#as if they didn’t almost borderline bully me for that same shit back then

[leahcee]

something I can rant about forever is the fact that this one couple I went to high school with (a year to two above me) got famous on TikTok/IG bc he’s a “stay at home husband” and his wife is the breadwinner when like… in high school I got so much shit and I mean so MUCH SHIT for being so open about feminism and how my mom is the breadwinner in my family and my dad is a stay at home dad and like people were sooooo mad about that and saying how “unnatural” that is and yet…… these white asses get clout on social media for being so “out of the norm”

[spikesbimbo]

Their kinks/ Turn ons

- Gao, Hirugami, Suna

Cw: Harassment, pet play furry shit, *!degradation!*, *slight* cnc

a/n: i wrote a lot for suna bc we’re the same person

18+ Minors DNI

Gao:

Doesn't have a specific one so its usually a combo of them.

And as confident as he is that doesn't necessarily mean he's also intense/rough. (tbh its gnna be rough no matter what taking his dick but he doesn't mean it, okay?)

Size kink, duh.

He also likes to see your face.

To be more specific seeing the way its twists and turns, sweat dripping down it, your baby hairs sticking to your forehead, the way your eyes can't stay open while he fucks you. 

Also lovesss kissing all over you because it gets you wet enough to take him.

-

“Shhh baby I got you, look at me” he cooed coming up to kiss your lips, lingering on them for what feels like forever. 

He started kissing down your neck, all the way down your body until he reached your core, slightly pushing his fingers in, making you let out a deprived moan. Your arms immediately reaching out for him, grabbing onto whatever they could get their hands on, them ultimately landing on his arms and wrists. 

“You gotta let go if you want me to make you feel good honey” he softly said, pausing his movement, his fingers now resting on your needy cunt. “Its gonna hurt without prep” 

You whined, not being able to voice your wants, instead just dragging his hands away, to which he let you, and scooting yourself up under him under you were pressed against his erection.

“You want it now baby?” he asked, already knowing how drenched you were just from kissing him. The effect he had on you made him gleam, just praising you could turn you into a puddle.

You quickly nodded, with him listening, steadily spreading your legs apart, inching himself inside you. After a few minutes he was almost fully in, you were a sobbing mess, already crying from overstimulation while he told you how much of a good girl you were being.

He started thrusting after you started rocking you hips against his, getting faster with each thrust. He was going insane looking down below him, you tiny little body accommodating his fat cock inside you, fuck.

 You couldn’t focus just hearing him whimper and moan “ah fuck” getting to you, hiding the embarssing look on your face with your hands, letting you feel special that you were making him feel this good.

He dragged your hands away from your face finally letting him see those oh so cute expressions you made while he was fucking you, making him get a little too excited as he fucked your harder until he came, him already doing the same to you multiple times. He went limp on your body, cum still in you, you wrapping your arms around him playing with his hair before he muttered  “fuck baby you drive me insane.”

Hirugami: 

PET PLAY

Pls, put on some animal ears and watch this boy go crazyyy. pls why do you tolerate his furry shit

You can use it to your advantage too

Let's say you did something bad, and now hes upset :(

Go up to him in your little outfit with some puppy ears on accompanied by puppy eyes and boy will forgive you right then and there.

Not without having a little fun first tho ;)

-

“Your such a little greedy slut” he said, tugging on the tail in your ass making you squirm. Your ass was still sore, littered by his handprints. “You want some one else to fuck you huh? Fuck you with me?” 

“N-no daddy.” you cried.  “j-just want you, only you” you whimpered trying to prove your innocence, and that the guy you were talking to was just your classmate and nothing more.

“Really puppy?” He said now tugging on your leash pulling you off all fours until your face was eye to eye with his crotch. Did he already know you were telling the truth since the beginning, yes. But he also loved to play with you, getting a high out of the way you were acting.

“Mhmm” you said, nuzzling your check into his thigh, ready to do whatever it takes to make him happy again.

“I only want you daddy, you’re the only one I ever think of.” You said looking up at him with your big eyes, red from crying earlier. God you were too cute, always being his good girl, trying your best to not to disappoint him.

You were such a shy thing behind closed doors, dressing in baggy pants and jackets outside but as soon as you were home all you wore was little frilly dresses, barely covering your ass, cute little aprons, tiny tops with equally tiny booty shorts; striving for his attention in the most roundabout ways.

He turned you around, still on all fours, until your ass was facing him again. Sliding his finger down your slit before shoving them inside you, making you squeal, rocking your hips back into them.

He wasn’t afraid to show you that he was wrapped around your finger, he loved taking care of you just as much as you did him. He continued fingering you, roughly thrusting his fingers in and out of you, while tugging on your tail, suddenly hitting your g spot bringing you to an unexpected orgasm. 

Your arms gave out, him grabbing you before you fell, whispering praise into your ear while dragging you into his lap, not caring about the mess all over you.

“L-love you gami.” you muttered curling your head into his arms. One of your puppy ears falling off, the other one sliding down your hair.

“Love you too puppy.” he responded, kissing your forehead, slightly laughing at the state you were in, before taking you two to the bathroom to wash you up.

Is it obvs im a gami fucker?

Suna: 

Ok bby boy is most likely into everything, but doesnt care enough/ too tired to try it out

Sooooo, you have to bring it up

And hell glady follow

But deep down he just wants to get his dick wet most of the time.

So idk bout yall but that screams vanilla sex

Just sliding it in you in the morning and rocking you back and forth>>>>> some intense ass long freaky session

But this post is about their kinks so vanilla isn't enough…. sooo restraining if def one of them that you two frequently use. 

He’ll either tie up your hands, legs, etc., with whatever he can find or he’ll use his hands.

But dont think his attitude will leave with it. *!degradation!*

-

“rin” you sleepily groaned, not wanting to be awake at the crack of dawn, his hands working their way up your shirt grabbing your boobs. “Lemme fuck” he whispers into your ear, his chest to your back with his erection poking your ass.

“Rin” you say this time, letting out more of a moan than a groan, him sliding one of his hands down your shorts, resting his fingers on your embarrassingly wet cunt, smirking at the way he made you.

“You have a wet dream bout me princess?” he teased, his breath in your ear. No you didn't have a wet dream about him, you were just… always needy. 

You'd hate to admit it, but your boyfriend was quite the sight. You always took pictures of him instead of staring, not wanting him to “bully” you any more. In fact you've even got off to his pictures, but you'd never tell a soul, especially not him.

“Fuck off.” you quickly said, slapping his hands away while scooting away from him, hiding your now flushed face.

He doesn't take that well and moves to grab your wrists above your head with one hand while shoving his fingers in your mouth with the other to get you to shut up, not wanting to hear any more shit come out of that pretty mouth of yours.

“You gonna let me fuck you right now?” he questions, cupping your jaw with the hand that still has his fingers in your mouth, already knowing he was gonna get what he wanted. 

You couldn't respond, getting embarrassed again that this was getting you so wet, you only open your legs more letting him slide in, the burning feeling still happening even though you were dripping.

“Fuck, youre so tight.” he groaned rocking back and forth in you, his hand gripping your wrists even tighter making your whine, pushing your self back into him.

“Fuck, you’re such a little slut, arent you doll?” he said catching your movement, shoving his face into your neck. “Oh that's right, you can't talk because you were being a bad little whore earlier.” he continued shoving his fingers more down your throat making you gag, tears running down your face, your cunt swallowing him whole, being on the brink of cumming.

You body freezes, locking up as he continues fucking you, your cunt tightening around him making him groaning out a mantra of your name and curses. The both of you cum, his grip loosening around your wrists setting them free and his fingers coming out of your mouth wrapping his hands around your torso, borderline hugging you. 

You two lay there, seeing that the clock still says 6:35 am, both of you simultaneously deciding that you'll clean yourselves later, and the only thing you two want to do now is go back to sleep.

[azucanela]

Can i please have a headcanons for Keigo and Shinsou with a female s/o that really likes manga and anime but keeps it a secret from others because they talk shit and make fun of her? and like one day they accidently find out and she's kinda embarressed about it but they convince her that everything is fine and they think ist cute how happy they are when they talk about something she loves? Uwu :9 (sorry for my bad english)

secret anime and manga fan s/o headcannons  [ft. keigo takami, shinsou hitoshi]

SUMMARY: Y/N has been hiding the fact that she likes anime and manga from her lovely boyfriend for a while now, fearing he’d find it weird. now, she has no choice but to address the fact that he knows. 

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

WARNINGS: threats

A/N: your english is great bb! uwu owo this was relatable askdakjhds if anyone tells you there is something wrong with watching anime or reading manga, let me tell you that they are WRONG. i will fight them for you<3

KEIGO TAKAMI | PRO HERO HAWKS

you used to talk about animes you liked because at the end of the day they are tv shows thats it, same with mangas, they are like books but cooler lol

but people found that “weird” for some reason, because anime is a “cartoon” and thats so gross omg haha these “cartoons” make me sob um watch a silent voice and cry with me kids

anyways

you’re watching anime in the comfort of your home, just vibing. no one is coming over today, you have time to yourself to enjoy your lil show that nobody should be judging you for

well, you thought no one was coming over

keigo has a tendency to just like, show up at your house sometimes when hes bored or in the midst of an uneventful patrol. though he rarely is seen in public, especially on the streets, he does fly-bys constantly

anyways, he was bored, or just relieved of duty for whatever reason, like lunch. he is having chicken nuggets, he is a cannibal, be ashamed H A W K S, smh

anyways, he just shows up at your house, like he lowkey breaks in through the balcony of your apartment, but its fine because you leave it open for him, but normally he texts you to let you know he’s coming but today was the exception because he’s adorable and wanted to surprise!!! you!!! with!!! food!!!

so he comes in, and he sees you are on your couch, just watching your lil anime, and you are SO INTO IT MAN like you are lowkey yelling at the TV whenever a character does something, and when that one character you hate comes on you’re like throwing hands with nothing

keigo is internally screaming because why are you so CUTE

he kinda forgets for a second that you don’t know he’s there, he has no idea what’s going on in this show, and he’s still holding chicken nuggets and fries

this is why he just kinda screams at a character who does something stupid, that totally could’ve been avoided, effectively startling you

now you are both screaming for separate reasons as you turn around to look at him, and now you are panicking because oh no, he KNOWS 

his wings are fluttering and he feels bad for scaring you as he comes up to wrap his arms around your shoulders, “sorry baby! but that guy is so dumb.”

you are MORTIFIED and now you’re like, “oh my god, you must think im so weird-”

keigo is confused, why would he think that? he genuinely doesn’t realize that people make fun of you for watching anime and he’s so confused by it when you inform him that a lot of people tend to find it weird 

“what?”

“people think its weird so i just-” hahahhasdha keigo lowkey wants to take time out of his day in his professional agency to find out who told you it was weird and made you think you had to hide this from him because he wants to know everything about you! you are the love of his life! you shouldn’t feel the need to hide things!

now he feels like maybe he did something to make you think you had to hide your love for anime even though it is literally adorable to watch you

“baby, it’s not weird. i actually think its cute how angry you get at the characters. and i AGREE like how could he just do that-”

“wait you don’t care...?” you are BLUSHING because he thinks you are CUTE not that you didn’t know this already since he was dating you but like

omg

“of course not, also would you mind restarting this anime, im kind of invested- oh and i brought chicken nuggets”

you lowkey wanna cry he’s so cute

he can tell you don’t believe him so he sets the food down on a coffee table and takes your face in his hands and is all like, “baby. i promise you its fine. and adorable. now let’s restart this show so i can watch with you.”

he winks at you and now you’re like, “whatever no i am NOT restarting.”

then he gets all pouty but its fine he doesn’t need to understand the plot to watch with you and enjoy every moment, he also likes when you explain it really excitedly with all these hand movements, and he especially enjoys when you get mad at characters

he finds it hot 

hates when you have a crush on a character he gets so jealous and is not afraid to show it kjahsdahsdsh mans will start hating the character just because you keep talking about how hot they are

“they’re just so BEAUTIFUL.”

keigo, self consciously touching his winds, “im beautiful too...”

he’s so cute

throws popcorn at the screen whenever that character comes on

SHINSOU HITOSHI

hahjsdgjasgdj

THIS BOY is so pretty

anyways you probably fell asleep reading manga, or watching anime or something like that, so it’s like 1AM and you were BINGING because that stuff is great and nobody is there to bother you while you read and watch and stuff its you time

and for some reason people have been opposed to this in the past? so now whenever people come to your room your manga are all like lowkey hidden and you make sure there is no evidence of anima

you did NOT want shinsou finding out and thinking you were weird or anything like that, even though liking anime and manga is NOT weird!!!

if anyone tells you other lmk and i will have strong words with them

so you fell asleep and shinsou comes over because he realizes he forgot something in your room, and like the GENTLEMAN he is, he knocks, but you are asleep and do not hear him!

he’s like eh worst case scenario she’s cheating on me and i end up heartbroken, and this is something he genuinely considers sometimes and he would definitely blame himself if he got cheated on

so he sees you sleeping and you are like a mess because you did not intend to fall asleep, so you’re like in your desk chair, the manga is wide open on your desk or your computer is on and there’s the still going anime aksjdhkjdhas

your neck is in a weird funky way that’ll probably hurt in the morning and shinsou is like oh no i gotta move her i dont want her in pain, he is also wondering why you look so cute because what the hell this is unfair stop it

tbh he probably barely notices the manga, like he’ll just nonchalantly close it and place it on your bedside table because reading manga isn’t weird before coming back to you, in the chair, and like picking you up to put you in bed

now you AWAKEN AND YOU ARE A L E R T because it hits you pretty fast that shinsou is here, this is NOT a dream, he probably saw your manga/anime, and now hates you and is carrying you to your death

this is all false

in the midst of your panic, you knock the both of you down onto the ground, and he’s feels so bad for allowing the two of you to fall nkjasdjakn poor bb

“Y/N im so sorry-”

“hitoshi why are you apologizing?”

he just ignores that and he comes over to you on the floor but your gaze is on the closed computer on your desk or the manga that was placed on your bedside table that you DEFINITELY DID NOT PUT THERE

he saw, he definitely saw, and now you are babbling about how weird he must think you are because of those JERKS who made you think anime and manga are weird

“what are you talking about?”

“well, people always told me how weird it was and sometimes they would... say things”

shinsou quickly realizes you were bullied because you liked manga and anime and stuff like that and now he is contemplating murder <3 what a lovely boyfriend

as someone who has experience with bullying himself, he finds this especially stupid, its literally just a show and book, and kinda wants to ask you the names of the people who told you these things so he can hunt them d o w n

instead shinsou prioritizes you and your insecurities first, “babe... no. its just anime? there’s no problem with watching it. whoever told you that was just a jerk.” jk he uses more colorful vocabulary

shinsou is completely ready to spend the next hour convincing you that there is nothing to worry about because there really isn’t 

“so you don’t think its weird?” his heart almost breaks when he hears your voice and he just nods and gives you a lil smile

“not at all... actually i was wondering what was so interesting that you stayed up until” he’s looking at the time, “2AM.”

now you’re blushing but you still launch into an explanation of the entire anime and honestly anime/manga plots are so extensive and cool and well done and that just makes them so fun and complicated to explain

shinsou is trying his hardest to understand but you are very cute as you explain using lots of vivid hand gestures and adorable faces and wow he’s been distracted

will try his hardest to understand so that you can talk with him about it more often, genuinely finds it great watching you tell him about something you enjoy so much and hates that you felt the need to keep it a secret

he wonders how many times you hid away the manga or anime when he came over and feels like an inconvenience 

anyways he really really really likes you so now he just listens as you rant about how cute certain characters are and lowkey gets jealous

“WHY IS HE SO HOT.”

“he’s not... that hot.” grumbling and stuff as he plays with the edge of his sleeve and borderline glares at the screen.

A/N: i hope this wasn’t bad akshfjakshdkjh 

[tickle-bugs]

I Dot the I in Your Name with My Heart

Summary: Lunch breaks between classes lead Simone and Eleanor into the silliest not-quite-argument they’ve ever had. AU where they’re professors at the same University.

@peachytickles HAPPY BIRTHDAY BELOVED!!!! Ilysm you light up my life and my day. I hope your day is as incredible as you are. Have some Laid Ease as a present and I will continue to be annoying in your dms as a further gift <3

“Babe!” Eleanor threw open Simone’s door, adjusting the comically large satchel on her shoulder. 

“Nope.” Simone didn’t look up from her computer. One day her wife would learn to knock. One day. Eleanor sighed, spun on her heel, and exited the office, grumbling under her breath all the while. 

A cheery knock absolutely dripping with sarcasm sent Simone into a quiet fit of snickers. 

“Dr. Garnett?” Simone could hear Eleanor roll her eyes from the other side of the door. She stifled her smile. The fact that their breaks aligned this semester was a true gift--though Simone did miss lurking in the back of Eleanor’s classroom like a high schooler waiting for her prom date. 

“Come in.” Simone hid her face behind her computer monitor when Eleanor once again flung the door open. 

“I’m gonna grab coffee. Want anything specific?” Eleanor pushed the door shut with her heel, cutting off Simone’s unspoken complaint by sticking out her tongue. 

“I left you a sticky on your desk,” Simone frowned, fingers slowing on the keys.

“I couldn’t read it.”

“Wh--Eleanor.” 

“Don’t Eleanor me. You have a horrible case of doctor handwriting.”  She hung her satchel on one of the chairs in front of Simone’s desk. She rolled up the sleeves of her fraying sweater, continually stopping to untangle her wedding ring from the threads it pulled. Simone’s gaze lingered on her arms--clusters of freckles were starting to dust her pale skin. Cute. 

“No I don’t. It’s perfectly legible.”

“Simone. Babe. Love of my life. Your handwriting is unreadable.” Eleanor pulled her clutch out of her satchel. She thumbed through it, lighting up at something in the overstuffed bag--probably her rewards card. She loved free stuff. 

“Maybe you need to learn how to read.” Simone drew her brows together in a signature grumpy pout.

“What does this say?” Eleanor slid the sticky note across the desk and Simone snatched it. God, she must’ve been in a rush because her handwriting looped way more than usual. Did that say carnival? Caravan? Shit. 

“Obviously...this says…”

“Oh my god. You can’t read it?” Eleanor came around the desk to lean over Simone’s shoulder. Her warm hands slid around Simone’s arms and she leaned subtly back into the embrace. 

“Shut up! I totally can. It says…”

“I’m waiting.” Eleanor laughed softly into her ear and Simone’s cheeks grew embarrassingly warm. 

“Why do you bully me like this?” Simone whined. Eleanor pecked her on the lips with that insufferable grin and a fluttery warmth nestled in her chest. 

“You make it easy. Caramel frappé?” Eleanor brushed her thumb over Simone’s cheekbone. 

“Don’t forget the muffin. Love you.” Simone squeezed her hand. 

“Mhm.” Eleanor squeezed back, letting Simone’s fingers trail over her palm as she pulled away. Simone yanked her back, using the momentum to tug Eleanor down for a kiss. She looked up at her expectantly until Eleanor smiled. 

“Love you too,” She sighed fondly, adorning Simone’s forehead with a light lipstick print that she then carefully thumbed away. She drifted out the door, blowing kisses like a celebrity bidding farewell to her adoring entourage, and Simone returned to her work, a silly smile etched upon her lips. 

The waiting time flew by rather unremarkably--silence triggered a meditative, boundless focus in her that she could nurture into a completed to-do list, if she was precise about it. Her focus tended to veer like a first-time driver, but she’d gotten rather skilled at placing tasks in the way of her swerving brain. Eleanor’s presence usually helped her stay on track, unless she was doing something distracting, like holding a piece of paper three inches from her face. 

“What’s that?” Simone leaned around her monitor to get a better look at her wife. 

“Our grocery list. Tahani showed me this delivery thing for the grocery store near campus. Figured we could try it out.” Eleanor held the slip of paper closer, squinting between it and her equidistant phone screen as if it contained the universe’s untranslated secrets. 

“Why are you looking at it like that?”

“...No reason.” Eleanor put it down on the desk, trying to read normally, but she was never good at hiding her emotions. Or her ‘I can’t understand this’ squint. Simone narrowed her eyes until Eleanor felt compelled to speak. 

“It’s your handwriting. It’s just so…” Eleanor trailed off, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture, but her hand kept looping and twirling until she’d drawn the world’s most complicated pretzel in the air. 

“So what?” Simone knew what she was trying to say, but she wanted to hear it out loud. 

“Listen, the data is against you. So many doctors have bad handwriting.” Eleanor patted her hand across the desk, a cheeky grin dancing on her lips. 

“Say that again.” Simone narrowed her eyes. 

“Doctors have bad handwriting?”

“Eleanor, it’s data, not data.” Simone moved around the desk and sat next to Eleanor. She pulled her chair close, so their knees touched, and eyed Eleanor while she committed a crime against linguistics. 

“That’s what I said.”

“Say it slowly.”

“Dah. Tah.” Eleanor frowned. 

“No.” Simone held her face between her hands and squished her cheeks. 

“What do you mean, no? That’s how you say it. Data.” Eleanor’s voice came out a little muffled but she didn’t seem bothered. 

“Okay, Elle-ee-ay-nor.” Simone rolled her eyes, dragging out every vowel to the point of extinction. Eleanor pulled Simone’s hands away from her face and held them in her own.

“Now the data suggests that you’re being mean.” 

“Am I being mean or are you being American?” Simone booped her nose and Elly wrinkled it, eyes crossing for a moment while she tracked the offending finger.

“It’s not your fault y’know. Your snipsnaps are misfiring, so you don’t have fine muscle control. So, your handwriting is bad and you don’t know how to pronounce data.” Eleanor booped her back, all smug grins, and Simone promptly decided that only she was allowed a monopoly on mischief. 

“Snip--y’know what? That’s it.” Simone pulled Eleanor into her arms, catching her with an oof. Eleanor went to make a flirtatious joke--Simone could see the gears turning in her head--but it died on her tongue when Simone’s nimble fingers pressed into her stomach. 

“You owe me a handful of apologies, Dr. Shellstrop, because your handwriting is no better.” 

“M-my penmanship is--no!”

“I agree, actually. You are not immune to doctor handwriting, ma’am. Your equations are adorably messy.” Simone squeezed up and down her sides, pulling the squeakiest, most endearing giggles from her. God, she was so cute. 

“You’re adorably--”

“Thanks, babe. I know.” Simone grinned, fingers mapping every inch of the slight-plushness around her waist. Eleanor growled through her next bout of laughter.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” She yanked on Simone’s immovable hands until they slowed.

“Good.”

“Your handwriting is...unique and I love it.” Eleanor draped her arms over Simone’s shoulders. Simone better secured her arms around Eleanor’s waist, pulling her close. 

“Nice save. But what else are you sorry for?” Simone eyed her expectantly and sighed at the silence. 

“Let’s just say I forgive you for tainting my office with ‘dah-tah’. What is the structure that lets nerve cells pass signals called?” Simone raised her brow. Eleanor knew this. Simone knew that she knew. She’d taught her herself. 

“Snipsnap.” Eleanor nodded sagely.

“Synapse.” 

“That’s what I said.” Eleanor pouted--pouted! 

“Try again.” Simone murmured, peppering fluttery kisses along her throat. Lovely, panicked giggles bubbled out of her, taking their rightful place between every breath. 

“Spintaps?”

“Ooh, almost got it. One more try.” Simone buried a laugh in Eleanor’s neck, her hands sliding upwards to latch onto Eleanor’s ribs. That really kicked things up a notch--Eleanor went from cutesy giggles to borderline screeching, unable to decide whether she was clinging to Simone for dear life or trying to run from her. She kicked her legs, heels drumming against the chair leg, and Simone snuck in a few cheeky squeezes to her exposed knees. 

“Slimcats? Syntax? Synapse!” She squealed, finally deciding on shoving Simone’s face away. She was nearly horizontal now, using the last of her core strength not to fall over the chair’s armrest and have a most unpleasant reunion with the floor.

“I’m so proud of you.” Simone rebalanced her with a strong hand across her shoulder blades, pulling her close with a shit-eating grin. Eleanor huffed, but a few airy chuckles found their way out with it. 

“Shut up. I should tickle you while you try to do calculus. See how you like it.” Eleanor swatted her shoulder.

“I love you so much.” Simone singsonged, looking up at Eleanor through her lashes. 

“Mhm. I love you too. Even when you bully me.”

“Bullying? I prefer ‘showering my wife with love.’” Simone rested her cheek on Eleanor’s bicep, puckering her lips until Eleanor leaned down to meet her. 

“Bullying. I forgive you, though.” Eleanor pinched her nose until Simone made a nasally ‘waah’ sound that left both of them wheezing. Eleanor reluctantly scooped up her satchel at the chime of her phone--time for class, unfortunately. 

“See you later.” Simone smiled. Eleanor slid her a yellow sticky note, folded into quarters, and winked on her way out the door. Simone unfolded it--in tight, coiled letters, Eleanor had left her a note. 

I love you, sunshine. 

Aw. She married a sap--a sap who dotted her ‘i’s with hearts, no less. 

Simone stuck the sticky note to the framed photo of Eleanor that she kept on her desk, smoothing out the adhesive until she was certain it would cling. The picture was starting to get covered now, but the notes adorning the frame were just as important as the contents. She brushed her thumb over the frame and returned to work, Eleanor’s laughter lingering in her ears all the while.

[navyhyuck]

week two | previous | masterlist | next

𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐄𝐃, 𝐉𝐀𝐘.

↳ a love letter a week, and it has you wondering who’s your secret admirer. you have nine weeks, eight candidates, and one story to live. will you find out who your ‘jay’ is?

a/n :: here’s part two my sexy friends, i’ll be starting to add a little warnings tag from now on because parts will start to get longer and may include some triggering topics!!

wc :: 2.9k (i’m sorry it’s getting longer and longer i know)

warnings: mentions of sex (kinda, not explicit), a singular mention of death, someone’s borderline a bully but not quite (they’re just mean)

taglist: @childofthecycle @the8luvr @staywrites @chocolattees @cloudzume @babytoadz @cherrystay @sandaigdigan-reads @hoes4hoseok @ctrlaltfangirl @kodzu-ken @xazucaradictax @qtieskz @blueprint-han

couldn’t tag: @x-dawna-x

let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

You’re listening to Ryujin go on and on about Han Jisung at practically 6 a.m. (okay, it was around halfway to 8 o’clock, but her words were making you lose track of time), your head resting against the cool metal of the locker, almost wishing you were banging your head against it instead. As much as you knew your friend had a thing for the boy, you never thought you’d be stuck in the middle listening to her over analyzing everything that happened in English the day before. Sure, the precarious boy could be outstanding at pipetting in chemistry, but his social skills weren’t the best. Or at least, they weren’t the best with you.

“Anyway, I’ll shut up now, you look like you just watched The Conjuring and threw up on yourself.” She exclaims rather dryly, and you raise your head, glimpsing at the questioning look on her face. “By the way, that movie was shit. I’ll get to the point, then. I was gonna ask who you’re going to homecoming with.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes at both the comment on one of your favorite horror movies ever (that you’ve watched four times already, each time with the same girl who insists it’s not scary but ends up peeking past her fingers anyway) and homecoming. “Myself,” you reply, returning your head to its original position. “Do I look like the kind of person that would go to homecoming with a date? Really?”

“You went last year,” she points out, and you realize it’s true with a groan. It wasn’t your fault that you couldn’t refuse the captain of the basketball team when he proposed the idea in the middle of the cafeteria, halfway through the sixth period. Honestly, San wasn’t too bad anyway, he just wanted to have some fun with a girl that wasn’t following after him in the general sheep crowd; after the night was over, however, you swore to yourself that you would never come to a dance voluntarily wearing stilettos without one of your go-to friends. “And you liked it. Plus, I was thinking, we should all get dates this year! You know, since it’s our senior year and all. You won’t have another hoco to miss after this one.”

“Get dates? You’re acting like it’s buying takeout.” 

“It basically is,” she shrugs. “You go out, ask for something from someone, and they either give it to you or not. Though I’m not really sure if restaurants are allowed to refuse service.”

 “We could just all go as friends,” you suggest, finally opening up your locker. “As great as having some random dude as my date, no thanks. Like you said, it’s our last year. And hoco’s been fun since freshman year for us anyway, what’s the point of setting us up with dudes when we’re just gonna ditch them?”

“Who said I’m gonna ditch my date?”

“Me, I just did,” you deadpan, shuffling through your books to grab onto your chemistry lab book and stuffing it into your bag. “Remember sophomore year? Yeah, you might not want to remember it, but I do. Lee Daehwi?” She groans at the sound of the familiar name, making you chuckle.

“Okay, fair enough, but I’m not gonna ditch my date this time. Not if I get the one I want.” Ryujin smacks your arm to grab your attention, making you hiss before you see the knowing look on her face as she wiggles her eyebrows. You cross your arms in confusion, trying to scan and rescan her face for hints to what she was getting at, but when your mind finally clicks, you freeze. And then, your jaw drops. “Shut up.”

“I-I didn’t even say anything!”

“I know what you’re gonna say!” She points at you, shaking her finger before bringing it back down. “Look, like you said, it’s senior year. I don’t have a chance, really, not after this one. Either I ask him out for homecoming in the next week or I mope around for the rest of my life regretting not going to a high school dance with the hottest guy in school. Yeah, okay, I guess that kinda does sound a little pathetic.”

You consider it for a moment, imagining how awkward the interaction between Ryujin’s infamous crush and her would be; there would be a whole lot of tripping at the feet and ten times the amount of stuttering. Plus, you’re sure that the boy didn’t have the heart capacity to receive a request without passing out cold. He’s a little fragile after all. “You think Jisung’s the hottest guy in school?”

“Duh, who else do you think? That Hyunjin dude? Yeah, maybe, I saw him a few times in the past few days, but so what? People just get hyped over some guy whenever they come to the school and like four days later he’s no longer a cool transfer student and just ‘the guy next to me in calculus.’” You give her a look, one that you hope resembles something that conveyed the message of ‘you just brought up Hyunjin completely unprovoked’ but she doesn’t budge, her eyes trailed on her nails as she continues. “...and I’ll ask Jisung. Chaeryoung said she’s going with that other guy from your chem, whatever his name was, him. So then, it’s just you.”

You’re reminded suddenly of the letter that you pulled from your locker a few days earlier, the one that followed after the previous introduction and pleaded for you to attend the dance. Even if the letter had never arrived, you were planning on it anyway, but now, you had a purpose. “I don’t really want a date,” you say carefully, your eyes darting across the busy hallway before focusing on the blue of your best friend’s hair. “I mean, I don’t know, maybe, whatever. I don’t feel like stressing out about asking someone, so maybe if someone asks me, I'll be their date. But don’t count on it, alright?”

Ryujin narrows her eyes at you, as if searching for something underneath (something that wasn’t there, you’d like to point out, but she’s still looking intently) before humming. “Alright, sure.” She finishes abruptly, clearly wanting to add onto her sentence but refraining from doing so, making you raise an eyebrow at her shenanigans.

“Spit it out, c’mon, I know you have more to say.”

Your best friend gives you a deadly look but considers it, resting her back against the lockers before turning back to you. “Okay, this is just a thought, got it? Just something running through my head right now that I want to share.”

You cross your arms. “A thought? You? Thinking? Well, that’s no good.”

“Shut up and listen to me first,” she waves you off, shuffling closer until you can see the glimmer of her eyeshadow smudged on the side of her winged eyeliner. “Think about this. You, Y/N, a beautiful girl with absolutely no intention on going to homecoming with a date because of the lack of attraction towards snotty teenage boys, asking the Hwang Hyunjin, a transfer student that’s extremely good-looking and apparently affectionately kind who has no intention on going to homecoming with a date because of the lack of connection with beautiful girls, to homecoming.”

You blink twice, looking up at the ceiling as you quietly process her words. It’s a bit jumbled in your head, but once you think it’s clear enough, you look at her. “Ryujin. May I express my feelings about this ‘thought?’”

She scans you up and down, and then nods.

“It’s absolute bullshit.”

“Hey!”

“I hate my life,” you say to yourself as you swing open the door of your car, stepping out rather impatiently onto the asphalt. Having forgotten to grab your psychology notebook at the end of the day, you found yourself taking an unwanted U-turn back to the school to pick it up; in your defense, you would rather maintain your A in the class even if you had to stop by the gas station on your way back. Like you were told, a class requires commitment.

You march your way into the school once again, wondering why the school officials never thought to add any precautionary measures to the buildings. It makes you wonder if someone had ever snuck onto campus since you were a freshman. From the very deep memories of your sophomore year, you remember a junior at that time sneaking in one of his friends during finals week thinking he’d get away with it. Honestly, Juyeon was something else.

Just as you make your way to your locker, you quietly scroll through your phone distractedly before seeing a text pop up in your infamous group chat.

[3:05 p.m.] chaechaer: guess what guys!! :D

[3:05 p.m.] praying mantis: don’t wanna guess

[3:05 p.m.] hwangji: she’s finally getting dick 

[3:05 p.m.] chaechaer: i’ll fucking bite you yeji.

[3:06 p.m.] hwangji: bite me baby i wanna see you try

[3:06 p.m.] you: spill c’mon

[3:07 p.m.] praying mantis: y/n.

[3:07 p.m.] praying mantis: why are you at school right now

[3:07 p.m.] chaechaer: gasp

[3:07 p.m.] chaechaer: looks like i’m not the only one getting dick

[3:08 p.m.] you: oh fuck off, i came back bc i forgot something

[3:08 p.m.] you: wait did you just say ‘not the only one’

[3:09 p.m.] hwangji: so you ARE getting dick???

[3:09 p.m.] hwangji: spill mf, right now

[3:09 p.m.] you: ryujin, are you checking my snap location rn??? hello?? 

[3:10 p.m.] praying mantis: ofc i am, i’m your guardian angel :)

[3:10 p.m.] you: you’re a stalker

[3:10 p.m.] praying mantis: but whose dick are you getting? that’s the real question 

You roll your eyes as hard as you can, hoping that your best friend would know even from a distance. Just as you continue to tap furiously into the glass of your phone, you’re suddenly hit by your left shoulder, sending you flying down to the ground in an instant. “Shit,” you whisper under your breath, brushing your hair out of your eyes well enough to look up and see that the hard object you just ran into wasn’t a wall. In fact, it was a human.

“Watch where you’re going,” the boy snaps at you, rather loudly in fact, making you flinch as you slowly stand up, gathering your phone. “This wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t on your phone. Who walks in a hallway with their head down like that? Do you want to die?”

It takes you a minute to realize who’s actually standing in front of you, and it’s only when you’ve managed to gulp down his harsh words. Seo Changbin. He looks at you from head to toe, the scowl still evident on his face when your eyes widen. Suddenly, you’re a little more aware of yourself, shifting uncomfortably in his gaze as he doesn’t move. 

“Well?” He crosses his arms across his chest, now approaching you. “I don’t hear an apology.”

You instinctively back away, avoiding the boy’s eyes before you’re looking right back into them. If you weren’t mistaken, there was no one in front of you until there was, and there was no way that you could’ve ran into someone without noticing their presence earlier. Scoffing, you mimic his posture, looking behind him to see if you’re right about your assumption. In fact, you are, seeing the door of the locker room staring right back at you. “Me? Shouldn’t you be watching where you’re going?”

Changbin looks taken aback by your retaliation, somehow making his forehead lines fall into a straight line. “Don’t talk back to me, bitch.”

“Bitch?” You want to laugh, but instead, you press a smile down. “Seriously? Who do you think you are?”

You’re honestly appalled at the way the admired swimmer is acting towards you, but you’re not surprised. You would be lying if you didn’t say you weren’t in the faintest surprised. The entire team could act like a handful of bullies that didn’t have any other free time on their hands, if you looked into it more. Changbin seems to be dissatisfied with your answer, closing in on you as your back presses against the wall. 

“What did you say to me?” 

You’re about to respond with an equally harsh answer but there’s a sudden call of Changbin’s name from the end of the hallway, making the both of you turn your heads. Yet another swimming team member comes jogging your way, sporting a school branded shirt that tells you exactly what he’s part of. The boy stops a few feet away from the two of you, a large smile spreading across his face as he looks from Changbin to you. You scratch your head. Is Bang Chan currently standing in front of you? Or was it just a figment of your imagination?

“Hi! What’s your name?” He asks, coming closer before glancing over at Changbin and stopping. “W-What? Wait, what? What did you do to her?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Changbin defends immediately, making you raise an eyebrow as he holds up his palms. “I didn’t! Nothing happened, Chan. It’s all good. Let’s just go now.”

Chan doesn’t budge when he grabs onto his arm, tugging to pull him away, but he instead focuses his attention on you. His smile persists. “Hi sweetheart, judging from the look on your face, he did do something, right?”

You’re taken aback at his soft voice, a complete contrast from what you just heard from the other boy. Pursing your lips, you try not to let your cheeks flame up. Sweetheart? “It’s nothing—he just ran into me and tried to pin the whole thing on me—it’s all good, really. I’m fine, I didn’t get hurt. So…”

“You didn’t get hurt? But he ran into you?” Chan shoots Changbin a sharp look, one that looks much darker than the gaze he returns to you. “Are you okay? It might’ve been a hard fall. I can take you to the nurse’s office, if you’d like?”

“N-No, it’s fine!” You shake your hands in refusal, an awkward chuckle leaving your lips. Chan only laughs brightly in response, his entire face somehow appearing ten times more charming than before. You notice with another fleeting glimpse that there are dimples that crease into his skin as he smiles, now making your heart do an unidentifiable leap inside your chest. “Um, okay, I actually have to go now! I’ll, uh, yeah! Bye!”

You turn in your heel, trying to walk at a casual but extremely quick pace at the same time, which proves to be difficult. Just as you’re about to turn at the corner, there’s a shout from down the hall.

“Hey!” Peaking your head back, you see Chan waving his hand at you. “What’s your name?!”

“Y/N!”

“Nice to meet you Y/N! I hope to see you around!”

Gulping, you lean back against one of the lockers near yours, placing a hand over your chest as you finally notice the thumping. You take a deep breath, shaking your head a few times to get the entire situation out of your head; it doesn’t work, not with your brain taking you back to that exact moment once again. You just spoke to one, no, scratch that, two extremely talented swimming players with your own two eyes. And perhaps the rapid beating of your heart wasn’t just because one of them was being nice to you. But you wouldn’t admit that now, would you?

dear y/n love,

hi hi! i’ve missed talking to you (yes, i know, there’s no way you can respond to me, but anyway), but this letter will be unfortunately short today. please don’t think too much of it! my class is about to end, haha.

i saw you at one of the swimming meets a few days ago, and oh my god, i really couldn’t take my eyes off of you. i don’t know if anyone has ever told you, y/n, but you are so beautiful. i remember what you were wearing; was it...a black shirt? and jeans, oh yes. your sense of style is so simple yet somehow so perfect. i couldn’t even take my eyes off of you, oh god, i remember all my friends yelling at me to pay attention but all i was doing was staring at you. sounds like a problem, huh? but i enjoy it. shit, this sounds kinda creepy again, doesn’t it? i’m so sorry, love, that’s not what i was going for. i just...really admire you. a lot.

also, the homecoming game is this weekend! i hope you end up going, you can even go with your friend! the blue-haired one, yeah, ryujin, i think. that’s her name, right? oh god, you probably think i’m even weirder now that i just told you that i know your friend. fuck. anyway. 

once again, i hope to see you there! there’s something waiting for you there and i want to be able to surprise you, even if i don’t want to reveal my identity just yet. see you soon, love.

signed, jay

[scottfuckingreed]

On one condition - Montgomery De La Cruz

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ANONYMOUS SAID: ‘MontyxOc where she and her family go on their annual vacation resort and begs her parents to let Monty come with! They agree on the condition they stay in separate rooms... At night when her parents are sleeping they sneak out their rooms and go have a little fun in/at the pool😉’

-

Warnings!: includes swearing and a bit of smut! And it’s kinda cute? Idk

-

Let me tell you, you see some disgusting and baffling shit when you’re friends with boys. Sure, girls can be gross too, but male jocks are a different breed. My eyes scan through every guy at the table.

Starting with Bryce Walker opposite me. One of, if not the most, popular guy in school. His girlfriend Chloe sit on his lap with their tongues down each other’s throat. I get it. We get it! They really like each other. But PDA overload!

Next to them is Zach Dempsey. He’s the sort of guy who’d eat food that’s just been in someone else’s mouth. I guess that’s not the worst thing to do. He’s definitely not very clever at all, but he’s cute. Kat once described him as the sweet kind of dumb. And that pretty much explains the boy to a tee.

Then we have Marcus Cole. There’s something I really don’t like, almost despise, about that guy. I usually aim on not looking at him, because I can’t fake nice to him. He’s extremely confident. Maybe the problem is that he’s borderline- no. He’s one cocky mother fucker. I’m sorry, I just really don’t like anything about him. Not one thing. And that concludes the opposite side of the table.

My side, the superior side I might add, starts with Scott Reed on my right. Talk about a sweet guy. I believe he’s possibly the purest person around this table. His morals are just: correct. Out of this table, he’s one of the other 3 people I’d actually ‘hang out’ with. I’d hang out with Chloe too.

Leaving our final guy. My guy to be precise. Monty. Montgomery De La Cruz. Don’t get me wrong, he does some gross things too. For some reason it’s automatically a little attractive when he does it. The way he eats, the way he smells, even the way he breathes is just... I’m in awe 24/7. I’m sure you’ve heard of him as the bully or the dick or just a complete asshole, but that’s not him. Sure he messes around with people. He’s actually a really nice guy.

That just leaves me; Brooklyn Fox. I live a very average life with average parents. My mum is a nurse and my dad is a lecturer. Everything is plain and simple. I get quite good grades and I have decent friends. My parents, however, don’t agree on all of them. Monty and I have been dating for about a year and a half. They really didn’t approve of him at first, but I’d say they’re warming. Very slowly. Maybe they just say they don’t like him to tease me. Probably not, but we’ll get there!

Once a week, pretty much, Bryce holds a house party. I don’t know how he got so lucky as to have parents that fly to a different state one after another! This weeks was going to be ‘the best yet’. Which - of course - he says every week. I’d be lying if I said they weren’t the best parties in the school. Actually, no one else really throws parties. No one needs to when everyone goes to Bryce’s.

“Who’s bringing drinks?” Chloe smiles all excited. I smile her way, drinking my apple juice carton. “It’s your party dude,” Zach taps Bryce on the shoulder roughly. “Come on, you guys can bring something! Stop being fucking leeches,” he laughs, putting his lips on Chloe’s cheek. They’re actually cute. “I can pick up some beers,” the huskiness of my boyfriend’s voice makes me smile stupidly to myself. His tone always sounds so unbothered. I don’t even know why he goes most of the time. Wrapping arms around his, I subtly shuffle myself closer. His warmth. He doesn’t turn my way, but his response is to cup the inside of my thigh with his manly hands. I’m not sure if it seems over protective or needy, but I cross my leg over his hand.

“Brooke!” Two small, crispy fries fly my way. My eyes gaze back over to Chloe. “What are you bringing?” Here we go. I’m gonna get shit. I look up to Monty, who’s eyes were already on me, and press my lips together into a smile. “I’m actually not coming,” I show my clenched teeth. All the boys’, and Chloe’s, faces drop. “What?” “But this is gonna be the best party of the year Brooke...” Bryce says slowly, making sure his words were heard. “I know,” I shake my head. “I’ve actually got my annual vacation with my parents,” I sigh. There’s not technically wrong with going away with my parents. It’s been a tradition since as long as I can remember. There’s a cabin a few hours away. It’s all cute and cosy. Perfect for any time of the year. We like to switch up the seasons. This year it just happens to be at the end of the school year. ‘A treat’ my mum would call it. I think they just like to get me away from these high school parties. “That sucks,” Scott nudges my arm with his, making me turn to him and smile. “What’s little Monty gonna do without his little girlfriend?!” Marcus fake worries. I shut my eyes for a second to quickly roll them into the back of my head. “Don’t worry Cruz-y, we’ll keep you company!” Bryce answers. Not exactly the most settling response.

Monty and I walk the shopping isles one by one. Although the party isn’t for a few days, it’s best to just get it over and done with. “Baby, can you help me get this down?” He’s a good few inches taller than me. “You can get it,” he smirks, crossing his arms and watching he stretch to get to the top shelf. I stick my bottom lip out. “You’re such a dick,” I whisper, walking to him until our bodies are pretty much touching. “Okay, but just because you’re cute,” his muscly arms wrap around just under my ass, lifting me up to get my favourite packet of crisps. They could’ve put them on a lower fucking shelf! Once I grab them, he pretty much drops me to the ground. “Hey, I liked it up there,” his eyebrows raise, and I immediately know what’s coming. “That’s what she said,” he whispers seductively into my ear. I can’t help but smile massively and shake my head at the childish boy. “Come on then, get on my back.”

My arms looped around his neck area, and my head leans lightly on my arms. When he finally get to the liquor isle, he puts me back down. Once again, his face just look unimpressed as he passes me a crate of beers to carry. “Do you have to go with your parents? I could stay with you at your house for the weekend,” blushing, I imagine how nice it would be. The house to ourselves? My parents not poking around checking that we’re not doing anything? Paradise. “I’d love that, but you know my parents won’t let me,” I grunt. I trust Monty with my entire being. I know he’d never cheat on me or anything like that. Who I don’t trust is Bryce and pretty much anyone else. I trust Scott actually. He’s an angel. “You get to party with your buddies and get shitfaced,” I try and sound enthusiastic. I failed. The way he smiles at me settles me every time. It’s always with bright eyes and bright teeth. And then it hits me. The best idea I could have.

“Honey, no,” my mum shakes her head at my suggestion. We sit around the dinner table, me one side and my parents the other. I’m aware they seem strict. They’re not. It’s just... they don’t trust Monty. “You’re not bringing your boyfriend on the family trip, Brooklyn. It’s as simple as that,” my dad says ‘firmly’. “He’s called Monty, and maybe you’d like him if you actually got to know him?” My statement comes out quite sassily. “We know him,” The thing is they’ve met Monty a few times. They’ve never had full conversations, not one that’s lasted more than a minute long. All they know is what they’ve heard. And majoritively not from me. I throw my head back in slight defeat. “Then I’m not going,” stroppy? Definitely. But if there’s anything I know about my parents it’s that they’d do anything to keep me going on this trip. “Don’t be silly Brooke,” my dad laughs with a hint of disbelief. “We’ve been together for over a year! Can’t you just give him a chance?” My fingers interlock with each other, smiling as wide as I can. As the silence goes on for more than 10 seconds, I can see them actually thinking about it. Their heads turn to each other, and back to me, then back to look in each other’s eyes. “Fine, but on one condition...”

“We just have to sleep separately!” I whisper-squeal excitedly on the phone. The silence makes me imagine his growing grin. I slowly lick my lips in anticipation. “Not even in the same room?” He asks slowly. “No, but, well... pleeeeeeaaaaase?” I beg through the phone. The fact that they’ve even compromised is a first. “Do you understand how much a begged for this shit?” I shuffle around in my bed. My hearts racing with excitement. Just imagine it. My parents actually getting alone with him?! We could play board games and sit around a fire together. The thought of them accepting him as my boyfriend just sounds too good to be true. “But Bryce’s party,” he fake sighs. My mouth drops in immediate offence. “Well, fuck you,” “You won’t be able to because we’ll be in separate rooms,” my cheeks grow in heat at the speed of his response. “Fine, if you accompany me and my family on our lovely vacation I will...” I try and think on the spot. As if my room would have any ideas, I look around. About 10 seconds go by of me humming. “Come on Brooklyn! Bryce’s party’s looking so good right now,” come on Brooklyn! “I will...” I pause again. No time. “Give you a blowjob.” I let out in a whisper. It’s only an ever so slight pause until, “deal!”

I hear the horn of Monty’s jeep outside. “He can come in, you know,” my mum smiles. Frowning slightly with a smile, I pick up my bag. Maybe I should’ve started forcing Monty on them from the beginning, but I’m sure it would’ve just made things worse. Am I ready for it? This weekend will confirm yes or no I guess. “You can hang with Monty all weekend,” my words come out slow and nervous. Fuck, what have I done?

“Hey baby,” he immediately leans in for a kiss. How would my parents not like him? He’s sweet. He’s quite the gentleman too. “Is everything okay?” He starts the engine and drives ahead. “I’m just thinking about this weekend, I’m a little nervous,” I shuffle in my seat, bringing my leg up and hugging my knee close. “You’re nervous? I’m not,” He’s quite good at covering his facial expressions sometimes. The way he slightly buffs out his chest just screams confidence. Or arrogance maybe... “I can’t tell if you’re joking...” Monty pauses at a stop sign, and turns to me for a second. “Brooklyn, of course I’m joking. I’m fucking shitting myself,” my bottom lip flies out. “That’s so cute,” I mutter. “Okay, you can stop that,” he always says he hates it, but I see the small turn of his lips when I say stuff like that. “I’ll take care of you Montgomery!” My smile gleams at him. If he’s nervous, I need to not be nervous. It’ll be fine? Wait, that’s wrong. It’ll be fine!

English. None of my ‘close friends’ are in my class, so I usually sit near Justin Foley. I always thought talking to him would be awkward, since he’s Bryce’s ex-best friend and all, but it’s actually not. He takes a seat next to me, and I smile massively at him. “You’re looking extremely happy today, it’s only English?” He chuckles slowly. Next to him sits Clay. I don’t think Clay likes me. He doesn’t speak much to be honest. “I’m average,” shrugging, I watch as Justin tilts his head. Clay gives a look of ‘I don’t care’. “I’m just going away with my parents this weekend. Monty’s coming.” the way Justin contained his eye roll is impressive, and rather funny. Clay doesn’t hide a thing. “You’re actually the only person I’ve seen mellow Monty down. You might actually be good for him,” Justin’s words make Clay scoff. “Yeah right...” he mutters. “You’re so positive Clay, I love it.”

At lunch we sit in the exact same ordering and everything. I guess it’s always just been this way. It feels weird otherwise. Monty’s hand sit on my knee, his thumb rubbing lines from left to right. In the corner of my eye, I see him slowly reach for one of my chips. My smile widens as he gets closer. “You can have one you know, you don’t have to be slick,” I giggle. And he takes about 5. “Hey!” I tap the top of his hand before he shoves them all into his mouth. “I’ll make it up to you,” with his mouth full, he winks. I’m sure I saw food fly out. I lift my right hand over his mouth, covering the awful sight. “Gross,” I whisper. I do question Monty’s flirting sometimes. Often, actually. Looking at him, I kind of get lost in his eyes. Even when he’s a disgusting mess like this. “As long as you don’t do that this weekend, we should be fine.” I take Monty’s hand into mine, intertwining fingers. Am I more nervous than he is? “Woah,” and pause “Woahwoahwoahwoahwoahwoah!” I turn my head towards Bryce who was waving his arm around as he spoke. “You’re coming to the party, right?” Sometimes, just sometimes, I feel like Bryce has some sort of hold on Monty. They’re friends, that’s cool. They’re pretty much best friends I know. But I know Monty would do anything for Bryce. After all, they’re ‘brothers’. “Shit no, sorry man.” Is all Monty says.

I meet up with Monty after our final lessons. “Hey, how’d it go with Bryce?” I swoop my hand into his, cupping it with my other. “He’s a bit pissed actually...” he says slowly, which low key breaks me. I sigh to myself, not really knowing what to say. That’s not my intention. “He’ll get over it,” he shrugs.

Collecting my thoughts, there’s a little silence until we get to his car. Seatbelts; clipped in. Ready to go. “Did he say what he was specifically mad about or..?” Now I’m gonna be ‘that girl’ who broke up a friendship. Could you imagine? News like that travels fast. Faster than fast. That shit would zoom through everything. “He basically said that he expected me there or some shit. I stopped listening to be honest,” and he drives out of the parking space. I refuse to believe this. This sounds way too good to be true. “Well... you can stay, obviously, for the party if you want.” A very brief smile appears on his face. It takes him a second to answer. You could say it was him concentrating on his driving, but this guy never fucking concentrates on his driving. “So you wouldn’t be mad if I stayed..?” He asks slowly. I can see the disbelief in his face. “No.” I’d be furious. I swear if this boy actually accepts this shit. “I guess I’ll stay for the party then,” he shrugs. “Could you text Bryce for me?” Without looking at it, he takes his phone out of a cup holder and hands it to me... straight faced. I pause for a second. “Are you serious?” I let out in an angry whisper. This fucking- “Yes- no...” I see him question which is the answer he meant. “Let’s see... would I rather get wasted at a party where I don’t wanna be? Or should I go away with my beautiful girlfriend and her family?” My red furied face instantly turns to an enormous blush. “I think I’m gonna choose to be with my girl?” Fuck. Maybe he’s not so hypnotised by Bryce. I’m over the fucking moon, but I still hit the guy on the side of his arm. “As cute as that is, you’re a dick,” I threaten him. “But an incredibly sexy dick?” Yes. Yes indeed. “Whatever.” His hand reaches over and rests on my knee. My insides twist and turn in such a way that I feel like the first time I saw him. Gross, I know. “Just so you know, you can call me your girl literally whenever you want.”

Trip Day!

The clock reads 09:30. My brain doesn’t even want to function. Not until I realise what today is. Fuck. That explains why I’ve already received 3 texts and a missed call from Monty. “Montgomery,” I answer this call pretty much as soon as it rings, and closed my eyes. I’m so fucking tired. “Good morning. What’s the plan for today?” Straight to the point? Okay boy. “Well I’m sleeping right now, but I should probably pack my bag I guess,” Have I left it a little late to pack? Absolutely. In my defence it’s only a 3 day trip, and I’m a little nervous and trying not to worry about it. “Ah so you need help?” Before I can answer, I hear a tap on my window. My eyes immediately open. I’m awake now. “Good morning Montgomery,” I smile massively down at the boy under my window. On the ground beside him was his Liberty Tigers gym bag which I assume has all his shit in it for the weekend. I sure hope he’s washed it; that bag stinks of sweat and rich body odour. “Are you ready?” I laugh. I’m quite literally not ready. Like at all. “I guess so, can I come up?” Usually he wouldn’t ask, but I’m glad he did today. “I think you should knock on the front door today.” It’s probably safer. Could you imagine if my dad just caught him up in my room. He’d think he stayed the night and shit. It ain’t worth the hassle. Front door it is.

I try and play it cool, but when the door knocks I rush down the stairs. “Dad, I got it,” I watch as my dad makes his way to the door. “It’s okay, sweetie,” and he opens it to be greeted by my massively smiling boyfriend. This is it. This is where it starts.

“Morning sir,” comes out of Monty’s mouth. I raise my eyebrows, impressed. If he wants to get on my dad’s good side, this is a nice start. A firm handshake takes place also. I think this could go well. As long as we stick by the rules and in those stupid guidelines, it’ll all be smooth. “Montgomery,” Monty’s eyes quickly swipe to me, because his body follows my dad to the dining table. This is gonna be the talk.

This can go one of two ways. It can either be straight forward, my dad doesn’t mention anything sexual and just beats around the bush to make his point. Or he can say every word I don’t want to hear from my dad, and it’ll be an awkward ‘bonding’ experience. I’ve taken my bet. “Honey!” My dad calls my mum. She appears in a millisecond. The smile on Monty’s face has faded slightly. I could tell that he didn’t want to seem nervous. It’s cute. “Hey Monty, how are you?” My mum smiles warmly. “I’m excited, how are you guys?” His nerves were radiating off of him. My hand sat just above his knee. I’d be dreading this if I was him. “We’re good. I’m sure Brooke has mentioned the guidelines, but we just wanted to make sure you heard them from us. Just to make sure you hear them all of course,” the slight patronising tone of my fathers voice showed care, but I do wish he’d show Monty at least a smile. Monty and I nod in unison. Let’s get this over and done with.

At first I thought we were safe. Like maybe we had dodged that bullet. It was all ‘this is a very meaningful trip’ and ‘take care of the cabin’. He even cracked a joke or two. It was actually when my mum stepped in. That’s when it went south. “Now, for the main part. No sex,” I wince at the word. I’m not a prude, but I don’t need to hear it from my mum. I could tell my dad didn’t really want to be here for the conversation either. Monty kind of just nodded along and stayed neutral faced. Smart move man... smart move. “As your father said, you will be staying in separate rooms anyway. I know what it’s like to be a teenager. Hormones flowing around and all-“ “Mum,” my attempt to butt in failed massively. “I’m just saying I get it, but I don’t want no hanky-panky,” shit. I was waiting for that phrase. My eyes lock with my dad’s. “I think they’ve heard enough about that, I sure have!” And Monty laughs. That is such a relief. I’m expecting him to run out the door at any moment now. “Are all packed?” Monty clears his throat before answering. “I am sir, but Brooklyn hasn’t so I’m here to help,” I nudge him in his side. “Of course,” my mum shakes her head at me with a grin. “Well we wanna get going by 3, so you better move your ass young lady,” why are parents so embarrassing? “On that note, I guess we should pack my bag,” I cannot stress how fast I got up and moved.

“Shit,” I breathe as I pull Monty into my room and close the door. I stare at him, worried, with my hands on my hips. “I think that went quite well...” The change in tone made his statement sound more like a question. “You did?” I ask slowly, a smile growing on my face. “I think it could’ve gone worse?” I take two small steps towards him. My arms snake their way around behind his neck, pulling my body close to his. “It’s gonna be a long weekend,” I mutter. “Tell me about it,” he smirks back against my lips. A few bangs on the way up the stairs startles us both. The thought of my mum or dad walking in just scares me. That’s a sight neither of us will ever want to see. I’m surprised they haven’t told me to open my door yet.

“Yes!” Monty lays across my bed. Packing is a lot more work than it should be. At least I have Monty to help me choose what to take. He’s quite the fashionista you know. “Definitely take that one,” he nods again. Every time I turn to him with another item, I just see how ‘relaxed’ he is. Laid down with his head leant on his hand. “I can’t tell if you’re really good at hiding it, or you’re, like, not nervous at all?” I take a seat on the end of my bed. “I think it’s gonna be fine,” the way he moves his everybrows and screws up his face slightly shows me he’s lying. I get it. “So you’re fine?” I ask, cupping lightly on the right side of his face, just on his cheek above that sharp jawline. “If you’re calm, I’m calm,” he takes a moment to kiss the palm of my hand. This far into the relationship and he still gives me butterflies? Gross, but I can’t describe how amazing it feels. Fuck. I’m not calm. In about 3 hours we’re going to be in a bubble. A bubble with Monty and my family. I’d hoped this day would come, but I don’t think I actually thought it would happen? I collapse myself on my back. In the corner of my eye I see him move to giving his head over mine. “I’m calm, Brooklyn. What’s the worst that can happen?” I reach my arm up to his face again. “You’re right...” I pull his lips onto mine. A gentle finger brushes a piece of hair behind my ear. I pull back slightly. “We just gotta follow the rules.” And place my lips back on his. This is definitely going to be ‘easier said than done’.

The rule was ‘no alone time’ basically. Luckily that didn’t include the drive up. My parents took their car, whilst we drive in Monty’s stunning jeep. I want everyone to get along and - I guess - vibe with each other, but could you imagine the drive up. I feel like it would’ve just been silent. We have to build up to that. I can visualise it very clearly. My dad would peak through the rear view mirror. My mum would probably ask questions that would make every answer follow with silence. No thank you.

I snap my head to the radio when my favourite song starts playing. “Fuck, I love this song!” I smile and reach for the volume. Closing my eyes, I take the words and the best in. I could honestly listen to this song on loop and not get bored! Then I hear soft singing next to me. My eyes open and turn to him. “You do not know the words!” I squeal. “You play it all the time, so I downloaded it,” He stenches his teeth as if he hates to admit it. “I knew you liked the music I listen to!” My ego just grew by at least x10. “Some of its okay,” I drop my draw at the admittance. “I fucking-” “I know, Brooklyn!” He chuckles and continues tapping his fingers on the steering wheel along to the beat. And just like that, he becomes even more attractive. “Stop drooling,” I press my top and bottom lip together at his comment. “Shut up,” I whisper. I just realised I’m the biggest Montgomery simp. “It’s hot though, you get big brownie points for this you know,” I bite my lip slightly, just so he notices. Maybe I shouldn’t since we’re pretty much on a touching each other ban, but come on. A sexually frustrated Monty? I’ll have him wrapped around my finger. “Ooh what do my points add up for?” Monty takes a quick glance at the tall trees coming up. “I’d tell you, but you have to wait until after the trip,” I wink. “Fuck Brooklyn. I know what you’re doing.” I giggle under my breath. Here we go. “We’re almost there, about 5-10 minutes maybe?” Let’s get this started!

The crackle of gravel brings back years of memories at this place. A stunning dark wood cabin in the middle of nowhere. It sounds like a horror film and it honestly could be. Have you seen hush? It’s kinda like that. But no one’s died here. Not yet anyway. “How was the drive?” My dad asks, directly looking Monty... in the eyes. I raise my eyebrows. “It was alright, I don’t think I’ve been in a forest area like this!” Monty’s upbringing was so different to mine. I take shit like this for granted. “Beautiful isn’t it?” My mum comes over and hugs my dad at his side. “It’s got a lot of history to it-” “I don’t think Monty wants to hear about that dad,” I roll my eyes, but Monty butts in. “I don’t mind, sir. I’d love to hear it,” and I watch as Monty moves away from me. As does my dad. This is real? My dad and my boyfriend going to walk around together. I let out a deep breath. “He’s quite sweet,” my mum shrugs, grabbing her suitcase and taking it inside. Wait, yes! Not even 5 minutes in and my mum already thinks he’s sweet. I’m so fucking winning at this trip already.

Pacing the floor, FOR TWENTY MINUTES, until my dad brought Monty back to my sight. My safe, safe view. As they walk through the back door, they laugh and smile towards me. “You were gone quite some time,” my mum smiles massively, bringing my dad in for a small hug. The boy comes back to my side. I can’t help but smile at his smile. That can’t have gone that bad? “Yeah it felt like forever,” I mutter just loud enough. My eyes lock between Monty’s and my dad’s, who were both just lit up. I check my phone for the time. 18:02PM. “I think we’ll just order food tonight, why don’t you go sort out your things?” My mum smiles. Maybe they’re trying to please Monty, because this isn’t us.

“So...” I pull Monty into my room and sit on my bed. Crossing my legs, I’m ready. Hit me with it! “He gave me the tour, told me when the house was built and then I got the talk.” My head falls into my hands. “He lies about when the house was built by the way,” I warn him. The smile remains on his face. “I could tell, he mentioned about 4 different years.” “So the talk. How bad?” I swift back in topic. “It was good. Your dad’s really nice,” I stand back up as soon as those words exit his mouth. “Really?” My smile grows more and more, and grows bigger when his smile grows. “He basically just warned me about hurting you because of how much you like me,” he pokes my shoulder teasingly. “We shook hands and everything,” he does ‘jazz hands’ to mock me, but that genuinely just sends me over the moon. I clench my teeth and do a silent squeal. “You’re fucking crazy,” he whispers close to my face. Wrapping my around around him, I pull him in for a quick kiss. A quick kiss that lasted at least 30 seconds. No tongue. We can’t get all heated up.

As a tradition, we sit around the dining table. Even when it’s takeaway. “We bought a little of every sort of thing, we didn’t know what you guy’s would want,” my heart melts slightly at my mum’s words. That’s so cute. My mum knows exactly what I like, so that’s not aimed at me. I flash my appreciative eyes towards her, and she winks in response. His eyes scan through the table. There was bits of every meat, a few different potatoes, a little bit of it all. “Jesus this must’ve costed you a bit, I can give you some money towards this if you’d like,” my head turns to Monty. Why am I ready to cry? Both of my parents look confused. “That’s very lovely Monty, but it’s fine. You’re our guest,” my dad nods along with my mother. This feels accepting. Why was I even scared about this?

“So how’s baseball going Monty?” My dad asks. If there’s one thing they can bond about, it’s sports. There’s not a sport Monty hasn’t done, and not one that my dad doesn’t enjoy. Well... my dad doesn’t like cricket. “It’s going good,” Monty pauses to swallow his food fully. “I think we have a really good chance at bringing home state this year,” not really my conversation. I love watching Monty doing sports because, duh. Other than that, no. Monty looks my way so I playfully roll my eyes. “I’m surprised she pays attention to the sports, you can tell she really likes you,” and that makes me want to stab myself in the eye with a fork. “Dad!” I smile massively, embarrassed. Or maybe overjoyed at everything? Both. “I underestimated you Monty, I’m glad you’re here with us,” did I hear that right? Did my dad just say that? Already? We’re only 2 hours into the actual trip?! I notice Monty blushing slightly, which makes me blush and butterflies flutter in my stomach. “We’re excited to watch your next game,” my mum breaks the cute silence. “As long as you don’t fuck this up over here,” my dad winks and nods towards me. “Sir, you should probably know that I’m deeply in love with your daughter.” My dad’s eyebrows raise with a smile. My mum rushes a hand to her heart. And I just fell in love with him even more. I can’t help but blush massively and smile to myself as I try and swallow my food. “I’m that case, call me Daniel.”

Dinner was a dream. Like an actual fantasy. I cannot believe something like that happened. To me. In front of my eyes! This high that I’m on right now is unexplainable. I follow Monty into his room about 5 minutes after he went in. “That was so fucking perfect,” I close the door behind my and force my lips onto his. How am I meant to stay away? He guides me forwards, slipping his tongue slightly into my mouth before sitting down. I don’t hesitate to straddle his lap. My hands sit nicely on either side of his face, and his hands move down to my ass. He pulls me as close to him as he can, but the friction isn’t enough. “Hey guys!” My mum shouts from wherever she is. I forcefully pull my lips away from his. “Let’s go into the hot tub!” She adds. I breathe slow to control my breathing, and remove myself off of him. “Shit, I have a boner,” he grunts, throwing his head back in defeat. “Well... good luck with that,” like a school girl, I giggle. I best exit his room before I get caught here.

I get into my black little bikini and get ready to chill for like an hour. When I get out there, Monty’s already there. “There she is!” My mum smiles as I slide open the glass door. The tub is lit up perfectly with Monty sat inside. My mum sits on the deck in chairs that are comfier than they look. The night sky is clear with hundreds of stars spread across the sky. “Would you like a drink sweetie?” My mum shows the array of beer bottles behind her on the round wooden table. “I don’t know if you’re joking or not,” she only even lets me drink on ‘special occasions’. “Sure why not! You’re not gonna get drunk on one beer,” I slowly take two from her hands. Although the confused, I’m not arguing it.

“There you go Montgomery,” I wink at him before sitting at a just bareable distance away. Not too close, but nowhere near far. “Thank you Brooklyn,” we clink our drinks together before taking a sip. Did it have to be such a romantic setting. “How’s the day been for you then Monty?” My dad comes over and cheers’ his drink against ours. “I was very nervous, but it’s been amazing,” I look down. “I was going to be really hard on you, but you’re actually a nice guy. I apologise for assuming anything different,” this is it. He’s in. Monty has been accepted. I’m struggling to contain my squeal right now. But I should, right? “The jock persona definitely doesn’t help, but that means a lot. Thank you, Daniel...” Monty speaks my dad’s name very slowly. I clench teeth together. “If there something you want to say Brooklyn?” A laugh, which I’m sure is judgemental, escapes my mum’s mouth. “I’m just trying not to scream with excitement,” I shrug honestly. Monty subtly pokes the outside of my leg under the water.

I don’t know why, but the conversation just flowed between everybody. I must be dreaming. I’ve been sat with my eyes closed for a while. There’s a nice cool breeze that blows across every now and then. “Right, I think it’s time for us to get to bed,” my mum stands up. I immediately check the time on my phone. It’s 22:34?! That time flew. “Don’t stay up too late. We’ve got some activities planned for tomorrow! Be up about 7,” my mum kisses the top of my head. “Goodnight guys!” My dad smiles, shaking Monty’s hand. “Night!” We smile back in sync.

“Activities, huh?” Monty’s voice comes out in a flirt. “They like to do things like rock climbing and sailing,” I shrug. A look of slight worry comes across his face. “I’m not sure about that,” he laughs nervously. “Well, I guess I’ll just get to call you a pussy all day then,” I slide myself closer to the boy. “Don’t even try it,” he whispers as he leans in closer. Our lips touch and the kiss immediately gets heated. In one swift movement, I’m straddling him. And then it sinks in. My parents have left us alone. Together. I guess they trust me not to have sex in the hot tub? He does a half squeeze to my butt cheeks. And then he breaks the kiss. “We probably shouldn’t-” I stop him immediately. “You’re right. We definitely shouldn’t have sex in the hot tub,” I whisper. Hopping off his lap and out of the hot tub with speed, I attempt to dry myself off as much as I can. I almost run to my room. Is this a dangerous game? Yes. But I wanna fucking play it!

He enters milliseconds after me. My hand grabs his, pulling him towards my bed. “Are you sure?” I nod. “We’ll be quiet,” his smile is small but mischievous. “That’s a relief, I’ve got blue balls enough today.” I whisper out a giggle, and pull him on top of me. The bed makes a loud noise and we freeze. “Shit,” I laugh. He covers my mouth with a gleaming smile. “This is risky,” he nudges his nose against mine. “I know,” and I push my lips on his. With being in swimming things we were pretty much in our underwear. Smooth hands rub against the side of my body, all the way down to my ass. He actually squeezes it this time. The moan that wanted to escape was contained with a kiss. “There’s condoms in the top drawer,” and he frowns. “What? I kind of thought this would happen,” I admit and shrug. What can I say? I saw it coming.

Safety; done. Balancing out between risking this and actually getting caught by my parents was too easy of a decision. All I had on was my bra at this point, the rest was bare skin. So we shuffle under the covers, and Monty lines himself up. I haven’t really considered how hard it might be to keep quiet. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. Before pushing himself inside of me, he presses his lips on mine. My legs lift and wrap around his back, pulling him closer and closer until he’s all the way in. A heavy breath exits both of our mouths as we lock eyes and smile.

As he pulls out, I let out a little squeak. “Shhhhh,” he mutters against my lips. “I love you,” he whispers. And back in. His hands squeeze my waist as he finds a steady pace. This is possibly the closest I’ve ever felt to Monty. Yes, we’ve had sex many times. But I think my parents love him? Which has made me love him even more somehow. My leg raises higher, my foot scraping across his back as do my fingers. No nails. Not today. Thank god this bed doesn’t make a lot of noise.

Monty slows down the pace, which he knows drives me crazy in the best way. I spread my fingers up through his hair. His tongue continues to glide gracefully across mine. Those lips haven’t moved off of mine, which is probably for the best. They’re possibly the only things not exposing us right now. “Fuck,” I moan in a whisper. My legs begin to pretzel behind his back. That familiar knot starts to appear. I’m not sure I want this moment to end. Once again, Monty’s hand begins to roam my body. They move from my waist, to my ass. He pauses there for a second and massages it with one hand. Waves of added pleasure shoot though my limbs. It’s like some sort of drug. As his fingers move again, I’m being brought closer and closer to the edge. They hook under the knee of my right leg, lifting it slightly high. “Monty,” I laugh in a moaned whisper. He knows what he’s doing. “Just let go baby,” he whispers, kissing my nose before moving back to my lips. Didn’t have to tell me twice. I immediate explode around him. The moans against his lift sent angry vibrations. Once my high is rode out, I try breathing calmly through Monty’s climax too. Try is the important word there. My heart remains beating fast and loudly. I’m surprised it didn’t wake my mum and dad up.

My body just collapses and curls up to Monty’s. Our fingers just intertwine, even though they’re sweaty. Gross. “Thank you for today,” I whisper, bringing his hand up to my lips and place a simple kiss against it. Words actually can’t describe what today meant to me. It’s soppy as fuck. “I think it was a success,” he chuckles into my ear. “You probably shouldn’t sleep in here,” I wish he could. I just wanna spoon him. Well, I’m actually very happily the little spoon. “I know,” I feel him move slightly. “You could probably stay a little longer?” I stick out my bottom lip like a child. “You know we’d fall asleep,” he leans over and kisses my forehead. As if that was enough for me, he pulls away. A quick reflexed arm pull his head back down, instead onto my lips. “Sweet dreams Brooklyn.”

[greatfay]

since ur answering asks and shit can u explain what u meant by generational differences in communication

Damn it’s like 2015 tumblr when my inbox used to be WET. So if you’re talking about the controversial opinions post, YES, like I totally understand where people are coming from when they say that generational divides aren’t real (because they aren’t, they’re arbitrary) and distract us from real problems and yes they paint past generations as collectively bigoted when Civil Rights protestors in the 60s (who are in their 70s and 80s now) are mirrors to BLM protestors today, who could be of any age, but the most vocal and famous (at least online, especially irt to the founders, like Patrisse Cullors who is 37.

But how we communicate is sooooo different. I really point to the Internet and Social Media as a major influence in how younger millennials (more Tom Hollands and less Seth Rogans—see even there, I feel like there are two different types of Millennials) and Gen Zrs/Zoomers and even Generation Alpha behave and communicate. We live in a world where we grew up either knowing right out the gate or discovering the hard way that what we say and do has permanence, the kind of permanence that prior generations have never experienced until today. The dumb things kids have been saying since forever can now follow them... forever. We have an inherent understanding of how online spaces work. Compare that to, idk, let’s say you posted on your Facebook (for the first time in 18 months) “All these big and bad grown ass Senators going after actual child Greta Gerwig lol ok, you’re so brave for attacking a CHILD over climate change” and then your aunt, who’s turning “forty-fifteen” in May replies to your post with “So happy to see my passionate niece! Much love from us, hope you’re doing well. Paul is doing great, waiting on his screening results. Tell your mom I said we miss her, we need to get together, we forgive her for last Christmas.”

Like... ok there’s a lot going on there, but your hypothetical aunt is oversharing on a publicly accessible post. And even with the most strict of privacy settings, she’s oversharing where your other Facebook friends (which may include classmates, coworkers, etc.) can see. But she’s saying things that would only be appropriate in a 1-on-1 conversation. This Aunt doesn’t have an understanding of such boundaries, she’s not as technologically literate and hasn’t grown up in a world of Virtual Space, she still gets most of her news from TV, she trusts what a reporter on Channel 4 will read off a script more than what actual video footage of an incident might reveal on Twitter, and she has no clue that she’s been sharing her location data with every post she makes.

There’s such a huge difference. I think it even affects how we experience and express stress and frustration. I think growing up partially in online spaces has made me more accustomed to conflict and consequence-free arguing than someone who never had to worry about that. I’ve been exposed so much to harassment and bullying, triangulating and echo chambers in forums and threads, and vastly opposing point of views at such an early age that it’s had an effect on how I see the world. Compare this to a customer I helped two weeks ago who was looking for a specific type of supplement for children. I found it for her, I handed her exactly what she was looking for, even though her description of the product actually matched several different products; to make sure I’d done my job thoroughly and that she leaves happy and satisfied and doesn’t bother me again, I then show her more products that match her description so that she knows she has options. And she proceeds to freak out, saying “NO, NO, I’M LOOKING FOR [X] AND IT HAS TO BE [XYZ]” and when I say freak out, she looked stressed and PANICKED. And being a retail employee wears you down bit by bit, and add COVID on top of it and little shit like this makes you snap, sometimes. So I have to cut her off like “Why are you screaming and freaking out, jfc you’re holding what you said you wanted. It’s in your hands. I gave you what you wanted, I’m just showing you more things.”

That customer is not an exception, she’s not a unique case. She’s representative of a frightening percentage of her generation, the kids who watched Grease and The Breakfast Club and Ghost in theaters when they were originally released. This is how they communicate and process information. She could not, for some reason, register that her need had been fulfilled, and defaulted to an extreme emotional response when given new and different information.

I’ve yet to deal with someone younger than 35 act the same way, the exceptions being the kids of very wealthy people at my new job who reek of privilege I gag when they walk in—but even they are like *shrugs* “ok whatever” and understanding when there’s something I can’t do for them.

Me: “sorry, we are totally out of that one in your size, but I can order it for you, it’s 2-3 day shipping at no cost to you and we ship it straight to your house”

A rich, white, attractive 22-year-old who’s had access to organic food, a rigorous dermatologist, and financial security since she was born: “mmm... sure, I’ll order it”

A 47-year-old of any socioeconomic background, of any race, in the same situation: “AHHHHHHHHHHH”

I just think it’s crazy how three generations of kids and young adults raised in a world where everything moves so much faster, where knowledge and entertainment and communication can be gathered so much faster, are often so much more polite and patient and understanding. Yesterday I told an older man (mid-50s) whose native tongue is the same as mine, as clearly and succinct as possible, that what he’s looking for is “in aisle 4.” He proceeded to repeat back, “Aisle 7?” four time before I dropped everything to show him what he needed in aisle 4, despite his insistence that he didn’t need me to walk him there. 4 and 7 sound nothing alike in English. There’s just something going on up there 🧠 that’s different.

Oh, other generational divides!!! We have different approaches to labor and working. Totally different! I’m a “young” millennial where I’m almost Gen Z, and I’ve noticed an awful trend among my demographic where people actually brag about working 90 hour work weeks. Or brag about how they skip breaks and live on-call to get the job done for “the hustle” like this “hustle, become a millionaire by 30″ culture that’s dominated these kids, idk where tf that came from. Like why are you proud of being a wage slave, getting taken advantage of by your millionaire/billionaire overlords. Compare this to my mother’s generation (she’s a borderline Genius X’er, she and her best friend were a year too young to watch Grease when it came out and had a random older woman buy tickets for her; she went to Prince concerts, took photos of him, then sold the photos on buttons at school, that’s her culture and teenage experience), where she’s insistent on her rights and entitlements as an employee, and these things she instilled me: “whatchu mean they didn’t schedule a break for you and you’re working 12 hrs today? oh no, you’re off, don’t answer your phone cuz you are NOT available!” There are Gen X’ers who entered the workforce at a time that America was drifting toward this corporate world, with more strictly defined regulations, roles, and understandings of labor rights (and also, let’s talk about how the 80s there was so much more attention on workplace harassment, misogyny and gender divides in wage gaps, etc. etc... not that much has changed, but at least it was talked about!). There are young people today who are taken advantage of because they aren’t as informed or don’t feel as secure and valuable enough to claim what belongs to them.

At the same time, those generations (Gen X and older) have a different viewpoint of hierarchies in the workplace and respect irt our direct supervisors. That’s how you get this blurring of boundaries between Work Life and one’s Personal Life that leads to common tropes in media written by their generations, where oh no! I’m having my boss over for dinner and the roast beef is still defrosting :O is such a “relatable thing” for them... meanwhile us younger generations are like I don’t even like that you know where I live, and if I see your 2017 Honda Civic pass my place one day, we’re going to have a problem. I think older generations have a different relationship with the word “Respect” than we do. Like, my grandma, who’s turning 87 (?) this year, and the other seniors in my area, they have a different concept of honor and an expectation of professional boundaries that I, and my mom and her generation, just don’t see (so then there’s something in common with Gen X’ers and the rest of us.) My dad grew up in a world where talking and acting like George Bailey and knocking on someone’s door with a big smile could get you a job, a job that could pay for college and rent no problem. My mom grew up in a world that demanded more prestige, where cover letters and references could get you into some cushy jobs if you’re persistent and ballsy enough. And I grew up in a world where potential employers literally don’t see your face when you apply unless they lurk on any social media profiles you have publicly available and they hold all the cards, and you need all those CVs and reference letters just to make minimum wage... so I feel like I am powerless in the face of such employers.

[comfortmarvelimagines]

when you can’t find the quiet part 6

im baaaaackkkkkk !!!! so so so sorry that this took so long. i can’t put into words the sheer amount of shit that’s happened to me in the past few months. hope this at least partially makes up for it (i know it can’t fully, and im sorry)]

tw for near meltdown, self injurious stimming and use of the r slur

Can you please do an autistic!reader where the decathlon team has an excursion to the tower and the avengers say hi to the reader and peter and co.? then flash gets jealous and does something mean,,, some angst resolved with fluff (preferably by mama nat), if not that’s okay

Most kids loved field trips. Even the boring ones. 

Regardless of where it was, a field trip was a break to the mundanity of school. There was increased opportunity for socialising, decreased work demands (no notes to be taken!), and most likely improved lunch options to what the cafeteria typically had to offer. Add on to that the fact that Stark Industries was arguably The Coolest Place on the Planet to the nerds of Midtown and you have a perfect storm of excitement. It seemed that the field trip was all everyone was talking about. Even Peter wouldn’t shut up about how cool it was, despite the fact that he practically lived at the tower. 

You came to the conclusion that you were the only kid in the decathlon team that absolutely did not want to go. 

Field trips were a change in routine. You didn’t know the exact schedule of when things were happening, or what exactly was going to happen. For all your google street-viewing, there was only so much you could find out about what the place would look like, what was inside, whereabouts your group would be visiting. You didn’t know what the buses there would be like, who you’d sit with, what teachers would be on your bus, how many kids would be in each tour group, what time you’d stop to eat lunch, whether the buses would leave on time when it was over. There were so many unpredictabilities, and no one ever seemed to be able to answer your questions. 

Logically, you figured that Stark Industries should be alright, as far as field trips go. You’ve been there before, you know Tony and Nat and Bucky; in theory, you should be okay. You’re okay when you go there after school, and on weekends with Peter. But going there at a different time, to a different part of the building and with more people (including Flash) made you just as anxious as you would be for any other excursion. Which is why you tried everything to get out of it. Started acting ‘sick’ days beforehand, isolating yourself, not talking to anyone, hoping that your absence would be considered a normality by the time the day of the trip rolled around. Only it didn’t work, and you opened the door to an overly bubbly trio of friends bright and early on Wednesday morning. 

“Hey Y/n, you excited for the trip?” Ned, unsurprisingly, was bouncing with excitement, topped off with a garishly conspicuous Stark Industries cap. Every inch the tourist. 

Every inch the opposite of how you were feeling. 

You stood in the doorway at a complete loss. You’d fully intended to stay cooped up in your room all day in your pyjamas, watching random shit on Youtube. The message to the group chat saying that you ‘weren’t feeling well’ was already half composed and ready to send. You’d played the part perfectly, casually mentioning symptoms of illness for days in preparation. But, somehow, you’d made friends with some of the most observant and persistent people you’d ever met. Which for the most part was great, but now it had you wishing the ground would open and swallow you whole. 

You didn’t resist much as MJ marched her way over the threshold and started pulling an outfit out of your wardrobe, ushering you into the bathroom to get changed. It wouldn’t have worked. All three of them seemed to know what you were planning on doing and were prepared. By the time you’d thrown on the clothes and haphazardly cleaned yourself up, Peter and Ned had sorted out your backpack with all of the things you used to help deal with the input of bustling New York; noise cancelling headphones, a fidget cube, a bumpy tangle, a squishy dinosaur toy. Seeing as no one would be carrying books or laptops on the excursion, you knew they’d all have smaller bags, but you had your normal sized one. The size and weight and familiarity was comforting. You hoisted it over your shoulders and trudged out the door, dread settled in the depths of your stomach, right hand tapping the side of your thigh. 

***

By the time you arrived at Midtown High and saw the charter bus pulling up outside, the tapping had increased to borderline punching. Ned went to grab your wrist to pull it away, but you turned. The ache in your thigh was the only thing keeping you from running, and you couldn’t explain why. Words weren’t working by that point. The bus ride didn’t improve much; even with headphones on, you could still feel the vibration of the engine running through your toes, resonating upwards, and even the highest noise cancelling setting wasn’t enough to drown out your excited teammates and their impatient chatter. Peter had made sure that the four of you got the bench seat at the back of the bus so that you could all sit together, but you were still mad that they’d made you go. Didn’t they get it? 

Things didn’t improve upon arrival. The staff member with you on the trip was a substitute, as Mr Harrington had other school commitments on the day, and you’d never met her before. A fact that became an issue when she made you take your headphones off when the tour guide turned up, and confiscated them when you were reluctant (despite your friends’ protestations and frantic attempts and explanation). The tour guide herself was nice enough- you’d seen her in the lobby a few times on your way in and out of the tower- but it wasn’t enough to balance out the chaos of the crowded public space. You made it no further than the elevator before pressing your hands over your ears. Hoodie over your head. Eyes half closed. It felt almost cruel that the sensory room, your safe space, was in the same building yet inaccessible. 

Unbeknownst to you, Nat was well aware of the fact that you and Peter were visiting. She’d waited for FRIDAY to announce your presence before heading to the floor she knew the tour would start on, planning to ‘casually’ greet you. She knew about the bullying. She knew about the harassment that Flash gave Peter over the legitimacy of the internship, the deplorable things he’d said to you. And she fully intended to scare the crap out of Flash in the hopes of getting him to leave her kids alone, god damn it. He was the first person she spotted from down the corridor. She knew he was a dick, but nothing could have prepared her for the sight of Flash live streaming. Phone outstretched, voice raised. 

God, the ego of this kid. 

Your group started moving forwards as she headed towards you. She didn’t say much. 

“Hey Pete, hey Y/n”

The look on Flash’s face was priceless. 

“Y-you know the retard and friends?”

Nat stared, waiting. 

“You mean Penis has a real internship?”

It felt like your guts were fighting to explode out of your body. You pressed your nails into the palms of your hands, in the crease beneath your knuckles. The bluntness of the nails did little to help. 

“That’s enough.” 

You willed your body to stay still, not stim not scream not run.

“Does this school’s policy tolerate that kind of language?”

“Uhh-”

“Yes or no?”

“I’m only a substitute, I’m not familiar with-”

You pressed the heels of your hands to your ears, fingers still curled. It wasn’t enough to make it quiet.

“Fine. Eugene?”

Don’t want to listen don’t want to listen. Don’t scream don’t stim stay still.

“Expect there to be consequences. I know about the bullying.” 

You turned and walked back down the hallway, retracing the way you came in. Your heels dug into the floor and you walked stiffly, awkwardly, elbows locked straight at your sides in attempt to keep yourself from reverting to punching your thighs. 

Nat followed. 

As she made her way past the group, she discreetly directed the tour guide to carry on. If you did reach the point of a meltdown, which she was hoping you wouldn’t for your sake, she didn’t want an audience. 

You were headed towards an R&D lab, full of SI employees, which wasn’t a particularly good option either. She noticed your hands bouncing, slapping your thighs, walking still stiff and jilted, the effort going suppressing everything evident down to the way you breathed. You heard footsteps behind you but didn’t realise they were Nat’s until she called out. 

“Y/n”

You skipped a step, but didn’t stop. You just wanted to be alone away from everyone away from the humiliation and the teasing and the bad words and the stupid jokes you just didn’t get but everyone else did. 

“Y/n, hun, just stop for me for a second.”

You did as you were told. Your body felt like it was on fire from the tension of being still. You didn’t want Nat thinking you were weird for biting your hand, so you gnawed on your lip instead, hands slightly flapping at your sides in little spinny motions. 

“Okay, good job. Do you think we can take a minute to do some breathing?”

You shook your head no. No. You wanted, needed to scream and stim and run not breathe.

“Okay, I should’ve phrased that better,” Nat looked around, seemingly lost, at the ceiling. It was barely a second’s slip of her calm composure. She lowered herself to the floor and sat cross legged.

“Can you sit down with me?”

You let your legs give out, half crashing into the carpet. 

“Can you give your hands a shake?” she shook her hands out in front, demonstrating. 

You copied. The shake felt good, so you started properly flapping. You weren’t sure when, but at some point all self consciousness fell away and you were rocking back and forth, legs out, tension melting. 

Eventually, most of the bad energy felt like it’d left your body, Your flaps turned to light taps on your knees and your rocking was much more relaxed. Now that your breathing had evened out, you were aware of how close you were to hyperventilating before. A wave of gratitude towards Nat washed over you. 

“Is it okay if I touch you?” Nat asked cautiously, hand already up halfway to rub your shoulder. You shook your head. It was hard to articulate, but touch right now would probably end in you hitting Nat involuntarily. Even your clothes weren’t feeling too great, like you were hyper aware of every contact point with your skin. You were glad she asked, even though your reaction most likely wouldn’t have hurt her no matter how violent on your part. The constant assumptions and invasions of your space on a daily basis, from everyone from kids at school to medical professionals, got to a point of making you feel almost less than human. That you weren’t worth the respect, triply so if you weren’t verbal. The entire field trip experience, although not all that enjoyable, had shown you a side of Nat you hadn’t seen before. A fiercely protective, quick-witted, almost motherly side. A side that let you know you had a safe landing. A side that gave you the courage to get up off the hallway floor and face the world again.

[werevulvi]

Hi, could you tell me more about your autism and diagnosis and how you deal with it, how old you were diagnosed

I don't know a lot about my autism, tbh, as I never bothered to read up on it and I was never properly informed on it. But what I do know is that I learned slowly as a kid, learned to walk at age 3, was very clumsy (like medically abnormally clumsy physically, could barely run at all and couldn't climb, etc) required special treatment to learn how to eat as a toddler because I hated the sensory experience of solid food and chewing, I was incapable of understanding sarcasm, interpreted everything literally, I was stimming a lot, had monotone body language and speech, etc. I was very obviously "different" according to my parents already from around age 1 or 2, and required literally constant attention for the first 4 years of my life. Started daycare at age 4, in small groups.

Then as I started school at age 6, apparently the school nurse had told my parents that I'm probably autistic, so I consider that my "inofficial diagnosis" but they decided to ignore that and didn't tell me (until 10 years later.) I was bullied in school for being "the weird kid" by both classmates and teachers who thought I was a retard and annoying, basically, I guess. I was called a freak and weirdo a lot. But like I was proudly a weirdo, and resented normativity.

As I got up into ages 10-12 my depression and DID symptoms (alter) kinda took over and became more prominent than my autism symptoms, as I wasn't as physically clumsy anymore and started learning social cues. My mental health continued to decline over the next few years, until I sought out therapy on my own at age 16. It led me to doing my first few suicide attempts, which led me to ending up at a closed psychiatric ward.

While staying there for a few weeks, I got evaluated for autism (without knowing that's what I was tested for) as well as a few physical things, such as my hearing impairment and chronic headache. And those tests led to an official Asperger Syndrome diagnosis, when I was 16, by the very end of year 2005. I also got diagnosed with borderline psychosis and mild depression, and got pumped full of anti-depressants and anti-psychotic (neuroleptic) drugs. Then my mom finally told me that she basically always knew about my autism, and I was really pissed at her for not having told me before. I resented my autism diagnosis right from the start, and the older I got, the more I resented it. Never identified with it, only ever saw it as a huge burden.

Then throughout the rest of my teens, I went to a school for neurodivergent people (basically upper high school) but still flunked it. I was a complete and utter mess, and got little to no actual therapy. They just kept shoving me around from one psychiatric department to another, due to my comorbid issues, no one could help me, it seemed. Every once in a while I'd make another half assed suicide attempt to make them take me seriously, which only worked for a few months at a time. In total, I've made 19 suicide attemps over 12 years. Oh lord, psychiatry was so bad!

Adulthood came along and I got benefitted with sickness compensation, and got my first apartment at age 20. It didn't go great. I accidentally flooded it and had to move out, and didn't manage to keep it clean or anything while I lived there. I was barely functional and alcoholic, constantly self-harming, just to try to manage attending school. Despite getting help from caretakers offered by the state (?) weekly, I was really dysfunctional. I switched apartments several times, and kept flunking school while trying to live my miserable life, always hanging by a thread. Until I moved back to my parents at age 23. They had moved to a miserable island far away from all my friends. Got an apartment on that island close to my parents, but my issues continued being the same level of awful, up until about age 27.

What this has to do with my autism is that... uh, I basically understand it as that it impedes on my executive function really dramatically, and like although I can physically do pretty much anything, mentally I just somehow can't. Especially repeatedly, and often enough. Like I can't keep any routine for the life of me, not even simple shit like sleep cycle, eating habits, brushing my teeth, etc. Let alone school or a job, or even hobbies. Everything is infrequent and too seldom, if at all. So everything in my life keeps falling apart as I basically have no foundation to stand on, and I get sensory overload suuuuper easily. So like just going shopping/cleaning/laundry/hobbies/school/anything for half an hour can drain me significantly and make me incapable of managing doing anything else for the rest of that entire day. It's very hard for me to explain, but it's like I only ever have 3 spoons per day, but most things requitre 10+ spoons, so I go backwards on my energy resources a lot and end up having to rest for DAYS after just one hour's activity.

At age 27 I ditched the social service caretakers, as they were seriously depriving me of my privacy while being largely unhelpful, and I began to finally try to pull myself together. I still get a lot of help from my mom, with anything from paying my bills and grocery shopping, to driving me places and dealing with soul-sucking authorities for me. This takes off a lot of the burden and allows me to manage doing at least a few things on my own, like working out, cleaning (yay I manage keeping my apartment clean nowadays!), laundry, occasional shopping, art projects, online socialising, etc. I still go to therapy biweekly but it's still largely unhelpful. At least I managed to make them stop tossing me around between departments like a football though, and I'm still gonna try to get some proper trauma therapy, and maybe also look into that adhd group I was promised last year, if it'll ever resume again post-corona...

I've still never had a job in my life and still have incomplete grades. But I got permanent sickness compensation now, so that's neat. At least I don't have to worry financially. I'm also trying to get started with some "work training" stuff which is basically "pretend work" for people who can't work, just to have something to do. I'll most likely be granted acces to that. However, it seems irony is that most of those are located out in the middle of nowhere where no buses go, and I can't afford a fucking car or driver's licence because I can't work. Mom probably won't drive me several times a week for that. Fucking fantastic. Makes me almost wanna kill someone... argh! Those little things really piss me off.

Life is absolutely not going the way I want and I blame my autism for it, mostly. I am drowning in frustration, and my anger issues making me scream my lungs out in pure despair, shows that. I'm considered offically disabled due to my autism, and it just fucking sucks ass. How lonely, under-stimulated yet easily over-stimulated, bored, meaningless and unfulfilled my life is. There are far more severely autistic people out there who somehow manage to live far more functional lives, and I'm jealous of that. I dunno how to break free from this misery. It feels like the only thing I've ever managed to accomplish in life is transitioning genders, and making art that I don't wanna sell. I wanna have a "normal" job, a car and driver's licence, I wanna have cats and a social life, I want parties at night clubs again, I want hobbies outside of my home; hookups, friends and lovers; I want to be able to have a functional romantic life with someone I can marry and start a family with.

But is any of that ever gonna happen? I hope so, but it feels bleak. Because my autism feels like such a huge burden on my life, and a huge hindrence to my dreams and goals... like I'm over 30 already and still a disabled and having my mom living half my life for me, miserable mess and not given any useful therapy, I'm left to my own vices to figure out how to adult... Because of all that, I hate my autism and I wish there was a cure, I swear to fuck. So for your question, how I deal with it: not fantastically. Not sure if you wanted a relay of my entire life, but I hope that’s okay! Didn’t know how else to answer your questions.

[anemonenemerosa]

The Spare - Chapter 11

And the story continues. This one is much less angsty. As always, a big thank you to @lumosinlove

Chapter 11

Regulus was woken by a heavy thud and someone swearing loudly. He was completely disoriented, his brain sluggish and not quite connecting what happened last night and how he ended up ...here. N’importe quoi… Whatever…

Blinking blearily, he spotted someone hopping on one leg, clutching their other foot in their hands, still generously swearing. Erm... He snorted at a remarkably colourful curse and the head of the girl, so it seemed, snapped up.

She looked him up and down through dark-rimmed glasses and the floppy top of her ashy-brown pixie-cut, presently sporting a rather impressive bed head, while gnawing her bottom-lip like Ben sometimes did.

"Sorry." But her barely concealed grin belied the soft mumbling. She wasn't so sorry.

He slowly began to comprehend what was amusing her. Regulus was sprawled on the couch, his feet tangling off one end, drool sticking to his cheek, half-entangled in the chicken-blanket and clad in a hideous shirt with cow pattern that barely covered his midriff. Short, he was the epitome of sophistication, grace and elegance. Ouais, enfin… c’est naze. Yeah, well... that sucks.

          He could feel himself turning beet red and sat up, violently scrubbing his cheek.

"Good morning, you want Tea?" she asks. Regulus nodded without listening to what he just agreed to. Maybe I won an Alpaca... Okay... I'm not awake yet. That is not an awake-Regulus thought.

While she turns to... get whatever he agreed to, he stood up and stretched in an attempt to wake up properly, feeling like he had barely slept at all. A glimpse on his phone confirmed his feeling: Half past five in the morning. He had about two and a half hours of sleep. He allowed himself his internal eyeroll, stretched again and winced, rubbing his stiff neck.

Then he took a look at the girl coming back from the kitchen with two steaming cups in her hands, a bottle of milk wedged between her upper arm and her ribcage and a paper bag of sugar pressed with her chin to her chest.

Regardless of the rather odd way of transporting stuff he notes that she is, no other way to say it, minuscule. Her shirt was reaching over her wide hips below mid-thigh and was most likely even smaller than the one he... clearly pulled off.

The girl -Josephine, he assumed- probably was around 5'2'' as she just reached the height of Regulus' shoulder, making him around a foot taller. How does she get to, like, half of the stuff in this room?

After briefly considering the height of Ben and Mateo, he wondered whether the door to the flat was a portal to the shire and he was now surrounded by friendly hobbits. Definitely mad. He snorted again. Since when did he even do this?

Jo dropped her cargo on the living room table without spilling anything, plopped down the couch and busied herself with the tea. When he settled down beside her, a cup was pressed into his hand while she poured milk into her own, gesturing for him to help himself. Concerning tea, Regulus had always been a purist. A bit of Lemon was acceptable in Earl Grey and that's about it. He eyed her milky-tea. Wasn't she british? Païenne. Heathen.

"I'm Jo. I sort of live here. Had an OK night?" she asked, not facing him.

"No" Regulus sore neck began to give him a tension headache and rubbing at it did not help at all.

At first, she just huffed at his deadpan answer but then looked up at him and he got a first look of her face. She was as pale as her brother, her face slim with a gentle jawline and high but not overexaggerated cheekbones. Her eyes were framed with very dark lashes, a dark blue borderlining green with hazel flecks around her Pupils similar to her brothers but also very different, open and sparkling, the bridge of her slightly broad button nose was sprinkled with pale freckles and the tip sported a silver septum-ring. Her full lips were currently being gnawed at, paired with a raised eyebrow. This soft and expressive face was about as different from his mother’s as possible and Regulus' stomach gave an undignified churn.

"Quoi?", he was suddenly very irritated, "I had about two hours of sleep and my brain is pounding through my skull! I have no nerve for idle chatter and polite exchange of pleasantries."

Jo gave him a second glance, put both their mugs at the table and sat down on top of the back of the couch, directly behind Regulus.

"What-" he started again but was curtly interrupted "Oh bloody hell, belt up!" What?!

"I am not nearly as socially gifted as the other two himbos. I do not beat around the bush, I do not small talk, I was a nice and considerate host, offered tea and stuff although I prefer my mornings calm and solitary. I do not have the patience to deal with snappy dudes on my couch so hold still. I'm gonna fix your neck and we try again." So, bullying people into feeling better runs in the family...

  That said, she pulled his shoulders back so that he was sitting straight and began carefully kneading his neck up to his hairline. I hurt. A lot, but somehow her hands tingled on his skin in a completely irrational matter. Then, Jos hands reached up to the base of his skull and her thumbs very precisely and firmly pressed on two rather sensitive spots he didn’t even know were there. Regulus gasped and tensed up.

"I know, but it gets better soon. Ben used to twist his neck all the time. I know what I’m doing." her voice was much softer now. Then, she pressed into similar tender spots on his shoulders and shuffled back to sit beside him.

"Better?"

He took a few breaths to realise that, indeed, the pain was almost gone. "Yes."

"Nice. Shall we have a civil and less snappy conversation now?" It came over rather rude but there was a smirk in her eyes and a corner of a lip was twitching slightly.

"Why are you even awake now?" Regulus mumbled after sitting in silence for a while.

"Just am. I've always been an early riser and as resident introvert I do genuinely enjoy mornings on my own to prepare for a day full of dealing with people and have other exasperating encounters."

Regulus turned his head towards her. "Are you always this plain about things?"

By now, Jo had tucked herself in the corner of the couch, sitting cross-legged and playing with a hole in her sock.

"As I told you, I do not beat around the bush. I mean, I am capable of cordiality but interaction with people is bound to lead to miscommunication. Why make it worse by hidden meanings, hinting on things or even expecting that the other one is a mind reader... People are hard work as is; Many of them are daft, stubborn or worse, both. I prefer to keep strangers at an arm’s length."

Instead of a witty remark, Regulus gave an embarrassing little chuckle. How very eloquent... He liked her view on society. "You are a little overdramatic now, don’t you think? Besides, you just gave me a neck massage. That was closer than an arm’s length."

"No and no." He risked a side glace at her, caught a short smirk and smiled into his tea, realised what he was doing and gave an internal admonishing glare at his composure.

"I suspect you know the difference between literally and metaphorically, too. So m'just gonna continue in the belief you're shitting with me. Here you go with the literal answer: The massage was self-preservation. You're an unbearable little git when in pain."

Regulus raised his eyebrows in a mock expression and leaned in the opposite corner of the couch "I see. Am I now of decent demeanour, your grace?"

"Surprisingly tolerable." She returned the with a smirk.

They bantered and talked about random stuff (A great amount of time was put into determining the best Disc World Series – Truce between Ankh-Morpok City Watch and Death) for what felt like hours and seconds at the same time. Regulus profession was not even part of the conversation and he didn't think he had ever talked for so long with someone without getting to hockey and the mess that came with the name Black, eventually.

He felt strangely at ease here, catching himself paying less attention to his meticulously established guard. He barely scanned Jos words for hidden implications or concealed prying, like he was so used to do. It became so much second nature to him that, until now, he didn't even realise how exhausting this habit was.

What the hell? Reg asked himself not for the first time since meeting Ben in the rink-showers and he was starting to freak out a little.

After an uncommonly long silence he noticed Jo looking at him again while gnawing her lips. It seemed to be a giveaway that she's about to ask something uncomfortable.

"Reg?" The use of the pet-name felt like a slap. He should really tell them to stop this.

"How do you know my name?" Apparently, Regulus was still not used to being known.

"The note this morning only read: The guy on the Couch is Reg, be nice." Jo really tried to sound light-hearted.

Regulus was starting to get suspicious again. "Ah. What?"

"I do not want you to feel like shit so tell me if you do not want to answer: Why are you here?" Jo shiften unconftably in her corner.

"I do not want to answer." Regulus prepared himself for the inevitable interrogation.

"OK." Here we go… Wait.

"That’s it?"

"Sure, why would I pry?" The girl furrowed her brows while looking at him over the brim of her cup.

He felt strangely content until now, that he remembered why he was here and asked himself what these people actually wanted from him. The knot in his stomach was back with full force as he felt the waves of guilt washing over him.

He ruined his brother live and was sitting on a couch, drinking tea and joking around with strangers? He got up abruptly, plucked is clothes from the heating unit and changed quickly, not giving a flying fuck about giving the girl a prime view of his naked arse. Jo stood between him and the couch, her brows still furrowed.

"I need to go." With that he was out of the door and only just heard her calling

"Hey idiot, you can come back this evening if you want to" before the doors of the elevator closed. Smooth, Black. Real smooth.

[tropicalfreckles]

Friends Again CH 5

MASTER LIST found here

SUMMARY: A new dilemma has risen in Lydia that she takes to the only one she can talk to about it.

SOLIDARITY

B**TLEB*BES DNI

(TW mentions of J*no, mentions of murder(no murder tho), mentions of bullying, mentions of the wedding death scene)))

Another day of school, another day of Lydia having complex feelings bubble up in her stomach. This was getting borderline exhausting with all the thoughts she kept bottled up inside. Even though she had become more comfortable with her therapist, she still wasn't sure if she wanted to just spill her guts out about these thoughts. Closing the front door behind her, she swung her backpack off while exhaling a long groan. No one was home yet except for the Maitlands, of course. They were probably upstairs since she didn't see them after scanning the living room. Rummaging through her backpack on the table she pulled out things she needed for homework then sluggishly retreated upstairs. School wasn't engaging and often times left her yearning for more. The Maitlands had recently found a way to help make her learning more simulating through their ghostly powers. They were still learning themselves. They tried learning more from the Handbook for the Recently Deceased. However, as Adam put it, it 'read like radio instructions'. Lydia didn't have too much of a hard time understanding it personally. Though that probably was because she loved deciphering the nonsensical text.

Should she let the Maitlands know she's home?

She usually would announce herself. Yet, that feeling wasn't leaving her stomach. It dampening her mood. Lydia didn't want to bother the ghostly couple with her problem. Since she still didn't understand it entirely herself. It was days like these she wished her mom was still alive. Regret wove itself in her every once in a while for leaving the Netherworld. Missing her chance to reconnect with her mother again. She knew deep down it was for the best. She would've also liked it if Delia and her dad had waited for a while before getting wed. She understood though they felt the fleetingness of life and wanted to make the best of it as long as they both were breathing. That would be another can of worms for Lydia to tackle another day. Lydia tossed her things on her bed when she entered her room. Closing the door behind her then took off her shoes. Her nerves were starting to get the best of her when she walked over to her mirror and gazed at herself.

"Why are feelings stupid..." She muttered. Grabbing a hair tie off of her stand, she ran her fingers through the raven locks tying it up.

"That's because you breathers have too many feelings; It makes shit complicated." A gravely voice chimed in. Lydia flinched for a moment then turned to scowl at the older man.

"I told you that you couldn't come into the house yet!" She snarled at him. Lydia began rubbing the pads of her forefinger and middle in circles against the temple of her head. Beetlejuice snorted then crossed his arms.

"You ain't exactly the boss of me kid. I do what I want. Within reason of your dumb rules. Besides, I was bored waiting in the stupid cemetery. There weren't any breathers to mess with today so I couldn't get anyone else to say my name." Beetlejuice rambled on, giving Lydia a shrug. The young teen threw herself face first on her bed. She thought over for a moment how risky this was.

"You didn't let Barabara and Adam see you, right?" Lydia questioned, sitting up a little on her elbows. Beetlejuice hummed while pulling his eyes out from their sockets.

"Nope, not a peep!" He snickered while tossing them in the air like a pair of die. Lydia looked on unamused before rolling on her back to stare up at the ceiling. The demon popped his eyes back in.

"Oh boy, are you having one of those angsty teen moments again? Am I gonna have to leave while you recite goth poetry or some shit?" He floated up from the ground then whipped over to her. Lydia inhaled deeply before giving a loud groan.

"Go away if you're gonna be an ass." Lydia reached out for a pillow to grab. Beetlejuice tensed up as he knew it was meant for his face. He deflated a little when he saw her hug then bury herself against it. Just as the teen hated when he would get moody, he felt the same about her. Though it was strange, the past three months now that they've been hanging out he has started to feel something he never had before. Was it that gross thing called empathy? He sighed deeply while busying himself with picking at his nails. This was going to require some finesse.

"Alright, you twisted my arm Lyds. What's bugging ya? What can your ol' pal Mr. Betelboose do to, ugh, 'help'?" He peered from the corner of his eye to see if she'd budge. She did not. He did get a grunt in response. Some progress was a win for him. Lydia flailed her legs a little as a muffled groan rose from her. The demon patiently waited for her to speak.

"As bizarre as it is to say.." Lydia dug her fingernails into her pillow as she pulled it away from her face finally. Her features scrunched up, her lips pursed. Relaxing after a moment of what looked like deep contemplation from Beetlejuice's perspective she finally spoke. "I think you might be the only person I can talk to about this." Lydia softly spoke.

Now, this was interesting.

She was actually being vulnerable to him. He only saw her do that once and that was when she summoned him back from the Netherworld. That was because of everything that built up from before. This seemed to be a new dilemma on the young girl's mind. He waved his hand to let her know she could continue.

"Beej. When did you discover that you had feelings for guys, too?" Lydia drawled out while shiftily gazing around the room. Anywhere other than making eye contact. Beetlejuice stroked his scruffy chin while trying to figure out what she meant by that. Was there a boy she liked? Did his stoic bratty friend actually have sappy feelings as well?

Wait.

"You're asking how I knew I was into more than just women? Well, first off, there is one thing ya gotta know about the Netherworld. Most folks swing both if not all ways." Beetlejuice jokingly conjured up a baseball bat and took multiple swings in different directions with it. It earned him a snort which he grinned at before continuing.

"It kind of came as an easy realization for me. I know that the stupid shit you breathers go about here on the mortal plane carries off into the Netherworld sometimes. It doesn't stick for long cause who the hell are you gonna complain to? No one." He rolled his eyes remembering all of the bigoted folks that would come through and get their panties in a twist at how the rest of the Netherworld was. While he wasn't the biggest fan of staying there all the time it wasn't always horrible there. The world of the living was more of a party for him.

"How did you really know, though?" Lydia hugged the pillow closer to her while sitting up. Beetlejuice plopped himself onto the bed next to her. Lydia had a surprisingly smart melon in that goth head of hers. He was curious why she was doubting herself so much.

"Probably when I made out with that one famous painter." He picked at his teeth. Lydia arched a brow.

"Which one?"

"You know me, scarecrow, don't kiss and tell." He grinned at her. Lydia gently smacked his knee.

"Oh BS, you always name drop famous people." She snorted. Beetlejuice snickered, moving his hands behind him then slid back more on the bed.

"You're right, I just don't remember the guy's name right now. Listen. I guess I get it. I've been observing you breathers for almost a millennia. Feelings are gross. But I know when it comes to this stuff it can be hard. Especially for kids. If there's something ya gotta blab to me about." He tilted his head in her direction while making sure he had her attention. She gave a slow nod for him to continue, "Then I'm listening."

Lydia inhaled deeply. This was nerve-racking. She just didn't know how to even express herself.

"I... I might have." Lydia banged her head into the soft pillow and gave a small whine. "I might.. like a girl at school." She spoke barely above a whisper. Beetlejuice leaned over since he could barely hear her. Lydia wrinkled her nose at the smell yet allowed him to do so.

"What was that kid? Gotta speak up." He gave a coy smile. Lydia scowled at him then looked away.

"I said... That I might like a girl at school. I'm not repeating myself again." Her cheeks were heating up at how embarrassing this was. Not so much expressing her feelings. It was more talking about a damn school crush to her stupid demon friend she was starting to make amends with. She looked over to him after a moment of making sure he wasn't going to tease her then noticed him grinning wide.

"Yeah, that's what I thought you said. HA. Of course, you're into girls! Look at you, you're tiny, snarky all the time and goth." Beetlejuice yammered on as he elbowed her side.

"Ha-ha, is this amusing to you or something? I just spilled my damn guts out." Lydia frowned, her cheeks flushed. Beetlejuice shook his head.

"Eh, maybe a little, I just find it funny that widdle Lydia has a crush. Always figured you were too feral and hated people too much for that." He pinched her cheek. She was close to snapping her teeth at his fingers. She opted for batting his hand away. Lydia wiped her cheek with her sleeve. He snickered in response then rested his elbows on his knees.

"Call me 'widdle' again and I'll throw you off the roof as I did before." She stuck her tongue out at him then took note of him smirking at her. "What?"

"Nuthin'. Just weird seeing you actually act like a teenager instead of your usual dry, deadpan self." He patted her hard on the back to which she grunted at him. "Good for you! Better to be your real self than locking that shit away. Dolores and Chuck'll probably be. I don't know, what's that word you breathers use now? 'Woke'? About this. I know the Maitlands will be. Ugh, they are just soooo supportive it's disgusting." He gagged at his last sentence to which Lydia rolled her eyes.

"I don't know if I'm going to tell anyone. At least not yet." Lydia softly spoke as she played with the pillow resting in her lap. Beej quirked a brow at her then snorted. He gave a soft bap on her head with his fist.

"Listen. I don't normally give pep talks that aren't about scaring, murder or crap. I guess I can try to understand. Daphne might be too intrusive about it. Chuck might just be super awkward about it and say something embarrassing. The other nerds are definitely gonna dote on you." Beetlejuice picked at his teeth. "Eh, take your time if you wanna. Just know that the Netherworld when ya shed your meat-sack body is gonna be fine with who or what yer into. Fuck what anyone else thinks." He let out a long yawn then stretched a little. "Trying to be nice makes me wanna take a nap or doing something nasty. Or hurl. Can't decide, this is gross."

Lydia looked over the demon while taking note of his words. She snickered at him dramatically pretending to upheave then shoved him.

"Stop being gross for five minutes." Lydia snorted then sat back on her bed finally letting go of her pillow. "Honestly.. My stomach is in a knot still. Part of me kind of wants to tell her however I don't want people to.." Midway through Lydia trailed off into a soft whisper. "I just don't want more of a reason for people to target me at school. I can handle myself for the most part. Just kind of hard when they gang up on me." She tugged at the edge of her school uniform. Without skipping a beat Beetlejuice responded.

"Want me to kill 'em for ya? I mean, if they're that big of lil assholes I'd probably be doing their parents a favor." Beetlejuice grinned while taking out a knife from his sleeve. "I'll 'cut' them down to size!" He cackled while swishing the knife around. Lydia ducked down then snorted.

"No. Murder isn't the answer to everything, BJ. Those girls are jerks but they aren't the root of the problem. Kids don't naturally act like bigoted brats. It's probably coming from their parents or something, to begin with." Lydia grabbed his arm to make him stop swinging the knife. Beetlejuice clicked his tongue then thought over what she said.

"Alright. Kill the parents and the brats. Two for two-plus no sad little orphans!" Beetlejuice hovered off the bed in glee while throwing his arms up into the air. "It'll be a real scream Lyds! Just let me loose on 'em! Come on! I haven't killed anyone since Juno!" He flexed his fingers while looking to her like an overjoyed child in a candy store. Lydia raised her hand up with a shake of her head.

"Didn't I just say murder wasn't the answer to everything?" She answered dryly while quirking a brow at him.

"I don't know, you murdered me pretty fast to try and kick my ass into the Netherworld," Beetlejuice muttered. Lydia inhaled deeply through her nostrils then slapped his thigh with her pillow.

"I'm serious. No murdering people on my behalf. I appreciate the enthusiasm but I don't want the cops on me. Making people suffer is more fun anyway." Lydia dropped the pillow then stretched her legs out. Beetlejuice floated back down to the bed then gave a little pout.

"Bah. Thought you were more fun than that, kid. Though torture also sounds like a blast." He stroked his scruffy chin. The goth teen kicked her feet against the edge of the bed.

"I was thinking more about pranking." She chuckled. "You know.. I might try talking to that girl. Just not yet." Lydia lulled her head against her shoulder to peer back at the demon. "I hate to stroke that big ego of yours. I wanna tell you that I kind of appreciate you talking to me about this. It's nice to talk to someone else who is attracted to the same gender." She took out her phone then opened the browser.

"Plus I see myself as more than one gender. Though that's a topic for another time, kid." He waved his hand as a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Lydia swung her head up to stare at him.

"Oh; does that mean you're genderfluid?"

"Gender what now?" Beetlejuice quizzically stared at her while scratching the top of his scalp. Lydia quickly brought something up on her phone then showed him.

"You identify as more than one gender. See?" Lydia began scrolling through a website about the LGBTQ+ community while Beetlejuice crossed his arms and tried reading over it.

"Huh. Well shit. Guess so? Then what's being attracted to more than one gender?" He quickly snatched the phone out of her hand to look over it more.

"Well, that is a broader category. You could be either Bisexual or Pansexual." She sat up on her knees as she pressed the pad of her forefinger into the screen. Slowly she scrolled back up on the browser and pointed out the two. Beetlejuice hummed then plopped the phone back into her lap.

"Learn something new every day!" Beetlejuice grinned. The two froze when they heard the familiar voice of a woman echoing through the house.

"Lydia?? Are you home? We can get started on your homework if you want!" Barbara's hand began phasing through the door. With that Beetlejuice flung himself out the window as Lydia swatted grave dirt he left behind on her bed.

"Coming Barbara!" Lydia called.

She couldn't keep hiding him forever.

[spideesenses]

Hii I love your writing!! I was wondering if you can do part 2 to bully destroyer??

<<part one

You maintained quite the reputation. You’d become well-known and respected for standing up to Flash, but you didn’t exactly like the attention. You were borderline wallflower at this point. Flash kept his word, he apologized to all the kids he terrorized, keeping hus insulting to a minimum, in fear you’d pop out of nowhere and kick his ass.

The upperclassmen referred to you as the Army Brat. With someone with moved and reflexes like you, you had to have had someone in your family be in the military. Something like that. You became close with Ned. There was something about him at seemed so genuine to you. You liked it. He proved to be completely loyal and honest with you. You hung out with him a lot and although Peter was his best friend, you never seemed to see him around as often.

“He’s got a Stark Internship,” Ned explained. You squinted your eyes, but nodded your head anyway.

“Really? That’s pretty cool.” you shrugged, not wanting to delve deep into the topic. “He must be pretty special if he was chosen for an internship with Tony Stark.”

“Uh, yeah...” Ned nodded his head with a sheepish smile. “You know what I noticed? I don’t really know much about you. Other than, you’ve been expelled from two schools already, you like hot cheetos, your favorite subject is P.E, and you’re an army brat. What do you like to do in your spare time?”

You pursed your lips. “I know this is kind of weird, mostly because it’s the trend nowadays to hate on being active, but I like being active. Jogging in the morning around Manhatten, wrestling a monkey, fighting for women’s rights. I mostly go sparring with my uncle, if not that, then we go to Philly and train there. Only because he really likes Rocky.”

“Is that why you come to school looking so awake? You jog? What time do you usually wake up?” Ned furrowed his eyebrows in surprise. He could’ve guessed that you were a health nut. With a figure like yours, it was clear as day that you didn’t build legos in your spare time. But he understood why. You were in fact, an army brat.

“Yeah, I guess? I wake up at 0500, military time for-“

“Five in the morning, yeah I know.” Ned nodded knowingly, still shocked. That was your life. Even on late start days, you’d be at school earlier than you needed to be. “So, do you go to bed at like 8 at night then?” he questioned.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Do you have hobbies?” Ned was sure you didn’t. While you weren’t in any extracurricular classes, you exceeded expectations in every class you were in. You had Bagley with him, he knew the amounts of homework she’d slam students with. How could you possibly have time to hang out with friends with that bedtime of yours?

“Oh, I-“ you laughed to yourself and looked down. “I don’t really have friends. I mean, other than you. But I don’t really hangout?” Ned hadn’t realized he had asked that outloud. “As far as hobbies go, I guess fighting? Not just punching kids and getting kicked out of schools. Just being able to get in your opponent’s head, the strategy. I’m a pretty good fighter, not gonna lie.” that was half true. You were a good fighter. But you wouldn’t consider it a hobby of yours. You’d been training for as long as you could remember, Uncle Sammy wanting to make you a better Wilson than your father ever was. Yeah, you were good. But only because you had to be.

“You gotta show me how you kick ass. You realize everyone’s scared of you, right?” Ned said excitedly. He was happy to be close with you. You were interesting.

“I don’t want people to be afraid of me,” you frowned. You didn’t want people to pay attention to you anyway. You were here to get the grades and graduate, you’d already fucked up by making friends. Friends were never part of the agenda.

“Not like that,” Ned tried to defend. “They’re not gonna mess with you. Flash hasn’t traumatized a kid in a week! You’re kind of like a superhero at this point.” and he truly believed that you were. He seemed to be surrounded by heros.

“Nah, I’m not gonna take Spiderman’s title. He cleanly deserves all of that glory.” and there was the name drop. Ned was wondering how long it was gonna take you to bring him up.

“You like him?”

“Never met him.” you shrugged your shoulders as Ned stole a cherry out of your fruit bowl. “I think it’s cool, what he’s doing. Seems like a good kid.”

Throughout the day, Ned had been begging you to hangout with him. It really bothered him that you didn’t have any time for friends, your life was overrun by school and your army antics.

“You don’t have to sleep over; it’s preferred because we usually finish later at night, but I understand why you wouldn’t. I’m a dude and you’ve got your morning routine.” Ned tried to bargain with snacks too.

“Being a guy is the least of my worries Ned. My uncle’s not that protective, at least I don’t think. But I don’t know...” you were considering it. Which was a step.

“Please! MJ will be there, I’m not sure how close you are to her, but it’ll be fun.” movie marathon this weekend at Ned’s? Starting off with the Twilight movies?

“I didn’t know you were into romance movies Ned.” to be truthful, Ned was a hopeless romantic. He was just humble and quiet about it. Nowadays, it was like you’d get made fun of for being soft and having a heart. “I’ll be there.” you hoped for the best.

“Really?! Sweet! Uh, awesome!” Ned was ecstatic.

“I’ll leave in the morning, but I’ll probably be back at around noonish. My uncle with get on my ass about training.” you sheepishly explained.

“Yeah yeah, no worries. I get that... So does thag mean yes on the sour patch watermelons?”

“Absolutely not.” Sam deadpanned.

“But Sammy,” you frowned. “I already said I was going.”

“Well, tell him you’re not going. Boys are disgusting, and besides, you’ve got training.” Sam Wilson was a stubborn dude. But you knew you could probably convince him.

“Ned’s not like that. He’s literally the softest puppy you could ever meet. Dude likes the Twilight movies, do you think he’d hurt a fly? Besides, MJ will be there. She’s cool too, she’s the one that tripped me with her skateboard but actually ended up saving me from getting hit by a car in the parking lot. She says she meant to do it, but I think it was an accident.” your uncle stared at you with a blank expression.

“You realized when I said ‘no’, I meant ‘no’ and not ‘convince me’, right?” you blinked once, frowning as you tried your puppy dog eyes. He flinched a little, shaking his head as he refused to fall for your cute little face. Looks can be deceiving, your puppy dog eyes with your bold personality? Definitely deceiving. “Nah, nah, you ain’t fooling me. That shit might work on Bucky, but you’ll never get what you want from me.”

“What works on me?” Bucky appeared in the kitchen. He greeted his best friend with a fistbump.

Bucky and Sam kind of co-parented you since you’d moved in. Sam was the stubborn, hard-to-crack dad while Bucky was the nicer and easygoing dad who tried his best to let you have your way, as long as there were boundaries!

“Y/N wants to go to a sleepover this weekend. I told her no because boys are weird and she has to train.” Sam folded his arms, giving Bucky a stern look, knowing Bucky would try to convince him to let you go.

“Sam, let Y/N be a teenager for once.” Bucky sighed.

“Absolutely not. We have a strict schedule that we stick by. It works.”

“Life shouldn’t have formulas.” frowned Bucky. “Besides, Y/N doesn’t ever go out with friends. She hasn’t ever had them.”

“Thanks Uncle Buck.” you pouted.

“So, I think this is gonna be good for her. She’s still a high schooler, you shouldn’t put her through bootcamp through all of it. I mean, her grades? They look great. I think she’s earned a bit of fun time without having to worry about her training. Just let her have fun this weekend.” Bucky egged on for you. Sam’s arms didn’t uncross. His face had hardened as he stared at Bucky like he’d betrayed him. He was almost sold. Almost.

“H-Hey Y/N,” Peter had been trailing behind Tony Stark. Then his eyes widened in realization, “Y/N? Hey?..”

“You two know each other?” Sam narrowed his eyes at the teenager, eyes flickering back and forth between the two.

“They go to the same school, I’d hope so.” Tony answered for them.

“Hey,” you waved at Peter before pointing at him and squinting your eyes. “Stark Internship, right?” you questioned with a confused gaze. You knew Tony didn’t just didn’t hand out jobs, so for Peter to really be in the compound was a little weird to you. But then again, you weren’t exactly the closest friendship with Tony, so what did you know. You had a love-hate relationship, frenemies if you will. There was no reason for the animosity really, Tony saw a part of himself, a younger him, in you. Sort of troubled with deep-rooted insecurity and needs. He wanted to be able to help you, hence why he let you stay at the compound. You and him just never really got along.

“Uh, yeah, h-how’d you know about that?” Peter sort of blushed. The last time he’d seen her was when she had defended him.

“Ned.”

“Ned’s the guy you’re trying to have a sleepover with?” Sam butted in.

“You’re having a sleepover with Ned? And MJ?” Peter assumed. Ned had told him about it in hopes of Peter dropping by. Peter didn’t know if he could, so he didn’t give a for sure answer. But now that he knew you were going to possible be there, he had to go.

“Ah, nah wait.” Sam narrowed his eyes at the teenage boy, Tony standing beside Peter’s in his defense. “You’re not going to be there, are you? Nah, nah, now you’re definitely not going.”

“Sam-“ Bucky exclaimed before Tony had cut them off. He couldn’t stand to see them arguing again.

“Y/N, you have a mission this weekend.” your eyes almost bulged out of your head in shock. “You’re going to go to that sleepover and you’re gonna have fun like normal kids do. I’ll have you do your mission report on Sunday afternoon.” Tony patted your back as he ventured off to his lab.

Sam stormed after the man, bickering with him as you and Peter stayed behind, Bucky sauntering away as he mumbled something about Sam being too stubborn. You faced Peter who was avoiding your eyes at all costs. You may not be your uncle, but you two shared the same trait of intimidating stares. He knew he recognized those dark eyes somewhere.

“So, you’re that kind of Wilson?” Peter asked. He didn’t realize the shared last name. It was pretty common too. He’d been around the compound for weeks, how had he not seen you?

“Yeah. Had I known you were this close to Tony, I would’ve mentioned it.” you shrugged. Peter was an intern, not an assistant, there was no reason for him to be at the living compound.

“He’s uh- got me working on a special project, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Yeah! I mean, I don’t really know much about it. He just had me sign a confidentiality form, so I’m not really supposed to talk about it.” he trailed off, rubbing the nape of his neck. He was a flustered mess and it made you smile. His deep brown eyes flickered towards yours and he cursed at himself for giving in; he couldn’t look away, he didn’t want to.

“Relax Peter, no one’s gonna bite your head off.” you reached over and tugged on the collar of his shirt that was stuck under his vest top, smoothing it over lightly. “So, I’ll be seeing you around more often then?” your touch made him tense up. He wasn’t used to pretty girls touching him, or talking to him for that matter.

“Y-Yeah! I mean, yeah, I’d hope so.” his eyes widened at the words that came tumbling out of his mouth before he could catch them. Before he could stutter another response, you shook your head with a kind smile.

“I’m hoping so too Peter. If you see me, don’t hesitate to come say hi.” you walked backwards, maintaining the eye contact that he was so afraid of since the beginning.

Realization struck Peter. You were an Avenger, probably, and you lived where he trained with Tony and Steve as Spiderman.

“Oh, fuck,” he cursed to himself.

[considergoldenkamuy]

calloused hands

i tried to make this good bc i love my son but it isn’t as serious or impactful as i would have liked. also, we’re pretending he came back to japan halfway through high school

BORDERLINE SEXUAL HARASSMENT, SHORT DESCRIPTION OF SEVERE BULLYING - READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION

"Good morning, Genzo-kun." The man offered the elementary schooler a grin, who nodded in return. "What brings you here this early in the morning?"

"Oh. I just wanted to get some green tea since we're out at home."

"You're in luck, we just got a new shipment." The man smiled, before standing up. But just as he was about to go to the door, a girl around Genzo's age walks in, holding a heavy-looking crate with bottles inside. "Ah! I told you that you didn't have to get it."

"But you're tired!" She frowns at her father, and Genzo suddenly can't move.

She's really cute, with nice brown hair, tied up by an orange elastic with a cherry blossom charm, warm chestnut eyes, pale skin, and a kind face. She's wearing a tee shirt, but it's smudged with dirt, and a pair of shorts. The girl looks oddly masculine, but he feels his heart stop.

"You're just on time, actually. Could you give one to the boy over there?"

When she notices him, Genzo's shoulders raise, a little pink tinting his ears when she beams at him.

"Hello!" The girl walks over to him and offers him the box. "Here, pick one! They just got here so it doesn't really matter which."

"O-Oh..." He stammers awkwardly, not having expected her to be so forward. The boy takes one carefully. "Thanks."

"Sure!” She sniggers, introducing herself before asking for his name.

"Wakabayashi Genzo. I live next door."

"That's weird, I've never seen you before." She frowns, but smiles again. "Okay! Nice to meet you! I have to put these away now, bye!"

He stares after her in confusion and bewilderment, making her father laugh.

"Don't try anything weird, okay?"

"W-What?"

"Nothing, nothing." The man chuckles as he goes back to the counter. "Take it, it's on the house."

"Oh - thank you!" He smiles, waving as he leaves and runs back home. The store owner is still grinning a little.

"Looks like our daughter's already got an admirer, honey." He hums, glancing at the portrait of a woman next to the cash register. The man smiles nostalgically. "Looks like he's a good one."

"Ah, Wakabayashi-san!"

Genzo almost flinches at the sound of her voice, the entire team turning toward the voice.

"She's pretty..." Someone murmurs but he doesn't have the time to snap at them. A familiar girl comes into view, stopping her bike and taking the large bag from the back onto her shoulder, looking like it weighed nothing at all.

Genzo says her name as a greeting with a friendly smile. "Did you come all the way here just to deliver?"

"Of course I did, no one at your house ever comes to the door." She huffs lightly before seeing everyone else. "Oh - I'm sorry, did I interrupt practice?"

"No, it's fine!" Tsubasa chips in. "We just finished a practice match."

"Good." She looks relieved as the girl quickly makes her way down the small incline over to Genzo. "Should I put them by your bag?"

"Oh - no, it's fine. I'll take them."

The boys watch with curiosity as the girl takes a small box from the bag and hands it to him.

"I'm glad I ran into you, otherwise you'd have to pick it up tomorrow - see you later!"

"Bye!" He waves after her and she grins, waving back before she's at her bike again and off in the distance.

"Who was she?" Kojiro asks, raising a brow.

"Oh. She and her father run a small store next door to my place."

"You've got a girl that cute living right next to you?!" Ishizaki exclaimed.

"Er..." Genzo's expression turns awkward, not really sure how to respond. "Yes...?"

They refuse to leave him alone after that.

"Wakabayashi-san!"

"You're here too?!"

They stare at each other in surprise. They're in the same high school homeroom.

"Eh?! You know Genzo-kun?!"

"Mhm, but I haven't seen him in a while."

"You gotta to introduce us some time, he's super cute!"

The girl shifts awkwardly as the girls in her class interrogate her.

"There you are."

Her expression brightens, hearing a familiar voice. She's saved. Her classmates look moonstruck and shocked when the Wakabayashi Genzo, the school's male idol, walks over to her with a casual air. He's smiling.

"Wakabayashi-san." The girl greets him warmly, standing.

"Come on, I promised you that you could watch practice when I got back." He notices the other girls staring at him. "Can I help you?"

"O-Oh, uhm," they all start stammering nervously.

"C-Can I have your number?" One manages, making him blink. Genzo stares for a moment before smiling sheepishly.

"You're Sakamoto-san, right? Sorry, I don't know you very well, so I'm not very comfortable with..."

"N-No, it's fine! I'm sorry!" The girl stammers. "I shouldn't have asked so suddenly!"

"I'm sorry, again." Genzo chuckles awkwardly before seeing his friend walk up to him. His rather impressive height makes her look small in comparison, but neither seem to be acknowledging it. "Let's go?"

She nods, and the two leave the room without another word.

"Where's that bruise from?"

Genzo perks when he hears the store owner ask his daughter a concerning question.

"Oh. It's nothing, I got hit by a basketball during gym today."

"You need to be more careful!"

He knows that's not why, Genzo knows it. She's been getting a lot of bruises and cuts lately, but she refuses to tell him how - she's been avoiding him, even. He's getting worried.

"You need to stay away from Genzo-kun, stupid bitch. He's ours, not yours!"

The girl flinches when she gets kicked again, curling up in a ball as her vision begins to grow blurry. She's tired of this, but she can't tell anyone. Her dad would beat the girls up and she doesn't want Genzo to know. She chokes, a little blood dripping from her lips as she lays still. The girls scoff at her, ramming a foot into her side again. She cries out weakly, back slamming into the all of the school and crumpling onto the floor.

"Maybe we should just find some other boy and have him teach you not to fight back. Maybe he can play with you a bit."

"But we can just do that, can't we?" One of them asks, a wicked grin on her face. Fear flashes in the girl’s eyes as she struggles to back away from them, but the leader is already smirking and holding her down. She tries to scream, but her voice is almost gone.

"S...Stop it....! Don't touch me - !" The teen tries to wrench away from them, but they've already yanked off her blazer and ripped open her shirt. Tears start spilling down her face as she weakly attempts to fight back, but her body is too tired and hurt to do anything.

"Look at the poor thing, she's sobbing." One mocks her, yanking her head up by her hair before slapping her across the face. They pull her skirt off with a bit of trouble. "Shut up, unless you want us to make this worse."

"Are you in here?"

All of them freeze when they hear their very Genzo's voice calling out to her from outside in the gym, calling the girl's name. There's a few other pairs of footsteps behind him.

"Are you sure she's still on campus?" It's Kojiro - the girls all pale. If he finds them, they're done for - his reputation as aggressive is by no means a secret, nor is it false.

"Can we check the closet?" Tsubasa's light voice reaches them as well.

Two girls go to the door and make sure the lock is done from the inside. It clangs a few times.

"Huh? That's weird, it's locked."

"Locked? That's impossible, the door can't be locked unless it's from the inside."

"Wait." Genzo walks up to the door, looking a little worried. He calls her name carefully.

"There's no way she's - "

The sound of struggling followed by a chair toppling over is all the three need to get a deathly clear idea of what's going on. Genzo's worried face turns into one of dread and panic. He calls her again, louder this time. "Are you in there?! Say something!"

"Wakaba - stop it! Get away from me!"

The three of them all look horrified before Hyuga shoves the other two out of the way and readies himself before kicking he door down. There's several squeaks and the three teammates are almost too shocked to move by what they see.

The very one they've been searching for is cowering on the floor with maybe three or four girls on top of her, her clothes almost entirely ripped to shreds and removed with bruises and gashes all over her body. There are seven girls in the room in total besides, and they all look panicked.

Genzo is the first to recover, uncharacteristically shoving Tsubasa out of the way and rushing over to the young woman fallen on the floor. His eyes are full of pure and chilling rage, a snarl on his face that makes them all cower.

"Get the fuck away from her before I kill you."

They all shiver in fear, but one steps forward.

"We were just trying - !"

"To what? Bully her? Harass her? Sexually assault her? Because that's exactly what it looks like."

Kojiro growls, even the usually calm Tsubasa looking furious. Genzo makes a beeline to the girl’s trembling form, her assailants backing away from him like he would burn them. He kneels by her side, looking worried out of his mind.

"Did you guys find her?!" Misaki calls from the gym door.

"Call the teachers or police and an ambulance here. Now." Kojiro's demanding voice doesn't leave space for argument. They all seem to get the basic idea and immediately get to it, the assailants seeming to suddenly realize how deep the shit was that they were in.

"N-No - !"

"Shut up!"

Kojiro's shout quiets everyone in the gym and closet, save Genzo, who is taking off his sweater and carefully pulling it over the girl's head so she has something to wear other than her underwear and unclasped bra. This situation is too mortifying to be worried about getting flustered.

"You think you can fucking talk your way out of this?! You have no god damn idea how worried we've been because of how many injuries she's been getting recently with no explanation! Something has been wrong for weeks now, and you think we're actually going to fucking let you off after seeing you ripping her fucking clothes off while she's screaming?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

Genzo just wraps his arms around the girl, letting her sob quietly, shaking and sucking in unsteady breaths. He murmurs to her softly, reassuringly.

"It's okay now. It's okay. I'm here."

Trembling, her fingers grasp onto his shirt as the girl tried to choke down the whimpers. He ignores the blood from her cuts and nose that are staining his shirt - they don't matter. What matters is arresting these psychopaths and getting her to a hospital.

"The police and hospital are on their way here." Matsuyama steps forward. He already figured out what happened from Kojiro's outburst. "You can try escaping, but all of us are stronger and faster than you are. Stay still and things will be easier for all of us."

The girls are quiet and stunned as they're brought into the cars, the team making sure that Genzo and his friend got into the ambulance safely.

"I hope she's going to be okay," Ishizaki murmurs as the red and white vehicle drives off. No one speaks, but everyone knows they all agree with him.

Her father is absolutely livid when he gets the news, but when he sees his daughter and only living family on a hospital bed with an IV and more bandages than he's ever owned, all of it is replaced with worry.

"Thank you, Genzo-kun. I mean it."

"Don't thank me. I'm just glad she's safe." He murmurs, eyes never leaving the girl's face. The man watches Genzo's expression before a bitter sweet smile crosses him.

"You really love her, don't you?"

The boy looks a little surprised before he smiles sadly in return.

"...I guess I really do."

"Usually I wouldn't allow dating or anything, but try talking to her when she's ready for it. My daughter's liked you for a long time, she's never wanted to be a bother, either. That's probably why she never told you about this."

Genzo stares at the man for a moment before nodding.

They sit in a comfortable silence.

"Oh. Hi, Wakabayashi-san." Her voice is scratchy as she smiles tiredly and hesitantly, feeling him holding one of her hands in both of his. Genzo feels himself freezing, so many emotions flooding through him before he smiles, even if there's tears beginning to flow down his cheeks.

He whispers her name so softly, with a relief and revering typically reserved for prayer. It takes him a moment to speak, but all he can manage is a lame: "Hi."

Neither of them say a thing - her room is dead silent, but the air is warm. She wants to say she's sorry, and they both know that he knows it. So she doesn't speak. He wants to say he's so glad she opened her eyes and that she's steady on her way to recovery, how worried he's been, and they both know that she knows it.

So Genzo presses his forehead against her knuckles, and cries.

He cries, and cries, and cries, the guilt overwhelming. And yet he finds himself in her loose embrace once more, the girl sitting up slightly to wrap her arms around his form.

"It's okay, Wakabayashi-san. You didn't do anything wrong. Don't blame yourself."

She's so kind, she forgives so easily, giving him forgiveness he damned well knows he doesn't deserve. No, he doesn't deserve anything she gives him. He doesn't deserve her forgiveness, her warmth, her kind words, nothing.

"I'm so happy." Genzo's voice was soft and trembling, almost cracking as he holds her tightly. "I...I just..."

"What's wrong?"

She waits patiently for him. Even when the girl presses her lips to his forehead, he can't choke out the words he's wanted to say for years. Because he doesn't deserve to know what her answer would be. Even when he tries to speak, that simple phrase is mangled in his mind, shaped into something his skewed logic considers safer, when what would truly save him would be to just tell her.

I love you, Genzo wants to say, and yet it comes out so wrong.

"I don't want anything like this to happen to you again."

But the girl merely chuckles, petting his head.

"It won't. I promise."

The air is thick with tension, but he has to tolerate it. He can't confess to a girl he so strongly believea would never return his feelings. Her warmth is so comforting, he selfishly wants it all for himself. So Genzo nuzzles a little closer and falls asleep, the girl's calloused hands combing her fingers through his hair.

Maybe one day, Genzo Wakabayashi will be good enough for her.

But today is not that day.

[garbagejunk]

Being an autistic kid was weird

When I was a kid, I never realised how weird it must've been for my family of Iranians who are constantly hugging and kissing each other when they meet and greet and say their goodbyes to each other when they have this kid who doesn't do hugs and detests human contact in general. For me, a handshake was as far as I'd go with my family, I wouldn't do hugs because I always felt overwhelmed by them but with friends I was completely fine with hugs. For years I could never give anyone in my family hugs. Looking back in retrospect, the majority of them had probably never met anyone who had been diagnosed with autism, especially one so young so it must've been especially weird for them. I was born and raised in the UK, one side of the family is from Iran, the other is from England but I was raised pretty equally and no, even though I spent a lot of my life hearing people speak Farsi, I can't even speak a sentance. Best part of all this was definitely growing up and still not giving hugs with family all that often but I am slowly starting to. If you managed to read this far then congratulations and if you have questions, feel free to ask because there are no stupid questions.

[writingbarnes]

Best Regards, Steve Rogers

Summary : You really didn’t hate Steve Rogers, the resident graphic designer with – as Scott had put it – a heart of gold and zero self-perseverance. You really didn’t think you bore any resentment for the tenant who lived next to your apartment. Or that was what you were trying to think for the past month until you saw three post-it notes stuck on your apartment door when you got home from a meeting. NEIGHBOR AU!

Character : Steve Rogers x Reader  |  Genre : Fluff,crack, failed attempt at angst |  

Words : almost 2.5K

Author’s Note : Sometimes you get months of writer’s block and then you finished a one shot in a few hours :))) What is writing. I have like 2 version of this so if you see the kpop one that’s me 🤷

Enjoy <3 Tell me what you think! Thank you @pleasecallmecaptain for reading this mess and for the inspiration behind the rain boots lmao

You didn’t hate your neighbor, really. You barely knew the guy! Your landlord only told you his name was Steve and that he was a graphic designer. “Maybe you know each other!” Scott, your overly optimistic borderline dopey landlord had said when you mentioned you were a music producer. That was not how it works, but you couldn’t really destroy your landlord’s excitement, so you replied with a smile. You didn’t think you’ve even met the guy when you first moved in aside from the note slipped under your door telling you to stop making loud noises at night. It would have been fine if it weren’t for the fact that he took the time to doodle dying stick figures on one corner with one stick figure clanging cymbals on the other corner (you might have ended up replying with a very bad doodle and an equally passive-aggressive note but that was not the point).

You really didn’t hate Steve Rogers, the resident graphic designer with – as Scott had put it – a heart of gold and zero self-perseverance. Bucky Barnes, the resident grumpy cat lady who happened to be your cousin, had also told you the same thing, although with a very much more interesting choice of words (“the dumbass who’d jumped off a plane without a parachute because he thinks he’s cool” Bucky said as he helped you unload some boxes). But then again, you’ve spent most of your life with Bucky and you knew the guy never said anything nice to anyone except for his cats. Hell, he even told you, his favorite cousin, that you looked like 'the hairball his cat hacked up’ when you fought off some bullies who made fun of his prosthetic arm.

“He’s not that bad.” Natasha, the scary redhead lady who lived two floors above yours commented the other day. She had accidentally listened to Bucky’s very creative opinions on Steve. “Kinda dumb when it comes to girls, but a very decent guy. You look like you can get along with him.”

“Excuse me, are you implying I’m kinda dumb too?” You asked.

Natasha only flashed you a grin as she sauntered off and it reminded you of Bucky’s cat that would always try to claw your face whenever you came too close to it.

“Come to think of it, you are similar in some ways,” Bucky commented offhandedly as he picked up another box. “You have that look on your face.”

“What? Beauty?”

“It’s more of a perpetually confused look. But whatever helps you sleep at night.”

(You chucked your sandal at his head at his comment.)

So yes, you really didn’t think you bore any resentment for the tenant who lived next to your apartment. Or that was what you were trying to think for the past month until you saw three post-it notes stuck on your apartment door when you got home from a meeting.

“Do you want me to buy you a headphone? :(“

“It’s amazing how you and Bucky are friends for so long! I wouldn’t have survived it.”

And more intricate doodles of what you thought was you screaming while the other stick figures cried in the corner.

.

Steve Rogers was a little shit and you didn’t know why everyone thought you’d get along with him. You, as the mature adult that you were, decided to play loud music that night only for Steve to slip more notes and stupid passive-aggressive doodle at midnight. The exchange went on for the next three months. Which was why you were now lying on Bucky’s couch, asking him for more revenge ideas. You had played most of the songs on your favorite playlist, to the ones you hated. And you had collected a pile of post-it notes with doodles and weird notes that you were sure were filled with more passive aggressive messages and insults.

“He’s a little shit, Bucky.” You groaned.

“You have one more thing in common then,” Bucky replied.

“I am not!”

“Didn’t you try to make better brownies for the new neighbor last week?” You opened your mouth to retort, only for Bucky to cut you off, “and both of you ended up sending tons of food to our poor neighbor by the end of the week.”

“He started it.” You grumbled.

You should have known better. You should have left the apartment when you realized Bucky was silent for a good minute before his lips curled into the most obnoxious smile you have ever seen.

“[Y/N]…” he started with a manic grin. “Do… do you have a crush on Steve Rogers?”

“I DO NOT!”

You definitely did not have a crush on your tall, cute neighbor of yours that always tried to get on your nerve. And the heat on your cheeks was definitely because of the hot weather. Nothing to do with how Bucky kept staring at you with that stupid grin or the thought of Steve that popped into your mind.

.

“Hey, [Y/N].” You jumped at the voice and quickly turned around to face Steve standing by his door with his eyebrows raised. His lips quirked into a smirk at how wide-eyed you were.

“Steve.” You nodded, trying to calm your racing heart.

“Hey, can you play those cute songs you blasted the other day? I kinda like it.” Wait, what?

“Do you not have iTunes, Steve? You know you can buy the tracks online, right?”

“It’s free.” He shrugged. “I’ll draw you some doodles if you want.”

You gawked at him. Steve, bless his heart, had the decency to look a little sheepish for a mere second before he went back to his annoying self.

“Don’t forget to play the songs!” He grinned before he entered his apartment, leaving you gaping at his door in confusion and shock.

.

“Were you trying to flirt with her?” Sam asked the moment Steve closed the door behind him.

“Uh…”

“Cause that’s so pathetic.” Sam snorted, ignoring how red his best friend’s face had become. “Man, I told you to be all cute and romantic and you decided that sending weird notes and doodles are romantic?”

Steve groaned and buried his face in the couch while his best friend watched him from the kitchen, clearly used to his antics. “Wh-ami-sup-to—do!”

“Well, you could start by actually talking to her and not acting like a kid. She’s pretty nice once you get to know her.” Steve quickly turned to Sam, his eyes wide.

“You’ve talked to her?!”

“She gave me some brownies, which, in my opinion, taste better than yours.” Sam shrugged, sipping his coffee while he enjoyed the sight of Steve flailing on the couch, mumbling more incoherent words. “I can’t believe you have a crush on your neighbor and your first idea is to tell her she played her music too loud.”

Steve was about to reply when he heard it. The bubbly pop music she had played the other day. The songs he requested her to play for him. His face bloomed into what Sam described as ‘disgusting, love-sick, puppy face’.

“Do you think she likes me too?”

“Jesus, you’re really pathetic, Steve. This is why you’ve been single all your life.”

.

You really didn’t think you liked him. You were just entertaining him. Maybe he was too broke to buy one track on iTunes. Maybe his laptop broke. You were just doing him a favor. Definitely not because he flashed you that cute smile that morning when you picked up your mails. Not because of the way your heart beat a little faster at the sight of him helping your neighbor and playing with some random dogs by the street. Most definitely not because of the butterflies in your stomach every time he greeted you in the hallway. It was just a favor.

But when you jumped out of your couch to run to the front door, beaming from ear to ear at the little notes and cute doodles he drew you for the day, you knew it wasn’t just some simple favor for a neighbor. He drew you a little cat and you thought it was you, judging from the frown on the face and your favorite dress. It was too adorable and you ended up sticking it on the fridge along with the other doodles he had given you.

You were, as Bucky had said, completely and utterly fucked.

.

Friday was supposed to be a good day. But it rained the moment you exited the building and you had to deal with traffic. As if it wasn’t bad enough for you, you ripped a hole on your rain boots on your way to a meeting. You had to sit with wet socks for a good three hours, freezing your ass off because you had also forgotten to bring your favorite scarf. The client ended up not liking the song and ordered you to do more revision, much to your frustration. But the highlight of your awful day has got to be the time when you realized you’ve forgotten your keys and locked yourself out of your own apartment while Scott was away for a vacation with his daughter and Bucky was visiting his family for the weekend.

“Great.” You sniffled, rubbing your nose pink as you sat down in front of your apartment. Your hair and clothes were wet from the rainstorm and you wondered if your makeup was still intact or if you’ve already turned into a sad raccoon. You were too engrossed in your pity-party for one to notice the opened door next to you. You didn’t even notice it until said person crouched in front of you with worry plastered all over his face.

“[Y/N]?” Steve hesitantly called.

He smelled like pine and fresh soap and something else that made you feel at home. You looked up at him, startled at how worried he looked.

“Are you okay?”

At his words, you sniffled a little louder, your eyes burned with fresh tears. He gently put his hand on yours in comfort and it was like a dam broke, the tears you desperately tried to keep in check rushed down your cheeks.

“I can’t get inside!” You wailed, slapping the door pathetically.

“Shit. Please don’t cry. Oh, shit–” Steve panicked. “Do- do you want to come inside? I can make you some tea?”

You really didn’t know why it just made you cried harder.

“Y-yes.” You hiccupped between your tears as you let Steve guide you inside his apartment.

.

Steve’s apartment was like how you imagined an artist’ apartment would look like. Books scattered near the bookshelf, his laptop propped on the coffee table with sketches strewn all over the floor. There was a small pot of cactus by the window. It was oddly endearing and so was Steve.

“You can sit here.” He offered, grabbing all his sketches and dumping it on the lone couch beside you. “I’ll get you some towels and clothes? Will that be okay? I can make you tea too.” He rambled.

You can only manage a weak nod, trailing behind Steve while he dug out a  T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants from his bedroom.

“You have a nice apartment.” You said between hiccups. “I like the little cactus.”

He laughed and it almost sent your heart into overdrive. He had that adorable blush on his cheeks as he led you to the bathroom, explaining which one was soap and which was shampoo in case you want to use it. You didn’t really pay attention to it, too focused on the way he smiled and the affectionate pat on your head before he left you alone. And if you accidentally used the soap on your hair, it was understandable. You were sad and tired.

.

Steve was sitting on the kitchen counter when you finally stepped out of the bathroom with a T-shirt and sweatpants that were definitely too large for you. You tried to pull up the pants as you waddled to the kitchen, trying not to trip on your pants by accident (damn Steve and his long legs). He quickly looked up, face blooming into a warm smile at the sight of you standing in front of him (his brain short-circuited at how adorable you looked in his clothes but he would never tell you that).

“TEA!” He said a little too loud, blushing as he almost shoved the hot mug at you.

“Thank you.” You hesitantly took it, sipping and sighing in relief as it slowly warmed your body.

“I have to finish some work first but you’re free to do anything here. You can grab anything to eat if you’re hungry or you can just sleep. Just–,” he paused, “just make yourself at home.”

You dumbly nodded while Steve ran to the living room, wanting to get away from you as soon as possible so you wouldn’t see how red his cheeks were. Too tired to do anything, you decided to join Steve in the living room. You walked past the fridge, smiling at the little notes he had until your eyes caught the familiar notes and handwriting that definitely belonged to you. The little ugly doodles you did for him, the weird messages. You froze as it dawned on you. Steve had kept every single note you have sent him and stuck them all over his fridge.

“Hey are you ok–,” Steve’s question died when he saw you standing in front of his fridge, holding a piece of paper.

“You kept this?” You softly asked.

“Uhh–,” Steve’s mouth slightly opened, trying to find an excuse that doesn’t scream ‘I have the biggest crush on you’.

“That’s really sweet.” You giggled, feeling warmth creeping up your face. You didn’t know if it was the tea or the weather that made you look at him in the eyes and said, “I kept yours too.”

Steve was sure his brain stopped working the moment the words escaped your lips. You kept his doodles. The doodles Sam thought was dumb. He thought he heard you said it was cute and you really liked them, but he couldn’t really hear it over how loud his heartbeat was. So, being the smart person that he was, he took a step closer towards you and blurted out, “I really want to kiss you.”

(He did get to kiss you, only to panic a moment later when he felt how feverish you were.)

“I’m okay.” You insisted as Steve dragged you to his bed, forcing you to take some medicine and get some sleep. “Kiss me, please?”

“You’re really sick, [Y/N]. Let’s talk about this tomorrow okay? When you feel better.” He smiled, though he still planted a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Okay.” You cutely nodded and Steve swore he died and went to heaven as he watched you reached out your hand to hold his.

[podrickpaynest]

@ avocadotoastinspace  

this is like... this is basically rocket fuel for my rambling. i want to talk about it so often but i never do because i assume no one would care, so thank you so much for the opportunity. it's going to be long and i'm so sorry in advance, you can fully ignore me - but still thank you for giving me an excuse to write about this.

(I'm including the dates, because they set a telling pattern.)

14.06.2019 - I casually went to see that allegedly nice Elton John biopic with my friend from work. I haven't seen trailers. I didn't care much about Elton John. We had the very best seats in the entire theatre, which I thought was a nice touch. You know, not expecting ANYTHING. The rest is history. I knew I want to re-watch this at the point of Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting sequence. I remember leaving the cinema with my face hurting from smiling (I had this stupid deeply satisfied I-just-fell-in-love grin through the whole movie, probably, with some breaks for deep despair) and telling my friend jokingly: Shit, I need to see it like ten more times before they take it off. I knew NOTHING.

17.06.2019 - I already knew I'm going to re-watch Rocketman very soon, since I wanted to show the film to my best friend. That day was quite hectic at work and I was a little bit feverish, and I felt miserable, and I really didn't want to get back home to be all alone, and by God, I MISSED that movie already. After work I lied to myself a bit that I'm taking different route home just because I missed the bus and I didn't want to wait for the next one - the fact I was going past a small local cinema on my way was a complete accident, of course. I bought my ticket, waited for about an hour; I was one of the very few people attending that screening - just a small group of 20-something girls and two slightly older ladies I think? Trust me, watching Rocketman while breaking a fever?? I felt literally hugged by this film; immersed in it completely, my head hurt and my heart hurt, and it was so lovely. When I admitted at work to my colleagues next day that I've already re-watched it (since someone asked me would I recommend it), one of them went like: Aw, and you didn't tell me? i want to see it so much but my borfriend doesn't want to go with me and I don't have anyone to go with, and I answered by But that's not a problem at all, just tell me when.

20.06.2019 - Thursday after work it was. I remember that friend leaning to my ear during Saturday Night's Alright scene and whispering It is so great, as she apparently fell utterly in love in the same moment. She's seen it three times since and we're discussing it frequently.

22.06.2019 - finally took my best friend to see Rocketman. 25.06.2019 - and she wanted to see it again. 29.06.2019 - and at this point we both just needed to have Rocketman tickets booked to keep us going. 03.07.2019 - needless to say: she loved it too. 08.07.2019 - five times we went together.

Basically what I remember the most from those screenings was:

- the audience got bigger and bigger with every screening.

- people continued to laugh in inappropiate moments. Heterosexual men cursed under their noses at the sex scene sometimes.

- during one of the screenings we bought tickets separatedly and ended up sitting two seats away in the same row. We were hoping no one will fill in those seats and got pissed when we saw someone approaching, but it turned out that was two young gay dudes on a date.  Felt actually fair.

- SO MANY GAY DATES

- speaking of which, I live in Poland, right? Probably not the worst but definitely not the easiet country to be an openly non-heteronormative person. Seeing those dates was so important and comforting, and mattered A LOT. The same goes for audience getting bigger in time - this movie had practically no outdoor advertising, hardly anyone heard about it, and that only could mean that people were actually recommending it back and forth. In the country where the government does nothing to protect LGBTQ+ people from bullies? Heart-fucking-warming, I'm telling you.

- but ALSO. Before one screening I noticed two quite threatening looking blokes walking in. They wore this sort of "patriotic" t-shirts and looked in general like those borderline-nazi subculture festering shits in Poland that always appear to protest any sort of pride/rally and yell about sending f*****s (and all minorities) to gas chambers and other lovely stuff like that. I got actually quite nervous because I half expected them to either start giving us trouble right away, or at least once any kind of gay stuff happens on screen. I had my eye on them through half of the movie, and you know what? THEY WERE ON A DATE. No problems from them whatsoever.

- there was always someone overjoyed upon realizing the jean jacket was an actual item of clothing Elton John once wore. Also people going audibly awww when picture of little Reggie is shown.

- a least a couple of girls gasping so audibly when they see what John Reid is doing in front of the fucking pool boys.

- at some point I took a cab to the theatre and my taxi driver played Elton John for me.

- I was freaking out all the time that this is the time when I'm overdoing it, this is the time I don't really need to watch it again and I'll just get bored. Didn't happen once.

10.07.2019 - I realized they are pulling Rocketman out of the cinemas in my city next day. I was unable to attend the very last screening, so I panic!bought a ticket while I was still at work. Now, as much as watching and discussing Rocketman with friends is fun, I think watching it alone has completely different quality to it and I might've enjoyed those two screenings I saw it alone the most. For me the heart and core of the movie is lonelines -  I think seeing this movie alone at least once is highly recommendable, and in the theatre full of people at that, and not in home. For me it was incredibly powerful experience, especially knowing I'm kind of saying goodbye to it, at least in the theatre quality. Bonus: almost entire row of older ladies dancing in their seats during Crocodile Rock sequence. I cried about that a little.

30.07.2019 - soooo I went for a short vacation to Czech Republic to see my friends and attend music festival. Hardcore punk music festival, mind you.  I tried not to talk about Rocketman too much because my my friends definitely are not Elton John musical type of people, I failed frequently but still I'd like to think I did a good job. After the festival, when I was hanging around Prague with one of my friends - actually the one I consider to be my bestie - he all of the sudden says that maybe we can try to see if they still play Rocketman there. It's not like I haven't checked before going there, right... I tried to protest a little, because I was fairly sure he was offering it only to be a good host, he really wasn't interested. Another thing is: listen, not to sound dramatic but Prague is my Rocketman among the cities. Love of my life. I went once, came back next year, kept going back at least once a year (but generally as often as possible), because I fell in love with it. It's a massive crush. Experiencing those two things together: Prague and Rocketman? Jesus, I can't really start to explain how overwhelmingly wholesome it felt to me. But! I'm getting ahead of myself.

We finally went, me feeling slightly guilty for forcing him in a way. It was a small theatre, very nice and with an old-school feeling: red curtains, red seats, all that.  Not that many people in the audience, but it was also one of the last weeks when Rocketman was being screened in the country, so understandable. 

I tried not to look to my friend's direction, because I was so scared I'll see him suffering through all the musical sequences - or asleep. THEN I've heard a little bit of snickering from his side when they opened a celebratory champagne in Dick's office. I still refused to look. And then, during Amoreena sequence, when they are going through L.A, my friend leaned in to me and whispered: I love it. Long story short, three days later he messaged me on Facebook: I've watched Rocketman three times and Please send me recommendations of Elton John's live videos and you can't convince me this movie is not a drug now. Bonus from that screening: lady who was weeping her eyes out next to me. She sobbed through entire last therapy scene and I just hope she sometimes feel I love her. 

Also, I don't really read subtitles, but I checked a couple of times, and I think Czech subtitles were by far better than Polish ones (there were some ridiculous mistakes in Polish translation).

So here's that. I am truly sorry for rambling like a maniac again, but I'm forever grateful that I could pour that out and re-live it a little bit. Needless to say: I'm also very curious about your experiences and I'd love to read about them if you only have time to share.