#because hes absent and abandons her daily and sucks ass

[puhpandas]

thinking about how in the Brazil ending the mask created Cassies ideal comforting scenario while she was about to die and it was just eating icecream with Gregory while watching a sunset

[katsukikitten]

Part one. Master list for plus one can be found here.

Just a nice fic I decided to write for fun. Please enjoy!

Asshole!

He was nothing but a huge, giant fucking ASSHOLE for the entire two years the two of you were dating and he decides NOW is a good time to break up with you?

Two days before your cousin's wedding and over TEXT MESSAGE?!

That fucking asshole.

He knew how you felt. Exactly how you felt about going alone to your cousin's wedding after your family begged to meet your boyfriend and teased you for "probably making him up." Which hell, he may as well have been made up considering how absent he was in the relationship. Using work as an excuse to come home late but forgetting to turn off his snap location when he showed up at the bar.

So you did what any rational woman in her upper twenties would do.

You drowned your sorrows in booze, tonight red wine as it was the only thing around, and you scrolled through your socials in hopes of distracting yourself from your suffering.

Alas the devil that is Instagram only amplified your sadness and irritation. Showing couple after couple, your friends on hikes kissing on the mountain top, kissing in the flickering light of candles at a fancy dinner or, worst yet, getting proposed to. The video showing her in hysterics screaming, "YES I DO I DO!"

And it feels terrible to feel this way. Especially about your friends, the people you love and want to support, still it stings. You hadn't told anyone about the breakup, you weren't even sure your friends even remembered that asshole's name.

A teardrop lands on your screen, magnifying all the magical lights of the led beneath the glad. You wipe away the tear and with that the feed refreshes. A new post has come in at the top, Res Riot's official account.

Kirishima stands with a fat white cat in his arms. He dwarfs the animal with his large stature that looks larger as he still has his Red Riot gear on. The caption reads something along the lines of "missed my precious baby."

Red wine is a dangerous thing as your body acts on its own. You go to his page to hit the little arrow to DM him. Typing out and backspacing your message as you struggle from the booze, you decide to say fuck it and use the voice memo feature. Before you know it your sniffling voice is playing back to you after you've hit send.

"My ex broke up with me before this stupid wedding. It's in two days and my family is going to roast me big time when I show up alone. They think I made that asshole up. I don't know why I'm even in your dms. Your account is probably run by some dick head who can't even capture your kindness. I guess I'm here cause my first thought seeing you on my timeline was Red Riot has always been my hero…"

Ugh totally fucking cringe.

There is no surprise as you see the three normally ominous dots pop up, probably his social media manager about to ask you to stop your "advances" as Kirishima is too busy to date and he'd hate to block you or some other bullshit.

But there it is a surprise to see a little bubble with the play button and some vertical lines in various heights. It takes your sluggish brain a moment to realize you've been sent a voice memo. Odd. Your thumb smashes the screen faster than you can think and a deep voice rumbles through the speakers of your phone.

"Actually I run my official and personal socials. And I'm sorry to hear about your ex doll. He sounds like a real ass. I'll be your hero, I'll go with you to the wedding."

Your heart stutters, no way, no way in HELL this was Red Riot. You had read about the horror stories before or pervy account managers taking advantage of women who so desperately wanted to talk to their hero.

Hell, it's happened to Dynamight plenty of times.

You swallow quickly but the bile rushes up your throat. Not just from the anxiety of a possible con but from drinking an entire bottle of wine with nothing on your stomach after months of sobriety. Quickly you stumble to the bathroom, abandoning your phone on your bed. You barely make it in time to praise the porcelain Gods before you fall onto your back. Looking up at the light in your cramped bathroom, the orb doubles and spins as you feel the Earth turning on its axis. You curl into your side using your bathmat as a pillow as you drift off into sleep, totally forgetting about the voice memo on your phone.

As you sleep peacefully on your memory foam bath rug, Kirishima settles into his nightly routine. One giant hand grabbing strands of long dark red hair into a towel while another sits snugly around his Adonis belt and the thick, black happy trail that follows up the center of his abs before spreading out onto his chest. He tosses the towel over the open door of the bathroom before sitting in his favorite armchair with phone in hand. Diamond, his beautiful white cat he rescued a few years ago, jumps onto the arm of the chair, purring loudly when Kirishima's free hand scratches her ears absentmindedly.

He chuckles to himself as he realizes exactly what he's done. Acting on a feeling instead of logic all because he heard a "damsel in distress." Starting off his rare vacation with spontaneity starting with an impromptu date with a stranger. He really isn't sure what you look like and it's obvious your handle doesn't have your real name in it, just PrincessPeach with some random numbers at the end. He takes the time to scroll through your profile. Seeing pictures of food, of many sunsets, a friend's dog that guest appears often, your own cat and plenty of strays.

It takes him a while before he sees a photo of you. His heart stutters in his chest as he looks you over. Laughing with a friend, soft lighting from strings over head that blur like little fireflies. Your smile is wide, half hidden by your hands as your eyes seem to smile with you. Sparkling as if they held stars.

For a moment Kirishima forgets how to breathe, it isn't until Diamond jumps down from the armchair does he inhale. He smiles softly to himself before he drops his towel, puts his phone on charge and promptly falls asleep in his bed.

Kirishima rises before the sun even has a chance to filter through his blinds. He sighs softly, getting up to a sitting position disturbing a fluffy white ball that lays beside him.

"Mmrow." Moon stone eyes blink slowly as they look at the mountainous man hogging the bed.

"I didn't mean to wake you sweet baby." He says softly, going to pet the soft white fur only for her to get up stretch and give him her butt before plopping back down.

"I know, mean ol' daddy woke you up too early again." He says softly, his hand falling onto her back before he rises from the bed. Fishing for his running shorts, socks, headphones and shoes. He makes his protein shake, leaning on the counter as he drinks it, looking at how you read, or better yet, listened to his message but still no reply. It was late and there was a small slurring of your words, he figures you've passed out. He just hopes you're okay.

His run goes as usual, up before anyone else unless they were the normal avid runner. Passing by the usual array of people. An old man holding onto his youth by jogging through his daily five mile morning run, Kirishima knows he runs another five in the evening while the sun is setting. He hopes he can embody some of this man's commitment when he is older. Then he passes a middle aged woman, who gives him the biggest smile as she pases, jogging backward to send him a wink before plowing ahead. Occasionally he'll see a running group or a few teens training to be heroes, they always ask if they can run his route. "It's long." He always warns in a kind, warm voice. They assure him they will be fine so far only one other person could handle his 12 mile morning run. A young woman in her second year of hero courses at UA. Since then Kirishima put in a word with his boss and so every time internships roll around she's in the office.

By the time Kirishima is rounding back towards his high rise apartment, the city begins to stir. Slowly waking as men and women in business suits rush towards the train, parents flinging open the doors or curtains fussing at their children who cling to an extra few minutes of sleep before school.

This was always his favorite part of the run, not because it was almost over, oh no it was because he had a chance to glimpse at everyday life. Of nine to fives, of school hours and after school hangs outs at snack bars or the library.

What most would call the mundane but Kirishima would never call it that. It's why he worked so hard to protect it.

Diamond greets his sweaty form at the door. Glaring angrily with her moon stone eyes. Tail swishing before she goes to the kitchen by her bowl. Waiting impatiently.

"I'm not late, sweet cheeks." He coos, and she glares, "I know I know. You're hungry now."

He opens the fridge, gets out the highest quality food there is and places it on her dish, sure to keep it all in the middle or she'll claim her bowl was empty. He added a splash of water too since the weather was starting to get hot.

He sucks down a water or two, demolishes a protein bar and then heads to the apartment gym.

A few hours roll by and without hearing from you yet his worry over your well being begins to cloud the forefront of his mind. He pauses his music, picks up his phone and talks out a voice memo.

A loud DING echoes from your room and around your skull as you rise with a throbbing headache.

"Fuck." You hiss to yourself grabbing at your head as you shakily rise to your feet. Yanking the handle of the faucet to drink from the stream before looking at yourself in the mirror.

"Ugh." You grunt ignoring your swollen face and eyes, yanking the mirror door open to snatch at the bottle of aspirin. Swallowing THREE extra strength pills before slamming the door shut and turning off the faucet. You make your way towards your bedroom, more than ready to sleep the rest of your day away. Grabbing at your phone to charge it you see the push notification of an Instagram message from Red Riot.

The fucking Red Riot.

Internally you scream before it bubbles up your throat and escapes. You fumble to unlock your phone before looking that it's a voice memo.

Mortified you realize you sent one too. And first at that.

"Fuck MEEE!" You plop onto the bed. Nervous this second voice memo is probably about how you're a weirdo or something as you relive the memory of asking him to be your plus one.

Hesitantly your thumb hovers over the play button before you find the strength to press the cool glass. A soft thunderous voice plays out.

"Good morning sleepy head. I haven't heard from you yet, I hope you're okay. Be sure to drink some water and eat something greasy. Trust me, late nights with Denki and Bakugou taught me something. Since the wedding is tomorrow I'll need a picture of your dress for the color and style so I can match you Sweet pea. Contact me soon so I can know where to pick you up."

Did he… did he just call you SWEET PEA? Your heart pounds in your chest before it registers he's asked for your dress color and lowkey asked for your address. This couldn't be real. It sounded like Kirishima, his voice familiar from interviews you've watched but it very well could be a prank. Defeated you hit the small microphone and reply.

Kirishima hears a sharp DING in his headphones over his music as he finishes his set. He wipes the sweat from his face on his shirt giving the few people in the gym a lovely view of his sweaty and thick torso. One woman trips on the treadmill but it goes unnoticed by Kirishima. He pauses his music and hits play on the little memo. Your beautiful yet groggy voice comes in through his ear buds causing Kirishima to bite his lip. It causes such a flutter of butterflies in his stomach he has to listen a second time to actually hear what you said. Although he understand, he cannot help but feel hurt by your reply.

"How do I know you're not just some pervy guy using Kirishima's Godly looks to prey on unsuspecting people."

Your phone chirps at you from the bed stand and you growl reaching for it. You had hoped your message would have been clear. An unspoken of you know they're a fucking creep taking advantage of their PR job.

"What can I do to prove it to you, Sweet Pea?"

You hate how that cute nickname sends your heart into a somersault and your stomach in delightful knots. Still your doubt pulls a harsh tut from your lips before you reply.

Kirishima doesn't need his phone to alert him that you've messaged him, he's been looking at his screen for far to long without having to restart his set. He listens to your voice as if it were music.

"Fine, you wanna prove it to me so bad. Take a picture of yourself shirtless with the word 'Sweet pea' you love so much and send it to me. No photoshop I know what my favorite hero looks like!"

For over an hour you don't hear back and you figure you showed that perv.

But now you can't sleep so you nurse a water, door dash a "greasy" breakfast all before cranking your shower as high as it can go. Your phone dings and you try to ignore it. You really do but as the saying goes curiosity killed the cat. Opening the message you see a classic guy mirror selfie. Kirishima is clear as day in the photo, his large hand pointing to his bare, hairy chest where sweat pea is scrawled in his adorable handwriting. He winks at the camera as his kissable lips wear a dangerous, almost cocky eyes travel down his bulk following his happy trail that dives under a pair of black shorts, the best part of the view getting cut off by the vanity. At first you try to rationalize that this was fake but damning evidence was sitting on the vanity. A fluffy white cat in a diamond and ruby encrusted collar sits on the counter giving her owner an odd look.

His cat Diamond that everyone knows he loves and adores. Slick begins to collect between your thighs and especially so after you listen to the voice memo that comes through shortly after. His normally friendly and soft voice comes out a bit dark, husky as he says in a playfully annoyed tone.

"Now send me a picture of that dress, Sweet Pea."

[whumperooni]

pls imagine that after natsuo decided to get revenge and became a fuckboy he also gradually started to get farther away from his cutie of a lil sister! he brings home some bitchy bimbos to fuck and doesn't even notice her anymore so little sister being the adorable thing she is, she becomes very upset and sad that her brother doesn't want her anymore, so who is better to take care of her then papa enji! i want to see natsus face when he realises his plan backfired in the worst way possible!

What else is a little sister supposed to do whenever her nii-chan abandons her? u.u

tw: incest, fuckboy!Natsuo, mentions of drinking and drugs

It starts with one drunk girl that doesn’t make it out on time before Enji can see her. Usually, Natsuo doesn’t bring women home- it feels like something he shouldn’t do; he can’t bring anyone back to that place.

(Not that he hasn’t had any other woman since entwining with you- how could he when he has such an adoring little sister to love and cherish and make squeal with pleasure? Why would he want anyone else?)

But that night? That night he just doesn’t care. Drunken from too many shots and too much cheap beer, he crashes with the girl he had somehow stumbled home with and, in the morning, he fucks her again through their mutual hangovers before sending her off to never come back again.

There’s a twinge of shame and guilt when he passes you in the hallway on the way to show his hookup out. Your wide eyes and disappointment prick at him like tiny needles, the pucker of your brow has him regretful. Whenever he nudges his hookup out of the house and comes back to you, asks you where you slept last night, the mumbled “Shoto-nii’s room” makes him feel even more guilty.

You only sleep in your brother’s long empty room whenever you’re feeling particularly lonely. Natsuo hates when you feel lonely- you should never feel lonely with him around.

He opens his mouth to tell you that he’ll make breakfast for you, that he’ll make up for last night, but he’s cut off whenever a gruff voice comes from behind him and says,

“Don’t bring whores into my house.”

In an instant, Natsuo’s regret gets flipped to rage- just the sound of Enji’s voice makes him want to snap and having him insult his hookup makes it even worse- and he glares at his father- mouth opening to argue only to be ignored as Enji turns around and lumbers off to the kitchen. He barely registers your shocked “daddy” that you gasp out- he’s too focused on his father and the annoyance that had been written all over the man’s face.

Fuck him, Natsuo thinks. Fuck. Him.

His anger is only quelled whenever your hand lightly, nervously touches his and he looks back at you to see your worried expression. It takes a moment for him to calm- lips pressing together and a long, deep breath needed- but he does and he swallows back his anger, his headache to force a small smile your way.

“Have you had breakfast? I’ll make you something.”

A mumbled thank you, nii-san and your fingers lacing through his helps soothe the rest of the lingering irritation. Natsuo tugs you to the kitchen and he tries to forget his father’s face and the satisfaction that had flicked through his anger over it.

──────────────────────────────────────

He brings home another girl a month or two later. It’s not something he sets out to do, no.

But it happens. And the morning after is just about the same as the previous time- only with you more upset when you spot the hickeys all over the girl’s neck and Enji’s glare darker than before, his irritation more pronounced.

The third time is on purpose- something he seeks to do in a tipsy, vindictive rage after a particularly nasty argument with Enji.

He brings home another girl- someone dumb and sweet and just a little trashy- and he fucks her with the intention of making her scream for him, spending the night making her moans fill the estate.

You can’t look him in the eyes in the morning, but he feels no guilt- only satisfaction over the fury on Enji’s face and the way his hands clench and unclench from trying not to slug his son in front of his upset daughter.

Another nasty fight- one that you get caught in.

“-a goddamn disgrace. You think your sister needs to see this? How do you think this looks on me when you’re going around acting like a fool? I don’t know what the hell has gotten into you-”

“Daddy, please! It’s okay! Please don’t-”

“-I’m a disgrace?! That’s rich coming from you. You parade around acting like you’re so superior but all you are is-”

“Natsuo-nii! Please stop! Daddy doesn’t mean-”

“Don’t you turn this around on me, boy.”

In the end, Natsuo stomps off with red cheeks and gritted teeth- turning his back on his glaring father and his teary eyed little sister.

He stomps off and all he can think is I’ll show you a goddamn disgrace.

──────────────────────────────────────

Life for Natsuo quickly becomes a mess of clubs, hookups, hangovers, and arguments. With every girl he brings home, his father only gets more and more angry- fire bursting out in quick jets when he finds a pair of discarded panties on the lawn, some dumb slut eating at the table draped over his son’s lap, vodka bottles and condoms in the trash.

The fights get worse and worse. Natsuo starts staying away from home- only coming back to drag some girl home to rile his father up and to sometimes spend time with you whenever his guilt over your tears and upset becomes too much. He makes new friends with this new direction in life- crude boys he used to stay away from, men who fondle their girl’s tits right in front of everyone while talking about weed and parties and who has access to molly, who can get good coke.

They’re bad influences. He knows it. He knows.

But he doesn’t stay away from them. Soon enough he’s drawn into partying along with clubbing- weed and booze and more and more giggling sluts that want to ride his dick, suck him off.

One night he gets drunk enough to steal his father’s credit card and buy henny for everyone, weed and an obnoxiously expensive dinner, a solid gold chain that his flavor for the night talks him into buying despite Natsuo never wearing something like that before.

He doesn’t go home that night, but he ends up in someone’s penthouse and wakes up at four in the afternoon- classes missed and a whole block of time missing from his memory. It’s only when he checks his phone that he realizes what all has happened- snapchat showing him reeling and laughing, joking about his father’s money being blown.

It also shows him getting some sloppy head in some restroom he can’t remember. It shows him, too, that he had filmed a girl riding his dick- that he had spanked her ass and turned his phone around to show the world a drunken grin and bloodshot eyes, a gold chain around his neck.

Watching it is surreal. He knows that it’s him doing all those things, but he just can’t quite connect it at the same time. He’s never been into that stuff before- he’s never wanted to be into that stuff before. It makes something bitter and uneasy settle on his tongue, something uncomfortable weigh down his stomach.

He tries to ignore it and he checks the rest of his notifications- quickly swiping away Fuyumi’s worried texts and the messages on snapchat. There’s nothing from his father to be seen and that’s a relief that he pretends he doesn’t feel.

There is a little popup that sounds during his scrolling that shows that you’ve posted and Natsuo opens it almost absently, blinks whenever he sees a photo of a nice lunch captioned with Lunch with daddy💕

The daddy makes him scowl, but something in him twinges- guilt, a touch of sadness. He can’t remember the last time he talked to you, the last time he held you close. He used to be with you daily- hands holding yours, kisses pressed to your cheek and lips and forehead often, your cuddly body warming his late at night and holding him snug inside after a sweet ravishing. It’s been so long since he’s been with his little sister- it almost feels like that past affection had been a dream.

Guilt eats away at him and Natsuo runs his hand through his hair, buries his face into his palms after.

What have you been doing while he’s been fucking around? Sleeping in his bed because you miss him? Seeking comfort somewhere else- with someone else? Who has been taking care of you?

Your lunch post flashes through his mind and Natsuo feels sick then- knots twisting in his stomach whenever he thinks about who else you love in your life.

The last time he had been at home, you had clung to Enji- barely trying to break up the fight and sniffling through it, burying your face into your father’s chest.

You had clung to him then- are you clinging to him now?

Natsuo swallows and he stands from the bed, ignores the sleepy mumble that sounds off behind him.

It’s robotic how he dresses and drives home- sunglasses doing nothing to prevent a throbbing headache as he clenches the steering wheel and tries not to throw up last night’s indulgence all over his lap.

Getting home makes his stomach feel even worse, but he pushes it all down and forces himself to walk inside the house- mind racing as he tries to think of where you could be right now.

He finds out whenever he hears a loud gasp and a moan of “daddy.”

He doesn’t want to go. He doesn’t want to see. His body and mind don’t connect, though, and his feet move automatically- one in front of the other until he’s in the doorway of the kitchen.

There’s flour on the floor from where it’s been knocked off the counter. Plates in the sink and magnets on the fridge he doesn’t remember ever seeing. A new mixer tucked away in the corner and daffodils in a vase on the windowsill.

And there’s you too- perched on the counter with your apron and the skirt of your sundress flipped up, mouth open with a cry, cheeks flushed pretty and sweet as Enji curls his thick fingers inside your cunny.

“D-Daddy! Please! More!”

“Shh; I’ve got you, little one.”

Bile rises in Natsuo’s throat as he watches you mewl and arch- hands reaching for your father and lips pressing against his needily whenever he gathers you in his arms and starts to slowly slip inside of you.

“L-love you, daddy,” you sob. “Love you- please- please don’t ever- don’t leave me...”

“I will never leave you, little one,” Enji promises gruffly as he spreads you apart and makes you whimper. “Never.”

Turquoise eyes flit to the side and Natsuo freezes in the doorway whenever they lock onto his - heart breaking and shame flooding through him in thick, hot waves when his sweet, sweet little sister who he loves and has neglected begins to mewl “daddy, daddy, daddy!”

Tears prick at Natsuo and he turns from the kitchen- walks away with a hand covering his mouth and his body bent forward as he struggles not to heave.

He drove you into Enji’s arms. He drove his sweet, beloved little sister into the arms of the man he hates the most. He neglected you for what- bimbos and booze and petty revenge?

God, he’s so fucking stupid.

Natsuo stumbles into the bathroom and he grips the sink tight- eyes wet and bloodshot whenever he looks in the mirror, face pale and neck mottled with hickeys, the stupid chain mocking him as it shines in the light of the bathroom. Far off, he can hear you moaning and Natsuo grits his teeth as he glares at himself in the mirror.

He really is a disgrace.

[youare-mysonshine]

ocean eyes || justin foley

Summary: A cute, relaxing evening with you and Justin.

Requested: Yes

Can I request something super fluffy with Justin from 13rw? After that finale I’m still SAD so I don’t wanna think abt it at all lmaooo, it could maybe b like before the tapes? Jus something super fluffy n cutesy.

Pairing: Justin Foley x Reader

Warnings: cussing, underage drinking and drug use, mentions of abuse, pre-season 1, pre-tapes.

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: Hey guys, I do be back! Shocking, I know lmao i’m just as surprised. So I stopped writing for a while because I just kinda lost motivation. I lost motivation for writing for Oscar and OMB. But expanding my blog has been something that I’ve been wanting to do for a while now, I’ve just been a bit nervous. However, I said fuck it and have decided to write for other fandoms. With t h a t ending for 13 reasons why, I figured we could all use some Justin fluff. Baby boy deserved better. Anyways, this is my first time writing for somebody other than Oscar in a while and my first time writing in a while in general, i’m definitely rusty and lowkey nervous to be posting lmao I hope you guys enjoy this and I hope that this isn’t shitty. And if any of you wanna be tagged in any future work of mine, not just Oscar and OMB, let me know!

————

“Jesus Justy, you’re such a lightweight, aren’t you? Do I have to take care of your dumb ass all night?” You looked over at your boyfriend of a few months, cheeks pink, mouth pulled back into an amused grin.

“Shut the fuck up. I am not a lightweight. Besides, look who’s talking. Remember Bryce’s party a few weeks ago? We hadn’t even been there for like 2 hours and your pretty little ass was passed out on the couch.”

You and Justin walked up the narrow stairs that led into the attic, hand in hand. It had been his idea to buy some beer, to smoke some weed and you had been on board with the plan. You had snuck Justin into your room and the both of you had spent the better part of the afternoon drinking the nasty beer, beer provided by Bryce Walker, having chugging competitions to see who could drink the most and fastest. Now, you and the handsome high school athlete found yourselves making your way up to the attic that led to the roof.

“Oh shut up! I was not drunk! That was you.” You laughed, your bright eyes glimmering like two twinkling stars in the night sky. The two of you had worked your way into the attic, shimmied through the window and found yourselves on the roof of your house. You had chosen a comfortable, as comfortable as it could be for the roof, spot and took a seat, patting the spot beside you for Justin to sit down. The chocolate haired teenager did as instructed and sat beside you, your arms touching. He’d since abandoned his fashionable blue and white letterman jacket, the garment laying stagnant on your bed.

A warm evening consumed Evergreen County. The sky was full of vibrant colors such as orange, red and yellow which were slowly being rotted away into a sea of black. You could see the moon just barely beginning to peak out in the sky. It was beginning to look like a beautiful night. Warm and crisp and breezy. Quite frankly, you were a little tipsy. You and Justin. You weren’t stumbling or anything, but it was enough to leave you feeling free and good. You felt good.

Justin held the joint up to his lips and fished a lighter out from his pocket. He hovered the flame by the tip until it began to smolder nicely. He inhaled deeply, held it for a few seconds and then removed the joint from his move. Blue eyes as bright as the ocean on a sunny day watched the plumes of white smoke dissipate into thin air, dancing like ink in water until they simply vanished. He handed the joint over to you and then laid back against the roof, staring up at the sky.

“Mhm. Whatever helps you sleep better at night, babe.” Justin smoke, a peaceful smile on his face. The truth was; this was the most peaceful that he’d felt in quite a few days. Being away from home, being away from that toxic environment that sucked the life and energy out of him. He turned his head to look at you; you had followed his lead and laid down beside him, bringing the joint up to your lips. You wrapped your lips around the end of it and inhaled, your eyes closing for a brief few seconds. You’re beautiful, he thought to himself. The familiar stench of weed had invaded his nostrils, as well as yours.

“My parents would fuckin’ kill me if they saw me up here.” You said, laughing a bit breathlessly. You parents were oblivious, in the living room or kitchen, completely unaware that Justin had been in your room the entire afternoon. Completely unaware that you were now on the roof smoking weed with your boyfriend. Though, you supposed that it worked out better for you, because you could feel yourself relaxing even further, ending a good day on an even higher note, no pun intended.

“I get the feeling neither of them would like me if they saw us up here. They’d probably say I was a bad influence on you. And it’s probably true.” He chuckled, taking the joint between his fingers and bringing it up to his lips again. “I’m corrupting you, baby.” He said, cheekily. He looked over at you with that big and bright smile on his face and you were reminded of why you fell for him in the first place; you and Justin went to the same school. Liberty High School. You weren’t necessarily popular but you weren’t a loner either. You had just moved there a few months, shortly before going out with Justin. and you had immediately caught his eye. He’d flirt with you, do things to try and get your attention. But you made him work for it. You wanted him to sweat a little bit, make him realize that you weren’t going to give in to his charms so easily.

But in the end, he won you over. You couldn’t say no to him. You couldn’t say no to that beautiful smile and those bright blue eyes. Now, here you were, months later. You were going out, happy as can be. But, you had soon learned that Justin’s life wasn’t all that he made it out to be. You remembered one evening where he called you, asked if he could go over to your house and spend the night. Usually, you’d say no. You knew that your parents would ground you for life if they found a boy in your room at night. But his voice, he sounded so sad, so broken — you couldn’t say no to him. However, the last thing that you expected to see was your boyfriend sporting a fresh, darkening purple bruise on his cheekbone that cascaded all the way up to his eye. Around his neck were reddening fingerprints, as if someone had strangled him.

You remembered the shock that you felt seeing him in such a state, and naturally, you had thought that you boyfriend had been in a fight. He had been in a fight. With his mom’s boyfriend. All you could do was sit on the bed, hold a pack of ice to his face and listen as he explained to you the horrors that he went through on a daily basis at the hands of his drug addicted mother and her boyfriend. He looked so different than how you knew him. His ocean eyes that were usually so vibrant and full of life, were downcast, gloomy. That was when you realized that there was more to Justin Foley than met the eye. From then on, you told him that whenever things were getting bad at home, he always had a place to stay with you. And it seemed like your relationships had also strengthened, like you two had gotten closer. All you wanted to do was ensure that he was safe, that no harm would come to him. Even if it meant physically stepping in and doing something. Though, you were sure that you would be no match for the coward known as Seth Massey. Still, you would do anything for Justin. Just as you knew he’d do anything for you.

You chuckled softly at his words. “Well then I guess you can be my dirty little secret.” You said to him, scooting so that you were snuggled closer to him. It was then that your smile melted away and was replaced with a look of concern. “How are things with you thought? At home, I mean. You haven’t spoken about it in a little while, and Bryce told me that you stayed with him for a few days last week. Is Seth back?” You were trying your hardest not to pry, the last thing you wanted to do was come off as clingy or noisy, but you couldn’t help it. You cared. Where Justin was laying on his back, the hem of his shirt had rose up slightly on his stomach, leaving a thick sliver of skin expose. Your fingers rested there, absently toying with the thing trail of hair below his belly button. That first inhale was gradually loosening your muscles. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.. I just worry. I mean.. is everything good? Or do I have to kick his ass for you?” You said, only half joking.

Justin smiled, wrapping his arm around you to pull you closer to him. “I would love to see that. I mean, I would pay to see that shit actually.” He chuckled, taking one more drag of the joint before handing it off to you. His fingers drew little random patterns and shaped on your silky skin, his smile dying down. “Yeah, um.. He’s back. I mean, honestly I just figured I’d stay out of his way rather than start anymore fuckin’ problems. The last thing I need is to get into another fuckin’ fight with that dick. So I just stayed with Bryce for a few days.” In all honesty, Seth actually kind of scared Justin. The man was unpredictable. Violent. He’d hurt Justin countless of times, called him so many names that he could probably write a book filled with them. There were times were the blue eyed teen didn’t even want to deal with Seth so he just escaped to Bryce’s pool house where he’d pretend like his home life wasn’t a big pule of shit. Still, he wrestled with his thoughts of guilt at leaving his mom alone with that scum bad. He wrestled with his thought of guilt because he knew that Seth would and could hurt his mother. But countless of times, Amber Foley welcomed Seth back no matter what he’d done to her or him. And countless of times, Justin was left disappointed by his own flesh and blood.

It was why he was determined to keep you out of that. You were probably one of the few good things in his life, besides Bryce and his friends. You were good. You were pure. And the last thing he wanted was to have you tainted by the shit show that was his life. Sometimes he felt like he didn’t deserve you at all. Like you deserved someone way better than him. Someone who could give you more than him. If he was being truthful, he never wanted you to find out about his home life. He wanted to keep that part of his life hidden and he wanted you to see what everybody at school saw; the popular jock with lots of friends and lots of girls pining after him. The guy with the seemingly perfect life. Yet, when you discovered that his mom was a drug addict with an extremely abusive boyfriend.. you stayed. You didn’t judge him. You didn’t leave him. You stayed. And Justin considered himself the luckiest person on the planet because he had you.

You frowned. “Justin, babe, why didn’t you tell me? You know that you don’t have to hide shit from me, right? I mean I’m glad you got outta there and stayed with Bryce for a few days but you can come to me too.”

“Hey, it’s fine. It’s whatever. I just I didn’t want to tell you anything and make you worried. I only stayed with Bryce because.. I don’t know, I just didn’t want to feel like I was bugging you or something. And I don’t want you to get in trouble with your folks because of me incase they found out that I stayed here.” He explained. “Don’t worry, okay? Everything is all good, I promise. I’m here with you. How could it not be?” He leaned over and kissed your forehead. His words and his kiss had eased your nerves, even if it was only temporarily. Right now, the two of you were together and everything was good. Neither of you had a care in the world; you were with each other and you were all that mattered.

“You know that you don’t deserve it, right? All that shit from Seth. No matter what he says or does to you.. it’s not your fault and you shouldn’t have to live like that.. I’m serious, Justin. I’m here, don’t forget that. I’m your girlfriend but I’m also your friend.” You said. To show that he’d heard you, Justin gave your arm a loving squeeze. For a few minutes, neither of you said nothing. The both of you just stared up at the darkening sky, passing the joint back and forth until nothing was left. Until your muscles were completely relaxed, until your eyes were half lidded, until the only thing on your mind was how good you felt.

“Do you ever think about leaving this place? Just packing your shit and going? I’ve thought about it. We could go anywhere we want. Away from Seth, from all the high school bullshit, away from everyone. It’d be nice.” You hummed, the air growing cooler as you spoke. “But it looks like we’re stuck here. For now, at least. Graduation seems like forever away.” You broke the silence, though your eyes never left the beautiful sky. Justin, however, turned to look at you. For a few seconds, he just stared at you and took you in — how good your perfume smelled and how it seemed to cling to him. How the fabric of your outfit contrasted beautifully against your skin. How relaxed you looked. You were utterly ethereal.

“I think about it all the time. Especially when I’m at home, listening to my mom and Seth fight. I think about just fucking leaving and never coming back. Forgetting this boring ass little town and just.. getting away from here.” He revealed. “Maybe one day, me and you, we can get outta here together. After graduation. Just pack our shit up and leave.” That was a good thought. Leaving Crestmont with you. Going anywhere in the world that they wanted. But you two were still young, and neither of you knew the giant shit storm that you were about to go through. Neither of you knew the horror that you’d endure. Neither of you knew if you’d even still be together by the time you go to graduation.. or if you even make it to graduation. Still, right now, everything seemed too good and too perfect. Like nothing could tear you down and ruin what you had going on.

You groaned, burying your face in Justin’s shoulder. “Graduation is so far away.” You whined playfully. “Who’s to say that you won’t get tired of me by then?”

“Eh, you’re right. You’re pretty fucking annoying.” Justin said, earning a smack to the chest by you. “I’m kidding!” He laughed. “I mean.. we don’t know what’s gonna happen but I like to think that you and I will still be together by the time we get to graduation. I mean.. I don’t know.. call me sappy or whatever.. I just really like you, Y/N.. And you know about me and my fucked up life and family and you haven’t run for the hills.. yet. I guess I’m pretty fucking lucky to have you and I don’t wanna screw any of this up.”

“Wow.. Justin Foley.. Have you been watching cheesy romance movies?” You teased your boyfriend. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, laughing softly. “Seriously though.. I really like you too and nothing you do or say is gonna scare me off. Seth isn’t gonna scare me off either. You’re right, we don’t know what’s gonna happen in the future but.. we just gotta take it day by day right.. Together?”

Instead of initially answering you verbally, Justin surged forward and captured your soft lips with his own. The kiss that you shared was slow, relaxed, a symptom of the weed that you two had just shared. But it was more loving than any other kiss you’d experienced before. You sighed in content, easing against him, but Justin reacted by gripping your thigh and moving it so that it was draped over his lap. You did the rest; without breaking the kiss, your mouths and tongues moving in a steady rhythm, you shifted from laying against the tiled roof and positioned yourself on top of him. Your thigh were sturdy on either side of his lips, your butt rested lightly upon his lap. Justin’s hands fell on your hips, holding you secure and steady against him, almost as if wanting to make sure that you wouldn’t disappear.

After a few long, precious moments, you finally pulled away an inch or two. Your face was close to his, your noses barely touching. “Together.” He finally answered.

“You’re stuck with me now, Foley. Sorry about it.” You giggled breathlessly, your eyes shining brightly. Justin never wanted to look away.

“Yeah? Well sorry to say it, but you’re stuck with me too, baby. You ain’t getting rid of me that easily.”

Justin knew his friends, Bryce and all the other jocks, would call him pussy whipped if they could see him now. Hell, they already did every time they saw you and Justin walking down the hallway holding hands or his arm around you.. Justin would soon learn that his biggest downfall would be caring too much of what his friends think.

But for now, he enjoyed the moment of being tangled up with you on the roof of your house with the moon illuminating you both. Nothing else mattered.

[incorrectly-quoted-queers]

Blue

Chapter 1: Look 

Jason Erikson had spent the last four months of his life wanting to kill himself. Maybe more, if he was being honest. If only the fake-deep indie music in the cafe wasn’t so loud, perhaps the urge wouldn’t be so damn strong. Maybe it was his fault he has such a shit outlook on the concept of his existence. 

But at least he didn’t have to take the blame for this crap lunch, too.

It was intended to celebrate his recent unsatisfying promotion, and he and Julia were supposed to go to Red Dragon, his favorite Chinese place. When they got there, though, it was closed. Typical. Jason was ready to cancel the whole thing, but Julia insisted on having lunch anyway. It was his big day, right? So instead, they ended up next door at the Lovelace Nook because Julia didn’t have that long a lunch and now he had to settle for this shitty Caprese “garden bowl”. Jason didn’t know why he ordered it. He didn’t even like fucking salads. 

Vintage wallpaper and punny menu names didn’t fill the void of his newest disappointment, not when the table was wobbly, the vinaigrette was too sweet, and he felt like a goddamn audience member in his own life. And it sucked so much he wanted to jeer at the F-list actor playing him, maybe even ditch his theater seat altogether for something better than this bullshit.  

Safe to say, all three problems combined made his frown itch. 

After all, what the hell were they celebrating? Another disappointing milestone?

Despite the years he spent at college pissing people off for good stories, thinking he would find satisfaction in truth, he hated being a journalist. He had been incorrect in thinking a big city and a fancy promotion would make him any better. It was a hard job for anyone to stomach, especially when you had no patience for low-tier bullshit. And that’s all he got. He had the flashy title, but every assignment sent his way was some mode, method, or sub-sect of bullshit. Who could really be proud of their most popular article being called “The Secret Evils of Tupperware”? He sometimes spent afternoons daydreaming about glocks in his mouth or hitting the rocks under the Brooklyn Bridge, just because he couldn’t keep on writing so much pointless shit. 

After all the work he’d put into getting here, though, he’d be damned if he gave it all up now. Where would he go, anyway? It’s not like there was a life out there for him, past the one he was already trapped in. 

There had to be something he could do. There was always something, and not just in a desperate self-help book kind of way. He’d never taken the bullshit lying down. Just like his Papi’s attempt to re-brand shame as love or Professor Keller’s vindictive ideology against giving 4.0’s, he’d persevere and find a way to not just survive, but thrive.

So what the fuck was he doing here, prodding the tines of his fork into some limp spring mix?

This lunch would be the end of it. Jason wouldn’t live his life settling for shitty Caprese salad when he wanted a damn noodle bowl. Today would be different. Today he would march his ass right up to Editor Waler's office and—

"Jason? Jason. Are you even listening to me?" Jason blinked, meeting the expressive green eyes of his girlfriend, Julia Winters. Safe to say, she didn’t look amused. She had the kind of face that was always too honest, creating stress caverns in her cheeks for all the times she had to tell people they were being idiots. And Julia had a serious “how much of an idiot are you?” frown going.

To this day, Jason wasn’t sure if he appreciated that expressive honesty or fucking hated it. 

Either way, the jaded journalist certainly didn’t like getting caught being an absent-minded asshole. He shrugged, a slight blush coming to his cheeks, the kind he hoped his tanned skin masked. "Oh, of course. I'm always listening." 

She leaned back in her chair and glowered at him. "Please. Your eyes glazed over the same way they do when people run up to you trying to talk about soccer. If you really were listening, what was I talking about, wise guy?" 

Jason scoffed, though panic rose in his throat. He scanned his memory of the past fifteen minutes like an open newspaper, but every page was blank. Shit. The only thing he had a clear image of was the first few moments they walked in, when she giggled at the oh-so-clever dish names. 

Right, he remembered now. It was her favorite alliteration they offered: the Curie Caprese. Fire roasted tomatoes, basil, and fresh mozzarella atop spring mix with a so-called spicy red pepper and oil vinaigrette. And after that, he whirled around in his head like the most oblivious, self-centered centrifuge. 

In a slight panic, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Work. We were talking about work. Your boss was bothering you again, right?"

Julia reddened and glanced down at her hands. "I guess you were listening." 

At her backing off, Jason thanked his lucky stars. God, if she wasn’t obsessed with talking about her shitty boss he would have been screwed. Fighting would’ve been the cherry tomato on top of his shitty afternoon. 

Her composure now compact, compressed, Julia said, “I'm sorry, Jason, you've just felt so distant lately."

While it probably would’ve pissed her off, he almost laughed. Distance was his middle name. If she didn’t know that by now, she wasn’t as smart as he thought she was. 

That, or she picked up on the mood of his internal monologue, but who could do shit like that? 

Though he opened his mouth for some off-hand bluff of an excuse, time was on his side. Literally. His phone started to vibrate: 12:50. It was his “get your dumb ass back to work” alarm. One lunch with Julia last year ran a little late and his boss, Waler, made him listen to his drivel about the perils of one’s personal life getting in the way of a serious career.

Maybe if Waler gave a shit about his personal life his wife wouldn’t be leaving him, but hey, who was Jason Erikson to know anything about healthy, functional family lives? 

He dropped his fork and knife back into his grazed bowl. Finishing this salad wasn’t really on his list of priorities anyway.  

As he tucked the phone away, shutting it off,  he stood up from their table and kissed her forehead. It’d only be more trouble for him if she kept that tense, uncertain look on her face. He ran his hand over the top of her head, tucked some hair behind her ear. Just that alone got her shoulders straighter. Jason did his best to convincingly promise:  "Look, the distance is all in your head. Don't worry about it. Now I have to get back to work, okay? I’ll see you.” 

She stood and pressed her fingers to his forearm, a small gesture that normally he didn’t think much about. With everything else swimming in his head, though...

Julia said, simply, "I love you, Jason."

But then he paused.

Feeling his weight of gravity shift her way, Jason rocked back on his heels. Today he was marching off and taking back his life, not falling at some beautiful woman’s feet. Instead, he tossed her a dismissive smile like it was a pity tip. "See you later, Jules."

He didn’t look back once he turned. Years ago he learned that was a trap. There was something about her eyes, and the summer’s end feel to them, green fading into golds and browns, that made you never want to leave sometimes. 

Since he knew what his own eyes looked like, he didn’t love sticking around.

Then Jason sauntered off, focusing on clearing his head of all the tangled mess he made of it. It always was like this, like she was some His daily lunches with Julia were a chore, and this one was no different, but if they kept her happy and relatively placated he wouldn't object. 

Some days he didn’t know why he bothered, but...

Just then, his phone started buzzing again. He could’ve sworn that he turned the damn alarm off, but it was just that kind of day, wasn’t it?

But when he pulled his phone out of his pocket, it wasn’t the same fake-charming, hyper-designed sans serif font reminding him to get to work. Instead, it was a phone number. Normally, he’d assume it was some work contact and answer. With the area code on it, though, one he hadn’t seen in years, his heart stopped dead. 

Or, at least, he wished it would.  

For unknown, probably dumb subconscious reasons, though, he answered. Jason really didn’t fucking have to, but... he figured today couldn’t get any worse at this point. That’s what he massaged into his head like some protection charm as he said, “Hello, this is Jason Erickson.”

Across the line was the all-too polite and enunciated kind of voice that he was once used to, years back. It only made his heart dig itself deeper into the ground. “Hello Mr. Erickson. This is the Abaddon Nursing Care Center.”

Not them. Not again. “Look, if Julio Ramirez left anything in the goddamn plumbing, I don’t care-”

She cut him off with a curtness he didn’t expect. “No, this is about your brother.”

Of all the things she could’ve said, that was the thing he least expected. Well, perhaps not the last, considering it’d been more than two decades since he saw his dad. Guess good old Calvin Erickson knocked up some other poor idiot. Jason would have to say a little prayer for that fool. 

But it didn’t matter if they shared blood; it was the kind of blood that never mattered to him. Wasn’t like this nameless stranger mattered either, right? Jason bit into his words. “I don’t have a brother.”

There was a pause on the other end, the kind where someone felt awkward about the anger in his voice. He didn’t flinch or recoil. “Right, Dr. Fairchild mentioned you might not know.” The nurse sighed, like she was repeating some tiresome urban legend to a child. “Your half-brother is... troubled. He tried to jump off the abandoned bridge. He survived and is out of critical condition, but-” Before he could tell them to fuck off and find someone else, the nurse just had to say something more. “But if you don’t come to get him soon, I’m sorry to say that he’s 18 so that means we’ll have to discharge him on his own within the next 48 hours.” 

Fuck. Her.

Taking a deep breath, Jason stayed firm and said, “Look, I’m not-” but he cut himself off this time. The next time he said “look” he was going to shoot out his own tongue. He’d heard the word “look” shot at him like a weapon more times than he ever needed to hear it in a lifetime. Understanding is done best when seen, Papi would say. 

Well, Jason hadn’t seen anything, had he?

So this kid, whoever he was, didn’t matter, barely even existed, as far as Jason was concerned. He had no obligation to get involved in whatever fucked up shit this was. 

All he had to do was politely decline, put down the phone, and march up to Waler’s office to move his career in a better direction. It was what he needed. 

Against his better judgment, Jason’s hand didn’t move, he didn’t shut the phone off, he didn’t even keep walking. Nailed still to the concrete below him, he looked up at the stupid fluffy white clouds above him and asked, “What’s his name?”