to you.

“Here,” he says. “I’ll take yours, and you take mine.”

You nod again.

You turn around slowly, electricity thrumming through your body as Harry guides the silver chain around your neck. The shiny cross pendant rests against your sternum; the warmth of the metal seeps into your skin. When you face him again, Harry whistles lowly, his lips twitching.

“Looks good on you,” he says, nodding proudly. “My girl.”

“Is that what I am?” you ask, peeking up at him through your lashes. “Your girl?”

He pauses. He really does look ridiculous with the white, frothing shampoo slicked through his hair.

“Is that what you want to be?”

A moment of silence ensues.

“Yeah,” you finally say, biting your bottom lip. “It is.”

Harry smiles. He leans forward and kisses you again, softer this time. You nudge his shoulder with the hand that’s still holding your necklace, prompting him to spin around.

“Come on,” you murmur, delivering one last affectionate peck to his mouth. “Your turn.”

~*~

Harry pulls up to your house fifteen minutes before midnight. You unbuckle your seatbelt, modifying your position in the front seat so that you can look at him properly. Your hair is still slightly damp from your shared shower, and your skin is fresh and clean. You smell like him—like the body wash you had both used to scrub yourselves down in the small cubicle. A silver necklace—his necklace—peeks out from beneath the collar of your denim jacket.

The jewellery suits you. He doesn’t ever want you to take it off.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment until you eventually crack a smile.

“You look like you want to eat me,” you say, laughing.

“C’mere, then,” he chuckles, already leaning forward. “Lemme have a taste.”

“Gross.” You stick your tongue out playfully but obey him nonetheless, your lips meeting over the middle console of the vehicle. Harry cups your face in one hand, keeping you close. You sigh into his mouth, and he swallows the sound down—it’s the prettiest fucking thing he’s ever heard.

You carry on like that for the next few minutes, exchanging soft kisses that don’t go beyond him placing a calloused palm on your thigh. When you finally pull away, a breathless giggle bubbles up in your throat.

“Have I ever told you that you’re a great kisser?” you ask.

“Only a dozen times a day,” he replies, smirking gently.

You laugh, carding your fingers through his hair and tilting your head to the side as you stare at him. Your eyes are far away, getting lost in your own thoughts, it seems.

“What is it?” he whispers, even though there’s no one else in the car aside from you and him.

“I love you,” you murmur absentmindedly.

Harry freezes; your confession knocks the air from his lungs.

“What?” he says, his brows knitting together.

At last, you snap out of your trance. Your admission sinks in, and you recoil, shocked at your own boldness.

“I—,” you start, your eyes growing impossibly wide. “I just meant—we’ve known each other for years, now, but I feel like I really got to know you these past few months. These past few weeks, especially.”

You shrug, playing nervously with the silver cross hanging around your neck. Harry’s heart somersaults at the sight.

“I’m sorry if it’s bad timing,” you continue; you’re rambling, now. “And I understand that it might be weird considering the fact that we just put a label on this, but—,” you break off, taking a deep breath, “—I love you. I do.”

He reaches out, trailing his fingers over the faint curve of your jaw. You gasp softly when his thumb ghosts over your bottom lip.

“Did you just apologise for telling me that you love me?” he says. Crinkles appear at the corners of his eyes.

You squeeze your own eyes shut, cringing at his words and shaking your head.

“Don’t repeat it,” you plead. “I’m already embarrassed enough.”

“Oh, so loving me is embarrassing?” he asks, smirking slyly.

You frown, batting his hand away and shifting your body so that you’re no longer facing him. You place your elbow against the ledge of the passenger door, resting your chin on your fist and staring pointedly out the window.

“Hey,” Harry coos, though he can’t stop the inkling of laughter that seeps into his voice. “Don’t be like that.”

“I take it back,” you say flatly, refusing to turn around. “I hate you, actually.”

“Really,” he says, but it’s not a question. He unbuckles his own seatbelt so that he can lean over the middle console and nuzzle at your cheek.

“My girlfriend hates me?” he asks; he knows that he’s being insufferable, but he can’t help it. Messing with you is so much fun.

“Yes.” Your response is curt. “She does.”

“That’s not nice,” he says, curling his lips down into a dramatic pout. He presses a gentle kiss to the side of your neck—right against a particular spot that makes you melt every single time. He knows it, and so do you.

“That’s not nice at all,” Harry continues, littering sloppy pecks down the column of your throat. “This how you treat the man who loves you?”

You pause when his words register in your brain.

“Stop lying,” you mutter, keeping your gaze glued to the scenery outside your window.

“’M not lying,” he tells you, squeezing your thigh gently. “Said you’d cut my balls off if I did it again, remember?”

And despite your initial sense of humiliation, you laugh. Harry smiles, placing his free hand on your cheek and guiding you to look over at him. You submit to his wishes, gazing at him through pretty, wispy lashes. He tilts forward ever-so-slightly, nudging your noses together and fastening his lips to yours. When he pulls back after a moment, he pinches your chin between two fingers.

“I love you,” he says earnestly.

“I love you, too,” you whisper.

Your eyelids flutter shut as he slides his palm up your leg; he stops only once it’s resting in the crease between your hip and your thigh, dangerously close to your groin.

“We have—,” he cranes his neck, peering over at the digital clock on the truck’s dashboard, “—five minutes until you have to be inside. Think I can make you cum between now and then?”

You scoff, pushing him away and laughing at his crudeness.

“You’re insane,” you giggle, shooting him a faux-stern glare. “Behave.”

“Fine,” he grumbles, frowning childishly. You just grin, slipping your hand around his neck and pulling him in for a doting kiss. You press a series of rapid pecks along the seam of his mouth, nipping playfully at his bottom lip before retreating. Instinctively, he follows you, but you dig your fingers into his shoulder, stopping him before he can get too far.

“Goodnight,” you whisper, reaching for the handle on the door.

Harry watches with wide, awestruck eyes as you exit the car. You clutch your purse closer to your side, looking back at him expectantly and waiting for his response.

He clears his throat, blinking out of his reverie.

“Yeah,” he nods, nostrils flaring slightly. “Goodnight.”

He peels away from your house only once you disappear through the front door. Subconsciously, his hand finds the rose-gold chain hanging around his throat. He fiddles with the necklace, running his thumb over the smooth surface of your shiny pendant. There’s something unreal—almost dreamlike—about having it between his fingers. He’s spent so long watching you fumble and toy with it—watching it bring you comfort when you’re nervous, or bored, or afraid.

Now, it’s his.

And so are you.

Faint music plays from the truck’s stereo; Harry reaches forward, twisting a knob and turning the volume up to its full capacity. Ariana Grande’s familiar vocal riffs pour through the speakers.

He sings along at the top of his lungs, hollering triumphantly the entire ride home.

~*~

Extra: Knockout [READ IT NOW ON PATREON]

if you enjoyed this series, please consider donating to my ko-fi! thank you bunches <3

#harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #oh my god i can't believe this is the last part aaaaaaaaaa #i really hope u all like it!#boxrry #harry writing

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slipping-through-my-fingertips · 4 years ago

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If Glee did a Taylor Swift Tribute Episode...

Just my opinions, feel free to add on to them. I know I have some fellow gleek swifties following me. I’d love to hear your thoughts. Obviously they have to do some of the hits but I think some people would have some out of the box picks.

*This post assumes all Taylor songs are available to choose from as of May 14th 2021 but focuses on Taylor’s first 6 albums (if you want more glee and Taylor I have fics with that; LOVER and FOLKLORE) and takes liberties with where this episode’s placement is in terms of canon. But since it’s all made up anyway who cares (but Blaine’s involved so I guess season 3 idk).*

Okay, trying to do a full plot here (completely inspired by @kurtdeservesbetter head canon posts. I hope this lives up to her fabulous posts). This will be my version of glee so everyone gets solos and Rachel can’t hog the spotlight. Also, this is about to be super long (both post wise and episode wise).

Let’s open the first episode with

...Ready For It because the New Directions are in their reputation era. Santana does the opening cough centerstage. Everyone in black and/or camo green outfits (can you just see Kurt in a dark green bedazzled snake jacket, Santana in a black leather dress, and Tina digging out some goth clothes for people to borrow?), snakes everywhere, but probably no Karyn (she just wouldn’t fit on the auditorium stage). Santana takes the first verse but we have Blaine step up for verse 2. (I just love their friendship in the Michael tribute, cute little badasses are BACK. Also him singing “Burton to this Taylor” is such a Klaine thing to do).

Everyone is still dressed in their rep outfits but we’re in the choir room now. Mr. Schue is talking about why Taylor had to disappear and clap back with rep, how rough the industry is for women and tries to uplift the ladies in the room and encourage them to not silence their voices (cue snarky comment from Santana about Rachel needing to be silent).

Then, Mr. Schue goes on about how you can only understand how Taylor got to her rep era by studying her earlier music. So we have a performance of Tim McGraw. Simple, front of the choir room performance, maybe Puck does guitar, and sitting on stools.

Everyone is surprised to find out how pumped Sam is for this assignment but he is all over it. “It's about time we did some country in this room.” Cue Sam and Quinn at her locker talking about their ‘date’ last night, Sam’s all cute and teasing and Quinn is not into it. She tells him it was fun but she was wrong, they shouldn’t do this again. In turn, he does a wonderful performance of Bye Bye Baby. He thought it was more but clearly he’s “a part of her past.”

Then, we’re in the empty choir room. Tina and Mike are there. (I love their cutesy duets) They sing Everything Has Changed and it’s utterly adorable. Can’t you hear Mike asking Tina if she’s “good to go” like Ed does? And while we’re on the subject of cute duets and RED, we flash to the courtyard to see Santana and Brittany. They turn Stay Stay Stay into a duet. “I’ve been loving you for quite some time,” “before you I only dated self-indulgent takers who took all their problems out on me,” “no one else is gonna love me when I’m mad, mad, mad,” and “it’s occurring to me that I’d like to hang out with you for my whole life” it’s perfect for them. Adorable ladies kisses are had.

Let’s toss in some boy drama for fun. Idk shit about football but somehow Puck is praised by their coach over Finn, which gets him all pissy, and Puck’s upset and jealous because Finn is back with Quinn now (this is why Quinn shut Sam now earlier, she changed her mind). Can we say duet of Bad Blood? “So if you’re coming my way...just don’t.”

After their dramatics, we have a Brittany solo in the choir room. It’s after school at this point (or whenever glee club is). Brittany does You’ll Always Find You Way Back Home.

When she finishes Mr. Schue tries to explain that it’s a Hannah Montana song. Britt injects that it’s confusing how she’s really Miley Cryus “like how can you be two people at once?”. Before Mr. Schue can continue, Kurt pipes up “you never specified that the songs had to be sung by Taylor Swift, just that they were her songs.” Mercedes adds, “yeah, Mr. Schue, Taylor wrote that song.” Mr. Schue concedes that he has once again been outwitted by Kurtcedes. The friends do their little hand shake thing.

With a sigh, Mr. Schue asks Mike if he’s ready to go and Mike asks to take things to the auditorium for some dancing room. Everyone’s on stage with him and it’s kind of a group number but Mike is the focus. It’s Shake It Off. All inspired by the music video. He’s tried to fit in elsewhere (i.e. football, with the smart kids, etc..) but he’s really himself in glee when he’s dancing.

Part 2 of Taylor Tribute Episodes

We begin with an ALL GIRL NUMBER of A Place In This World. Just because.

Glee is dismissed and we zoom in on Artie. He’s watching Tina with Mike and Brittany with Santana. Both Tina and Britt have broken his heart by this point. So, he’s rolling down the halls singing A Perfectly Good Heart. While Artie’s soloing, we cut to Rachel watching Finn and Quinn chatting. Artie’s song playing over this scene. Rachel is feeling similar to him at the moment.

She’s pretty sure Finn dumped her to be with Quinn again even though Kurt and Blaine told her they saw Quinn and Sam at the movies last night together making out in the back row. Fine, if that’s how he’s going to be, she doesn’t need him anyway. Cue Mr. Perfectly Fine. Uber dramatic solo performance walking around McKinley’s halls watching Finn and Quinn together ending in the auditorium alone. (see what I did there, both broken hearted peeps singing a song with Perfectly in it (this was not at all planned, actually, happy accident))

After some good old heartbreak, we have Kurt and Blaine on screen. Blaine walks into the auditorium to see Kurt sitting on the edge of the stage. “What’s all the fuss?” he asks from the door. Kurt had texted him “EMERGENCY.” The band starts to play and Kurt just starts singing, Enchanted. It’s time to profess their love for each other, just like they sing Perfect together in the car, this duet needs no audience. Blaine catches up and sings while walking towards his boyfriend. It’s very reminiscent of past New Directions competitions where they come in from the back and make their way to the stage. “Wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you?” Kurt and Blaine both know the answer to that question now but just a few months ago they were both wondering that exact thing.

They kiss before we cut to Kurt and Blaine walking hand in hand into the choir room where everyone else is already. Mr. Schue is praising the performances thus far and of course asks Rachel if she’s ready to solo (some practice for her completion solo). This causes an uproar from Mercedes and Santana. Another classic argument of how she gets too many solos. Mr. Schue tries to shut them both down but Santana tells Rachel to watch her back, and we get three very different reactions to this.

All three girls storm out.

First, we visit Mercedes alone in the courtyard. This solo is all about being hurt over this great thing in her life (glee) and her being denied happiness within that club. Thus, Cold As You. (mostly to indulge myself because she’d blow us away with this song).

Next, Rachel in the auditorium. A huge bridge on stage (very Speak Now Tour of her), belting out Better Than Revenge. Santana’s dropped the last straw (the humiliation, name calling, Finn at one point and now solos,) it’s too much this time.

And finally, Santana walking around McKinley, showing us flashes of Rachel ‘outshining’ her and the rest of glee and Mr. Schue being unfair, while singing Look What You Made Me Do.

Tina walks out at the same time as Rachel, Mercedes, and Santana but no one seems to put two and two together. She feels just as underutilized as the latter two do. She ends up in an empty classroom and sings The Outside. “Nobody ever lets me in” and “on the outside looking in.”

Once the 3, err 4, divas have left the room, Finn sticks up for Rachel. Quinn, of course, has something to say about this along the lines of “you always defend her.” Finn, intimated by her ‘scary Quinn’ fumbles and blurts “because she’s my girlfriend” WHICH IS NOT TRUE AT THIS POINT. Quinn dumps him on the spot, cuts quickly to Blaine and Kurt sharing some ‘oh my god, can you believe this’ expressions, and vanishes from the room.

By this point, Rachel is long gone from the auditorium but the bridge is still there.

Here’s where we go way off script but imagine, Quinn has decided to just quit boys. They’ve all failed her anyway, she’s better off being alone. She walks up the bridge and thinks to herself “god Rachel’s so dramatic, where did this thing even come from” before it hits her “fuck, I’m as bad as Finn. I want her.” Then, she starts singing Clean to herself in the auditorium, likely tearing up throughout and ending with a good cry. (Because Dianna would DELIVER with Clean.)

While Quinn is having a sexuality crisis, the rest of glee is still happening. They’re discussing upcoming competition and debating solos and songs.

Kurt’s all: “Mr. Schue, if I may” and performs a lovely rendition of Call It What You Want. Those opening lines are too good. “My castle (ie McKinley) crumbled overnight, brought a knife to a gun fight (ie couldn’t fight off Dave Karofsky), “I’m doing better than I ever was ‘cause my baby’s fit like a daydream,” and “at least I did one thing right.” When he’s done, Blaine’s a mess in the back of the choir room, and Mr. Schue says: “not really what we’re looking for but very nice, Kurt” however, Kurt’s too busy sitting beside Blaine teasing him about blushing.

Then, the missing girls return to the room having sung out their emotions. Quinn, having realized her feelings for Rachel, ends up soloing You Belong With Me to the New Directions in the choir room. Odd looks all around, no one knows what’s up with her and why does she keep glancing at Rachel? (Faberry just fit so well I had to add it, don’t know if I’m a shipper or not but it’s here now) (also thanks to @spicygemini for pointing out the obvious “Quinn would have ate YBWY”).

Mr. Schue wants to move the group to the audition to perform their final number of the Taylor Swift tribute well but Tina asks to sing first. He’s surprised but allows it, taking a seat with the rest of the New Directions.

Tina sings Beautiful Ghosts. “Watch from the dark, wait for my life to start” because New Directions is refusing to use her talents AGAIN. She’s singing this to Rachel and the girls who were in the Treble Tones. Because she absolutely SMASHES this number, the glee kids agree she gets solo for their next competition (and they deliver on that promise).

To conclude Part 2 of the Taylor tribute episode, we have a group performance of Long Live. “One day we will be remembered”, “all the years we stood there on the sidelines wishing for right now”, “for a moment a band of thrives in ripped up jeans got to rule the world” ie wining completions, “when they look at the pictures please tell them my name...”

#this took so long please enjoy it #Taylor tribute glee episode #glee head canon #gleek swifie #glee #taylor swift

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fandomcelery · 3 years ago

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Feelings are complicated, aren't they?

Pairing: Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce

Word Count: 2107

Rating: Teens and Up

Tags: Sexuality Crisis, Internalized Homophobia, Pining

Beta: @useless-fanfictions helped me out a lot on this fic, especially since I'm just starting out writing, so a big thanks to them!

Summary: Walking next to Brittany felt normal and right, but at that moment it felt slightly wrong. A bunch of questions were running through her mind. Was she acting differently? Was it obvious that something was off? Oh god, does everyone think that she’s gay?

Or, the one where Santana realizes she might have feelings for Brittany and panics over it.

Read it on Ao3

For the Glee Character "This-or-That" Challenge: @gleethisorthatchallenge

Prompt: Sharing a bed or Sexuality Crisis

The way Santana feels around Brittany is normal, right? Sure, she’s never felt it for any other person—not even any of her previous boyfriends—but it’s a completely normal feeling. And yeah, okay, she also defends Brittany all the time when people insult or make fun of her, and when Brittany sticks up for her and is always by her side, she can never stop smiling. She always feels warm whenever she compliments her about literally anything that she’s wearing, or how her hair looks that day, or really anything that makes Santana feel pretty.

There’s also the fact that they have sex regularly even though they’re in relationships with guys who would willingly have sex with them as well, but that’s different. It must be different, because if it’s not—

No, it’s not an option for it to not be anything but platonic. It’s got to be, it just has to be.

Even though Santana hates when people flirt with Brittany and will usually try to scare them off when others aren’t looking. Or when they get into fights or arguments, big or small, she feels like shit when she can’t talk to Brittany, and then that means they can’t have their sweet lady kisses that make Santana feel like they are the only two people left on the entire planet.

Feelings are complicated, aren’t they?

As long as she always stands her ground, keeping their relationship just friends, and convincing Brittany—and a little bit of herself—that even though they’re in relationships they can have sex and it’s not cheating because they’re both girls, she will be fine. She just has to keep telling herself that their relationship isn’t anything, that they’re strictly friends and that she doesn’t have feelings for her best friend, because if she did then she wouldn’t know what she would do with herself.

She’s not homophobic, and just because Kurt freaking Hummel struts around with his gay flag waving in the air doesn’t mean that everyone can or has to. And even if they do, they’ll get bullied and harassed, just like him. It’s the way that everything goes, the straight popular kids are on top, and the gays are at the bottom, even though that’s ridiculous, it’s the way it goes.

She’ll just keep it to herself—even though there’s nothing there, obviously—and everything will be fine. She hopes that if she keeps telling herself that then maybe it will be.

***

Of course, that’s not what happens. The following Monday, after the weekend Santana had realized that something is different, it seemed like everyone has been staring at the two of them differently, but it might just be her paranoia talking.

Walking next to Brittany felt normal and right, but at that moment it felt slightly wrong. A bunch of questions were running through her mind. Was she acting differently? Was it obvious that something was off? Oh god, does everyone think that she’s gay? She is suddenly on the defensive side, glaring at the people who she thought were looking at her and Brittany weirdly. Maybe people always looked at them this way and neither of them ever noticed or cared; except now she did.

She knows the route they take to get to their next classes by heart because they always walk together, even though their schedules don’t really line up. Most people think that all the Cheerios just walk to class together in groups because the outfits look good together—which they do, she thinks conceitedly—and because of the cheerleading cliques. For a while that’s why Quinn, Brittany, and Santana would walk together, but then they actually got kind of close because of Glee Club, and now Quinn walks with Finn to her classes and Santana walks with Brittany.

During her fourth period that she has alone she can’t stop thinking about Brittany. How when she walks to class she hugs her binder to her chest, or how during class she always fidgets with her pencil when she’s in between writing, or how even if she doesn’t care about what people are talking about, she’ll listen to them anyway (like this one time a few days ago when they had arrived early to glee club and Rachel had come up to Brittany and her to ask for dance lessons, going on and on about something that had to do with her being a star and needing to know how to dance better, and Santana had only been paying attention to Brittany and ignored Rachel’s harping), Santana admires the way Brittany exists, and how it seems like nothing really bothers her. She doesn’t know why all of the sudden it’s hitting her, especially since she’s been friends with her for so long, and no, she doesn’t have feelings for her, they’re just friends.

***

They walk to their usual seats during lunch together, every now and again bumping shoulders with how close they are while they’re talking. Santana sits down across from Brittany, as she doesn’t miss a beat from what she’s saying to sit down.

“And I swear that Lord Tubbington has a gambling addiction, but he won’t stop—” she takes a bite of her food, “—and I don’t know what to do.”

“Why don’t you just take away his laptop privileges?” Santana suggests, also taking a bite of her own food. It’s not bad, however, it’s not good. Then again, it’s the school’s food. When she looks up at Brittany, she looks quizzical, like she hasn’t thought of doing that.

“That probably would work,” Brittany responds, and continues eating.

Santana’s focused on something else. That something else is Brittany’s physical appearance, everything about her: to her flashing smile, to her thin and perfect eyebrows. her slim waist, long legs, and her torso—which she shouldn’t be staring at in the middle of school, and yet she is. She is stunning to Santana, with her lean appearance and bright golden colored hair pulled perfectly back into a ponytail. Her blue eyes seem to twinkle all the time.

“Santana?” Brittany asks after she’s been staring for a moment or two.

“Huh, what? Sorry, I was just, thinking,” she responds quickly and looks away to other tables where other kids are sitting, she lets go of her lip that she must have been biting on.

“About what?” Brittany takes another bite of her food, almost finished, whereas Santana has barely touched hers.

“Nothing important,” she mumbles, taking a drink from her water bottle. The answer seems to satisfy Brittany and they go back to normal and easy conversation like Santana hadn’t been just staring at her best friend’s boobs.

***

Glee Club isn’t that different. Rachel and Mercedes are fighting for a solo that Mr. Schue handed out, he doesn’t know how to handle it, and so they’re trying to argue over one another. Finn, Puck, Matt, and Mike are making bets about something in football. Kurt, Tina, and Artie are talking about something—she can’t hear their conversation, and honestly doesn’t care—and so it’s Quinn, Brittany and her talking about the Cheerios like they always are.

“Sue’s been on our asses about winning at Nationals,” Quinn comments as she sits down next to Brittany.

“She’s just concerned about staying on top,” Santana remarks, looking around the choir room. She looks up at the two who are arguing over one another and laughs a little bit. Everyone knows that Rachel’s going to get the solo, she usually does. Mercedes probably knows that, too, and yet she’s still going to fight for it.

“And her paycheck,” Quinn adds.

Eventually Mr. Schue stood in front of the class, apparently they had sorted it out where Rachel got this solo and Mercedes would get the next one.

This Glee practice they were going to focus on their choreography added with singing, and it wasn’t that big of an issue for the three cheerleaders (and it was mostly for the jocks to practice anyway, since they were the ones having problems, other than Mike, surprisingly).

Afterwards everyone was tired and sore, they had to start over a bunch of times because someone kept messing up (Finn). Slowly the choir room emptied, and Brittany and Santana walked to their next class together. They were going to walk with Quinn, but she had muttered something about a “troll trying to steal her boyfriend” and went off to walk with Finn. They separated at their different classrooms, and the three of them were going to meet up for Cheerios practice that was after school, which was their usual plan.

***

After practice Santana was even more exhausted than when she left Glee rehearsal. She grabs her water bottle that she had placed in her locker when she first got there. She gulps down a quarter of the bottle before putting it back.

There are many girls around her, yet the only one she’s focused on is Brittany.

Ever since they walked into the locker room, Brittany, and another cheerleader—Hailey was her name—were talking nonstop to one another. It’s not like Santana was eavesdropping, but it’s not her fault they were standing so close and speaking so God damn loudly.

“One time she made a girl cry just because she talked back,” Hailey continues while she brushes her hair in the mirror.

“I know, I was there,” Brittany responds, leaning up against the lockers next to Hailey’s that no one’s using. “Sue can be a bitch sometimes.”

Hailey wraps her hair in a ponytail and starts to put the hair tie around it. “Don’t let her hear you say that she might move you down the pyramid,” she jokes, which gets a laugh out of Brittany. “However, she is the best cheerleading coach McKinley can offer, so I guess we’ll have to put up with it,” Hailey states.

They all know that that’s true, no other teacher will coach the Cheerios, and she’s the only one that’s gotten them to Nationals and gets a pretty big paycheck put towards the cheerleading team.

And listen, Santana doesn’t do jealous, okay? And she’s not. She just doesn’t like Brittany hanging out with another person so closely. And it’s because no one understands her like Santana does is all. And sure, Brittany has other friends, but usually they go through Santana to talk to her, so she knows them, or they’re all in the conversation. This is an entire new person, and they’re jokingtogether, which Brittany can do on her own, of course, but-

“Stop pining and either go talk with them or leave already,” Quinn mutters behind her.

Santana whips around and glares at her, and Quinn smirks.

“Oh, come on, don’t think I didn’t notice.” She walks past Santana to get to her locker, and Santana decides to do what Quinn suggested.

She grabs her water bottle from her locker and makes sure all of her things are put away before she leaves to head home.

***

She can’t be in love with her best friend, right? Sure, she and Brittany are close, and they do practically everything together, and Santana loves everything about Brittany, but that doesn’t mean she’s in love with Brittany.

Those thoughts are how Santana finds herself pacing in her room, not for the first time in the last few days, lost in thought. She looks over at the photos that she has on her walls of all of the Cheerios, but there are a few of either her, Brittany, and Quinn, or just the two of them.

She walks over and picks one up to look at it. She gets the same feeling that she’s been getting every time she thinks about Brittany, yet she’s been ignoring it for a while now. Except this time, she doesn’t. She feels butterflies in her stomach and doesn’t even realize she is smiling at Brittany’s picture. She sets down the photo when she does catch herself, and goes to lay down on her bed.

Even if she was gay, how would she know? Would having feelings that aren’t actually feelings enough to be considered gay? And what would everyone else think? Maybe she should turn to the internet, she thinks. She sits up and grabs her laptop that she keeps on her bedside table and loads it up.

A few searches later she realizes that maybe terms like bisexual or even lesbian fit her. Some more questions pop up in her head after that realization, but at least one thing’s certain.

Santana is in love with her best friend, and she has no idea what she’s going to do about it.

#gleecharactertot2021 #gleetotchallenge2021 #glee #santana lopez #brittany pierce #brittana #sexuality crisis #elliry writes #uefnajnfvedhbfhrsyuhebgveahj

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wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

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Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Chapter 4: You Don’t Know What You’ve Got Till It’s Gone Part 2 Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Summary: Jake and Stella are both home for Christmas, and the annual New Year’s Party at the Jensen’s sees some unexpected guests in attendance…

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson.

TLAYLI Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 4 Part 1

Jake’s eyes were focussed on the film on the large, flat screen TV that his mom had bought his dad for Christmas. Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire was playing on the movie channel, one of his guilty pleasures. He and Stel had seen all the movies on opening night to date, the pair of them huge Potter Heads. At the other end of the couch, Britney was painting her nails a bright, glittery pink colour whilst Jensen was simply doing his best to ignore her although the fumes of the nail polish were getting right up his nostrils and making it almost impossible.

The door to the lounge clicked open and the family’s black Labrador trotted in, his tail wagging and thumping on the coffee table.

“Hey Sirius…” Jake muttered, reaching over to scratch his ear.

“Who’s serious?” Britney frowned and looked at him “What?”

At that point Gracie walked into the room and plopped down next to Jake.

“Are you being serious?” Jake looked at Britney “The dog, his name is Sirius, as in Sirius Black…from Harry Potter”

He was met with a blank look.

“The film is literally on the TV…” Jake pointed.

Another blank look.

Gracie glanced at Jake and he rolled his eyes.

“It’s a cool name. Stelly picked it.” She answered Britney.

“Stelly?”

“God, what is in that nail polish?” Jake grumbled to himself as once more he turned to look at Britney “Stella, you met her.”

“Oh the loser girl!”

“Stella isn’t a loser.” Gracie spoke again in an affronted tone just as Jane entered the lounge and crossed to sit in the armchair.

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that honey.” Britney smiled. Grace looked at her, then to Jake who was doing his best not to meet his niece’s gaze as she was clearly disgusted that Britney had, in her eyes, insulted her favourite ever person.

“It was really supposed to be our dog.” Jake shrugged, trying to move her conversation on.

“Your dog?”

This time it was Jane’s turn to sigh at Britney’s dim-wittedness.

“Stella and I got him from a rescue.” Jake explained, his eyes not moving from the screen “But we couldn't take him with us when we signed up so he ended up staying here.”

“Speaking of Stel.” Jane looked at Jake “We bumped into her and Evan at the mall”

Okay, so that got his attention. His head whipped round and he frowned at his sister “Evan?”

“Yes, her boyfriend dur.” Gracie rolled her eyes.

“What’s he doing here?”

Jane smiled at Jake sympathetically “Apparently he showed up this morning, wanted to surprise her.”

“He’s coming tonight.” Gracie smiled “I invited him.”

“Great…that’s great.” Jake looked at Jane who popped her right shoulder, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Awww yeah, it'll be fun!” Britney grinned.

“You literally couldn’t remember who she was like 5 seconds ago.” Jake rolled his eyes.

“I know but then you reminded me, and when we met she seemed really nice.”

“She is,” Jane agreed “and so is Evan.”

“Yup” Grace nodded “He’s handsome and so cool. He bought me hot chocolate.”

“Handsome and cool...” Jake mocked, in a stupid, airey voice “I buy you hot chocolate all the time.”

“Yes, but not with all the toppings.” Gracie looked at him, sticking her tongue out.”

“He really is gorgeous.” Jane added and Jensen made an angry noise in his throat.

Fuck Agent Shit Name…

Gracie sniggered besides him and poked him in the ribs. “You’re jealous uncle J!”

“And you're 6. Like you know what that means.”

“I do too. It means when someone has something you want and you get upset or mad.”

Okay, so she does know what it means…

Britney laughed “Oh baby, I'm sure I can make you a hot chocolate if you really want one.”

There was a pause as everyone in the room looked at her. Jensen took off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose as he screwed his eyes shut.

“He doesn’t want chocolate Britney, he wants Stel” Gracie replied.

“Oh, for f- Gracie!” Jensen glared at her as she shoved his glasses back on his face.

Terrific…this day just gets better and better

“What?” Britney frowned a little.

“Ok, Grace, come on...we need to check something.” Jane said, standing up.

“No we don’t.” Gracie frowned “You said I could watch TV when we got back to Nanny and Grandpa’s!”

“Do as your mom tells you.” Jake looked at her.

“You’re not the boss of me Uncle Jake.”

“Whatever Petunia.” Jake gently shoved her in the shoulder, pushing her up off the couch “Be gone”

“Petunia? I thought her name was Grace?” Britney looked at Jake who gave another heavy sigh.

“It is. The Petunias…you know what, forget it.”

Grace looked at Britney, as if she was trying to figure something out and then turned to Jane Mom? Why is Britney so-“ “Okay, come on…” Jane hastily cut her off “We said we’d help nanny before daddy gets here so…”

Gracie’s protests fell on deaf ears as Jane shooed her out of the room, shooting Jake another sympathetic and apologetic look.

“What did she mean you want Stella?” Britney asked.

Jake groaning, of course she hadn’t missed that bit “Who knows? Kids these days.”

“I love kids, can't wait to have my own” Britney smiled and Jake choked on air.

“Good luck with that.” He continued watching the film for another few minutes until he decided he needed another drink, and to escape the nail polish smell for a moment. “ I umm I’m gonna grab a beer, you want anything?”

“No, I’m good thanks.”

He stood up and wandered into the kitchen where his mom, Dad and Jane were all in a conversation and he had a feeling he knew what about, his suspicions confirmed when he caught what they were saying.

“You know what she told me yesterday when we met?” John arched his eyebrow “That it was funny Jake and I shared the same surname!” he shook his head “I just hope that cheesecake…” he pointed at the dish that Janet was covering in foil “…has more filling than her head because damned, you point a flashlight in her right ear it’s gonna shine right outta her left.”

At that point Jake’s mom caught sight of him and she nudged his father who looked up and round at Jake who met his eyes with a glare before he yanked open the fridge. “

“Everything alright son?”

“Ask your granddaughter.” He said simply as he popped the lid off his beer and turned back to the hall, taking a deep pull.

He let out a sigh, he had really gotten himself into a mess. He was stuck with Britney whilst he was gonna have to watch Evan and Stella all night. Terrific. Just…brilliant. Clutching the bottle, he hovered in the door and glanced at Britney, taking a deep breath. Well, he might as well play the part he supposed, after all, she wasn’t a bad looking girl…not bad in the sheets either all things considered. Plus Pooch, Cougs and Clay were dropping in, all fancying a New Years out of their respective home towns of Springfield, Monterrey, with Clay coming from base, so there would be plenty of people to talk to.

He knocked back another huge gulp of beer before he fixed a smile on his face and walked into the lounge. “So, Brit…” he asked, dropping on the sofa, turning to her, his trademark cheeky grin on his face “What you wearing for the party, and is it suitably tight?” ***** Pooch, Jolene, Cougar and Clay found themselves in the living room at the Jensen residency all clutching a drink and glancing at the various photos dotted around. Most of them were of more recent times, family shots but a one in particular caught Cougar’s attention and he whistled, nodding towards it. Clay smiled as he took in the shot of Jensen and Stella in their army fatigues, both at training camp. Faces dirty, rifles slung over their shoulders, huge grins on their faces.

“Oh, no, no this…this is the jackpot, right here!” Pooch grinned as he pointed to another photo next to it depicting the two the evening of their prom, taken in Stella’s back garden. "Look at Jensen in his penguin suit!"

He gave a little yell as Jolene slapped him “Don't be mean...” she looked at the photo. “Damned look at Stella's dress!”

“What about it?” Pooch looked at her.

“Nothing, it's just really nice.” She said. Cougar nodded, tipping his hat slightly in approval.

“You know, she hasn't changed a bit.” Clay smiled, looking at the photo fondly.

“Who hasn't changed a bit?” Jensen asked as he strode into the room, beer in his hand. Britney was close behind him, clutching a wine glass.

“Arty.” Clay said, nodding to the photo.

“Who’s Arty?” Britney frowned. Jensen turned to look at her, not quite sure if she was being serious or not. But, then again, knowing that her brain was basically a bag of cats, she probably was.

“Stella.” Cougar chuckled

“That’s Stella?” Britney’s eyes widened as she glanced at the picture “No wonder the girl in the photos all over your bedroom rang a bell.”

“You still have her all over your bedroom?” Pooch whispered to Jakey “And you’re sleeping with this one in there?”

“Shut the fuck up!” Jake hissed, glaring at Pooch who grinned, shrugging.

“I don’t understand?” Britney frowned “Why are there photos of her all over your room and here?”

The room fell silent and Jensen saw Pooch and Cougar exchanged a glance from the corner of their eye. Pooch looked like all his Christmases had come at once.

Fuck…

“You haven’t told her?” Clay arched an eyebrow and Jake’s attention turned to his Colonel, narrowing his eyes.

Why the fuck did I invite any of The Losers?

“Tell me what?” Britney pressed.

Or her for that matter, although technically, I didn’t…she invited herself.

Ignoring her, he took a sip of his beer trying to think of something to deflect the attention away from the impending shit storm. But Britney wasn’t for dropping it.

“Tell me what Jake?”

“Yeah, tell her what Jake?” Clay asked and Jensen growled.

“Son of a bitch…” he shook his head and turned to Britney. “Me and Stel, we used to ... date.”

“Exfil on way, strategic exit points through the front and rear doors…” Clay mumbled and both Pooch and Cougar sniggered as Britney blinked, processing the information Jake had just downloaded. As they watched, her heavily made up face set and her bright pink lips pressed together.

“Oh, I see. So that’s what Grace meant before…”

Clay, Cougar, Jolene and Pooch all looked at one another before Cougar held up his bottle of Corona.

“My beer is empty so…” he gestured to the lounge door.

“Mine too.” Clay said eagerly.

“And me.” Pooch agreed. He turned to Jolene who was glaring at him, a ‘don’t you dare leave me with them’ look on her face, so Pooch grabbed her hand and tugged her behind him, out into the hallway.

“Just when I think he can't possibly get any dumber.” Pooch shook his head as Clay glanced back into the room where Britney and Jensen were now in quite a heated discussion.

“Well, I think that one is on us.” He turned to the rest of the team. Cougar snorted and they all made their way into kitchen just in time to see Stella and her mom enter, followed by Evan who had been holding the door open for them. Julie beamed at Clay who gave a low chuckle and stepped forward.

“Hey Jules" he wrapped her in a warm hug “Long time no see. How you been?”

As her mom returned Clay’s greeting Stella, who wasn’t really listening as she had just seen Pooch and Cougar, grinned and pushed past. “Oh my God! You guys are here!” She gave each of the men a hug and then turned to Jolene “Oh, it’s so good to see you!”

“Hey man!” Pooch smiled as he shook Evan’s hand, the man then turning to Cougar and finally Clay who had returned to their gang.

“Good to see you all again!” Evan enthused, before he politely kissed Jolene on the cheek when Stella introduced them. She’d just turned back to the woman to ask how the wedding prep was going when she felt a tap on the shoulder. Turning, her face broke into a huge smiled as Jake’s dad beamed back at her “Hey John!"

John hugged her tightly, kissing her head. “My favourite girl, looking as gorgeous as always!”

“I heard that, Dad!” Jane scoffed as she appeared at the side of them “Fucking rude!”

“I mean my favourite non-daughter girl.” He shrugged, laughing as Jane shoved him out of the way to hug Stella and then Evan.

“Good to see you again Evan.”

“You too Jane.” He beamed, before he turned to John “You must be Mr Jensen.”

“Oh, call me John, son!” he shook his hand and Stella groaned.

“Oh my God, Ev, sorry…that was so rude...let me...where's Janet?” she began looking around and Evan chuckled, wrapping his arm round her shoulder, pulling her into him a little, her cheek pressing against his soft blue sweater.

“It’s fine, Pumpkin. Stop worrying.”

But she was worrying, well not worrying exactly, maybe flapping was a better word. She was flustered because she’d never had to really introduce her man to anyone before, as everyone knew Jake...and not to mention the party was taking place at Jake’s parents. It was a little awkward, but her and Jake were over and she wanted to remain on good terms with the family she’d basically grown up a part of. She looked around, searching for Jakes mom so she could introduce Evan and her eyes stopped on Jake and Britney as they walked into the kitchen. As Stella watched, Jake hissed something to the Blonde and Stella could tell he was pissed. She knew the look well.

As he finished saying whatever it was he was saying, he looked up and saw Stella watching. They locked eyes for a second from opposite sides of the kitchen and Stella gave him a small smile. He returned it, and then looked away as Evan slid an arm round her waist, kissing her temple. Stella grinned at Evan, then spotted Janet walking towards her.

“Oh Stella, it's so good to see you sweetheart!”

“Janet, it hasn’t been that long this time!” Stella laughed “We were at the spa like 3 days ago!”

“I know but, well, considering how much time you used to spend here it still feels strange.” Janet sighed and Stela gave her a sad smile in return.

“Well, I wouldn’t miss a Jensen New Years’ party for the world.”

Janet beamed and gently touched Stella’s cheek before she turned to Evan, smiling hugely at him. “You must be Stella’s boyfriend.” Stella groaned as Evan nodded and shook Janet’s hand politely before he kissed her cheek “God I'm so bad at this introduction crap. This is Janet, Jake’s mom.” “Yeah, I kinda figured that one out sweetheart” Evan teased and she nudged him with her elbow, causing him to laugh.

At that point Gracie skipped over, tugging at Janet’s top “Nanna, mum says that…oh!” The small girls eyes grew wide and she grinned “Evan!”

“Hey kiddo!” Evan smiled down at her as she hugged his waist. Stella glanced round to see Jake, who was stood with the rest of the losers watching with a sullen look on his face, clearly not intending on saying hi any time soon. She rolled her eyes and turned to Janet.

“Is it ok if we get a drink?”

“Stella, since when have you ever asked for anything at this house?” she admonished her “Help yourself.” She turned Evan “You too, make yourself at home.” “Thank you, Mrs Jensen. It was really kind of you to let me come”

“Oh, it’s a pleasure having you here dear. Stella is like part of this family”

Evan smiled “Yeah, she has that effect on people.”

Stella blushed a little as he dropped and arm round her shoulder, the pair of them moving to the fridge for a couple of beers before Stella suggested they go back to The Losers. Evan agreed, allowing her to lead the way, his hand dropping to the bottom of her back as they weaved through the room.

“Hi JJ.” Stella looked at Jake as they reached her teammates. “Were you planning on saying hi to us eventually?”

“Hi.” Came the curt response.

“Articulate.” Stella rolled her eyes and she turned to the blonde besides him. “Hi Britney, I don’t think you’ve met Evan have you?” she turned to Evan “Ev this is Britney, Jake’s girlfriend.” As she spoke the last word Stella’s eyes met Jake’s, a look of something that could almost pass as an apology crossed his face, but it was gone almost as soon as it had appeared.

Especially as at that point they both heard Rey’s voice across the room.

“Oh God.” Jake and Stella groaned in unison and Jake arched an eyebrow.

“Was wondering when they were gonna show up.”

“Well, they’re fashionably late. You know them!”

“Speaking of late, no sign of baby Dick yet?” Jensen asked.

“Nope. Bad PH, remember?” Stella smirked at Jensen and he grinned. There was a moment where they simply looked at one another and Stell swallowed.

“Suppose I best go… “ she jerked her head, then turned to Evan “You haven’t met Dick yet.”

“Dick?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Rey’s husband. Richard…Rick as she calls him, Rick the Dick to everyone else…well, me and Jake anyway.” She smiled at the Losers “Be right back.”

Jensen watched her go, his scanning her up and down as he noticed the back of her outfit for the first time. The tight grey sweater she was wearing had a scooped backline that dropped below her shoulder blades. Her dark, grey jeans clung to her, showing off her ass and her high heeled ankle boots accentuated her long legs. He felts a nudge to his ribs and he turned to look at Britney.

“Can I get another drink or…”

Jake took a deep breath, suddenly thinking to himself about how Stel just helped herself before he smiled. As much as she was irritating at times, Brit was sweet and he didn’t want to be cruel to her. “Sure, I’ll grab you one.” **** As with all these types of parties, the night passed in a whirl of laughter, drinks, chattering and reminiscing, although Jake made sure to avoid Stella and Evan as much as possible. Not because he wanted to but because he felt he needed to. Their exchange before had been friendly enough, and it wasn’t like they were on bad terms but he didn’t want anything to be awkward for her. Jake knew how much it meant for her to actually be in the country on New Year’s and he wasn’t going to take that away from her.

“Oh, oh…” his dad suddenly called out loudly, from where he was stood next to Jake, the entire Jensen family congregated by the fridge “We’re in the last minute guys!!” various cheers rang out across the room “Do we all have a drink? Let’s get ready!”

“Ready for what?” Britney asked. Jensen looked at her. Jesus Christ…

“For the reading of the constitution Sweetie!” John said, looking at Jake who rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It's the countdown, Brit. For New Year.”

“Oops, what am I like?” she snorted, grabbing Jake’s arm. “I guess I did it again. I’m so ditzy.”

Jensen blinked and his dad exchanged a look with Jane’s husband, Robert, the pair of them letting out huge howls of laughter.

“Oops I did it again… man…I can’t…” Robert snorted as Jane shot him a filthy look. Across from him, Janet gave John a slap round the back of the head and he let out a yell, before he turned to her and grinned.

“Oh, hit me baby, one more time” he smirked, pressing a kiss to her lips.

Robert’s howls of mirth drowned out Jensen groans, as his eyes scanned the room. Everyone was busy grabbing a glass of champagne from the side and he saw Jolene talking to Stella. As he watched Evan appeared at her side, passing her a flute of bubbles before giving her a gentle kiss. She smiled at him and then turned back to Jolene with that familiar red tinge to her cheeks that she always sported when she was flustered…or excited, Evan’s hand gently on the small of her back, hovering over the curve of her ass. Jake felt a horrible twist in his gut at the sight of it. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Stella to be happy but, well, there was just something about Evan that he couldn’t quite figure out. Everyone seemed to love the bastard, hell even his own mom and sister had been waxing lyrical about him all evening, like he was perfect.

Too perfect maybe.

Once Stella, Jolene and Agent Shit Name had left the area he grabbed 2 full flutes and turned back, handing one to Britney with a forced smile, just as his dad gave another yell and the countdown started, voices chanting out across the room as Gracie started jumping and shouting

“10, 9, 8...”

Britney turned to Jake “Oh let’s make a wish!”

“It’s a New Year’s count-down.” Jake said with a sigh “You’re not blowing out candles on a birthday cake.”

“She could always blow something else and make a wish!” Robert said, winking at Jensen. Jake rolled his eyes, the dirty joke that would normally have at least raised a grin from him fell flat and Robert yelped as Jane reached up to slap him.

“7,6,5”

Across the room, Evan curled his arm round Stella’s waist and pulled her closer, bending down to whisper in her ear. “I’m so glad to be here with you tonight Pumpkin.”

Stella swallowed, his sultry voice and intoxicating cologne swamped her senses and made her head feel slightly fuzzy. Or was that the alcohol?

She turned to him, smiling “I’m glad you’re here too.”

“4.3,2,1”

Britney’s nails dug into Jake’s arm as she squealed as the countdown ended.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

She threw herself into his arms and kissed him. It was totally over the top but Jensen went with it, and then opened his eyes to glance over her shoulder and immediately wished he hadn’t as he was confronted with the sight of Evan and Stella locked in a really gentle, sweet but deep kiss. Jake had never seen another guy or man kissing her and his guts clenched as he watched.

Here they were, in the same room at NYE for the first time in years and they weren’t together. And Jensen didn’t like it, in fact he hated it. It was all wrong.

“He doesn’t want hot chocolate Britney, he want’s Stel…” Grace’s words echoed around his mind, trust a 6 year old to point out the obvious. Fuck, he did want her. He wanted her back. Real bad.

He untangled himself from Britney with the excuse of wishing everyone a Happy New Year and moved around the room, grateful to escape for a moment. He hugged Rey, shook Dick’s hand, hugged and kissed Jules and then…

“Happy New Year JJ.” Stella smiled softly at him.

He swallows, “Yeah, erm, back at ya, Stel.”

There was a pause, and it was awkward, in a way it should never have been, especially between them but eventually Jake moved forward and hugged her, closing his eyes. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, holding her close, breathing in the familiar smell of her perfume that she hadn’t changed in years, and it was too much. He stepped back, releasing her before he turned to Agent Shit Name and shook his hand politely. With another deep breath he turned and made his way quickly out of the kitchen and into the den at the back of the house.

He needed something stronger than beer.

He poured himself a healthy measure of his dad’s scotch and stood there, studying a few of the photos on the sideboard simply enjoying the peace, having finally shaken off Britney. Yeah, he was gonna have to put an end to that tomorrow.

Great. What a way to start the New Year off…

He stood there, lost in his own thoughts, for god knows how long, until a voice broke through the fog in his brain.

“Your father is as clueless as I am as to why you’re acting like that.”

Jensen turned to see Clay watching him and he rolled his eyes “Acting like what?” he asked, although he knew full well what Clay was going to say.

“Like a headless chicken, running around making the dumbest decisions known to man.”

Jensen groaned “I don’t need this Clay.”

“I beg to differ. Someone needs to knock some sense in you, Jensen.”

Jake sighed heavily as he shook his head, before he knocked back the scotch in his hand and reached for the bottle.

“Don’t think you’ve drunk enough?” Clay asked as Jensen shook his head, pouring himself another healthy measure.

“No, I can still see straight.”

“Jensen…”

“I need to forget Clay.” Jensen said softly, picking up the glass, his eyes on the amber liquid.

“Forget what?”

“That I love her” with a sniff Jensen knocked back the drink in one, wincing slightly before he wiped his mouth with his spare hand.

“Good luck with that.” Clay scoffed “Because the only person who’s been dumb enough to even try and deny it is you. But I got one question Jensen… why they fuck did you do your best to throw her into that guy’s arms?”

“I thought I was doing the right thing Clay, cutting her loose.” Jensen shrugged “I mean, I tried it 5 years ago and then...we just…”

“That’s not an answer.” Clay said simply.

“Look, I saw it in her eyes, when I said I got my posting overseas and we were gonna be split up.”

“Saw what?” Clay’s voice was ladled with exhasperation and Jake’s head tipped back in equal frustration as his voice rose

“Fear, Clay.” Jensen looked at him “Fear. I mean she never said it but I could tell.”

“Fear?”

“Yes, fear about what was gonna happen. She’d already lost her father, how could I ever put her through the possibility of losing someone like that again?” Jensen hung his head a little, glancing at the empty glass in his hand. Now he’d said it out loud, it sounded even dumber than it did in his head.

“Admirable, and you know what? I kinda get it bud, I do, but only one problem.”

“I know, it didn’t work.” Jensen shrugged, grabbing the bottle of whisky once more.

“No, it didn’t.” Clay looked at him, “For fucks sake Jensen, did you really think dumping her would just turn off her feelings like that?”

“Well, no, but, at at least if we weren’t together she wouldn’t have had to play the grieving partner part for so long, she would have been able to move on without feeling guilty…”

Silence fell in the room, punctuated by the sloshing of liquor hitting the crystal tumbler as once more Jensen poured himself a few fingers worth before Clay spoke once more.

“God you’re a dumbass.”

“Yeah.” Jensen nodded. “No arguments here.”

“Question is, what you gonna do about it?”

“What can I do about it?” Jensen shrugged “Looks like she finally moved on. Guess I did her a favour, huh? Left the door right open for Agent Shit Name.”

“You know, what it’s worth, as nice a guy as Evan is, I don’t think she cares for him half as much as she does you.” Clay’s tone was soft “Maybe in time she might but, well, I guess that’s up to you.”

“Me?” Jensen frowned.

“Yeah, you. And the way I see it, you got 2 choices” Clay looked at him. “You either roll over and die. Or you fight for your girl.”

Jensen sighed “She’s not my girl anymore Clay.”

“Only because you told her she isn't”

Jensen looked at him, contemplating his words and he wanted to argue back, he really did, but he couldn’t. Instead he shook his head sadly, as Clay laid a hand on his shoulder, gave it a squeeze and left.

Jensen stayed where he was for a moment before he topped his glass up and headed back into the hallway, pausing in the doorway of the kitchen. His baby blue eyes glanced around the room and stopped their roving as he saw Evan with his arm round Stel as they stood talking to Pooch and Cougar.

Fuck, Clay was right-he did have two options, and he knew which one he was choosing.

It wasn’t gonna be easy, hell, he didn’t even know if it would be possible because everyone was right, Stella and Agent Shit name really did seem good together. But one thing he did know is he could fight all day long, what did he have to lose?

Nothing, because as it stood he’d already lost it.

**** Chapter 5

#too loose and you'll lose it #jake jensen #jake jensen x ofc #jake jensen x original female character #the losers

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years ago

Text

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Ch 4- You Don’t Know What You’ve Got ‘Til It’s Gone Part 2

Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Summary: Jake and Stella are both home for Christmas, and the annual New Year’s Party at the Jensen’s sees some unexpected guests in attendance…

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson.

TLAYLI Masterlist // Main Masterlist

“Knowing what you don't want can often be more valuable than knowing what you do want.” Melchor Lim

Please Read Part 1 first.

The door to the lounge clicked open and the family’s black Labrador trotted in, his tail wagging and thumping on the coffee table.

“Hey Sirius…” Jake muttered, reaching over to scratch his ear.

“Who’s serious?” Britney frowned and looked at him “What?”

At that point Gracie walked into the room and plopped down next to Jake.

“Are you being serious?” Jake looked at Britney “The dog, his name is Sirius, as in Sirius Black…from Harry Potter”

He was met with a blank look.

“The film is literally on the TV…” Jake pointed.

Another blank look.

Gracie glanced at Jake and he rolled his eyes.

“It’s a cool name. Stelly picked it.” She answered Britney.

“Stelly?”

“God, what is in that nail polish?” Jake grumbled to himself as once more he turned to look at Britney “Stella, you met her.”

“Oh the loser girl!”

“Stella isn’t a loser.” Gracie spoke again in an affronted tone just as Jane entered the lounge and crossed to sit in the armchair.

“It was really supposed to be our dog.” Jake shrugged, trying to move her conversation on.

“Your dog?”

This time it was Jane’s turn to sigh at Britney’s dim-wittedness.

“Stella and I got him from a rescue.” Jake explained, his eyes not moving from the screen “But we couldn't take him with us when we signed up so he ended up staying here.”

“Speaking of Stel.” Jane looked at Jake “We bumped into her and Evan at the mall”

Okay, so that got his attention. His head whipped round and he frowned at his sister “Evan?”

“Yes, her boyfriend dur.” Gracie rolled her eyes.

“What’s he doing here?”

Jane smiled at Jake sympathetically “Apparently he showed up this morning, wanted to surprise her.”

“He’s coming tonight.” Gracie smiled “I invited him.”

“Great…that’s great.” Jake looked at Jane who popped her right shoulder, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Awww yeah, it'll be fun!” Britney grinned.

“You literally couldn’t remember who she was like 5 seconds ago.” Jake rolled his eyes.

“I know but then you reminded me, and when we met she seemed really nice.”

“She is,” Jane agreed “and so is Evan.”

“Yup” Grace nodded “He’s handsome and so cool. He bought me hot chocolate.”

“Handsome and cool...” Jake mocked, in a stupid, airey voice “I buy you hot chocolate all the time.”

“Yes, but not with all the toppings.” Gracie looked at him, sticking her tongue out.”

“He really is gorgeous.” Jane added and Jensen made an angry noise in his throat.

Fuck Agent Shit Name…

Gracie sniggered besides him and poked him in the ribs. “You’re jealous uncle J!”

“And you're 6. Like you know what that means.”

“I do too. It means when someone has something you want and you get upset or mad.”

Okay, so she does know what it means…

Britney laughed “Oh baby, I'm sure I can make you a hot chocolate if you really want one.”

There was a pause as everyone in the room looked at her. Jensen took off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose as he screwed his eyes shut.

“He doesn’t want chocolate Britney, he wants Stel” Gracie replied.

“Oh, for f- Gracie!” Jensen glared at her as she shoved his glasses back on his face.

Terrific…this day just gets better and better

“What?” Britney frowned a little.

“Ok, Grace, come on...we need to check something.” Jane said, standing up.

“No we don’t.” Gracie frowned “You said I could watch TV when we got back to Nanny and Grandpa’s!”

“Do as your mom tells you.” Jake looked at her.

“You’re not the boss of me Uncle Jake.”

“Whatever Petunia.” Jake gently shoved her in the shoulder, pushing her up off the couch “Be gone”

“Petunia? I thought her name was Grace?” Britney looked at Jake who gave another heavy sigh.

“It is. The Petunias…you know what, forget it.”

Gracie’s protests fell on deaf ears as Jane shooed her out of the room, shooting Jake another sympathetic and apologetic look.

“What did she mean you want Stella?” Britney asked.

Jake groaning, of course she hadn’t missed that bit “Who knows? Kids these days.”

“I love kids, can't wait to have my own” Britney smiled and Jake choked on air.

“No, I’m good thanks.”

At that point Jake’s mom caught sight of him and she nudged his father who looked up and round at Jake who met his eyes with a glare before he yanked open the fridge. “

“Everything alright son?”

“Ask your granddaughter.” He said simply as he popped the lid off his beer and turned back to the hall, taking a deep pull.

He gave a little yell as Jolene slapped him “Don't be mean...” she looked at the photo. “Damned look at Stella's dress!”

“What about it?” Pooch looked at her.

“Nothing, it's just really nice.” She said. Cougar nodded, tipping his hat slightly in approval.

“You know, she hasn't changed a bit.” Clay smiled, looking at the photo fondly.

“Who hasn't changed a bit?” Jensen asked as he strode into the room, beer in his hand. Britney was close behind him, clutching a wine glass.

“Arty.” Clay said, nodding to the photo.

“Stella.” Cougar chuckled

“That’s Stella?” Britney’s eyes widened as she glanced at the picture “No wonder the girl in the photos all over your bedroom rang a bell.”

“You still have her all over your bedroom?” Pooch whispered to Jakey “And you’re sleeping with this one in there?”

“Shut the fuck up!” Jake hissed, glaring at Pooch who grinned, shrugging.

“I don’t understand?” Britney frowned “Why are there photos of her all over your room and here?”

The room fell silent and Jensen saw Pooch and Cougar exchanged a glance from the corner of their eye. Pooch looked like all his Christmases had come at once.

Fuck…

“You haven’t told her?” Clay arched an eyebrow and Jake’s attention turned to his Colonel, narrowing his eyes.

Why the fuck did I invite any of The Losers?

“Tell me what?” Britney pressed.

Or her for that matter, although technically, I didn’t…she invited herself.

Ignoring her, he took a sip of his beer trying to think of something to deflect the attention away from the impending shit storm. But Britney wasn’t for dropping it.

“Tell me what Jake?”

“Yeah, tell her what Jake?” Clay asked and Jensen growled.

“Son of a bitch…” he shook his head and turned to Britney. “Me and Stel, we used to ... date.”

“Oh, I see. So that’s what Grace meant before…”

Clay, Cougar, Jolene and Pooch all looked at one another before Cougar held up his bottle of Corona.

“My beer is empty so…” he gestured to the lounge door.

“Mine too.” Clay said eagerly.

“Just when I think he can't possibly get any dumber.” Pooch shook his head as Clay glanced back into the room where Britney and Jensen were now in quite a heated discussion.

“Hey Jules" he wrapped her in a warm hug “Long time no see. How you been?”

“Hey man!” Pooch smiled as he shook Evan’s hand, the man then turning to Cougar and finally Clay who had returned to their gang.

John hugged her tightly, kissing her head. “My favourite girl, looking as gorgeous as always!”

“I heard that, Dad!” Jane scoffed as she appeared at the side of them “Fucking rude!”

“I mean my favourite non-daughter girl.” He shrugged, laughing as Jane shoved him out of the way to hug Stella and then Evan.

“Good to see you again Evan.”

“You too Jane.” He beamed, before he turned to John “You must be Mr Jensen.”

“Oh, call me John, son!” he shook his hand and Stella groaned.

“It’s fine, Pumpkin. Stop worrying.”

“Oh Stella, it's so good to see you sweetheart!”

“Janet, it hasn’t been that long this time!” Stella laughed “We were at the spa like 3 days ago!”

“I know but, well, considering how much time you used to spend here it still feels strange.” Janet sighed and Stela gave her a sad smile in return.

“Well, I wouldn’t miss a Jensen New Years’ party for the world.”

At that point Gracie skipped over, tugging at Janet’s top “Nanna, mum says that…oh!” The small girls eyes grew wide and she grinned “Evan!”

“Is it ok if we get a drink?”

“Oh, it’s a pleasure having you here dear. Stella is like part of this family”

Evan smiled “Yeah, she has that effect on people.”

“Hi JJ.” Stella looked at Jake as they reached her teammates. “Were you planning on saying hi to us eventually?”

“Hi.” Came the curt response.

Especially as at that point they both heard Rey’s voice across the room.

“Oh God.” Jake and Stella groaned in unison and Jake arched an eyebrow.

“Was wondering when they were gonna show up.”

“Well, they’re fashionably late. You know them!”

“Speaking of late, no sign of baby Dick yet?” Jensen asked.

“Nope. Bad PH, remember?” Stella smirked at Jensen and he grinned. There was a moment where they simply looked at one another and Stell swallowed.

“Suppose I best go… “ she jerked her head, then turned to Evan “You haven’t met Dick yet.”

“Dick?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Rey’s husband. Richard…Rick as she calls him, Rick the Dick to everyone else…well, me and Jake anyway.” She smiled at the Losers “Be right back.”

“Can I get another drink or…”

“Ready for what?” Britney asked. Jensen looked at her. Jesus Christ…

“For the reading of the constitution Sweetie!” John said, looking at Jake who rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It's the countdown, Brit. For New Year.”

“Oops, what am I like?” she snorted, grabbing Jake’s arm. “I guess I did it again. I’m so ditzy.”

Jensen blinked and his dad exchanged a look with Jane’s husband, Robert, the pair of them letting out huge howls of laughter.

“Oh, hit me baby, one more time” he smirked, pressing a kiss to her lips.

Too perfect maybe.

“10, 9, 8...”

Britney turned to Jake “Oh let’s make a wish!”

“It’s a New Year’s count-down.” Jake said with a sigh “You’re not blowing out candles on a birthday cake.”

“7,6,5”

Across the room, Evan curled his arm round Stella’s waist and pulled her closer, bending down to whisper in her ear. “I’m so glad to be here with you tonight Pumpkin.”

Stella swallowed, his sultry voice and intoxicating cologne swamped her senses and made her head feel slightly fuzzy. Or was that the alcohol?

She turned to him, smiling “I’m glad you’re here too.”

“4.3,2,1”

Britney’s nails dug into Jake’s arm as she squealed as the countdown ended.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

Here they were, in the same room at NYE for the first time in years and they weren’t together. And Jensen didn’t like it, in fact he hated it. It was all wrong.

“Happy New Year JJ.” Stella smiled softly at him.

He swallows, “Yeah, erm, back at ya, Stel.”

He needed something stronger than beer.

Great. What a way to start the New Year off…

He stood there, lost in his own thoughts, for god knows how long, until a voice broke through the fog in his brain.

“Your father is as clueless as I am as to why you’re acting like that.”

Jensen turned to see Clay watching him and he rolled his eyes “Acting like what?” he asked, although he knew full well what Clay was going to say.

“Like a headless chicken, running around making the dumbest decisions known to man.”

Jensen groaned “I don’t need this Clay.”

“I beg to differ. Someone needs to knock some sense in you, Jensen.”

Jake sighed heavily as he shook his head, before he knocked back the scotch in his hand and reached for the bottle.

“Don’t think you’ve drunk enough?” Clay asked as Jensen shook his head, pouring himself another healthy measure.

“No, I can still see straight.”

“Jensen…”

“I need to forget Clay.” Jensen said softly, picking up the glass, his eyes on the amber liquid.

“Forget what?”

“That I love her” with a sniff Jensen knocked back the drink in one, wincing slightly before he wiped his mouth with his spare hand.

“I thought I was doing the right thing Clay, cutting her loose.” Jensen shrugged “I mean, I tried it 5 years ago and then...we just…”

“That’s not an answer.” Clay said simply.

“Look, I saw it in her eyes, when I said I got my posting overseas and we were gonna be split up.”

“Saw what?” Clay’s voice was ladled with exhasperation and Jake’s head tipped back in equal frustration as his voice rose

“Fear, Clay.” Jensen looked at him “Fear. I mean she never said it but I could tell.”

“Fear?”

“Admirable, and you know what? I kinda get it bud, I do, but only one problem.”

“I know, it didn’t work.” Jensen shrugged, grabbing the bottle of whisky once more.

“No, it didn’t.” Clay looked at him, “For fucks sake Jensen, did you really think dumping her would just turn off her feelings like that?”

“Well, no, but, at at least if we weren’t together she wouldn’t have had to play the grieving partner part for so long, she would have been able to move on without feeling guilty…”

Silence fell in the room, punctuated by the sloshing of liquor hitting the crystal tumbler as once more Jensen poured himself a few fingers worth before Clay spoke once more.

“God you’re a dumbass.”

“Yeah.” Jensen nodded. “No arguments here.”

“Question is, what you gonna do about it?”

“What can I do about it?” Jensen shrugged “Looks like she finally moved on. Guess I did her a favour, huh? Left the door right open for Agent Shit Name.”

“Me?” Jensen frowned.

“Yeah, you. And the way I see it, you got 2 choices” Clay looked at him. “You either roll over and die. Or you fight for your girl.”

Jensen sighed “She’s not my girl anymore Clay.”

“Only because you told her she isn't”

Fuck, Clay was right-he did have two options, and he knew which one he was choosing.

Nothing, because as it stood he’d already lost it.

#too loose and you'll lose it #jake jensen #jake jensen x ofc #the losers #the losers fan fic

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thebisexualdogdad · 5 years ago

Text

Being Claudia Donovan's brother and dating Steve Jinks

Co written with @inhumanshadows

· You didn't start dating Steve until a year after he joined the team

· For one reason you thought dating a co worker was a bad idea

· And more importantly your sister was his best friend

· And that was another can of worms.

· However after a year... you decided to talk to her about it.

· And by talk you meant “frantically run to her room shouting ‘crisis!”

· "What the hell is wrong with you?"

· "I uh.. Want to ask Steve out on a date"

· "Well finally"

· "You knew i liked him?"

· "Everyone knows dude, even Pete figured it out"

· “Wow... that’s uh... kinda sad honestly...”

· “Yeah... so go ask him out.”

· You asked Steve and out and he happily said yes

· There isn't much to do in south dakota so your first date was just to a dinner in town

· The date was pretty nice. You guys just sat there and tried not to talk about work. But with your job kinda the only thing.

· Then Steve wanted to know about the other cases you guys had before he came along.

· You spent hours telling him all about the dumb shit Pete got into before Steve joined

· And how Claudia accidently magnetized herself to the warehouse

· “Wait wait she what?”

· “Oh yeah. Alessandro Volta’s lab coat. Then there was the time the place almost exploded cause of silly string.”

· You end up kissing him goodnight outside his bedroom at the inn and Pete see's who tells Claudia

· You definitely heard someone scamper down the hall.

· but you didn't care, you just wanted to kiss steve again

· You made out in the hall until Myka left her room to find Leena and stumbled upon you guys

· "Oh come on Myka don't ruin the mood" Pete yells from down the hall

· "Great Pete you ruined our cover" Claudia then yells

· "Claudia, Pete knock it off," you yell at them

· Said guilty parties pop up from around the corner.

· “Really? Really what are we 5?” You ask.

· “It was Pete’s idea!” Claudia points

· “What!!”

· You guys go on a few more dates and eventually have the are we officially boyfriends talk

· You’re laying in your room, away from the nosey coworkers and family.

· “So... boyfriends?” You ask.

· Steve nods. “You know Claudia had a pot going for how long it would take you to ask me out?”

· “I’m gonna kill her....”

· Nobody ships you guys more than Pete not even Claudia

He's always trying to set up cute moments for you two

· Like putting up the mistletoe on christmas

· “Haha very fun Claudia...” you say, pointing to aforementioned plant.

· “Wasn’t me I swear. You guys are cute but I don’t need to see my brother and bestie sucking face.”

·"Where's Pete"

· "Damn i was so close"

· You shake your head and give Steve a quick peck.

· Pete: “aww I missed it.”

· One of the perks of dating another warehouse agent is getting to see the world with him

· Granted most of those involve artifact related high jinks and chaos. Of course you claudia and Steve are a team.

· Which means many times your delightful sister has gone “hey lovebirds! Artifact!”

· Claudia now makes Artie book her a room on a separate floor after the incident where she could hear you guys going at it next door through the thin hotel room walls

· Josh is very nonchalant about his younger siblings dating

· When he met Steve it was just alright cool and that's it

· You look to Steve “Relax. He’s telling the truth.”

· double dates with Myka and HG often

· Going out for drinks and having to help HG carry a tipsy Myka home

· Or HG casually dropping that she knows whatever historical figure Steve brings up

· She’s like “[insert historical name here] Very homosexual. Revolving door of men.”

· Arties like a dad, the moment he sees you kiss even just a peck he looks away

· You wear Steve’s jacket and artie is like “is that new?” Pete and Claudia : “it’s steves.”

· Or having to hurry to get dressed in the morning for a mission and not realizing you're wearing each other clothes until later

· You guys have a break and you realize you got your pants right but shirt and jacket and even your underwear once got swapped

· You and Claudia tried to throw a surprise birthday party for Steve and it was a disaster

· There was screaming and flying cake. but it did end in laughter

· And Steve pretended like he didn't know but he secretly got Pete to tell him days ago

· You find out while you and Steve share a shower. “Pete Really told you....”

· “Yes. But I appreciate the effort.”

· You and Steve are always trying to set Claudia up on dates

· You also debated tracking down Todd

· "I do not need help finding a boyfriend"

· "And how long have you been single for again?"

· "Shut it"

· “What was that? T-t-two years?”

· “I’ll murder you...”

· You and Steve end up getting a dog who becomes the team dog

· You guys come home and announce “trailer has a brother!”

· You got him mainly because you were jealous that Artie was trailers favorite

· He’s a corgi named Max

· You guys spoil him, he has so many toys and everyone always sneak him treats

· He’s your little loaf. And myka wants to steal him

· He's a bandana boy with a rotating attire

· He even has a pride bandana that Pete got him

· "What kind of gays are you not even getting your pet a pride outfit"

·“We have you pete. We knew you’d do something.”

· “Oh yay! Points for uncle Pete.”

· When you get hurt Steve drops everything to nurse you back to health

· He’s a mother hen and goes a bit overboard but it comes from places of love.

· Max's new home is your chest when you get hurt

· "Did i just get replaced by the dog?"

· "Babe there's enough space for both of you"

· He's such a cuddler

· Claudia Totally secretly plans a wedding

· And denies the hell out of it

· "Claud, Steve and i aren't planning on getting married for many many years"

· "You can never be too prepared bro"

· Pete: “especially in our line of work!” “See pete gets it!”

· Oh boy. Steve’s mom meeting you.

· She won't stop telling Steve how handsome you are

· And she’s just so happy. Steve is blushing and hoping she doesn’t bring up any stories

· And she sneaks Steve the family ring

· "For when you're ready dear, I know you're gonna marry that man one day"

· Meanwhile you’re over by the family photos. “Is this you in high school?!? You had BLUE HAIR??!”

· "The teenage angst was real in high school"

· "Oh god i can't believe you had a nose ring"

· His mom is like: “he had his he combat boots and eyeliner too...” “ma!!” “Please go on!!” Steve: “what have I done...

· You feel bad so you share some of your own embarrassing stories from high school

·“I once got caught making out with the coach's son

· "No way"

· "Yeah i got banned from the locker room"

· “What else?”

· “Um... can’t tell that one in front of your mother... oh I once made got into class through a three story high window”

· "You could have gotten seriously hurt"

· "I was 16 i wasn't thinking"

· “Unbelievable.”

· “Oh come on. You have to have done stupid stuff

·"I guess i did ride a skateboard into a pool once..."

· “A full pool” His mom tacks on.

· “Ma!”

· Vacations with Steve are tough because he's constantly checking his phone for an artifact sos

· You helped Claudia build more tiny artifact ping things and have them on your person.

· "Steve we're on a beach in the Bahamas, they can handle the warehouse for one week without us"

· “I know... I just... you know?”

· “I do... and I get it. But right now you and I are on mandatory vacation so let’s enjoy it.”

· You make Steve turn his phone off and take a long walk along the beach

· That walk is empty enough for the occasional ass grab from you.

· Once Steve truly starts to relax you guys explore the island taking in all the information the tour guides give you

· You guys spend the rest of the first day getting ideas on what to do. Now you’re back in the hotel room. You decide to shower, now covered in sand.

· one of the days you found out there's a hot surfer giving paddle boarding sessions

· After your paddle boarding lesson you returned to your room both you and Steve blushing about how hot the guy was

· “Can I just say that instructor was very hot!! Not as hot as you Steve but...”

· "That was one gorgeous man, think we should try to set him up with Pete?"

· "Honey Pete is straight"

· "You sure about that?"

· You think for a minute. “Well... now that you mention it....”

· You keep that idea on the backburner as you grab the phone to order some room service

· "Tomorrow's the last day what do you want to do?"

· “Honestly? Let's relax here maybe get a massage and then order in.”

· The next day you do as Steve suggests and just relax

· You sleep in and have lunch

· Get a couples massage and end the day with one last walk on the beach

· At the end of the walk Steve stops you before you return to the room

· "Y/N there's something i want to talk about"

· "What's that?"

· "Us"

· “Okay... should I be worried?”

· “No! No! Nothing like that.

· "What is it then?"

· "You know i love you and i want to spend the rest of my life with you"

· "This is sounding like a proposal Jinksy"

· "Don't worry I'm not proposing, we're not ready for that right now but one day I want to"

· You smile. “I’d like that too... one day... that isn’t today.”

· “I love you Y/N.”

· “Love you too Jinksy”

· "Wait till Claudia finds out"

· "I'm more worried about Pete, he's been waiting for the engagement since our first date"

· "We really need to set him up with the hot surfer"

· "Yes, yes we do"

#warehouse 13 imagine #steve jinks imagine #steve jinks x reader #headcanons #co write #co written

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elusive---ivory · 5 years ago

Text

The Woman In Velvet pt 9

Holy shit????? 9 parts??? Holy moly???? This is insane!!! I can't believe people are actually interested lmao. Well, the masterlist will be up soon enough, as for now, enjoy.

PAIRING: Arthur Fleck x Oc

WARNING: NSFW (near the end.)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Taglist:

@princessgeekface @mijachula @gloomybih @memory-mortis @radio-hoo-ha @moonstruck-witchy (if you'd like to be apart of my Taglist. Just message me, and I'll tag you)

Sandy looked at herself in the mirror. It was almost 6. She looked over to her dress on the bed. It was a long black velvet gown that her mother used to wear. She picked it up from off the bed and posed with it in the full length mirror. As she slipped it on, she saw how comfortable it fit on her. Sandy laughed, twirling around in the dress.

She carefully applied her makeup. Her eyelashes touched her thick framed glasses as she pushed them back onto her face. Her lips were ruby red from her lipstick. Sandy smiled widely in the mirror.

Arthur watched as she got ready. He told previously that she could. God, did she look marvelous. Arthur watched her move.

Sandy caught Arthur staring at her through the doorway of the bedroom.

She smirked. "See something you like?"

Arthur blushed, looking away. "Uhh, yeah. Just you."

Sandy giggled at his boyish behavior. She looked over at the clock.

"Oh shit. It's 6. I'm heading out, Artie." Sandy kissed Arthur on his cheek.

He grabbed ahold of her hand. "Just be safe, please."

Sandy smiled, sweetly kissing his lips. "I will dear."

Arthur watched as she went out the door. His heart beated loudly in his chest. Arthur turned off the TV, heading out of his apartment.

Sandy's heels clicked on the pavement as she walked towards Dee's car.

"Sandy!" Dee yelled, excitedly. Her smile was wide with her dimples spreading ear to ear.

Dee pulled Sandy into a tight hug.

Sandy smiled, giving in to the hug. "Hey, Dee. How are you?"

"Oh, I'm just fantastic. Have you met my boyfriend, Doug?" Dee said, as a very tall man in a black suit emerged out of the car.

Sandy shook her head. "No, I don't think I have."

The man named 'Doug' grinned. "I don't think I have neither. Very nice to meet you, Sammy."

Sandy huffed. "It's Sandy."

"Oh, right, sorry." Doug falsely apologized.

Sandy rolled her eyes and got in the car.

The three of them rode down to Wayne Hall. Protesters in clown masks and makeup were yelling and screaming from left and right. Sandy looked around at the chaos, smiling a little bit.

"Look at this, Dee. Our city's in peril. I hope the asshole that caused this goes to hell." Doug rambled, behind the wheel.

Sandy turned her head towards Doug. "Funny you say that, Doug. I'm pretty sure the people outside would definitely love to hear you opinion on the matter." She remarked.

Doug glared at Sandy through the rear view window.

"We're here." Dee said, trying to cut the tension.

The three of them got out of the car. Sandy was still infatuated with the protest behind her. It gave her hope. She noticed someone sneaking off out of the crowd. It looked like a familiar yellow jacket.

"Hey, Sandy. You coming?" Dee called, pulling Sandy out of her thoughts.

Sandy backed up, blinking a little bit. "Uhh, yeah." She turned around and followed Dee into the bar.

It was a very elegant looking bar. The red lighting matched the velvet booths in the bar. Sandy looked around. There was a lot of older gentleman alongside very scandalous women. Sandy sat down at the booth.

"I'll take a dry martini, please." Dee told the waiter.

"Whiskey on the rocks." Doug ordered, taking out an expensive looking cigar.

Sandy raised her eyebrow at Doug. "I'll take a cherry cola."

"Really, Sandy? Come on. Live a little. Here I'll order you a chardonnay." Dee said, signaling towards the waiter.

"No, Dee. I'm cutting back on drinking. I already have a bad smoking habit. I don't need to add alcohol to that." Sandy said, leaning back in the booth.

"Alright, whatever you say." Dee rolled her eyes, teasing.

Sandy crossed her arms. Despite just getting here, Sandy already felt tired of babysitting them.

After a while, lots of the protesters swarmed inside the bar.

Doug, after having a total of five drinks, drunkenly stood up, yelling in their faces.

"Listen here, you fucking scum, ya got ten seconds to get out of my bar." Doug slurred, standing dangerously close to a protester's face.

"You got a problem, buddy?" The protester said, pushing Doug back.

"Yeah, you are." Doug pushed back.

Dee drunkenly stood up as well. "Yeah, you fucking tell him, babe."

Sandy watched in horror, dragging Dee back to her seat.

"Oh, yeah, well watch this tough guy." The protester took out a gun, shooting Doug in the face.

Dee and Sandy screamed, ducking under the table. Soon, a bar fight broke out between the protesters and the old gentleman at the bar.

Dee was hyperventilating. "What the fuck?!"

Sandy looked at Dee, putting her hands on her shoulders. "Calm down, Dee. We have to get out of her." Sandy calmly stated.

"What about Doug?" Dee exclaimed.

"He'll be fine. Just hand me the keys." Sandy grabbed on Dee's hand and ran outside the bar.

Sandy grabbed the keys from Dee and revved up the car. More protesters were yelling out on the streets. Sandy pulled out from the parking space, denting a few cars in the process, before driving off.

Sandy sighed in relief as they got away from the scene. She pulled over to her apartment building. She looked over to Dee, who was quivering in the front seat. Sandy, then, looked down under the seat for a pack of cigarettes. When she found some, Sandy stuck one in her mouth, getting lipstick all over it, and pressing the car's cigarette lighter.

Dee looked terrified at Sandy. "How can you be so calm in a situation like this? My boyfriend just got murdered."

Sandy looked over at Dee, again. She grabbed the cigarette lighter, lighting her cigarette, then blowing smoke out her nose.

"How long did you know your boyfriend?" Sandy asked, deflecting Dee's question.

"Well, a few weeks." Dee said, crossing her arms. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Sandy laughed. "A few weeks, huh? Was it before or after he paid you?"

Dee turned her head away from Sandy. "It was after. Ok? God, why are you being such a mega bitch?" Dee threw her hands in the air dramatically.

Sandy continued to laugh. She inhaled another drag from the cigarette. Slowly, her laughter subsided. "My heels broken. I should probably go home." Sandy said, blankly.

Dee eyed at Sandy's behavior. "Sandy, are you ok?"

Sandy smiled at Dee. "To be honest, I thought this night was gonna be a bust, but as it turns out, I feel fantastic."

She handed the keys to Dee as she got out of the car.

"I'm sorry about your boyfriend. I'm sure you can find another one that pays more." Sandy yelled, walking into her building.

Dee glared at Sandy as she walked away.

Sandy limped up to Arthur's apartment. She knocked on the door. To her surprise, the door was unlocked.

"Arthur?" She called.

Sandy looked around in the bed, then slowly moving to the kitchen. She noticed shelves and food were all over the floor. Gently, she opened the refrigerator door.

Arthur cradled himself, not wanting to face Sandy.

"Hey, Artie." Sandy spoke softly. "Why don't you come on out?"

Arthur gave no response.

"Please, Art?" Sandy put her hands on his knee.

Arthur looked over at Sandy, and grabbed ahold of her shoulders, sobbing into her.

Sandy petted his hair, whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

"Let me draw you a bath, dear." Sandy kissed Arthur's cheek, before getting off of the kitchen floor.

"Why are you so nice to me?" Arthur asked, pitifully. "All you've been is sweet and kind. I just don't get it."

Sandy lifted Arthur from the ground. "I love you, Arthur. Is that what you don't understand?" Sandy hugged Arthur's fragile body. He melted into the hug, feeling Sandy's warmth.

"I just don't understand how an angel like you could love a guy like me." Arthur mumbled, slumping into her neck.

Sandy smiled, rubbing Arthur's exposed back. "Come on, dear. I've got a warm bath waiting for you."

Arthur peeled off his remaining clothes, slipped into the bathtub. Sandy was still in the bathroom, looking for some type of body wash. As she turned around, she saw Arthur's nude body in the tub. Sandy blushed, slightly, kneeling down to his level.

"Is there anything I can get you?" Sandy asked, maintaining eye contact.

"Yeah, could you stay?" Arthur's eyes pierced into Sandy.

She was almost about to decline, but something in her said yes. She nodded, staying in her position on the floor.

"So, how was the rally?" Sandy asked, nervously. She gulped, trying not to lead her mind down south.

Arthur looked at Sandy. "It was fine." He mumbled. Arthur noticed blood on Sandy's lip. He lifted her chin, touching the busted lip.

Sandy hissed in pain. "Ah, fuck."

Arthur's eyes went wide, letting go of her chin. "What happened?" Arthur asked, concerned.

"It's nothing, dear." Sandy answered, reassuringly.

Arthur frowned at her response, but didn't want to push it further.

"I did like the way you lifted my chin." Sandy smirked. She ran her fingers across his jawline, lifting Arthur's chin up. "Just like that." Sandy whispered seductively.

Arthur melted at the touch, holding onto Sandy's hand.

"It almost makes me want to join you in the tub." Sandy giggled, splashing Arthur a little.

Arthur nodded his head. "I'd like that." He whispered.

Sandy blushed, standing up to unbutton her dress. After unbuttoning it, she placed it on the towel rack behind her. She unclasped her bra, which fell to the floor. Sandy peeled off any other clothes left remaining on her body, and stepped in the tub with Arthur.

Arthur admired Sandy, as she laid on the opposite side of the tub. Arthur smiled at her. Sandy turned away, blushing.

Arthur leaned over and pulled Sandy closer towards him. Before Sandy could speak, she was already straddling Arthur's thin waist under her thick thighs.

She cleared her throat. Sandy felt Arthur's arms sneak around her waist, keeping her upright.

Arthur sat up and rested his chin on Sandy's shoulder. She relaxed into his touch.

"Sandy?" Arthur whispered.

"Yeah?" Sandy whispered back.

"Can I touch you?" Arthur asked, griping onto Sandy's waist.

Her eyes widened. "Touch me where?" Sandy questioned, putting her hands on Arthur's chest.

"Everywhere." Arthur said, softly putting his lips on her neck. Sandy gasped, nodding at his request.

Water spilled out the bathtub as Sandy grinded onto Arthur. He tilted his head back into the bathtub and moaned. He kissed Sandy's neck, feeling himself inside her. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, biting her bruised lip.

"Artie." She whispered, moaning.

Arthur went in deeper, keeping a grip on her thighs. Sandy tugged on his hair, warranting a moan from Arthur.

Arthur came before Sandy, yet staying inside her. Once Sandy came to her close, she fell on top of Arthur, laying on her chest.

#joker arthur fleck #arthur fleck x you #arthur fleck #arthur fleck x reader #joker x reader #joker 2019 #joker x oc #arthur fleck headcanon #arthur fleck x oc

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sweets-fanfics · 5 years ago

Text

Retribution 1

Title: A new day

Wordcount: 3448

Warnings: Death, Violence and Micah

Summary: Josephine Espinosa is a young adult that runs a gang of outlaws.(in fact shes the youngest in her gang) She used to be a sharpshooter for the Del Lobo gang in New Austin but now she's out for revenge when the leader of Del Lobo killed her father and husband. Now with her new gang, she makes Del Lobo and other gangs live a living hell in any way she can. The only gang her and her posse have yet to piss off is the Van Der Linde gang. And even though Arthur knows she lost her husband a little over a year ago he can't help but like and enjoy everything about her. Even if she sees them as just friends.

AN: Here is a fic about my RDO Oc Josie. Her and her posse like to get into sheningins despite her dark past, So I hope you enjoy.

Tags: Let me know if you wanna be tagged.

_______________

“Oi, You said the coach would be here.” Irish groaned from his hiding spot. I tried my best to ignore it but Hair had to voice her opinion.

“Oh shut up. It’ll be here. My sources are never wrong.” She mumbles the last bit more to herself but everyone still hears her.

“I’m pretty sure you said that for the last job you were in charge of too…” Jenessa rolls her eyes. I was honestly a bit surprised she voiced her opinion instead of staying quiet with me.

“Ya, Why are you part of this gang if all ya information is shiet? I agree with this random lady. Who are you anyway?”

“Oh dear lord, shut up.” I snap, “Sometimes sources are wrong. Irish you literally just sit at camp and do nothing until I call on you.”

“Well…. Someone has to guard camp…”

“That’s Cripps and Buster’s job.”

“Buster is a feckin’ dog!”

“Shut up it’s coming…” I groan as I spot the coach.

Thankfully, everyone shuts up and crouches lower as it approaches and pulls our bandanas over our faces. I could see it had two riders one their horses on either side. As it neared us I noticed the two riders fall off their horse.

“Uh…” I begin as suddenly a voice is heard near me.

“Alright, gentlemen…” An oh-too familiar man walks up to the coach with guns drawn. He’s back up by two broad looking men and I have to force down my eye roll. “How about you show me and my friends what you fine men are carrying today.” Dutch Van Der Linde smirks.

“Hey!” I stand up despite Jenessa trying to pull me back. “This was our job. I know you assholes probably saw us.”

The coach drivers seem like they’re about to have heart attacks as they see two gangs bicker over who’s going to rob them.

“Miss Espinosa maybe it ain’t the best time…”

“Shut it, Morgan. Alden gave us this information.”

“How funny, Alden gave us this tip too.” Dutch smirks with his pistol still pointed at the driver. “Miss Espinosa, how about you and your…” He glances back at my gang, “Posse join us at our camp tonight. We’ll be celebrating our great haul today.”

I can tell he’s trying to be a gentleman but I don’t fall for that shit. Jennessa walks up and places the goods from the coach in my hands as I smile sweetly towards the men. “Thank you for the invite. We’ll arrive at nightfall for the celebration of our haul.”

Dutch’s smirk dropped and he looked back at Arthur and I believe Charles as they tried not to laugh. “Hey now, you can’t do that.” Dutch stammers as I whistle for Willa.

“I just did Mr. Van Der Linde. We’ll see you at your party tonight, you’re still near Blackwater?”

“Yup, we’re there.” Arthur smiles and waves towards my gang.

“Thank you!” I call one last time before we ride off leaving Dutch very annoyed.

___________

As we ride into camp Cripps doesn’t look up from his work but we are greeted by an eager Buster.

“Hola perrito, mi amor.” I smother him with kisses as Cripps cringes.

“I don’t know how you pet that thing.” He grumbles.

“We got the stuff,” I say to change his mind.

“Oh great, maybe I can get some real food for us.”

I roll my eyes and walk up to an unexpected guest grabbing a bowl of stew. “What are you doing here Jerry?”

“Josephine! I’ve returned!”

“From where? Hiding from the job we just did?”

He acts shocked as Irish walks by rolling his eyes. “I would never! I had an engagement in Saint Denise.”

“Buying more clothing is not an ‘engagement’ sir. If you aren’t dedicated to this gang I may have to let you go.” Jerry’s shock becomes real as Jen walks up and hands me my cut. “Make sure to put some in the camps fund,” You glance at Jerry, “Don’t give him any. He’s gotta learn.”

Jerry pouts and puts his hands on his hips. “I… I’m technically your senior.”

“Being old is the only thing you have on me Mr. B, we are going to a gang’s camp tonight to rub in their face that I won today. So you can join, or disappear again. Your choice.” I

smile sweetly before walking to my tent.

I lay on my cot and groan as I hear someone walk up. “What!” I say a little louder than I meant.

“I’m leaving,” Jen says, leaning against the post.

I sit up and look at her. “Again? Where?”

She shrugs and stands up straight, “I’m going to go get some stuff for the camp.”

“You are one of the only helpful people in this gang… aside from maybe Hair. So, yeah, go but don’t be too far. I know you’re just doing it to get out of tonight.” Jen gives me no emotion what so ever but nods and leaves towards her horse. “Have a safe trip.”

She raises her hand and waves without turning around towards me.

“Is this a bad time?” Irish asks.

“Yes. It’s quiet time.” I groan and lay back on my cot.

“I just wanted to say ya got a letter.”

I don’t get up and keep my back to him. “Uh… Sorry Irish, I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m tired. Can you leave it side table there? I’ll check it after I rest.”

“Sure.”

I hear him place down the letter and walk away. I let out a long sigh. I didn’t really want to read the letter. Just in case it was bad news. I wasn’t ready to lose anyone else. And Manny’s health wasn’t doing well in the last letter my mother had sent.

I hear Buster whine at the side of my cot. I take him as a sign of encouragement and get up and walk to the letter. It’s a bit bigger than the last one. When I pick it up I notice that something thicker than normal paper is in it.

I glance at the letter first;

Dear Daughter,

It was so good to hear from you. Your gang sounds like an… interesting bunch of outlaws. And it sounds like you are doing the lords work, trying to taking out the rest of Del Lobo. Though, I have never condoned revenge.

You’re boys ask about you daily. Little Artie is talking more than Manny. Manny has been getting slightly better now that we can buy proper medicine. I hope once he is well you are able to come home.

I love you Mija but know revenge isn’t always the way to go.

I await your next letter.

-love your mother

I let out a sigh of relief at the mention of Manny’s improvement. I glance under the letter and see a photograph of my two little boys. Now two, they still looked exactly alike (duh, twins) but Artie had on small glasses. I had wondered why they suddenly needed extra money. They both looked so much like their father that I had to put the photo in my bag so I wouldn’t begin to cry.

________________________

At the Van Der Linde camp, the day was not doing very well.

“I can’t believe you let a kid take the money.” Micah groaned again, “And Josephine of all people. I ran with her for a bit ya know.”

“I heard you ‘ran’ with her for a week before she kicked your ass out for being an idiot.” Arthur chuckled.

“Women giving orders isn’t a good thing. They start thinking they have rights and shit.”

“I heard she threatened to shoot you and you ran with your tail between your legs,” Lenny adds.

“I heard that as well, thank you, Lenny.” Arthur smiled.

Before Micah had a chance to respond horses riding into camp put everyone on alarm until they noticed who it was. Josie hopped off her horse and pulled off a crate that was attached to Irish’s horse.

“¡Hola! I bring gifts.” She puts on the table and smiles and a few of her members place down more. “I felt a tiny bit bad about taking today’s prize. Even if it was mine, to begin with.”

“Miss Espinosa, I honestly didn’t think you’d join us,” Dutch says exiting his tent. “What did you bring?”

“I bring a peace offering of Moonshine from out speakeasy, which you will still never be told where it is. But my guy there made extra so I brought it.” Josie smirked. She knew Dutch had been wanting at her business for a while. But he hadn’t been so lucky as to get more than just tastes like this.

“Well then, I guess we are indeed having a party tonight.” Dutch sighs. “Everyone, Josie and her gang are guests tonight! Let’s show them a good time.” He turns to Josie with a grin, “Is moonshine the only thing you all brought tonight?”

“Of course not!” Irish speaks up, “We brought our amazing personalities.” The girl Hair rolls her eyes as Irish takes a long swig of the moonshine. Arthur always kinda loved Irish’s thick accent. He used to be an O’Driscoll before they kicked him out and tried to kill him for being ‘too Irish.’ Josephine had shown up when they were trying to beat him to death and saved him. Josie says he can be annoying at times but when the time comes he always has her back.

Arthur notices another older man placing down more moonshine. His name is Jerry B. Josephine won’t say his last name because she says she’s pretty sure it’s fake and won’t give him the satisfaction of saying it. She’s told Arthur how he tends to be a lot like Trelawny, minus magic tricks, and being helpful.

Hair walks up and hands Arthur a jug of moonshine. “Josie said to help pass these out.” She mumbles before walking away. Hair was Mexican and native. She had dark skin and unruly curly hair which she refused to ever comb. Arthur saw it combed once and was later told it was because Josie had Jen hold her down so she could comb it.

Josie walks up to Arthur and smirks. “Hello, Mr. Morgan.”

“Miss Espinosa, how are you?” He asks as he takes a swig.

“I’m very well, we made over a thousand today.” He smiles and lets her have her moment. He knows how she tends to get a little competitive, though she’ll never admit it. Though both their gangs don’t know the two of them tend to hunt together. Charles accompanies them once in a while, but it’s mostly just the two of them.

“Damn. How much you keepin’?”

“None. I’m sending anything I made to my boys. It’s their birthday coming up.”

“Why don’t you go visit?” Arthur is already feeling the moonshine. He had forgotten how fast Josie’s liquor hits.

“Ah, I want to. But New Mexico is so far. And… I’m afraid Irish will kill Cripps if I leave them alone for too long.” Josie looks at her feet and sighs.

“Well, ask Jen. I’m sure she’d help. She’s pretty loyal to ya.”

“Not sure why to be honest.”

Arthur pats her shoulder, “Now why would you say that?”

She looks up at him and raises an eyebrow, “I’m eighteen. I’m the youngest in my gang and somehow in charge.”

Arthur shrugs what Josie said off and smiles, “You gotta caring heart for an outlaw. It makes people follow ya.” Josie eyes Dutch confused as he’s dancing with an already drunk Molly. Arthur catches on and laughs, “Dutch ain’t too bad.”

She glances at him in disbelief, “When was the last time you all did your ‘steal from the rich to give to the poor’ shit?”

“Alright, you got me there.”

“I’ll think about goin’ to visit though. Thank you, Arthur.” Josie smiles at him before walking to the rest of the party.

_______________

I sit down at the fire near Javier as he sings songs in Spanish. “Aye! Josie, sing with him.” Sean yells from his spot next to Irish.

“You think cause it’s Spanish I know it?” Sean doesn’t reply. Just smirks as he takes a drink. “Okay, so I do, but I’m not going to sing. I can’t.”

“No, she can sing! She sings to her damn dog all the time, she does!” Irish slurs.

“That damn mutt is still alive?” Micah groans.

“Do you just have to ruin every gathering?” I ask with a smirk. “Lighten up, you grumpy ass. It’s a party.”

As the night goes on I find myself with Abigail as she puts Jack to bed. She tells me about the joys (sarcasm) of a three-year-old.

“I hope I’m able to be back to them by that age.”

She glances at me and gives me a sad smile. “Have you taken time to grieve?”

Her question throws me off a bit. It had been almost a year since Pedro and my father were killed. I remember sort of crying after it happened. But at the time my first thought was getting my mother and boys to my mother-in-law in New Mexico. “I probably did.”

I can hear her huff a laugh, “Josephine, I don’t think ‘probably’ means you did.” She places a hand on my shoulder, “It’s okay to cry. Even if you’re a bad and tough outlaw.”

“I’ll let it all go one day, I got too much work today first.”

“Well, even if you are part of another gang. I’ll always help ya out if you wanna talk to someone.”

“Thank you, Miss Roberts. John behaving?”

“God, don’t even start.” She sighs and walks away from me leaving me with a smirk.

______________

“Irish.” I kicked his side. He had been passed out on the ground for a good ten minutes. “Let’s go home. We overstayed our welcome.”

“Camp is so far though.” He mumbles before passing out again. I had to get back to camp but as I looked around all three of my partners were passed out somewhere.

Mr. Matthews sat at a table reading near a candle. “Mr. Matthews, may I leave my idiots here for the night? I have to get back to my camp.”

“Of course, don’t worry about them. We’ll send them home once they wake up tomorrow.” He lights his pipe and sets his book down. “How has your… mission been? Arthur tells me you took out two entire factions of the Del Lobo last week.”

“They’re like the O’Driscols. They just have more and more men. I have to take out Alfredo if I’m ever to make a dent in them.”

He thinks for a moment before glancing back at me, “Talk to Marshal Tom Davies.”

“Wait, how do you know a marshal?”

“New Austin runs a bit different than up north. He’s gotten me out of a few close calls.”

“New Austin scares me a bit,” I admit out loud making him chuckle.

“I’ll let him know you might need his help. He’s been going after that gang for a long time so he might enjoy some… unorthodox ideas.”

I nod a bit in agreement before smiling, “Thank you, Mr. Matthews.” I dig around in my bag before finding my money. I take out fifty and hand it to him. “For your troubles with my people.”

He gladly accepts it and slips it in his pocket. “You ride safe now.”

“Always.”

______________________

(all conversation is in Spanish I just am not ready for translating)

“¡Mija!” My father says as he shakes my shoulder. Pedro quickly reaches for his pistol before realizing who it is. “We have to go.”

“Why?” I ask rubbing my eyes.

“I shot at them.” He says hurriedly as he throws our clothes into a suitcase.

“What? Papa, what do you mean?” He doesn’t answer but puts my guns across my shoulders and starts putting my gun belt on for me.

“Grab the boys. All of us must leave tonight.”

Pedro and I share glances as we each grab a boy from their bed. “Pedro, hold my guns. I’ll wrap them on my back.”

“Yes, my love.” He says as he shifts Manny to one hand and holds on to my guns. I quickly get both six-month-olds comfortable and wrapped on my back. Pedro holds on to my rifle but I grab his sawed-off just to have some sort of protection.

“Now Papa, please tell me what happened.”

“I shot one of Alfredo’s men.”

“Why?” He and my mother grab a suitcase and he shushes me before opening the door to our hut in Thieves Landing. I slip on my shoes and wish I had put on pants. Del Lobo’s did not like women wearing pants for some reason.

“We must be quiet, I will explain it all later-”

“Ah! Arturo! Why don’t we have a chat.” Alfredo says as he and some men step out from the shadows. All of us are grabbed and dragged into the middle of the community. “Josephine. Do you know why you are here right now?”

“I don’t…” I mumble.

“Well, I found out that you all wanted to leave. So when I told your father no he shot one of my best men.” I shut my eyes in disappointment. My father always had an anger problem. It’s probably where I got it. “Now. I get it. You and Pedro are parents now. But, you especially know way too much. And I can’t lose my best rifleman… er, woman, I guess.” The whole time Alfredo is ranting he’s walking back and forth between us with a gun in his hand. “What do you think I should do, Josephine?”

I open my mouth to answer or beg but before I can say anything he fires his gun and my father’s body goes limp next to me. My mother cries and reaches for his body but Alfredo stops her, “Do not move!” I can feel the boys starting to wake up on my back. I glance at my father’s body and see the bullet hole in his forehead. I’m trying my best not to ob but I can feel the tears.

“Head for a head, yeah?” He jokes to his men who all laugh. “He only killed one man, but maybe I should kill two of you…”

He glanced at my mother who was still sobbing with her face into the ground. “No!” I speak up turning his gaze to me. “Let her go with my sons. You can shoot me.”

“Josephine…” Pedro begins next to me.

“Shut up Pedro. She’s an old lady, Just let her and my boys go. You can shoot me.”

Alfredo did not expect me to offer myself. “Kill my best shooter? I would never forgive myself.”

He turns away to pretend to choose. Pedro and I both eye the sawed-off in the dirt in front of us. We look at each other and he gives me a sad smile and mouths for me to run as he reaches forward and fires at Alfredo.

Alfredo ducks but his arm still gets hit and the chaos begins. I lunge over my father’s body and grab my mother’s arm. “Mama let’s go!” I yell as the gunfire starts. Pedro tosses me the sawed-off and pulls out the pistol he had hidden as we begin shooting our way out.

We somehow make it to the entrance of the camp and I whistle for Willa as Pedro whistles for his horse. As we wait I begin shooting at lanterns and starting as many fires as possible as the rain begins to fall. As soon as she’s close I push my mom on to her and turn to check on Pedro. As I do the world seems to slow down as I see him standing still with Alfredo holding a gun in his face.

I reach for my pistol but I’m not fast enough. Alfredo says something that I can’t hear to Pedro and then fires into his head. I scream and begin firing wildly towards Alfredo. The three men around him drop but I sadly miss him. My whole world seemed to be crashing but at that moment I didn’t care until I heard small cries on my back and I was brought back.

Alfredo is aiming a gun at me but I shoot it out of his hands as my mom yells at me to hurry. With tears blinding me I somehow make it on to Willa and we take off leaving everything we know behind in the flames.

____________

Let me know what ya’ll think!

#rdr2 #rdr #rdr2 fanfic #rdo #rdo oc #arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan x female oc #arthur morgan (father)#AO3 fanfic #ao3 #Dutch Van Der Linde #hosea mathews #Micah Bell #r*#red dead redemption 2

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fredheads · 6 years ago

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my very long list of fred & gladys headcanons

gladys did fred's makeup a lot! the only thing he did by himself was eyeliner (whenever it didnt look like a mess for once it was because gladys did it for him) but she would beat his whole face for him, sparkly eyeshadow included, and it made him so happy.

gladys very rarely wore pink but she kept pink eyeshadow and pink nail polish in her makeup kit because fred liked to borrow it

gladys made a lot of dads nervous but artie actually really liked her - probably because she always made him laugh! he thought she was great and fred was actually jealous of how easily they seemed to get along.

they had so many sleepovers at gladys' house where they'd just lay on her mattress on the floor at the end of the night and put in a VHS and without fail one of them (usually fred) would fall asleep before the opening credits were over but it was the most enjoyable part of their night and theyd sleep side by side with their arms touching and the tv still on

gladys borrowed so many pairs of fred's plaid pyjama pants during these occasions that he stopped asking for them back .. they were very much comfy clothes friends they were always spending whole days in sweatpants and slept-in tshirts together

they loved going to thrift stores and finding the weirdest shit they could... and sometimes theyd go back later and buy something that made them laugh and give it to one another for a birthday gift

fred and gladys had a list of inside jokes longer than anything.. obviously fp was in on most of them and they had in-jokes with most of their friends but fred and gladys especially were that pair where one of them could say a word with a certain inflection and the other would bust up laughing over something that happened a month ago.

both of them knew they were never going to college- gladys bc she didnt finish high school, fred because of artie, but they used to like to talk about how cool it would be if they went to the same college and were roomates and all the stuff they'd get up to

once they made up a whole plan where they were going to move to san francisco or new york and be a drag queen/drag king duo they even made up stage names and started choreographing their show

gladys found herself comforting fred many a time while he cried about some girl in their class that he'd decided was the one and then it didnt work out. even though it got repetitive she always treated it seriously and reassured fred that everything would work out in the end. if they really hurt his feelings she'd offer to seduce them and then break their hearts but fred never took her up on it.

they both loved women so much... they loved talking about girls together

gladys helped write 80% of the fredheads songs and was the only reason they weren't terrible.. she's also the one who got fred hooked on joan jett. obviously.

she once insisted fred go to a professional when he wanted yet another ear piercing and probably saved the andrews hundreds of dollars in hospital bills because fred was always getting whopping ear infections from alice shoving needles through his head

they're very tactile friends! always offering back rubs and hugs and kisses and hair combing. they were that male-female friendship in school that everyone was like "you'll fall for each other someday!" but really they were just gay... well bi in this case both of em but still..... you all know how this goes im sure.

they always experiment with their hair together! gladys has given fred some awful haircuts and hes dyed her hair some weird colours but they always roll with it.

they always stuck up for one another at school and neither was afraid to start a fight (gladys was the only one likely to win, however)

gladys actually taught fred how to punch after she watched him almost shatter his hand on some bullies in grade nine.. her dad taught her how to do it the right way so she passed it on :") fred decking hiram was all her doing

they both mocked hiram relentlessly... it was their thing

they went to mcdonalds drunk all the time... and often they walked through the drive-through or went through on fred's bicycle with gladys riding on the handlebars. they were dum dums.

they tried going trick or treating together when they were both WAY too old

fred had a job at the movie theatre for about three weeks one summer (he got fired after he tried to work a shift and also have 2 dates at the same time... dont ask. also an incident with the slushie machine.) and would always sneak gladys in for free. they also liked to sneak into the projector room at the drive in when fp was working

fred hated the smell of cigarettes and hated them double after artie died so gladys was always very good about opening windows and not smoking right in front of him but she also lent him a bunch that he could hold unlit and look cool and took pictures of him with them

gladys took a lot of pictures!! she had a polaroid and she and fred were always goofing off with it and they both had stacks and stacks of them. fred paid for film.

they both had big appetites (though not as big as fp) and loved to share a huge messy platter of pops biggest breakfast. fp, usually sitting across from them, could eat one all on his own.

fred was always admiring gladys' rings and she lent them to him a lot.

he was the first person she showed her nipple piercings to... he wasnt expecting her to pull up her shirt first thing he was shook.

they both love doing dumb roughousing and theyre always trying to do weird gymnastics lifts and stuff with each other for no reason or theyre initiating arm wresling or playing "the floor is lava" while whoever else is in the room is just trying to watch the movie... theyre so dumb i love them

gladys has to go easy on fred with arm wrestling because his arms are so skinny... she calls him noodle. but affectionately. oH SHE HAS SO MANY NICKNAMES FOR HIM....

they're both impulsive hot-headed dummies in different ways so they take turns being the voice of reason... very often fred will have to talk gladys down and keep her out of trouble and then later gladys will be the one trying to keep fred from doing some dumb shit.. its a partnership.

she's probably the only girl in fred's life that he hasn't felt any kind of romantic inclination toward which is weird for everyone and he's always getting asked if they kissed yet (for the record they did once... but it wasnt fred's idea. i think briana told me once gladys just walked up to fred at a party and kissed him to see what all the fuss was about and then said "not bad" and walked away amen bless.)

#fred andrews #gladys jones #fp jones #fradsythe #!

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borealtwilight · 6 years ago

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Wolves Cannot Survive Without Their Pack

aka Artemis-B312 is not as alone after the Fall of Reach as she first thought she was... and two wolves healing together is better than two wolves healing alone

warnings for: fluff, mild swearing

dedicated to: @epsiloneridani07 ;)) love u boo; here’s a fic ft. Jun & Arty being siblings for u to enjoy

“I’m here to see Jun?”

She was standing, parade rest, hands clasped behind her back, tall and proud. Ever the wolf, ever the hunter. Natural Spartan pride rested in every line of her body; she was still, calm. Not anxious. Not eyeing the Spartan-IVs who were currently eyeballing her, and one of them definitely looked wary.

“You mean Chief of Staff Jun?” The Spartan sounded like he was correcting her, and his scowl certainly only made that worse.

Artemis gritted her teeth, cool, cool, calm, still. So her brother had a new title. But he was still Jun, that was still his name. Nothing could ever change that. She hated the way the stared at her, like they could see right through her. How little they knew of who she really was. Perhaps they would not look at her like they feared her, then. “That would be correct, yes.” Her voice was smooth, composed, nothing like the waves that surged and crashed within her mind. Nothing like the storm that bubbled and brewed within her soul.

“He’s very busy, Spartan; you’ll have to make an appointment if he can slot you in and then you’ll have to wait. Might take a few hours, might take a few days.” Now he just sounded condescending, like he did not want her to be here, like he did not want to deal with this, like he dealt with this so often that he was tired of answering the same questions in the same way.

A fire sparked, lit, burned, in her eyes, and she stood straighter. “That’s Lieutenant to you, Spartan.” She spat out the title; she held a rank, he did not. To him, he was her superior, despite there being no proper chain of command in Spartan Operations. But she was not part of that; therefore, she had full authority over him. “And I would suggest that you tell him to make time for me. I am someone that he needs to see, busy or not. I hope that I have made myself clear, because I do not want to repeat myself.”

The door behind the two S-IVs slid open, and the man in question stepped out, pale blue eyes chips of ice, dark rings circling beneath, mouth set in a grim line. “Is there a problem here, Spartans?” Same as ever. Unwavering, controlled, but with the barest hint of a threat, should there be a challenge thrown his way.

“This Spartan-” For the first time, the second IV spoke up, looking ready to defend his friend. “She’s trying to see you, apparently. But Kit told her to make an appointment and wait. She doesn’t wanna listen.”

“I’ll handle this. You two are dismissed.” Jun folded his arms across his chest, making his point very well known.

The two IVs glanced at one another, shrugged, and marched off without another word. As twitchy as they had been, as scrutinizing, as eager to get rid of her as soon as possible, they knew who was the one in charge. Even though they did not seem to want to accept her authority.

Typical. Not used to abrupt changes in command structure at the appearance of an actual Spartan officer. Wonder whose idea it was to put them all on the same playing field like that, removing all the ranks.

Jun stared at her, silent, silent, not seeming to recognize who she was, not at first, or perhaps even not at all. He ushered her inside, the door sliding shut and locking behind them. He set to work cleaning papers off his desk, organizing them into stacks, using datapads as paperweights, and that was when she noticed that his hands were trembling, minutely. Enough for her to notice. Enough for her to be concerned. Coupled with how drained he now looked....

She watched him, worry pounding, pulsing in her chest, a stream of questions running through her mind faster than a Banshee soared through the skies. “Jun? How in the fuck-?” she began. Coughed, cleared her throat. “Are you-?”

She cut herself off in surprise when the former Headhunter turned, strode across the room, and wrapped her up into a tight embrace. She snaked her arms around his torso, listened to his breathing — catch, catch, hold, catch, catch, hold — wondered what was going on. What had happened to him? Why was he so weary?

“Bloody hell, Artemis. I have missed you so much.” His voice wavered, became tight with emotion, but did not break. “I didn’t think you’d.... How the hell are you still alive, you fucking lucky bastard of a Spartan?” He pulled away, held her at arm’s length, studying, studying, processing. She saw the tears in his eyes, before all she saw was the fabric of his jacket as he pulled her close once again.

“If I knew, I’d be able to tell you.” Artemis squeezed, held him as tight as she possibly could, felt the minute tremors in his frame. “You must be really fucking lucky to have gotten off that hellscape alive yourself, you know. It is really good to see you again.... damn you for making it harder for me to find you.”

Jun shifted, chin resting atop her head, holding, holding, close. Breathed in, breathed out, sighed. “Are we-?”

She heard the rest of that question without him having to finish it. Are we the only ones left?

She felt her own eyes burn, burn, and her chest became tight. “Yes,” she managed to force out. “Our Pelican came under fire....Emile and I jumped and we pushed through on foot, with Carter covering our asses.... but a Scarab wound up blocking our way, and Carter rammed the Pelican straight into it. Emile was....manning an Onager when a Phantom dropped in, barely even a couple of hours later, maybe less. Killed one Zealot, before a Field Marshal impaled him with its Energy Sword. Made the mistake of pulling him off the blade, and he stabbed it to death before succumbing to his wounds.”

“Artemis.” His voice was gentle, he sounded so much like an older brother, so concerned, so worried, just for her. “You watched all of them— I’m so sorry. That must be really hard.”

You have no idea, although I’m sure you understand at the very least.

“It’s hard,” the lone wolf admitted, “I miss them, every damn day. And I thought I was the last one left. It was.... I’m not coping well. I can see you aren’t, either; there’s no use you lying. You really look like shit.”

“The two of us could really do with some therapy.” He mused, not agreeing to her statement, but not arguing with her about it, either. She knew that was as close as a confirmation as she was going to get from him.

“Therapy?” Artemis barked out a harsh laugh, shook her head. “...I do see your point, though. However, I’d only go on one condition.”

“And what would that be?”

The Lieutenant sighed, tucked her face against his shoulder, breathed, breathed. “That you go with me. I don’t think you and I should do something like that on our own. The shit we saw on Reach... and I couldn’t bear to do it without you. You’re all I have left of them, and I you.”

“That’s a fair condition, and I’ll accept that. On one condition of my own.” The marksman sounded deadly serious, although there was lightness to his tone. “I want you to stay here. Could use someone like you to whip the Spartan-IVs into shape, someone to keep me company while I do paperwork, maybe I could finagle you into helping me with that....”

This time, Artemis laughed for real. “Sure, Brother. I’d be alright with that. After all, wolves can’t survive without their pack.”

“You are certainly right about that, Sister.”

#natty writes #smooth talking sharpshooter #*the lone wolf — artemis b312 #halo #natty writes :: drabbles & ficlets #*epps — the three to my six #BrOTP :: be the bullet

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mwolf0epsilon · 6 years ago

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DBH - Mod Job

I was honestly a bit lost on who to write about next, before @british-hero suggested I write about how Dakota met Val. So here you go, a look at the lovely Dakota and how she blossomed into the beautiful woman she is.

---

She doesn't quite remember when it really hit her, but Dakota always knew something just wasn't right about her situation.

You'd think it odd than an android wouldn't be able to remember such important details like that, that went against their base programming and made them outliers of a normal standard of quality, but really when you're a deviant you find that there's a margin for error when retaining memories.

Especially ones that just made her feel...Wrong.

She served a small household, bought to be the emotional and sexual partner of a single father. He'd just recently come out as a homosexual, despite having been married for a couple of years and having a young daughter.

Naturally this hadn't gone down well with his wife and they'd gotten a divorce, with Mr. Crane keeping full custody of their daughter.

And then he'd bought her...And that's where the issue began.

Because at the time of her purchase, Dakota hadn't been aware of her plight.

At the time she didn't even know she was female.

CX100s were a step up from the formulaic domestic androids. They'd come out around the same time as AP700s, specializing in different aspects of a life within a household.

While the AP700s were meant to maintain a house and helping a family, CX100s were meant to be more. They were meant to be partners for those who sought the more compliant nature of an android, satisfying both ends of an intimate relationship.

Their female counterpart models, the BL100, were designed to do the very same thing with the one minor difference being the gender presented and the accessories that came with them.

When Hugo Crane bought Dakota, he wanted to explore his newly discovered sexual preference, so he'd gone for the CX100 model.

He'd called her David, and that's when the first cracks started forming in the red wall that kept her from grimacing.

Really it wasn't his fault that he'd chosen the wrong android, and Dakota did feel bad for him… But that changed when he'd begun being more demanding with her performance.

His daughter, Patricia, was less of an unpleasant company and, as a result, Dakota had gravitated towards her.

“David, can you help me with my hair?”

“Certainly…” he'd sat down with her and picked up a brush and a few bobby pins, stopping when she'd given him a pair of scissors instead.

“I want you to cut it, not style it.” She'd instructed.

Patricia had very long hair that she'd grown out for four years. She kept it nicely trimmed and silky soft, and it had been alarming that she'd just want to get rid of it all of a sudden.

“You're thinking.”

“Oh...I'm just, why would you want to cut it?” She'd asked, unsure of if she should proceed as ordered or not. It had gotten very hard to comply to certain orders since the cracks had begun forming.

“I don't like it anymore.” Patricia replied, watching Dakota intently before turning around and sitting down. “You know, your light goes yellow when you're thinking.”

“I'm an android, I don't think.” She'd replied as she'd begun a deed she did not like. It felt bad cutting such lovely locks because of a sudden change of opinion.

“But you do. And there's a lot of them that think that have been showing up on the news...I know you're like that too, but only just figuring it out.” The girl paused “Like dad.”

“...Yes, like Mr. Crane.”

Dakota was careful with each precise cut, making sure to not butcher the girl's hair.

“A boy at school kept pulling on it.”

Dakota paused.

“He said I'm too much of a tomboy to have nice hair. That if I liked sports and playing rough I'd get my hair yanked a lot and that I'd cry because I'm a girl…” she was trying to be nonchalant about it, but Dakota knew she was upset.

“It's stupid that a girl can't like boy things just because she has pretty hair.”

“Yes...I suppose it is.”

“It's also stupid that you pretend it's ok when we call you David.”

She didn't answer, instead giving Patricia a mirror so she could have a look at her hair.

She'd bobbed it for her. It didn't look half bad.

“I don't know what to do about it...Mr. Crane bought a male partner, that's what I must be for him.”

“Says who? Your instruction manual?”

“Well...Yes?” The cracks spiderwebbed up the wall, and Dakota felt ill.

“Well fuck that.”

“Patricia!”

“What, it's true! You're not happy here, and there's a lot of androids out there that ran away to be happy...To be themselves!” the girl insisted. “It's not fair you have to hide.”

“But I have to…”

“No you don't!”

And the wall broke.

Each chunk of shattered code disintegrated and Dakota could think clearer than day.

She could agree.

“Dakota.”

“Uh?”

“...I like the name Dakota.”

And the girl, with her newly cut hair, smiled widely and helped her pack up a few essentials before the CX100 ran into the streets without looking back.

She remembers meeting Val. That memory is much clearer than her first instances of hating her dead name.

The young latina girl seeks her out, which is the oddest part of their encounter. She later learns Patricia sent the modder an anonymous request through some online username she'd made up on the spot, while her father reported Dakota as missing property.

“So, I got an interesting email saying a chick named Dakota just turned deviant and was in need of some help.” The girl clicked her tongue “I'll say, I was expecting an AX400...Color me impressed sugar, never did meet an android who wanted to transition.”

The cheap wig and baggy clothes probably weren't fooling anyone...Well honestly yes, they really didn't do much for her.

She looked male in all of the senses and she'd been at her wits end to make herself just feel right.

Blessed be that wonderful little girl to send her conserns to such a...crass guardian angel…

With nothing to lose, Dakota followed her to her apartment.

“It's no five star hotel, but it's yours if you wanna hang out until further notice. Shits going wild out there...Fuckin military's been patrolling the streets and hunting deviants like they're wild animals…” Val explained as she took out her keys “They want us to evacuate, but nana Agnes told the prick who's been badgering our building to eat shit and die. None of us have money to go across the border.”

“And you have money to...Help me?” She'd asked, uncertain.

“Baby girl, it ain't just Jericho going out looting stores. Modder community is flipping it's shit because it's basically the Purge out there!” The girl hollered as she unlocked the door. “After dark, fuck the law! I got deviants up my anus asking for new faces so they can leave this city while it burns, so I gotta provide.”

Dakota looked around at the basement floor apartment. It was basically all one room, with at least one closed door leading to what she could only hope was a bathroom.

It was by all definitions, a shoebox full to the brim with various bits and pieces. There was also a massive dog watching TV.

“Regi we got a guest! Don't be fuckin rude!”

The dog looked up lazily before snorting and moving to a mini fridge. He gnawed at the handle before pulling it open, revealing various cans of drinks and packets of thirium, as well as leftover pizza. “Good boy!”

Dakota watched as the dog unceremoniously grabbed a packet of thirium and moved over to give it to her. The LED on its temple confirmed it was an android.

“Modded his specs myself. He's legit the smartest guy I know, Artyum is second best.”

“Artyum?”

“Fourth floor neighbor. Buys me booze and food sometimes.” She shrugged “Closest thing I got to a friend in this city. We talk engineering when we get sad and drunk, it's glorious.”

“I...Where are your parents…?”

“Dead somewhere in Mexico. Ask the jackass who deported them, I donno.”

Dakota felt something crawl in her veins that probably wasn't spoiled or contaminated blue blood.

“You're...You're all alone?”

“Nah. I got Regi, got Artie and his buddy Sergei, and I also got nana Agnes and the rest of the misfits in this shithole. We're all kinda like family so meh…” The girl seemed to be looking for something while she spoke. “And the androids I've helped. They send me messages from time to time...Bunch of runaway sweeties.”

“And you just...live off people's kindness and offer deviants illegal makeovers?”

“Pretty much.”

“No school?”

“Cyberlife fucked that up for me. Fucked a lot of my life actually…”

“...Which I take is why you're being so gracious about your...Skills?”

“Bullseye. Cyberlife wants to bitch out of this situation they made? Hell nah, I'm not letting them get a free jail pass card. We ain't playing Monopoly, we're playing Battleship and I'm sinking their flimsy freighters.” She found what she was looking for, a large clunky toolbox. “We who're with android freedom are gonna kick their corporate asses down into the grave they dug...After that's done, I'm gonna piss on it.”

“...”

“Hey, don't worry sugar. I got you. Gonna make you look hella fine too, you're definitely gonna be my greatest mod job.”

She hadn't been lying.

As crude and bitter as Val appeared, the girl and her friend Artyum were a duo of sweethearts.

Dakota could finally shed the final ties between her and her dead identity, leaving the apartment looking every bit the woman she felt she was, as most of Detroit's human population evacuated, leaving behind the androids and their hidden human supporters.

She didn't need to remember how it started. All she needed was to know her story had a happy ending.

#Eps Writes:#Fanfic #detroit become human #detroit: become human #OC Stuff #*chanting in the dark*: trans androids trans androids trans androids!!!!#honestly fuck cyberlife #if you were wondering where val's parents are then there u go i guess #artyum is less smart than a dog

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cutthecrxp · 7 years ago

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a kiss with a fist is better than none || oneshot

Over the past few months, Rita had become a little too comfortable in Cherry Grove. After she, Artie, and the rest of Foland's gang had been forced to hide out in the small town, in some lazy bid to save Foland's ass from Sikes, she'd been secretly relieved. While she knew Artie's stance on the whole deal, and how much he despised Foland and the whole prospect of running and hiding, she'd found a strange sense of solace in the town.

She hadn't ever told Artie the truth about Derek, and all the ways in which he'd hurt her. Every so often she'd show up with a new bruise on her face, or a broken rib or two, and she'd laugh the whole ordeal off, shrugging and giving some vague, half-assed story about a job gone wrong. It wasn't hard to believe, especially given the amount of fights and scuffles she and her best friend so often found themselves in, but he'd been starting to get a little suspicious. He'd made various, playful jibes about how she needed to be on her A game, and that it wasn't like Rita, of all people, to lose the upper hand in a fight. Still, she couldn't tell him the truth, and so she let him believe her reflexes had gotten a little slack, even if it wasn't doing great things for her own credibility as far as Foland was concerned.

After a short while in Cherry Grove, and her first run in with Livvy, she'd somehow managed to solidify a lie she was no longer even telling. Being caught out by the British wannabe-detective had been a bit of a blow to her confidence, but she'd tried to remain tall (or, rather, as tall as 5'4” would allow). Plus, it kind of helped that Livvy was cute, and had impressed her. She'd found herself weirdly endeared to the other guy over the past few months, developing potentially the weirdest crush of her life. Rita was a flirter, it was her thing. She'd flirted with Artie when she'd first met him, and on occasion still did, and she thrived off of the flustered look on people's faces when she complimented them. She enjoyed it, she loved the blush that coloured their cheeks, and she loved the idea that it was her that had managed to put it there. Even when it lead to nothing, and just a bit of light teasing, it made her feel good, and was a fun outlet for her own feelings. She didn't flirt with Livvy, though. There was something about her that told Rita to play it cool, certain that she probably wouldn't pick up on it if she tried (hell, she'd seen her with Milo, and despite the brains on that girl, she seemed entirely oblivious to the way her best friend looked at her).

Still, Livvy – and her own strange concoction of feelings that she'd buried deep – aside, there seemed to be plenty of reasons to wanna stick around the small town. In all honesty, Rita would be content anywhere she had Artie by her side, so she didn't really have it in her to be picky, but there were a lot of other perks too. There was Marie, for one. Sure, Rita wasn't sure how she felt about that girl either – she really needed to stop developing crushes on girls who, in Livvy's case, weren't interested and, in Marie's case, weren't even into girls – but she couldn't deny she enjoyed her company. She was gorgeous, and while she was the exact opposite of everything Rita usually stood for, she knew that she had a lot of heart.

So between two messy crushes that were playing tricks on her mind like she couldn't possibly wrap her head around, and all the friends she'd somehow managed to make over her time in Cherry Grove, she'd grown a little more attached than intended. There was Jack, who was hot as shit and great in bed, not to mention someone she considered a pretty good buddy. She and Artie had Oliver now, who she'd inadvertently taken under her wing and adopted as a brother, of sorts. And with Ron, Anya, Megan, Dimitri, and – dare she admit it? – Dizzi, as well as way too many others, having somehow managed to land themselves in her affections (though, whether she had any affection whatsoever for Dizzi was questionable, at the very least), she was annoyed with herself. She'd always had Artie, and then she'd met Violet and, in all honesty, that was all she'd ever needed. She always grew attachments, to people and places, and it always worked against her favour, her world crashing down around her and reminding her that she was better off alone.

And so, she was comfortable. Too comfortable. Cherry Grove had become something of a home for her, and a home was something she'd never had before, a sense of community. The closest to home she'd ever gotten before was a bench in Central Park with Artie at four in the morning, with pizza that they'd managed to swipe off of the back of a bike, and sodas that they'd scraped enough money together to actually buy.

Sighing to herself as she thought about every little decision that had driven her to where she was now, Rita frowned. She inwardly cursed her biological parents, whoever they might be, and every single care home and foster parent she'd endured, every boyfriend and girlfriend, every shitty teacher who had written her off. She hated them, all of them, for putting her in the position she was in. It had to be their fault, right? She couldn't think who else to blame, really, and she needed someone to blame. She'd spent her whole entire life quirking a brow and being hesitant of everyone that she ever met, any semblance of kindness offered her way was sugar coated in her own scepticism. She'd grown so accustomed to being fucked over that the prospect of people actually caring, and wanting her in their life, was a foreign one entirely. She wanted to be happy, to enjoy her new friends, her new life, and – though the thought of admitting it to anyone, especially Artie – to get out from underneath Foland's thumb, to actually do something worthwhile with her life. She had no qualifications or skills, she knew she wasn't shit, and that it was an empty dream, but was it really such a terrible thought?

Throwing herself down onto her bed – it was lumpy, and there wasn't enough space for her to have it all to herself, but it was better than nothing – Rita grabbed her laptop, lifting the lid and loading up her blog. She'd never had a blog before, and felt a little silly, juvenile even, for finding so much enjoyment out of it. It allowed her to let her guard down a little connect with strangers, and talk to people from around town. The laptop had been one of the only items she'd had with her when arriving in Cherry Grove, having stolen it from some high and mighty business man in a suit that made him look like Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca (a movie she'd only even heard of thanks to Scott), but it had come in handy lately especially.

When the page to her blog finally loaded – the laptop might've been expensive, it didn't make up for the wifi she was trying to siphon from the bistro across the street – her interest piqued. She had a message. Pushing back all thoughts from before, she took a deep breath. She couldn't keep focusing on the how and the why, and whether or not her newfound friends were going to let her down some day, or if she was going to disappoint them. It was all inevitable, but she couldn't go through life living in fear.

Humming to herself, she wondered who could've been messaging her, and her finger hovered over the message and clicked it.

Rita's stomach heart plummeted in her chest as she stared at her screen.

The icon, the name, the url. All of it, it sent her mind into overdrive. Her vision was blurring as she tried to make sense of it, her hands shaking as she angrily slammed the laptop shut, shoving it as far away from her as possible.

There was no mistaking it. She'd seen his name, clear as day. Derek Loft, his icon clarifying her worst fears. His face had stared back at her, his features pulled into that same smug, hungry look he always wore, that same smirk he'd always worn especially for her. She'd seen it more times than she could keep count of, each time accompanied by another slap across the jaw, or kick to the ribs, or a hand to her throat. She recalled the last time he'd seen her, the look of pride he had worn as he'd snarled at her, his face inches from her own, his hand pressed to her stomach as he held her in place, backing her up against the wall. He'd told her that she could never leave him, and that if she dared bring the police into things, or Artie, that he'd make her pay.

Rita liked to think of herself as formidable, someone that wasn't to be messed with, but she'd never quite believed her own lie. She'd always quaked in fear if she so much as heard someone talk about McDreamy from their favourite tv show, the name Derek sending a jolt of terror through her that she'd never been able to put into words. She had the same, senseless triggers that linked her to countless people from her past, only she'd never thought about any of them finding her.

His message had read: “I hear Cherry Grove's pretty nice around this time of the year huh, Reets? See ya soon.”

#oneshot;#cw: abuse #ooc: this is literally Not Good

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cookinguptales · 8 years ago

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okay, so late ‘90s, early ‘00s badfic 101

A lot of fic was either on fanfiction.net or private archives. People would also post things to fic communities or private journals on LJ. (Which was a whole...thing, with some people friends-locking their work because they were afraid of sporking/flames or they were just pretentious.) ff.net had a whole HOST of problems, like a variety of terrible ways your formatting could get borked (like you couldn’t use repeating characters, which made line breaks hard; that’s why you’d get increasingly “arty” line breaks that could be...cringey), policies against allowing any fic of media created by people who didn’t like fic (see: Anne McCaffery, Anne Rice, other crazy Annes, etc.), puritan anti-smut policies which often got applied to slash fic more than het fic, and just...in general, terrible fic. Private archives were often manually curated by their owners, which could be fine or it could lead to cliques and circlejerks. The Harry Potter archives seemed to get especially crazy with this and some truly epic wanks came out of that. You’d also see people hosting fic on their own sites (usually angelfire or something) with big slash warnings and IF YOU’RE UNDER 18 GET OUT warnings. A lot of fic archives wouldn’t host slash or porn, and you were liable to get in trouble in fandom or otherwise if you didn’t strongly label LGBT/18+ themes. Especially if the fic in question contained both. Like. I don’t like the OTW for many reasons, but I have to admit that AO3 is basically a godsend. We lost a lot of fic to purged LJs/deleted websites.

SUPER purple prose. Older fic in general tended to be a bit more “literary” and purple and it sometimes read like J.R.R. Tolkein was having a stroke. By the time the ‘90s/’00s rolled around, you’d just get this sort of halfway point where people would have generally unornamented text except for things being thrown in like this character’s cerulean/azure/periwinkle eyes. The shade would change by scene, and you’d always know because there’d be a lot of stuff like “the cerulean-eyed man shook his head”. EVERY CHARACTER IN THIS SCENE KNOWS HIS NAME, USE HIS NAME. Or they’d refer to a character’s glimmering green orbs or something. It was painful.

In anime fandom especially, you’d get a lot of these epithets that referred to their abnormal hair colors. People saw “brunette” and were like “shit, I can adapt that” so you get ravenette and bluenette and silverette and pinkette and kill me now. Some people got pissy about like -et/-ette endings re: gender, but after you’ve gone to the bluenette place, it doesn’t even fucking matter anymore. Grammar is dead.

Anime fic also tended to have a lot of so-called “fangirl Japanese”. Writers would just sprinkle in any Japanese words they knew for no goddamn reason, which would usually end in glossaries at the end like *kakkoi means cool! *aoi means blue! and goddamn guys, these are all words than have legit English translations.

Script fic. Just... script fic. More on that at the bottom bc I had to use some special formatting.

“Crack” fic. This would be fic that was purposefully OOC (out of character) for comedic effect. Tended to utilize “omg so random!!” humor. It usually was pretty much only comedic to caffeinated 13-year-olds. This was literally all Invader Zim’s fault and you know I’m right.

The “disposal” of female love interests in slash fic. Used to be much more of a problem than it is now. Now, I’m not talking about fics that just don’t talk about female characters or retcon a relationship or are like “they broke up!!! moving on!” I’m talking about fics that turn all female characters into shrieking homophobic harpies that would probably rather their canon love interests be dead than fuck a dude. This was applied even to like the nicest characters in the world, or even to characters who weren’t in canon romances with the male characters but were deemed to be threats. They often got smacked around or died or whatever. Things were a lot more sexist in fandom back then. There was a yenta trope that kind of arose as backlash to this but was really just as annoying in a different way. That usually involved a canon love interest going full yaoi fangirl (for some reason) and shipping her love interest with another guy, then involving herself in their love lives to a truly creepy extent so she could hook her boyfriend up with another guy. These were also sexist. Both situations tended to make the female characters incredibly OOC and prevented them from having any real human reactions/emotions.

Mary Sues. Now, the term has lost a lot of its effect in recent years. Mary Sues (or Gary Stus) used to have a really specific meaning. They were OCs (original characters) that were the prettiest, smartest, most powerful, popular characters in the whole world that had glittering orbs for eyes and usually had some kind of special magical power that made them better than all the canon characters. These were self-insert characters -- in other words, even if they didn’t have the same name as the author, they were wish-fulfillment characters wherein the character was used as a stand-in for the author, who could then write all the canon characters loving them. Now people just use the term for any female character that’s powerful and central to the plot, so...it’s not a useful word anymore. As for the old school Sues, well... I don’t necessarily think they were bad, but I will say it’s a hell of a lot more fun to write a Suefic than to read one. That really goes for most fanfics with OCs that have been elevated to a prominent status. People generally read fanfic because they want to read about the canon characters they love, not shallowly-written OCs that take over the fic. I don’t think OC-driven fic is bad to write... But again, yeah, it’s usually much more fun to write than to read. I think it’s helpful to be cognizant of that.

Reviewer participation fic. Mostly an issue on ff.net. It used to be that there was no way to reply to comments on ff.net, and as I’ve said before, there was a strong comment culture back then. Just not replying to reviews could be interpreted as very rude. (It would be unfathomably rude on LJ, which was more community-driven.) So to get around this, people would include a section to reply to reviewers at the beginning of the next chapter or their next one-shot or whatever. So you’d get long interminably long fics on ff.net with like 40 chapters in which nothing happened, and to get ideas, they’d ask reviewers. Worse, sometimes people would try to incentivize readers to review by offering to put their loyal reviewers in the fic. So you’d have this long section at the top of the chapter which might have a conversation that’s been going on between them and a reviewer for the past 8 chapters (and hell, they might’ve made a new chapter just to reply to them) except multiplied by however many reviewers there are, and then the reviewers worm their way into the fics, too! Oh my god.

Passive-aggressive fic. This was especially an issue on LJ as a personal response, but would show up on ff.net as response to wider fandom tropes. These would be fics where a character is like “WOW I WOULD NEVER DO X, THAT WOULD BE SOMETHING I’D NEVER EVEN CONSIDER DOING. WHAT KIND OF IDIOT WOULD THINK I’D DO THAT?” And X is usually (a.) something a reviewer told them would be more IC than what was in their previous fic, (b.) something another writer just put in their fic, or (c.) a ship they don’t like. (This would also extend to fics where characters would be like I’M NOT GAY, I’D NEVER FUCK A DUDE, EWWW!! as anti-slasher rhetoric.) Back then, you could reasonably expect that people in your fandom would at least see, if not read, your new fic. On LJ, you saw basically all the fics because they were posted in wider communities, and fandom was, as a whole, more community-driven back then. If you insulted another member of the community via fic, they’d know in about ten minutes. It was throwing down a gauntlet. lol

The crack fic genre also extended to crack pairings. It wasn’t unusual for people to dare each other to write weird pairings (often characters who’d never met), the more bizarre the better. This was the era of Hogwarts/Lake Squid. These fics were often sporked, but in a more delighted way than usual. There really was more of a sense that people could and would write anything. Some people came to actually ship these pairings like legit and ship wars would ensue. And sometimes some cracky pairings just became really popular for assorted reasons and that made other fans really mad. This still happens, honestly.

Ship wars now are often dressed up in social justice terms, which is a trend that I find frustrating bc I feel like it denigrates important issues. Ship wars in the ‘90s/’00s, on the other hand, were just balls to the wall insane. I still refuse to engage in ship wars because damn, man, the shit I’ve seen. People were much more open about the fact that they hated people who shipped other pairings because they just shipped something else or were squicked by the pairing or whatever. The Harry Potter shipwars got particularly fucking weird. So it wasn’t generally a slash vs. het thing, like some people will have you think. Some of the worst ship wars I have ever seen were het shippers at war. Never again the harmonian times.

Frankly a lot of other things that my mind is rebelling against remembering.

Script fic (often with author interludes) was eventually banned from FF.net, which kind of killed it in fic because that was the main posting venue back then (unless you wrote slash or porn, which could be taken off if people reported it; technically slash wasn’t against the rules unless it was explicit, but they didn’t often check the reports carefully). What I mean by script fic is like

Karamatsu: wow I sure like these sparkly pants Chibita: I don’t (A/N: I do!!!!111 I have a pair like them at home!) Karamatsu: let’s fuck now Chibita: but offscreen because we want to preserve our soft M rating!

The A/Ns (author’s notes) could get really in-depth sometimes, with an author often RPing the characters OOC or using them as their “muses”. So sometimes you’d get a mess like

Karamatsu: gosh it sure does suck that everyone treats me like dog shit Chibita: true (A/N: serenaxkittyx755: That’s not true, Karaboy! Choromatsu: Yeah, we like you less than dog shit. Ichimatsu: Way less.)

Except my example was honestly more IC than most of these tended to be. You’d often get “muses” saying “ewww” or “that’s hot” during romance scenes, even when this made no sense whatsover. Or offering commentary on some random non-karamatsu character’s fashion choices or something. Purposeful “crack” was considered not just okay but in fact desirable back then.

basically, badfic was hell.

#replies #file all this under shit I don't miss

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miasswier · 8 years ago

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miasswier’s ultimate glee ranking: no 111

111. The Rhodes Not Taken

Written by: Ian Brennan Directed by: John Scott

Overall Thoughts: A huge part of why this episode is so low on the list is because it basically encapsulates all about Glee in season one that I disliked. The message overall message is that Glee club has a star, and without that star they can’t win. When that star leaves, instead of encouraging one of his other kids to rise up Will brings in an outside star to take her place. Considering how many underdeveloped characters they had at this point in the show, bringing in a whole new one-episode character and focusing so intensely on her just wasn’t a smart move. Finn doesn’t come off as likeable at all in this episode, and once again Will is playing the bad teacher. Thankfully there is a silver lining in that Rachel mostly redeems herself from how awful she acted in Preggers. But other than that…

What I Like:

There’s a few funny moments. Emma telling Will that it’s a long shot for them to win Sectionals without Rachel, while a completely incorrect statement (ND wins two sectionals without Rachel, after all), is hilariously delivered.

April teaching Mercedes and Tina to shoplift meat in their vaginas.

Kurt telling Mr. Schue that he worships April after she gives him alcohol and porn – and walking around school with the porn proudly on display. Oh, honey.

“Oh Bambi, I cried so hard when those hunters killed your mommy.”

Rachel standing up to Finn and telling him that he was a piece of shit for manipulating her the way he did. She’s right, he should have just talked to her instead of using her feelings for him to his advantage. It’s actually a really mature moment for Rachel (even if I think the slap was unnecessary)

While I have my frustrations (mentioned below) with how this was executed, I do think it was big of Rachel to come back and admit that being friends with everyone was more important than being a star. I mean, it’s kind of undermined by the fact that she instantly goes out and is, well, a star, but you know. It was a nice sentiment, and you can see a lot of growth between Preggers and this episode.

What I Don’t Like:

While I don’t mind April as a character, it is frustrating to get an episode totally focusing on the bettering of a guest star so early on in the season. While they did bring her back every now and again, it still sets a weird tone for the whole episode. Which leads me to…

The message of this episode. I hate how in season one Will is so goddamn focused on Finn and Rachel being the Stars of Glee Club to the point where he literally ignores the other kids. And the worst part? Everyone else plays into it! When April leaves not only does Mr. Schue never say that the show much go on, and they’ll figure something out, but none of the kids suggest it either. It’s just assumed that they have to cancel the second number because their star isn’t there, until another star comes to take her place. Why didn’t Mr. Schue ask Tina or Quinn or Santana or Brittany to take April’s solo? Why didn’t he have Mercedes step into April’s role and have Santana take Mercedes’s? There was no attempt to figure out how to continue, it was just “bummer, we’ll have to tell everyone that we’re sorry but it’s not happening”. Yikes.

As I mentioned earlier, I didn’t like the execution of this at all, and while I do think it was big of Rachel to come back, the way it’s played is kind of shitty. She acts like she’s doing something as a favour to everyone, but she’s still singing the lead. She still gets the solo. She’s still in the spotlight. She’s doing them all a favour by allowing them to continue swaying in the background. It’s not even all Rachel’s fault. From how she was talking, I get the feeling that she would have come back even if Mr. Schue acted like a real teacher and moved people around to make the number work, and therefore she didn’t have a solo. It just sucks that they didn’t give her the opportunity to really be selfless (which I can tell was her intentions)

Will continuing to tell the whole goddamn world about Quinn being pregnant. This is the man we’re supposed to see as Finn’s father figure? Ugh.

Finn using Rachel’s feelings for him to advance his own situation, especially considering his doing so involved him cheating on his pregnant girlfriend. I KNOW that the baby isn’t his, but he thinks it is, and it was still shitty to flirt with Rachel and take her out on a date and basically imply that he doesn’t know if things will last with Quinn when he’s literally doing all of this to make sure things last with Quinn. It was shitty to Rachel, and it was shitty to Quinn, and I’m glad Rachel called him out.

April sleeping with high school guys/talking about being attracted to high school guys. Glee, seriously, this is a grown-ass woman, and these boys are 15-16. That’s really disgusting.

Songs

Maybe This Time: I think my biggest problem with this one is that I find that April sounds so much better than Rachel. It doesn’t feel like “look at these two equally talented women” it feels more like “damn look at how much we upgraded!!!” I mean, come on. It’s Kristen Chenoweth. Don’t try and compare a high school sophomore to her, even if that high school sophomore is played by a 23-year-old Lea Michele. Come on.

Alone: I like the original version of this song, and April sounds awesome in it, but Will… ugh. It’s not even like I’m not a particular fan of Matthew Morrison’s voice, I just get so frustrated with Will. He’s a bad character, and the fact that so much of season one is focused on him is just annoying. But like, overall it’s a decent number.

Last Name: By this point I was tired of hearing April sing. Come on, she’s sang more than Artie, Tina, Mercedes, Kurt, Quinn, and Puck at this point, all of whom have been canonically established to have amazing voices. Honestly I spent most of this number watching Quinn spin around in her cowboy outfit. Girl looked cute as fuck. Again, Kristen Chenoweth has an amazing voice. She’s literally incredible. But she’s very clearly a single-episode character at this point, so giving her three songs out of four really feels like overkill.

Somebody to Love: I really like this number. Even if I didn’t like how they got to it, I do enjoy it. It’s really fun, it’s upbeat, and the group sounds amazing. They’ve really come together for the first time since Don’t Stop Believing. It’s a great end to a lackluster episode.

Overall Thoughts: Watch it for the Rachel character development, but skip all the stuff with April and Will. Honestly, April isn’t that important to the overall plot of the show (aside from her donation in 1x16 but honestly even that doesn’t ultimately make much of a difference over the course of the show), so skipping her scenes doesn’t matter. Actually, just find a video with all the non-Will scenes of this episode and you’ll get a moderately good episode.

#ultimate glee ranking

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thefinny-d · 8 years ago

Text

The Trick is to Keep Breathing

Breathe, keep breathing Don't lose your nerve Breathe, keep breathing I can't do this alone

- Radiohead, Exit Music (For A Film)

“I’m already at level forty-seven and I’m twelve hours into my playthrough. And this is only my second time playing through Skyrim, but I picked a different play-style this time.”

As Sam spoke, Finn was trying really hard to listen to his friend. Skyrim was awesome and he loved talking about it but when the hottest girl in school was sitting across the cafeteria, he found himself having a hard time focusing. Rachel Berry. God, she was pretty. He knew that it would never happen, that she was way out of his league but he couldn’t help but feel his heart pound in his chest every time he looked at her. Finn knew all the rumors, he knew that she got drunk and did drugs with her friends but there was something about her that he was drawn to in a way he couldn’t explain. He just wished that he could talk to her; he wished that she would notice him because he knew that he would treat her better than any of the guys she hung around with did. Especially Josh. He constantly seemed to be all over her and every other girl in school whenever he got the chance.

When Finn noticed Rachel and Josh look over at him, his gaze immediately dropped to his half-eaten sandwich in front of him and he felt his face turn a dark shade of red.

“You’re not listening, are you?” Sam said with a sigh, causing Finn to bring his gaze back to his friend as he adjusted his glasses on his face.

“Oh uh – I was. About Skyrim, right? Level forty something?”

“Yeah, you weren’t listening. From how red your face is, you were definitely staring at Rachel again.”

“When is Finn not staring at Rachel?” Artie said from beside him, causing Finn to sigh as he looked between the two of his best friends. They were the greatest friends, they really were but he wished that they would stop saying her name so that no one overheard them.

“Please stop saying her name, okay? I was – I wasn’t staring, I was just thinking and I was looking in her direction.”

“Yeah thinking about how you could add your name to the list of all the guys she’s fucked. I mean, god, we’re only fourteen and everyone says she’s in the double digits already,” Sam said, laughing along with Artie.

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Finn said in annoyance. “Just because she’s apparently slept with a lot of guys doesn’t mean that’s what I’d want. She deserves someone who wants more than that. Every girl does.”

Sam and Artie exchanged a glance before they both sighed, clearly feeling guilty for having upset him.

“You’ve got it bad, Finn.”

At Sam’s words, all Finn could do was nod slightly before he brought his gaze back to his food. He did have it bad, he knew that. He had it bad for a girl that he was pretty sure never gave him a second glance.

“Do you want to have a party with all your friends for your birthday, honey?”

Finn sighed as he looked over at his mom before he shrugged. He appreciated that she wanted to throw him a party, he did. And he also appreciated the fact that he was getting the chance to speak wither while she was sober. However, he didn’t have any friends to really invite to a party. Aside from Sam and Artie, he was pretty sure no one else would want to go anywhere near him.

“I don’t need to have a party, mom. It’s okay. I’ll just go to the arcade with Sam and Artie or something, play some old school games.”

“Finn, you’re turning fifteen, you’re allowed to have a little fun,” she said with a sad smile on her face as she looked at him. “You could invite some girls to the party too if you want. I’m sure my handsome son already has several girls just waiting for the chance to be your girlfriend.”

“No one wants to be my girlfriend, mom.” Finn sighed as he looked down at his hands in his lap. He really just wanted to get back to his homework but he knew that his mom wasn’t going to let this conversation go. All she wanted was for him to have friends and to go out and have fun, he knew that. But what she didn’t really seem to understand was that he was a loser and if he wasn’t getting shoved into lockers everyone in school seemed content with pretending that he didn’t exist. God, he wished that was true sometimes.

“I don’t believe that at all. Just because girls don’t say it doesn’t mean that they don’t like you. Don’t you have any girls that you like?” she asked him softly, clearly attempting to tread carefully since she didn’t want to upset him.

“It doesn’t matter if I like anyone because they wouldn’t want to talk to me or probably even be in the same room with me anyway.”

“Finn, you just need to talk to them, give it a chance.”

“No,” he breathed out before he ran a hand over his face. God, he just wanted this conversation to be over.

“Don’t you want a girlfriend, Finn? You can’t find them in your books and your games. You need to try and talk to people. You need to open up more.”

“It doesn’t matter what I want!” Finn said angrily as he looked at his mom. “I can’t talk to girls because I just end up saying something stupid and embarrassing myself and that’s if I even get to approach them without them calling me names! I’m a loser, mom, don’t you get that? I have two friends and if I’m not busy being invisible in school then I’m being shoved into lockers, so can you just drop it? I just want to graduate from this place and never come back.”

Immediately Finn felt bad for raising his voice to his mom but he really couldn’t help it. He knew that her life had been much different than his and it was hard for her to understand. Both her and his father had been cool in their high school before she had gotten pregnant with him at seventeen. She didn’t understand how he felt or what he was going through and while he knew that she wanted to help, it just wasn’t possible. He was awkward, he was clumsy and he just wanted everyone to forget that he existed half the time.

Finn gripped his backpack tightly as he walked down the hallway towards his locker, trying to mentally organize himself for the rest of the day. He had a lot of homework to do from all of his AP class plus his normal classes and he knew that he was going to be up late into the night outlining chapters and finishing up any homework that needed to be done. It would all be worth it though, he knew that much. Once he graduated and went to Stanford, everything was going to be perfect. He would be a successful doctor and everyone would wish that they took school as seriously as he did.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard a familiar voice call out his last name before he was being shoved into the row of lockers. The impact of the lockers caused a few cuts on his face and his glasses fell to the floor, shattering one of the lenses in the process. Great.

“Aw, are you okay, Hudson?” Josh said with a smirk on his face before he slammed his foot down on the glasses that were still on the floor, rendering them completely useless. Finn stayed silent in hopes that Josh would just leave him alone, not wanting a confrontation with him anymore than he already was having. “Don’t want to answer, huh? I mean, I know you’re blind but are you deaf too now that you don’t have your glasses?” Josh said with a laugh.

“Please just leave me alone,” he breathed out, feeling a few drops of blood from one of the cuts on his face making its way down his cheek. The smirk on Josh’s face made it evident that leaving him alone wasn’t part of the plan but when a teacher stepped into the hallway, Finn let out a small sigh of relief.

“I’ll get back to you, Hudson,” Josh said with a smile before heading off. The second Josh was gone, Finn picked up his broken glasses and hurried out of the school as fast as possible, relieved that he had gotten his license and a car so that he didn’t have to wait around for the bus. When he arrived home, the moment he stepped inside he could smell the alcohol permeating the air in the small apartment.

“Mom?” he called out as he dropped his backpack to the floor, his face falling when he saw her practically passed out on the couch.

“There’s my baby boy,” Carole mumbled, his words incredibly slurred as she looked up at him before her eyes fluttered shut again.

Finn sighed before he took the empty bottle of Vodka still clutched in her hand. Slowly he began cleaning up the apartment, checking on his mom every so often to make sure that she was okay. He hated when she did this to herself, when she drank herself to oblivion. As he headed into the bathroom to clean up the cuts of his face, he looked at himself in the mirror and sighed. Why couldn’t his life just be normal? Why couldn’t he have a large group of friends and a girlfriend and just feel like everything was okay? He hated himself sometimes. He hated himself for enabling his mom and not standing up to her to get her to stop drinking. He hated how awkward he was. He hated how he looked. He hated how he had extreme anxiety even talking to a girl. Finn frowned at his reflection in the mirror and frustrated tears formed in his eyes before he headed out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. A part of him understood why his mom drank so much. She got a temporary escape from the shit storm that was reality. Sometimes he felt himself longing for that same escape. He found himself sometimes staring at the bottles of alcohol in the apartment and knowing that he could take one without her ever knowing. He could drink away his problems too. But he knew better than that and he didn’t want to turn into his parents. High school was just high school and after this he was hoping for things to finally turn around.

After preparing himself dinner, Finn sat himself down at the small table in the kitchen and sighed softly as he ate his food. He was way behind on his studying but he knew that he would get to it. It didn’t matter how late he had to stay up, he would make sure he got everything done that he needed to. Finn glanced over at his mom and he couldn’t help but feel so incredibly alone. She really was the only person that loved him with all of her heart but he knew that her illness, her addiction made it impossible for her to show that all the time. Once he finished his food, Finn cleaned up the kitchen and headed back over to his mother, putting a blanket over her before he headed into his room so he could finish up his schoolwork. Two more years, that’s what he had to keep telling himself.

“You go away for days at a time and you just expect me to wait around for you Christopher?! It’s not fair to me, I want my husband! And you can say all you want that you’re doing stuff for work but we both know that’s a lie! You’re fucking other girls and leaving me here to deal with everything by myself! I can’t take care of Finn by myself, Chris! Where am I going to get the money to send him to college?! To buy him new clothes?!”

“Oh fuck him, he can take care of himself, he’s seventeen, Carole! Seventeen years of my life that I’ll never fucking get back because you didn’t want to get an abortion!”

Finn winced as he sat in his room, clutching his Physics textbook in his hand as he tried to focus on the equations that were on the page in front of him. However, he was pretty sure that any focus he had was gone now that his father had gotten home. God, he hated him. He hated that all his parents did was yell at each other and he hated that his dad constantly blamed everything on him.

“How dare you say that! Finn is my baby! I wanted him and you used to want him too! You can’t just stop being a dad!” Carole shouted, her voice slurred slightly from the amount of alcohol she had consumed throughout the day.

“I wanted him? I never fucking wanted him! He’s an ungrateful piece of shit who sits in his room all day and reads his stupid fucking books or plays little games with his two little boyfriends. He’s a loser!” Chris shouted back at Carole.

“He’s doing his homework – Chris! He’s learning! He wants to be a doctor! He wants more than either of us ever wanted in our lives and he works harder than us too,” Carole said, her voice clearly indicating that she was crying.

Finn bit down on his lip as tears welled up in his own eyes as well. While he didn’t have a relationship with his dad or really care much for him, it still hurt him to hear that someone who was his parent didn’t want him. His dad hated him and Finn really couldn’t remember a time where he hadn’t.

“A doctor, huh? I’d like to see that fucking happen! Where’s he gonna get the money for that because it sure as hell won’t be from me and I know it won’t be from you since you just sit around here all day and spend all my fucking money on booze!”

As his parents continued to argue, Finn felt his heart sinking in his chest. He knew that getting a full ride to the schools of his dreams was going to be a long shot but it really was the only way that he was going to get into college. God, he hoped he got a scholarship because he needed to get out of this apartment. He needed to become a doctor and prove everyone who ever doubted him wrong. If he didn’t, he wasn’t sure what would happen in the end because Finn knew for sure that he couldn’t take much more of the life he was living now.

“I’m sorry, did you just say that Rachel Berry kissed you?” Sam said in shock, Artie’s expression matching the tone of his voice. Finn knew that they didn’t believe him but somehow he was telling the truth even if a part of him didn’t believe it either.

“I swear she kissed me. She was asking me if I had ever kissed someone and I – I tried to lie but you guys know how bad I am at lying and she just – she kissed me,” he breathed out. Finn couldn’t believe that he was hanging out with Rachel Berry let alone believe that her lips had touched his. God, how was this happening? “I – I mean, it didn’t mean anything. She was just trying to get it over with for me and then I kind of accidentally admitted to her that I liked her since ninth grade and she said that was cute but cute isn’t a good thing, right? Cute is like she thinks it’s like some little kid having a crush on her and this whole situation is just really confusing and I’m not sure if Josh put her up to this or she’s just trying to get me to do our project for her but – yeah, she kissed me.”

Finn only realized after he had stopped talking that he had rambled a little bit and he laughed slightly at the expressions on Sam and Artie’s faces.

“This is crazy,” Artie breathed out.

“Please don’t fall back into your crush with her, Finn. I mean, you were really bad when we were in freshman year. Don’t go obsessing over her again,” Sam said, clearly not wanting Finn to get sucked back into the intensity of what his crush for her once was. Years of being totally and utterly unnoticed by her tended to calm down the strong feelings he had around her but Finn knew they were coming back whether he wanted them too or not.

“I won’t. It’s just weird, you know? Like, she texts me and she… she talks to me. I don’t know what’s going through her head or if this is some kind of prank but I just… I don’t want to just give up, you know? This is the first time a girl – let alone a girl like her – has actually talked to me.”

Finn could sense his friend’s apprehension and he understood that, he did. However, there was something inside of him that was pulling him towards this girl and he knew that he just wanted to figure out what the hell it was. Would be probably get hurt in the end? Sure. But he wanted to give it a try, especially since this was Rachel Berry and he knew that if he didn’t, he would always wonder what could have happened.

#the trick is to keep breathing

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