#but fucking christ jesus fuck i hate this!! i have to drive forty minutes to see my friends!! no wonder i never developed social skills!!

[mossflower]

who up ignoring the crazy visions of them in la

[livwritesstuff]

boston pride is today so here have an edited repost from when i walked in the parade last year

Steve is getting boring in his old age (forty-four, almost).

It was inevitable, he supposes when he looks back, and he likes being boring. 

He likes the steady routine of the life he and Eddie (married for seven years, now) have built with their three daughters (four, seven, and nearly ten, a notion Steve is choosing to ignore because there’s no goddamn way Moe nearly has an entire decade under her belt already), and he doesn’t find himself making attempts to mix things up all that often.

Naturally, Eddie is the one to suggest they make the trip into Boston with their daughters for the annual Pride parade, and when he does, Steve isn’t automatically inclined to agree.

Look – Steve knows it’s important for kids to see the world and do new things and all that enriching shit, but maybe he still bears some of the scars from keeping a semi-feral pack of teenagers alive amidst the eldritch hellscape of their hometown, and it’s not like they don’t keep themselves entertained at home – Hazel had finally got the gist of Go-Fish not too long ago and that’s been a whole new ballgame Steve is perfectly content to continue exploring.

In the end, however, the logical side of him (and Eddie’s ever-persistent badgering) wins out, and come mid-June of 2011, they all make the drive into Boston to see the parade.

It doesn’t take Steve long at all to acknowledge that it was a good idea. He hadn’t been to Pride in many years (again – he’s boring in his old age), and he’d forgotten how much fun it is – a true celebration of love and happiness in the face of a lot of fucked up shit and all that. The parade’s pretty good too (definitely a few floats he hopes the girls are too distracted chasing after candy to notice and ask questions about later, but only time will tell), and so is the festival afterwards. It ends up being a really great time for all of them.

Of the whole day, though, Steve’s favorite part is the trip home, a drive that should have only been thirty minutes, but turns into nearly two hours with all the traffic on I-90.

The girls are still riding the sugar rush of an afternoon’s worth of lemonade and fried dough and candy thrown from parade floats (Hazel might be succumbing though, if Steve’s quick glances in the rear-view mirror at the way her eyes are drooping closed are anything to go off of), and it seems as if the day’s contagious joy had followed them into the car. Robbie and Moe have been asking a lot of questions – mostly chatter about what floats were everyone’s favorites and who got the best face paint until Moe, perceptive as she’s always been, hits them with, “What’s Pride for?”

Which turns into, “Why do people think it’s a bad thing?” and that becomes, “So how did you and Papa fall in love?” at which point Eddie, who’d been fielding their daughters' questions so Steve could keep his focus on the stop-and-go highway traffic, launches into a dramatic and involved retelling of how their relationship had begun nearly eighteen years ago.

“So I told him that I liked him and what do you think Papa said?” Eddie eventually asks as he approaches the end of the story.

“What?” the girls ask with eager smiles and wide eyes.

“Nothing,” Eddie says ruthlessly, a wicked grin on his face.

“Alright,” Steve cuts in over the laughter coming from the backseat, “Let’s not be dramatic. I said something...eventually, and it wasn’t even that long later – four hours tops.”

“That’s right,” Eddie concedes, “And then we all lived happily ever after and all that jazz.”

“Good,” Robbie says, “’Cos if you hadn’t, today wouldn’t happen.”

“Hate to break it to you, sweet pea,” Steve replies, “but I’m pretty sure Pride would still happen even if Dad and I weren’t there for it.”

“We wouldn’t be here," Moe corrects him, "All together.”

Steve blinks.

Jesus Christ, these kids are gonna be the death of him. Can’t drive the damn car if his eyes are misting over, can he?

“Yeah,” Eddie says as he reaches over to curve his hand around the back of Steve’s neck, “Yeah, bug, that’s true.”

And thanks goodness for that.

[autisticlancemcclain]

Hey Baby (I Think I Wanna Marry You)

Keith/Lance (Voltron), Hunk & Lance (Voltron), Fluff and Humour, 893 Words

Summary: Keith and Lance are impulsive and ridiculous. Hunk is Tired of them.

---

Sometimes Keith just… says things. Just whatever half-formed thought is on his mind. Which is why Hunk doesn’t bat an eye when Keith straightens abruptly from his position on the couch (where he has been glaring thoughtfully at the ceiling for forty straight minutes), knocking Lance’s legs from his lap. He squints at the man in question, and says: “Hey. Lance. Marry me.”

See? Sometimes Keith just says whatever. They aren’t even dating. Hunk knows this because Lance complains about it regularly (Hunk pretends to hate it, but, y’know. Drama is drama and he eats it up every time).

Lance doesn’t even glance up from his book, snorting. “Do you have a ring with you?”

“…No.”

“A location? A date?”

“No.”

“Get those details figured out, and get back to me.”

And just like that, the bit is over. Lance and Keith, being their weird, incomprehensible selves. They’re so caught up in each other that occasionally they just speak in one-word references; it drives everyone else insane. Have you ever watched two people so on the same wavelength that they just hum at each other in different tones and they have a whole-ass, real conversation? It’s beyond infuriating. It might even make you, during a meal where they are having said annoying conversation, lift your fork in front of the duo in question, pretending they’re in jail. For your own damn peace of mind.

But anyway. Keith and Lance tend to be in their own world, and Keith especially loves to just Say Things that make sense to Lance and Lance only. Ergo Hunk dismissed the actual, literal proposal as some weird inside joke between the two of them. So you can imagine Hunk’s surprise when, a week later, he’s minding his business, eating his dinner, when he notices something shiny on Lance’s fourth finger. His eyes widen, and he glances over to Keith, and — yep. Matching golden rings.

“Ahh??” he yells, pointing at their hands. His yell draws the attention of the rest of the team, who notice the rings and gasp.

“What the fuck are those,” Pidge demands.

Keith glances down at his hands, looking back up at them with his brow furrowed. “Wedding… rings…?”

Shiro pinches the bridge of his nose, giving Keith a Look. “She knows what they are, Keith. She’s asking why you and Lance are wearing them. We are all asking, actually. What the fuck.”

“Cause we got married,” Lance supplies, looking at them like they’re dumb. “Obviously.”

“I didn’t know you were courting,” Allura says.

“We weren’t.”

“So… why are you wed?”

Now Keith is the one looking at them weird. “Y’all were there when I proposed,” he says slowly.

“I thought you were doing a bit!” Hunk cries.

Keith blinks. “I’d never joke about marrying Lance. I’m in love with him.” Lance presses a kiss to his cheek, making a cheesy ‘mwah!’ sound.

“Love you too, babe!” he chirps.

“I thought humans tended to have a ‘dating’ period before marriage,” Allura asks again, still confused.

“They usually do,” Pidge mutters.

Keith shrugs. “No point. I love him, I know him, I’m gonna love him until I die. Why bother waiting?”

“Mhm,” Lance agrees. “Plus, he asked nicely. And we went and got me a ring when I asked.”

“Okay,” Shiro sighs tiredly. “I guess.”

Hunk can’t quite get over it so quickly. “Lance,” he says, staring at his friends with wide eyes, “your mamá is gonna kill you.”

That, finally, seems to make a difference. Lance freezes, sending a panicked look to his — his fucking husband, Jesus Christ.

“Maybe she’ll be so happy to see me that she’ll forgive me immediately?” Lance tries.

Hunk snorts, feeling vindicated. “Unlikely. That’ll teach you to run off and get eloped just because your impulsive-ass husband decided to marry you one random Wednesday.”

“It wasn’t impulsive!” Keith defends. “I’ve been thinking about Lance forever! Once I decided to go for it, I asked!”

“It was definitely a little impulsive. You didn’t even have a ring or anything,” Pidge points out.

Keith falters, and Lance smiles into his cup.

“Okay, true, but that’s what I have Lance for! He reminded me and we got them and boom. Problem solved.”

Hunk opens his mouth to argue further, but stops himself. Yes, it was sudden. No, it doesn’t really make much sense. Yes, these two idiots are codependent to the enth degree. But…

They are happy.

“I’m not playing marriage therapist,” Hunk says instead of you two are batshit insane and perfect for each other because of it. “Also, if I hear even one decibel of honeymoon sex, I will set your room on fire with you in it.”

Everyone makes a face at the insinuation, except for the newlyweds, who wear identical smirks. Because of course they do.

“I mean it,” Hunk warns, but he can’t quite keep the glare on his face.

After all — his best friends just got married. Sudden or not — he’s happy for them.

(He hears the fucking honeymoon sex. Because of course he does. But he and Pidge mess with their bed so that it folds in half and traps them in it if they get past a certain noise level, and Shiro laughs so hard he forgets to lecture them about it, so. He feels like maybe he wins that round.)

part two

[childeaether]

venus.

cw: 18+ only, xiao/f!reader, law school au, enemies to lovers, rough sex, dumbification, degradation

wc: 2.5k

it was getting late. well, it got late about two hours ago. now midnight was approaching at an annoyingly fast rate. you were exhausted, xiao was irritable, and the report was nowhere near done. it was a miracle that no one had come by to lock up the study room for the night.

“this case doesn’t make any sense,” you griped, typing aggressively on your laptop. xiao sighed.

“you’ve said that three times in the last thirty minutes. i get it,” he said flatly. you shot him a look. your professor had to be some kind of sadist. you and xiao had hated each other since the first day of class. rarely did a lecture go by without the two of you arguing- whether it was about law or the color of the sky.

“read this,” you said, turning your laptop towards him. his eyes narrowed as he read over the report, which you’d rewritten twice now. he shook his head as he approached the end.

“your reasoning doesn’t make any sense. you’re just mentioning another case to make the holes in your argument look smaller,” he said. “and the fuck does the implied powers have to do with anything?”

you snatched your laptop back. “at least i’m putting ideas out there. you’ve been rereading it for, like, forty five minutes.”

he rolled his eyes. “right. why analyze the case to further understand it when you could just spew bullshit and pray something is right?”

you groaned in frustration. “this case is at least a century old. you’re not supposed to ‘further understand it.’ the whole point of the assignment is torture us mentally.”

“the whole point of the assignment is to challenge us,” he shot back, “something you will have to get used to if you want a fucking law career.”

you slammed your laptop shut. “i get it, you think i’m stupid-”

“i don’t think you’re stupid, i think you’re fucking lazy.”

you snorted, but there was no humor in it. “i’m lazy, but you haven’t written shit. got it.”

he stood. “listen, i’m sorry that you weren’t paired with your little boyfriend, but-”

“my little boyfriend?” you said, incredulous. “what are you even talking about?” you got to your feet, too. the two of you were ticking time bombs, trapped in each other’s space. as always.

“that ginger you sit next to. don’t act like i’m wrong,” he snapped, “you two are so fucking obvious.”

you laughed in disbelief. “jesus christ, you are such an asshole. his name is childe. you’ve known him an entire semester-”

xiao cut you off, “you’re unbearable around him. that stupid high pitched giggle you do? it gives me a fucking headache-”

“laughing at his jokes means i’m fucking him?” you didn’t even realize that you’d raised your voice.

“you dumb yourself down for him,” xiao said. “it’s infuriating. you can have anyone you want, why do you settle for that moron?”

“i’m not settling for him,” you hissed, “i don’t even talk to him outside of class! and so what if i fucking was? god forbid someone likes me, right? just because you hate me doesn’t mean the rest of the world does.”

something in his eyes changed. you suddenly realized how close your faces were. you must’ve gotten closer as your tempers escalated.

“you are stupid,” he said, softly. before your rage took hold, he continued, “i.. don’t hate you.”

you scoffed. “yeah, right,” you said, starting to back away. his hand caught your shoulder, gentle but firm. the earth stopped turning. he’d never looked at you like this before. like you were more than a nuisance. much more.

it clicked. oh.

“what did you mean by.. what you said a second ago?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “that i.. can ‘have anyone i want?’” your heart was beating fast, and it wasn’t caused by rage, this time.

for a moment, xiao looked vulnerable. “we don’t have to talk about this,” he whispered. “i know that we argue a lot, and i know that i can be a dick, but- i don’t hate you. i don’t.”

your heart was caught in your throat. “how do you feel about me?” you breathed.

his cheeks reddened. he clearly wasn’t used to being emotionally vulnerable, especially in front of you. “it’s complicated,” he said. “it’s not necessarily how i feel about you, but how you make me feel.”

a small smile creeped onto your lips. “well.. what are you involuntarily feeling?”

your smile seemed to relax him, if only slightly. he sighed. “i’ve been asking myself the same question for months. i mean, you always annoyed me- especially in the beginning. but, as time went on, i don’t know.. i started noticing little things.

“like the look in your eye when you’re winning an argument. or the one when you’re losing. how you bite your lip when you’re focused on something..” he trailed off. he looked up, finally meeting your eyes.

“like i said, it’s complicated,” he murmured. “but whatever i was feeling was.. warm. pleasant, even if i didn’t want it to be. then, you started hanging out with that childe guy, and these feelings went from warm to… hot. like a, a burning sensation, in my chest.”

just thinking about it seemed to frustrate him. “he made you laugh. you didn’t look at him like you wanted to kill him. i mean, you liked him. and i couldn’t stand it, because-”

he cut himself off, trying to muster up the courage to say whatever was about to come next. “i couldn’t stand that you would never see me the way you saw him.” his breathing was shaky. it made your heart ache.

your faces were so close.

“it drives me insane,” he continued. “you drive me insane. and i just want to-”

you cut him off, capturing his lips in a desperate, long-awaited kiss. he jumped at first, shocked, but melted into it before too long. his hands found themselves on your hips, gripping them firmly. pulling you closer to him. you tangled your fingers in his hair, relishing in the deep groan that escapes him when you tug on the strands.

he bit your lip as he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. you whined and gasped for breath. you brought a hand to his cheek, brushing a piece of hair behind his ear. “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that,” you whispered. his fingers dug into your waist.

“you’re not fucking childe?” he said. god, his eyes.

you shook your head.

“good.”

just like that, he was on you again. the kiss was rougher this time, hotter. teeth nipped at lips, tongues prodded at one another, hands made their way up your shirt. xiao pulled away briefly to remove it. he pushed you up against the desk as his lips chased yours once again. you had no objections, dizzy with lust.

he shoved a thigh between your legs and you moaned as he pressed it against you.

“god, look at you,” he whispered, his teeth against your neck. he moved his thigh, and you couldn’t stop your hips from grinding against it. there was an almost sinister look in his eye. it was sadistic, but adoring. your heart was fluttering in your chest.

“aw, baby,” he cooed, “i’ve hardly touched you. do you really need it that bad?” that condescending tone did something to you. a familiar fog was starting to form in your head. “i guess i should’ve seen this coming. smart girls like you love to be turned into dumb sluts in bed, right?”

a shiver ran down your spine. before you could respond, he moved his ground his thigh against you. an embarrassingly high pitched noise escaped your throat. “yeah, that’s what i thought,” xiao teased, sinking his teeth into your collarbone. your nails dug into his shoulder.

suddenly, he pulled away. you whined pitifully at the loss of contact, but the disappointment didn’t last long. your heart skipped a beat as you realized xiao had pulled away to take off his belt. that fog was getting hard to ignore.

he noticed you staring. “bend over the desk,” he commanded, “and hike up your skirt for me.”

as if your panties weren’t soaked enough before.

nervously, you bent yourself over the desk and pulled your skirt up, exposing the silk panties you had on underneath. they were genuinely comfortable. xiao picked a good day to confess.

you heard him inhale sharply behind you, taking you in. “fuck,” he whispered, running a hand up your thigh. you couldn’t help but squirm. “you’re already so wet i can see it through your panties. does it turn you on when i tell you what to do?”

two fingers traced the outline of your pussy over your panties. “or maybe it was the ‘dumb slut’ part, hmm?”

you moaned helplessly, wriggling your hips. “xiao, please,” you begged, “hurry up, i- i want it.”

“be patient,” he replied. you felt lips press against your inner thigh. your skin felt like it was on fire, his lips burning a trail everywhere they touched. you whimpered and squirmed, desperate.

“please, just- fucking get on with it,” you cried. your cunt was aching. you’d imagined xiao fucking you on shameful, lonely nights. especially on days like this, when the two of you had been at each other’s throats. and now it was here. real.

“god, please-”

“shut the fuck up, slut, or i’ll rip these panties off and gag you with them,” he growled. the fog won. you felt yourself melt into the desk, into submission. your hips stilled, and you bit your lip to keep from whining. every second that passed felt like a lifetime.

finally, he pulled your panties down, exposing your dripping sex. you gasped at the sensation of cold air against you. it only made you feel hotter.

he ran his middle and index finger up and down your folds, maddeningly slow. god, it was hard to keep quiet. you could hardly think about anything but xiao, xiao’s fingers, xiao’s dick.

you couldn’t stop yourself from moaning out loud when his fingers began to circle your clit. they were slow and gentle; you needed them to be more.

“you’re so beautiful,” xiao whispered. you hung on to his every word. “i want to take my time with you, and i promise i will, later.. but right now, i can’t help myself.” he took your wrists into one hand, holding them behind your back. he leaned forward, his lips brushing against your ear as he continued, “i’m going to fuck you senseless.”

you cried out as he plunged two fingers inside you, thrusting in and out roughly. it was a relief, but it wasn’t enough. you tried to grind your hips onto his fingers to no avail. “and you’re going to take what i give you, aren’t you, baby?” he said, kissing a particularly sensitive spot behind your ear.

“because you’re my good, stupid slut.” he added a third finger and curled them inside you, finally hitting the sweet spot he’d been searching for. you let out a low moan at the sensation. “you think you’re so smart, but look at you. trying to fuck yourself on my fingers. if i’d known this is all it takes to shut you up, i would’ve done this a long time ago.”

you mumbled out a pathetic, incoherent moan. you couldn’t even argue with him, you were so desperate.

“it’s okay, pretty girl,” he whispered. “i’ve got you. i’ll give you what you want. you just have to ask.”

you knew what that meant. “please,” you begged, “please- fuck me, xiao! i want it so bad, i’m so..” you trailed off, trying to hang on to your train of thought as he twisted his fingers inside you. your sentence became a string of incoherent please’s.

luckily for you, xiao was nearing the limit of his control. “good girl,” he said. you heard shuffling behind you as he positioned himself, the tip of his cock pressing against the entrance to your cunt. his grip on your wrists tightened. “take a deep breath, baby.”

he thrust his hips forward and finally, he was inside you. it stung at first, but you adjusted quickly. when he felt you relax, he pulled your wrists toward him, using them as leverage to better fuck into you.

“oh, thank you, thankyouthankyouthankyou,” you moaned, relishing in the feeling of him brushing against your g-spot. every thrust had you seeing stars.

“fuck, you feel so good,” xiao hissed, picking up the pace. he pressed kisses down your spine. “so pretty, such a good girl. you like being fucked rough like this, baby? is this what you needed?”

you let out another string of whimpers, nodding desperately. “it’s so good,” you slurred, “i’m close.”

he released your wrists to grab your forearm, pulling you up, against his chest. this angle was somehow better than the last, directly targeting that sweet spot he’d only been brushing before. “oh, yes! right there!” you cried.

xiao let out a growl, fucking you harder than before. “that’s right, you stupid slut. fucking take it,” he snarled, biting into your neck. “you wanna cum?”

you nodded feverishly, no longer bothering to quiet the little noises he forced out of you with each thrust. “yes, god, please,” you begged, tears beginning to form in your eyes.

he suddenly pulled out and flipped you onto your back, thrusting inside you again without missing a beat. you grabbed onto his shoulders, trying to stay grounded. “tell me what you are,” he said, hardly louder than a whisper.

your cheeks were burning. you knew what he meant. in any other circumstance, you would’ve fought him on it, or at least tried to. but you’d never had dick this good in your life. you weren’t about to disobey him.

a thumb hovered above your clit. “tell me what you are,” he repeated, his gaze unwavering. you couldn’t resist him if you tried.

“i’m a dumb slut!” you cried, tears running freely now. he brought his thumb down, rubbing in time with his quick, rough thrusts. your eyes rolled back as you came, cunt clenching down desperately, legs shaking around his waist.

xiao was quick to follow, cumming inside you with a low, gravelly groan as he pulled your hips against him. you whined at the feeling.

as he came down, he pressed his lips to yours again, much gentler than he had earlier. you kissed him back, slowly gathering your bearings.

when you pull away, he peppers your cheeks with light kisses. “you were so good,” he whispered, “so good for me.” you hummed happily, capturing his lips once more.

he pulled out of you, much to your dismay. before you could demand another round, you were hit with a sudden realization. “oh, fuck,” you said, frantically pulling your shirt over your head.

his eyes widened and he put a hand on your arm. “what is it? what’s wrong?” he asked, sounding genuinely concerned. it was a cute look on him.

“the fucking case report,” you grumbled.

he grinned and gently tugged you back to his chest. “don’t worry. i can fix your half in, like, thirty minutes.”

you shot him an annoyed but amused look. “you’re an asshole,” you said. he pressed a kiss to your nose.

“you love it,” he replied.

and you did.

[emmy-writes-sometimes]

Guys My Age

You meet Sebastian Stan and end up on a date, but what happens when he asks you out without knowing you’re only 22? 

-

           You wished you could say you didn’t like a guy fifteen years older than you, but you would also be wrong. Very wrong. It was dumb to even assume someone like him could like you back, regardless of age. He was an actor, a good one, who had his life together in every sense of the word. He had apartments in two cities, an endless amount of phone contacts you could never even dream of, and an actual life. You were just some college student who worked for Marvel until he needed a dog-sitter and you were the closest by. He probably didn’t even know you were a college student. If he did, he would probably dump you. And, as a matter of fact, that was what you were waiting for.

           It started out just dog-sitting for him on the occasional weekend when he needed to fly back to New York. You were just excited for an excuse to leave your dorm for the weekend, much less spend time with Sebastian’s puppy, Trooper, and the extra money helped because Marvel could have easily paid you more than they did. You didn’t think he would ask you out, at all. And when he did, even though it was just for one dinner, you were more than excited. That was how you ended up in front of the mirror in your dorm, trying to decide whether to wear the clothes you had on or not.

           “You have a dick appointment with thick boy?” Your roommate said, causing you to laugh so hard you nearly got mascara all over your nose.

           “Jesus Christ,” you responded, “his name is Sebastian.”

           “His name is a snack,” she insisted under her breath. “And if you don’t come back having gotten some, I’ll make you clean the bathroom.” You rolled your eyes.

           “Nothing is going to happen,” you sighed. “It’s a first date and we’re literally just going to a restaurant. He’s definitely classier than fucking on the first date.” You finished with your mascara and threw it back into the box you kept your makeup in, making sure you weren’t wearing too much makeup for what you actually kind of hoped was a dick appointment. Not just so you could say you got dicked down by Sebastian Stan, but because he was hot and you genuinely liked him. He was sweet, hilarious, and he was probably the biggest idiot you’d ever met. But he was also almost forty years old, you kept reminding yourself. There was a fifteen year age gap. And you were determined not to let him know. You didn’t have a plan for when he did find out, because you assumed that he would dump you before then, but you probably should have had a plan.

           “Whatever you say,” your roommate sing-songed to you. “Why are you meeting him at his house?”

           “Because he doesn’t know I’m 22 and I intend to keep it that way.”

           “He probably doesn’t care, honestly. If he knows you’re an intern, he knows you’re probably younger.” You consider this for a second as you put your lip gloss on, because why not, and then you pull out your phone.

           Heading over soon!

           Sebastian started typing almost immediately, just a quick okay, and you grabbed your jacket and wallet before heading out the door.  Your roommate yelled a quick goodbye, but as you rode the elevator down to the garage you did your best to drive instead of thinking about all of the bad things that could possibly happen. Honestly, he probably didn’t care. But you were an anxiety-ridden human being and that was one of the things you had the most anxiety about. To you, age gaps didn’t matter. But it could also be that you just wanted to be with him so badly…

           You were so concerned and thinking so hard that you almost missed his interstate exit. And then you almost missed the street. The house, the fifth on the left, was Sebastian’s, and it was hard to miss. The dog was in the front yard, a few feet from the invisible fence, and started barking as soon as you pulled in. He must have come to recognize your car, even though you spent most of the time with him when you were dog-sitting.

           “Hi, Troopy!” You said brightly, the Rottweiler standing on his legs and leaning on you. “Hey, buddy!” He barked again and then ran to the front door, where the screen was already open. Sebastian was folding a blanket in his hands when he noticed you were there, and opened the door for you.

           “Hey!” He said, walking forward and giving you a hug. He smelled like he’d just showered – he’d used the expensive cologne he kept on his vanity. When he peeled away he was still wearing a smile on his face. The dog let out a bark before settling down on his bed in the corner of the room.

           “Hey, how are you?” You asked. It had only been three days since he had gotten back from New York, where his mom had roped him into coming back for a family friend’s wedding. Then the month before he’d had to go out to California for a meeting about another movie that would be filming in the summer, and that was the month after he’d gotten Trooper. You were thankful that you had been the lucky ADR assistant who’d struck up a conversation with him.

           “I’m good. We finally finished that one scene with Mackie’s double, so at least that’s out of the way.” He was talking about one of the most dangerous stunts Marvel had actually let him do – they weren’t even letting Mackie do it. “You?”

           “Finished up your dialogue earlier,” you responded. “And we had weird staff meeting.”

           “Weird?”

           “Russo’s came by. Taylor was sucking up. It was just weird.” He grinned. Your boss, Taylor, was probably one of the craziest guys you’d ever met in your life. And he worshipped the ground that the Russo brothers walked on.

           “Yeah, that’s awkward. You ready? I got reservations at that Italian place, uh, Boccalupo?” He asked. “Is that okay?”

           “Oh, I love that place!” The only time you’d ever been was your junior year when your parents were moving you in, but you weren’t going to say that. You felt bad for hiding it, but if he asked, you would tell him.

           “Let me just find my keys and we can go, I was just cleaning up a little.”

           “You’re fine,” you responded as he disappeared up the stairs, probably go to his bedroom. You pulled your romper down a little more, just so you could kneel to pet Trooper for another minute.

           “Good boy,” you said to him as he offered you a paw. You’d taught him that trick last weekend.

           “He’s been giving his paw to everybody,” Sebastian smiled as he walked back down the stairs, Jaguar keys in hand. “You should be a dog trainer.”

           “Yeah, when I move out of my apartment I think I’m gonna rescue.”

           “No pets?”

           “Unless you have an ESA form, no pets.”

           “That sucks. Honestly, I wasn’t even thinking of getting one. But then I saw Trooper and…”

           “He’s a cute boy.” You watched Sebastian lock the door, then unlock his car in the same move. He laid a gigantic, warm hand on your back, walking you over to his car. He even opened your door for you, something a guy had… literally never done before. He shut the door and crossed over to his side to get in.

           He was the ultimate gentleman. He poured your water for you, pulled your chair out for you, and even though you insisted he shouldn’t spend an outrageous amount of money on you he still paid for all of dinner. So when he suggested you get a couple drinks at a dive bar, you couldn’t say no. If anything, he said, you could just leave your car at his house and he could call you an Uber to come get it the next morning. He was quite possibly the sweetest man you’d ever been on a date with. And he had stories, tons of them, and his brain was something you could pick at and listen to and laugh with. You could spend and endless amount of time just listening to him. And when he put his hand on your back to walk you across the street to the bar, you could have just melted right into him.

           “ID’s?” The bouncer asked. You reached into your purse and pulled out your bare license, thankful that the under 21 bar had been removed. Sebastian gave the ID’s over to the bouncer, who just smirked.

           “Thank you,” Sebastian replied when the bouncer gave him his license back.

           “22, huh?” The bouncer looked you up and down, scanning you, checking you out, and Sebastian’s hand on your back froze. “You’re a young one.”

           “Uh, yeah,” you responded quietly. You sighed, looking over at Sebastian.

           “You’re 22?” Sebastian asked. He sounded more curious than anything. You just nodded as the bouncer let you in. Thanks, asshat, you wanted to say.

           “Yeah,” you said. Your heart fell into your stomach. Sebastian picked a booth and sat you down, and you prepared yourself for the I can’t date someone fifteen years younger than me. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I just…”

           “Why didn’t you?” He asked. A waitress came up to the booth.

           “What can I get you two?” She asked.

           “Just whatever’s dark and on tap,” Sebastian answered, “and she…”

           “Just a cider,” you responded. The waitress nodded and left. “Because I thought you would dump me before you figure it out.”

           “I wasn’t going to dump you, first of all. I like you,” he said with a small smile. “But you gotta tell me the truth. I mean, I figured you were, because you’re an intern, but…”

           “Yeah,” you sighed, nervously running a hand through your hair. “I’m a senior.”

           “At least you mean college. Wait, you do mean college, right?” You cracked a smile. “There’s a smile.”

           “Yeah. Are you sure you’re not pissed?” He shrugged.

           “No. Honestly, if it doesn’t bother you, it doesn’t bother me. I’m just flattered you’d want to go out with an old guy like me.”

           “You’re not old. You just play a guy who’s a hundred and something.” He laughed. The waitress came back with two bottles, putting them down on the table, and left again. “So why did you even ask me out? If you figured I’m so young.”

           “Because you’re pretty. And smart. And you’re really good at your job. And you like my dog, and you’re great at training him. Because I like you.”

           “I like you too.” Sebastian reached across the table and took your hand in his.

           “So you wouldn’t hate it if I asked you out again?”

           “I don’t think I would hate it. And I won’t judge you for your age if you won’t judge me for mine.”

-

           “So?” Your roommate asked you later as you tried to sneak into the room. She was evidently waiting on you, even though she was on her bed scrolling through her phone. You put your purse down on the floor beside the door, then took off the wedges you’d been wearing. Sebastian was already half a foot taller than you, at least.

           “He found out,” you responded, throwing your shoes into the basket you kept them all in. Your roommate’s face fell.

           “Aww, I’m sorry.”

           “But,” you continued. “He said it doesn’t bother him if it doesn’t bother me. And he asked me out again.” Your roommate’s face lit up this time.

           “Ugh, I knew it! See, I told you you’re pretty enough to go out with him!” You smiled, starting to take your makeup off at your desk. “Did you do anything else?”

           “No,” you laughed. “He kissed my cheek. And he said he can’t wait to see me on Sunday night.”

           “Sunday night?”

           “Sunday night!” Your phone chimed with a message from Sebastian.

           See you Sunday. Had a great time :) 

           “Aww, it autocorrected to a smile emoji!” Your roommate said as she read your message.

           “Just get back in bed!”

-

           “22, huh?” The bartender asked on Sunday night, right as you handed him your ID. Sebastian’s hand squeezed your waist as you just laughed, handing the bartender your driver’s license.

           “Yep,” you responded as you took it back. Sebastian ordered for the two of you and then sat you down at one of the stools. “I get it, I’m a baby.”

           “Yeah,” Sebastian said to you as you turned to him, laying your head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around your back and tugged you closer, then kissed your exposed temple. “But you’re my baby.” You couldn’t help but smile. “Will you be my very young girlfriend?”

           “Only if you’ll be my somewhat older but not middle-aged boyfriend.” In a burst of course you sat up, looking into his blue eyes, and caught him in a smile. But you must have looked to his lips, too, because he leaned in. His lips were ridiculously soft. He tasted like the glass of wine you’d had at dinner.

           “Sounds good to me,” he said after he broke the kiss. Your beers arrived at the same time a photo flashed from across the street. “So, that would be one of the people that likes to follow me and take pictures.”

           “That’s just weird,” you responded. “I wonder how long it’ll take for them to figure out that I’m basically jailbait.”

           “It’ll be fine. I know how to deal with this and the best thing to do is just let them speculate and don’t give them any answers they don’t need. We can go back into hiding, if you want.” You shook your head. A piece of hair fell in front of space and Sebastian pushed it back behind your ear.

           “I think I’m done hiding things.”

           “Yeah, me too.” He removed his hand to grab his beer bottle on the table. “The question is, kid, can you keep up?”

           “Hey, can a kid do this?” You chugged the bottle in one go, slapping it back down on the counter.

           “No, but I can.” Sebastian started chugging his own, then put it down. “So can I see where you live? Or do you have an age limit on those things?” You laughed.

           “You can see where I live. As long as you forgive the bottles of wine we used as decorations.” He chuckled, picking up his car keys, and he threaded his fingers through yours as you started walking toward the bar’s exist.

A/N: This came out way less angsty than I intended it to, but I can’t imagine Sebastian being rude, lol. He seems like such a sweetie! I hope I did your request justice! 💕

[atlafan]

Take it Slow - Part Twenty-Four

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: Smut

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

It felt good to get back to work. Getting back into your routine was good for you. A coffee was waiting for you on your desk, and you smiled. You loved that you and Niall kept up the tradition of bringing each other coffee. As you sat at your desk, you emailed your supervisor the video you worked on, on Friday. You got to work on photo-shopping some photos that were sitting in your inbox. After a couple of hours, you had a question about a deadline, so you went down to Niall’s office. He had his eyebrows furrowed at his screen when you knocked.

“Hey!” He said, perking up.

“Morning. I have a quick question about the McGrath project.”

“Sure thing, what’s up?”

“When exactly do they need things by? Seems like they’re looking for a tight turnaround on a lot of work.”

“Think you’ll need the intern’s help on this one?”

“Yeah, if he could work on the audio files for me, just clean them up, it’ll make it easier for me to edit in with the visuals.”

“Alright, I’ll get him on it. I’ll send him a message on Teams to go see you this afternoon when he’s in.”

“Thanks. Did you have a good long weekend?”

“Yeah, although, I’m happy to be back at work.”

“Same here.” You sit down in front of his desk. “Did you like Sarah’s family?”

“They were great, little awkward at first, but not too bad. Did ya happen to bring my dessert?” You giggle.

“Yes, it’s in the breakroom fridge with your name on it, so no one will touch it.”

“Oh thank god, I’ve been dreamin’ of it, thank you.” He looks down, then looks back at you. “So, how was your Thanksgiving?”

“It went way smoother than I thought. My dad was great with Harry, and so was the rest of the family. He’s even going to be taking some pictures of my nephew on in a couple of weeks.”

“Really?” Niall wasn’t sure if you’d tell him about the fight you had with Harry, so he wasn’t going to pry.

“Yeah, my sister-in-law asked him. She said she looked at his Instagram page and loved his work. Oh! And he asked me to go home with him for Christmas. We booked our flights last night, I put in for my vacation time this morning. I’m so excited.”

“Wow, that’s great. Guess we’ll all be on the plane together.”

“I can’t wait to meet his mom and sister.”

“They’re very nice people.”

“Do you think they’ll like me?”

“They’ll love you. So, is that all that happened?” You raise an eyebrow at him, then your mouth falls open. 

“He told you, didn’t he?” Niall just looks at you and nods. “Jesus Christ, you know, it’s like he’s a kid running off to daddy whenever something goes wrong.”

“I’m his best mate, (y/n), of course he was going to come to me.”

“So what, you just give advice on how to deal with me?” You gasp. “Were the flowers your idea?”

“No, he did that on his own.” He sighs. “He just wanted to show you he was sorry. Don’t worry, though I yelled at him.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, I was pissed when he told me what he said to ya. I nearly hit him.”

“You did not.”

“I did! I threatened him for sure. I thought he was going to throw up, he felt terrible.”

“I forgave him.”

“He told me.”

“My Nannie found out about what happened.” You say looking down.

“You told her?!”

“I had no choice! My fucking mom brought it up basically right in front of her.”

“Why’d she do that?”

“I can’t even get into the stupidity that is my mother right now. But I’m glad I told her, she gave me some advice on some other things too.”

“Well, that’s good.”

“I’m seeing them tonight. Harry’s gonna pick me up here, and then we’re driving home to have dinner. I’m hoping to just go out with my Nannie, he said he’d distract my mom.”

“What about your sister?”

“I’m praying she’ll just stay in the basement.”

“So is everything all good with you and Harry now?”

“Yeah, we made up.” You blush. “Well, I better get back to work.”

“Lunch later?”

“You bet!”

//

Around two in the afternoon, your intern showed up.

“Hey, Matt, how were your classes this morning?” You smiled at him as he set his laptop up at the other side of your desk.

“Good, much rather be here though. How was your morning?”

“Productive. Did Niall tell you what I need from you?”

“Yup.” He takes out his headphones and plugs them into his laptop. “You need me to clean up the audio for that project.”

“Yes, it’s a little too fuzzy. I don’t know what equipment was used to record it, but it sounded terrible. Guess if you want something done right you have to do it yourself.” You scoff.

The two of you work together the rest of the afternoon. He moved to sit next to you so you could compare clips. He was leaned in pretty close to you, but you didn’t think much of it. The time got away from you, you didn’t realize it was ten of five.

Harry decided to come into your office to pick you up. He wanted to say hi to Niall. The two of them were walking down to your office, both of them stopping short when they saw you giggling with Matt. Harry cleared his throat, breaking you from your giggles.

“Harry!” You beamed. You look down at the time. “Shit, I didn’t realize it was so late. Matt, you’re good to go for the day, sorry to have kept you. Great work today.” You smile at him. His face flushes a bit.

“Um, thanks. I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon to help with this project some more.”

“Sounds good. I have some meetings in the afternoon, but you can feel free to work in here.”

“Alright, thanks.” He grabs his things and looks at Niall. “Good evening Mr. Horan.”

“Matt.” He nods.

Harry eyes the boy who simply smiles at him nervously.

“Niall, Matt is crazy talented. We were already to combine the clips.”

“That’s great. The sooner this project is done, the better. I hate workin’ with these people.”

“Same, they’re too picky.” You grab your things, and give Harry a kiss on the cheek.

“So, who was that kid?”

“His name is Matt, he’s our media intern.” You say. “He comes in a few times a week.”

“Does he mostly work with you?”

“Yup, and with the people on our social media team.”

“Whatsa matter Harry, ya jealous of a little boy?” Niall teases as you all walk out to the parking lot.

“Shut up, ya twat.” Niall laughs.

“You guys have fun tonight.”

You both get into Harry’s car.

“How was your day, baby?”

“Good, actually. Got caught up on some stuff I needed to get done.”

“That’s good. Hey do you think we could stop at a Walmart or something on the way home tonight? I printed a picture for my desk that I want to get a frame for.”

“Sure, we can do tha’. What picture ya print?”

“Just one of my baby.” You poke his dimple.

“Just one of me, not the two of us?”

“I don’t need to look at a picture of myself all day.”

“Which one was it?”

“The one where you look like a model, from our weekend trip.” He takes your hand and kisses it.

There wasn’t any traffic, surprisingly, so you get home in about forty-five minutes. Harry preoccupies your mom, so you’re able to take your Nannie out for dinner. This was the first time you drove Harry’s car, it felt great. You and Nannie had a wonderful dinner together. You laughed so hard your water came out your nose. She’s not supposed to have dairy, but she did, so when she belched at the table you lost it. It felt like old times with her.

When you got back to your mom’s, Harry was hanging out in the kitchen with your mom and…oh no.

“Glad I could finally meet your boyfriend.” Your oldest sister, Bridget, says to you.

“Oh, yeah, well if you had been at Thanksgiving, you could’ve met him then.” You give her a small side hug.

“I was there, you just got there late.”

“Okay, well, we need to head back before it gets super late.” You give your Nannie another hug and kiss, and say goodbye to your mom.

The car ride was quiet at first. You teared up a bit after saying goodbye again, but you felt better than yesterday.

“So, how was dinner?” he finally asks.

“It was great! I laughed so hard my water came out of my nose.” You giggle.

“Really? Wish I could’ve seen that.”

“Um, how long was Bridget around?”

“Only a few minutes. Your mum made me this big salad, it was delicious.”

“She’s good at whipping up a salad.”

“Bridget is…interesting.”

“That’s one way to describe her. She’s so awkward, isn’t she?”

“A little, yeah. More like socially awkward?”

“Yup, that’s it exactly. Thanks again for doing this tonight. I feel much better.”

You and Harry stop off at Walmart so you can grab your frame, and then go back to your apartment. You both were exhausted by the time you got back that you both went straight to bed. The next morning, you got up and did your thing, leaving him dead asleep. You kiss his forehead before you go.

//

You set up the picture of him on your desk. It distracts you most of the day, how could one man be so beautiful? You go to your meetings, and Matt is at your desk when you come back.

“Hey Matt.” You smile, sitting down.

“Afternoon. How were your meetings?”

“Tiring.” You sigh. “Sometimes things could easily be solved with a quick email. You’ll learn that soon enough.”

“So that guy yesterday with Mr. Horan”, he points to the picture of Harry on your desk, “was that your boyfriend?”

“Hm? Yeah, his name is Harry.” You look at the photo and smile. “Niall actually set us up a few months ago.”

“No offense, but he’s not the guy I’d picture you with. He looked a little scary.” You laugh.

“Oh god, he wouldn’t hurt a fly. He actually cleans up pretty well. He works at a more casual place so he doesn’t have to be dressed up like us.”

“Lotta tattoos.”

“Yup. He’s so great, never thought I’d be with someone so great.” You smile at him. “You don’t have a girlfriend or boyfriend?” He laughs nervously.

“Not at the moment, and it would be a girlfriend.”

“I didn’t want to assume.”

“No, no, I get it. I sort of just date around. Relationships are complicated in college.”

“Oh believe me, I remember. I’m only a couple years older than you.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot.” He smiles. “When did you graduate?”

“2017.” You clear your throat and look back at your computer to keep working.

“Wow, really close in age.” He says looking back at his laptop. “I turn twenty-one soon.”

“Oh!” You say looking at him. “That’s exciting! When?”

“Next month.” He looks at you with a grin. “Any good bars you’d recommend?”

“Well, if you’re hoping to do something fun with your friends, I would just go to Pinz. There’s so much to do there.”

“Oh yeah! I’ve been there before, but they kick you out early if you’re underage.” He laughs. “But I’ll definitely ask my friends if they wanna go. Thanks for the suggestion.”

“You’re welcome.”

The time got away from the two of you again, diligently working on your tedious project, taking small breaks to chat and tell stories from your days in college. Matt was a good kid, it was nice that you were sort of mentoring him. You two were laughing about something when you heard a knock on the opening of your door. It was Harry again, who was holding a small plant. He was also dressed nicely in his khakis and a button up.

“What’s all this?” You ask excitedly, getting up to greet him. Matt watches you walk over to him.

“Thought I’d surprise ya.” He kisses you on the cheek. “You don’t have any plants in your office, thought you could use one. They’re supposed to help brighten your day.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet!” You hug him. Matt makes a coughing noise. “Sorry, Matt, forgot you were here for a second.” You blush, and look down at your watch. It was just about five. “Save up your work for the day and feel free to head out. I’m definitely done for the day. Great work this afternoon.” You smile at him going back to your desk to power down your computer. Matt can’t help but glance at your butt as you lean over your keyboard. You were wearing your navy dress that no man would be immune to.

“Could you sign this? My advisor wanted to make sure I’m actually showing up for my internship.” He hands you a slip of paper. You read it over then sign.

“Here ya go.” You pack up your things as he closes his laptop. Harry watching him carefully from the doorway. Ready to throttle him if he checks you out again.

“Oi, look what the cat dragged in.” Niall says, passing your office. “Back again?”

“Suprisin’ my girl with a nice dinner.”

“How romantic.” He rolls his eyes. “Come to think of it, I’m actually doin’ the same with Sarah tonight.”

“Aw, the two best boyfriends in the world.” You say putting your jacket on. “Well, goodnight Matt.”

“Night, thanks for another great afternoon.” He smiles. He looks at Niall and Harry who both have their arms crossed. “Um, gentlemen.” Both nod at him, and watch him leave.

“Jesus, (y/n), he’s got it bad for you.” Niall says.

“Stop, he does not.”

“I have to agree with Niall, he was checkin’ ya out, babe.”

“What? When?” You all start walking out of the building, toward the parking lot.

“When you stuck your ass in his face.” Harry says cheekily.

“I did not do that!” You scoff. “He’s a nice boy, and he does great work.”

“It’s true, he’s talented.” Niall starts laughing. “But he definitely has a crush on you. He was in the break room the other day with some of the older ladies, and apparently he went on about how great you are.”

“He did not.”

“He did!”

“Shit, should I talk to him? Hopefully he got the hint today, I practically doted on Harry in front of him.”

“You did?” Harry smiles.

“Yeah, he asked if you were my boyfriend, and I said yes and told him how great you were.” You start laughing. “I also think he’s a bit scared of you.”

“Good.” Niall and Harry say in unison. You swat an arm at the both of them.

//

Harry had taken an uber to your office so you could take your car. He didn’t let you drive though.

“So where exactly are you taking me?”

“Just to a simple restaurant.”

“Okay, but tomorrow we’re cooking.”

“Already got groceries for that. Went shoppin’ at lunch today.” You lean across to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“My sweetie.” You coo.

Harry took you to a nice little vegetarian restaurant. You both had a quick veggie burger. You let him pay since it was all part of a surprise evening.

You kicked your shoes off when you got inside, and hung up your coat. You plop down on the couch, and turn the TV on. Harry sits next to you and mindlessly takes your hand in his.

“You good with The Office?”

“You bet.” He smiles at you. You both put your feet up on the coffee table.

“So, what made you wanna surprise me tonight?”

“Don’t know.” He shrugs. “Thought about ya all day. I really need to get my ass outta bed in the morin’ to give ya a proper goodbye.”

“Oh, but you’re so cute when you’re sleepy. I love giving you a little kiss goodbye.” You lean next to him. He puts his arm around your shoulders, and you lean in further. You put a hand on his thigh.

You loved moments like this, these simply domestic times where you just enjoyed each other’s company. It was nice having someone to binge watch TV with. You got to the dinner party episode of The Office. When Michael says, “You know I have sensitive teeth, how could say that?” You completely lose it. You have to pause the episode because you’re laughing so hard. You start crying from laughter. Harry starts laughing at your infectious laugh.

“Was it really that funny?”

“Yes! I forgot, hahahaha, I forgot he said that!” You can barely breathe. “God, this episode is incredible.” You wipe your eyes. Harry giggles at you.

“I think someone might be tired.”

“I think you’re right.” You sigh. “Shall we?” You stand up and take his hand.

You both brush your teeth and wash your faces, a habit you had gotten Harry into. He used to only washed his face in the shower, you showed him the error of his ways.

“Baby, could you unzip me please?” You ask as he’s just taking off his shirt.

“Sure thing, love.”

Harry comes up behind you and unzips your dress. You reach behind yourself and unhook your bra immediately. Sighing at the relief from the tight material. You push the top of your dress down, Harry peels your bra off the rest of the way, looking at your back.

“Jesus.” He says, tracing over the red marks on your back. “No wonder you hate wearin’ these things.”

“I just need to buy some new ones.” You walk over to your dresser, half dressed. “Maybe you could come to the mall with me this weekend?”

“Sure.” He stifles a laugh. You put your hands on your hips.

“What?”

“Nothing, you just look cute like that.” You look down at yourself and start laughing.

You slide your dress the rest of the way down and put it in your hamper. You slip a t-shirt on over yourself, and slide your panties off, sighing again.

“Why didn’t you change when we got home? You could’ve been way more comfy.” Harry says taking his pants off.

“I’m just so lazy, it’s too much work to change sometimes.” He rolls his eyes playfully at you.

You both get into bed, it was only a little after nine, so you both stay up a while longer. Harry takes out his book from the night table he used on “his” side of the bed. You scroll on your phone. He took out his reading glasses as well. You secretly loved when he’d wear them. It wasn’t often.

“Is that a good book babe?”

“Hm?” He says taking his glasses off to look at you. “Oh, yeah it is.”

“What’s it about?”

“Nothin’ special, just a romance novel.” You try not to laugh. You didn’t want to make fun of the things he liked. “I know, it’s silly, but I like them. I don’t have to think too much while I read ‘em, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that. I like to read on my phone, really tires my eyes out.”

“I try not to screen before bed if I can help it.”

“You’re better than I am. I literally need my phone to fall asleep.”

“Well, s’not the only thing that makes you sleepy.” He smirks at you. “I can think of another thing that really tuckers you out.” You put your phone on your night table.

“What’s that?” You ask, knowing full well what the answer is.

Harry leans in close to you, giving you a deep kiss. You moan as his tongue enters your mouth, tasting the mint from your toothpaste. Your hands move to pull him on top of you, wanting to feel his full weight on you. One of his hands goes into your hair, and the other to your hip. Your hands are on his lower back while your legs wrap around him. He bit down on your bottom lip, and sucked on it, causing you to moan again. The hand on your hip goes up under your shirt, and grips your full breast. His fingers twist your nipple piercing. You groan into his mouth, your lips moving to nip at his jaw and neck.

“Go ahead, bite me baby.” He says into your ear.

You sink your teeth into his tender skin, and he rolls his hips into you. You suck on him slowly, sliding your tongue over his skin to soothe him the second you taste a little of his blood.

“God, that feels so fuckin’ good.” He growls.

Harry lifts your shirt up over your head, and dives his head into your breasts. He leaves wet kisses on both, before taking your left nipple between his teeth. You arch up into him, loving the way the sensation feels.

“Harry.” You moan.

“Bet you could come, just for me doin’ this.”

“Fuck.” He sucks on you harder.

“But I don’t feel like gettin’ ya off that easy.” He reaches down between your legs and smirks. “Always so wet for me, love.” He looks at you. “I’d like to have a taste, that alright?” You nod your head yes. “Like to try it a little differently, could we do that?”

“How, um, shit, how do you want to um…” You can barely get a word out while he plays with your clit.

“Well, I’d like you to flip over, so I can do it from behind.” You sit up against the headboard and give him a look. “What just happened?”

“I don’t know if I want my ass in your face like that.”

“It’ll be just like when we-“

“No, it’s different. I mean, what if you accidentally lick my asshole or something?” He just blinks at you as his cheeks grow red. “That wouldn’t gross you out?!”

“Not really, you’re a pretty clean girl. You shower every chance you get.” He chuckles. “Sometimes things happen in the heat of the moment. I’d lick ya anywhere you wanted.” Now your cheeks are growing red. “But if it makes you uncomfortable…”

“Why do you want to do it that way?”

“Well, to get ya feelin’ real good, and then I’d like to slip my fingers in from behind.” Your eyes grow wide.

“Oh, I see.”

“If you don’t want-“

“Go turn the light off.” He smirks, and does as you say.

Harry comes back from the bed, and waits for your to flip onto your stomach. His hands find your hips, and brings your butt up closer so you’re on your knees and elbows. He gets right behind you and kisses you on each shoulder, biting down hard and sucking the way he likes to do to you. He places light kisses down your back. His hands grip your ass, and you gasp when he bites down on one of your cheeks.

“Alright?”

“Yes.” Your breathing is getting heavy. “Just wasn’t expecting that.”

“Can I do it again? You have such a nice ass.”

“Mhm.”

He bites down on your other cheek and you gasp again. Why did it feel so good? One of his hands reaches around to rub your clit. He takes it away and rubs you from underneath, a finger running up and down your wet slit.

“Harry.” You moan.

“I’m takin’ my time, be patient.”

His hands spread your cheeks apart, then uses his thumbs to spread your lips apart. You feel his tongue dive into you without warning.

“Shit.” You groan.

He licks and sucks on you, drinking in your wetness. He drags his tongue up and down in the most sensual motions.

“Oh, Harry.” You moan, sinking your nails into your pillow.

His groans send vibrations through your body. You push back on his face, making him lick and suck harder. His tongue drags up from your center to just under your button.

“If you do that I swear to god I will not kiss you for a week!” He lifts his head.

Without saying anything, he takes his hand and rubs your wet center and drags a thumb up to bring your wetness to just under where his tongue was previously.

“How ‘bout this?”

“You can rub it, but don’t stick it in.”

He rubs his thumb around your hole and you can’t help but moan. It felt good, in an odd way. You felt his middle finger slide into your dripping pussy. Your back arches.

“Good?”

“Yes, more please.”

He slowly slips a second finger in, feeling you tighten around him. Your walls soft and spongey, making him moan as he starts to pump in and out of you. His other hand reaches around to rub your clit.

“Fuck, Harry.”

“Do you like feelin’ me, so deep?”

“So deep, so good.”

Your legs start to shake, you can barely keep yourself up. You’re panting and moaning his name over and over.

“Go ahead, come for me.”

Your hands rake into your pillow as you release all over his fingers. He wasn’t done with you yet though. Harry sucks off your juices from his fingers, and flips you back over. Without giving you a chance to catch your breath, his mouth is on your clit.

“Fucking Christ!”

His tongue darts back into you as his thumb works your clit. Your hands are in his hair, grabbing on tightly. Harry groans into you repeatedly.

“Harry! I’m gonna ahhhhh..” You release onto his tongue. You were drenched in sweat, but he still wasn’t done with you.

Harry puts his mouth back on your clit, and slips two fingers back into you, curling them up in a come here motion. What was he trying to do to you? It didn’t matter. You couldn’t think straight.

“Ah!” He hit your g-spot. He smirks while continuing to nibble on your clit.

He continues to pump in and out of you while hitting the spot. You feel your stomach start to tighten again, and your legs are quaking. You tighten yourself around his fingers.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” You scream, slamming your head into your pillow, arching up fully off the mattress. Harry let out a loud groan of your name.

He shifts himself, before he can lick up your juices, you pull his head up by his hair.

“Please.” You say with your eyes closed. “Please, let me tap out. It’s too much.” Your legs were still shaking a bit, and your chest was heaving. You open your eyes to look at him. He had a big smile on his face.

“Didn’t I tell you once I could do this for hours if you let me?”

“But Harry.” You whine. “It’s a school night.” He giggles at you and gets off the bed. “Where are you going, I want to reciprocate.” He takes his boxers off, and grabs a different pair.

“You did already.” You prop yourself up on your elbows.

“What?”

“I came in my shorts. You were so wet, and just tasted so good, I couldn’t hold on.” He gets back into the bed with you. He kisses you on the top of your head. Your mouth agape. “What?” You can’t find words, your head was still spinning. “Speechless?” He smirks. You nod your head yes. “C’mere, let’s have a cuddle.”

You lay your head on his chest, not caring that you’re too hot to cuddle. He really did know what it took to tucker you out. You were just about to fall asleep when you realized you needed to pee.

“Shit, I have to go clean myself up!”

“How come girls always need to pee after sex?”

“You gotta clean up after someone goes down on you, or you could get a UTI, girls get them easier than guys, and they are painful.”

“You’ve had one before?”

“Only once.” You shudder. “Not something I would wish on my worst enemy. It’s the most uncomfortable thing in the world.” You get out of bed and fall to the floor. “Oof!” Harry crawls to the edge of the bed and raises an eyebrow at you.

“Are you alright?”

“Yup, just didn’t quite have my balance.” You stand up slowly. Your legs were really shaky.

You rush into the bathroom, and pee to clean yourself up. You come back and slowly get into bed. Oh yeah, you were going to be sore in the morning.

“Ya good?”

“Mhm.”

“Turn over so I can spoon ya.” You giggle and give him a quick kiss before turning over. “I love you baby, goodnight.”

“Love you too, sweet dreams.”

//

You woke up extremely groggy the next morning, and actually hit snooze when your alarm went off; something you never did. You actually hit snooze twice. By the time you got up, you could only shuffle around you. You were sore all over. Between the way his fingers went in and out of you, and how roughly he rubbed your clit, you wanted to slap him upside the head for making you walk like you had a stick up your ass. You opted for a pair of black slacks, a blue blouse, and a light grey blazer. You left your hair down and curly, not having the energy to straighten or put it up. Really, even if you had just run your blow dry through it, it wouldn’t have looked like such a mess. By the time you washed our face and got dressed, you realized you just did not have time for a full face of makeup. So you put some concealer on and the couple of blemishes you had, and finished up in the bathroom.

You glared at him sleeping happily, face shoved into the pillow. You weren’t really mad at him. You were more so mad at the fact that you had to leave him. He was so cozy and warm. Harry’s work days were so different from yours, most of the time he didn’t have to up until eight, when you already needed to be at work. You wobble over to him, and kiss the top of his head, and leave the bedroom.

You stop off for yours and Niall’s coffees, and go straight to his office. He looked tired this morning too. You remembered that he and Sarah had a date last night as well. You walk right up to his desk, and plop his coffee down, without saying much, you both grunt at each other.

Just as you’re sitting down at your desk, you see him appear in the doorway with a smirk on his face.

“What?”

“You look terrible, you know that?”

“You came all the way down here to tell me that?” He chuckles.

“Are you alright? You look paler than a ghost.”

“You’re such a dick!” You giggle. “I’m just not wearing any makeup today.” You see your reflection in the computer screen. “Jesus, and my hair looks worse than earlier.” You scramble in your desk drawer and take out an elastic. You stand up, bend over, and put your hair up in a messy bun. “Is this any better?”

“Sort of…did you not sleep well?”

“No, I slept fine. Probably went to bed a little too late, and I made the mistake of hitting snooze this morning. I swear it’s always worse if you don’t just get up.”

“What did you and Harry do last night?” Flashes of your three separate, incredibly intense orgasms come to your mind and you shiver as you feel a pulse run through you.

“Um, we just went to dinner, you know, watched a little TV.” Niall steps in more to your office, and closes the door a bit. He crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Get a little frisky did ya? S’okay, I did too.” He sighs happily. “Hadn’t seen Sarah since Friday.”

“I’m so glad you too are doing so well.”

“Me too. So, go on, gimme the details.”

“You’re like a little school girl!” You swat at him, and lean against your desk. “We just tried some different positions.”

“Ah, so that’s why you’re walkin’ with your ass clenched.” He laughs.

“Why were you looking at my ass?” You laugh harder.

“I wasn’t, but I noticed you were walkin’ funny.” He gasps. “Did you two do it?”

“No.” You say bluntly.

“Then what could he have done to ya?”

“He...” You blush and close your office door all the way. “Fingered me from behind.” You whisper looking down at the ground. “But that wasn’t it. He flipped me over immediately and did it again, and then…he just kept, you know, going.” You make eye contact with your friend who has a smirk on his face. “It was like, primal or something. I don’t know, I had to tap out eventually.”

“He has sex like a lesbian, I swear to god.” You both start laughing.

“What do you mean?”

“You know, like, girls just keep going until they can’t go anymore.”

“How would you know that?”

“We had some friends in college that were lesbians, told us a whole bunch of tricks. Your friend Rachel hasn’t ever mentioned anything to you?”

“Not really, though, come to think of it, when she would bring a girl over…well, they’d be in there for hours.”

“Exactly. I think as long as you’re not lettin’ him stick it in, this is how it’s going to be.”

“I’m not complaining or anything.”

“No, I know, but he’s just going to come up with more creative things like this until you can’t stand it anymore.”

“Oh, so this is just some covert operation for him to get his dick wet?” You scoff. “He doesn’t even need me to touch him to get off, Niall. He just likes doing that.”

“What in the fuck do you mean?”

“He has come, and will come, from just being down there.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I’m serious! It happened a lot when we first started getting intimate, then it sort of stopped the more I reciprocated. It really turns him on.”

“Jesus, no wonder he had a fuckin’ line of women out his door. It was like a fuckin’ deli counter at our apartment sometimes.” He shakes his head, and notices your fallen face. “Sorry, I shouldn’t mention his past to you.”

“S’okay.” You shrug. “It was before we knew each other. I wasn’t exactly a prude myself.” You sigh. “Did he really sleep with that many women?”

“Do you really wanna know the answer to that?”

Before you can answer, there’s a knock on your door. You reach around Niall to open it, and see your supervisor. She gives you both a funny look, wondering why your door would be closed with just you and Niall.

“Good morning you two. A little meeting before the meeting?”

“Just catchin’ up on the gossip to wake up a bit.” Niall says. He was better at smoothing things over than you were. “Shall we? Just need a second to grab my laptop.” You grab yours and head for the conference room.

“Are you feeling alright?” She says to you as you both walk down the hall.

“Um, yeah, just a slow start this morning. Didn’t have time for makeup.”

“Ah. Happens to the best of us.” You both smile as you sit down in the swivel chairs in the conference room. Niall comes bouncing in.

You have a discussion about the project you and Matt have been working on. Your supervisor is pleased with how much has gotten done already, and tells you to keep up the good work. You can’t help but feel like her eyes keep traveling to your neck, you realize that since your hair is up, the splotch Harry left on your neck is visible. And since you didn’t have time for makeup, you didn’t even think to cover it up. You nonchalantly put your hand over the spot as she speaks with Niall about what’s needed next.

After the meeting you go into the bathroom with the flat iron you keep in your desk, and tame your hair, now able to leave it down.

“You feel okay?” Matt asks, coming into your office.

“Christ, if I had a dollar for every time I heard that today. Didn’t realize I wasn’t allowed to not wear makeup.” He sits at the chair on the other side of your desk.

“Sorry! I shouldn’t have said anything.” You sigh.

“It’s fine, I’m just really tired.”

“Long day?”

“Yeah.” You say, not wanting to elaborate further with your twenty-year-old intern. After what Niall mentioned yesterday, you thought it would be good to be a bit colder to him. “It’s like five hundred degrees in here today, excuse me.” You get up to take your blazer off, and hang it on the back of your door. You open your office door up all the way to get the most airflow. Matt can’t help but look at the small bit of cleavage peeking through the top of your blouse.

About an hour into working together your phone starts to buzz, you smile when you see Harry’s name. Matt had his headphones so you figured he wouldn’t mind if you took the personal call.

“Hey you.” You say.

“Hey babe.” He says warmly.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing, had a quick break, thought I’d see how your day was going.”

“Aw, that’s sweet. It’s good, I’m a little tired.”

“I heard your alarm go off a couple times.”

“I hit snooze.”

“You never do that.”

“Well, like I said, I was tired.”

“We didn’t go to bed that late.” He was being coy with you. He wanted you to say out loud, just exactly why you were tired. Normally you would, but you didn’t want Matt to risk hearing you.

“Um…Matt’s here in my office, so I can’t really…be cute with you right now.” You say, cheeks flushing. Matt looks up at you, and notices your nervousness.

“Ohhhh, I see, so you don’t want him to hear that you’re tired because your boyfriend went to town on your pussy last night?” You stand up immediately and walk to the other side of your office.

“Harry.” You whisper harshly. “Stop it.”

“What?” He chuckles. “Alright, alright, don’t wanna getcha all hot and bothered without me there to take of ya, I see.”

“Seriously.” You feel yourself starting to sweat, and an ache brewing within you. “You know,” You whisper carefully, looking over your shoulder to make sure Matt is still working. “I could barely walk this morning? Looked like I had a stick up my ass.”

“And you’re blaming me?” He asks sarcastically.

“Who else is there to blame? I mean, I could take it a step further and say your fat fuckin’ fingers.”

“Hey, your intern is there, remember? And my fingers were only fat because my rings were still on. They get a bit swollen at the end of the day.”

“So I’ve noticed.” You glance at Matt again. “He can’t hear me, I moved, and he has his headphones in.” You sigh.

“Only a few more hours. I think you’re really gonna like dinner tonight, I’m excited to make it for you.”

“You’re so sweet.” You yawn. “Alright, I better go, I love you.”

“Love you too.”

You shake your head and sit back down, giving Matt a half smile. Little did you know he had paused the music he was listening to, and heard every bit of your conversation. Well, at least your half of it. His cheeks were a bit red.

“I just need to go, um, refill my water bottle.” He says.

“Sure, you don’t need my permission, not like you’re in class.” You smile.

Matt was a pretty good looking guy. He was tall, not as tall as Harry, but still a good height. He had a little muscle on him, but he was lean, definitely not a football player. You recalled that he was on the club rugby team at his school. He had light brown hair and hazel eyes. He was incredibly nice and trustworthy when it came to getting his work done. You were thankful for having an intern this semester.

He returns in a few minutes, taking a big gulp of his water, and gets back to work. Your afternoon is more quiet than usual, but he needed to know this was a place of work, and not a place for him to lust after you. You picked up on more of when he would take small glances of you, and when his eyes would dip to your chest. You didn’t feel uncomfortable, but it was something you were keeping your eyes on.

“So, I, uh talked to my friends about Pinz.” He says, you take your earbuds out.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, they said it was a great idea. We’re planning this huge party. A couple of my buddies turn twenty-one next month too.”

“That’ll be fun, Matt.” He loved when you said his name.

“Thanks again for the suggestion.”

“Any time.”

“What did you do for your twenty-first birthday?”

“Well, my birthday is over the summer, so my girlfriends and I rented out this beach house on the seacoast. We had a big party, but it was also fun to just be on the beach for a long weekend with my closest friends.”

“You’re lucky to have a summer birthday. Way more party options. I feel like as a kid we always had to do like movie theater parties and stuff like that.” You didn’t want to get into childhood birthday parties, or think of the fights your parents had the two times you were allowed to have a party. You simply nodded along.

Your phones goes off, and you see a text from Niall. You open it to see he sent you an image, a meme from an inside joke. You burst out laughing, and can hear him laughing from his office. You get up to go down the hall to laugh with him. Matt is thoroughly confused when you come back in, wiping tears from your eyes.

“You two are close, huh? You and Mr. Horan?” He asks as you sit back down.

“Oh, yeah. We’ve been friends since I started here. We sorta latched onto each other since we’re two of the younger people in the office. Not that I don’t like other people we work with, but it’s nice to have someone to relate to. He’s only a couple years older than I am.”

“And you both just clicked right away?”

“Yeah.” You smile, thinking back to the day you first met Niall. He was still dying his hair blond back then. “We have a lot in common, same sense of humor. We started eating lunch together almost every day, then we started casually buying each other coffee. I remember the first time I hung out with him outside of work, it was actually a work holiday party. We stuck to each other like glue.”

“Did you two ever date? If you don’t mind me asking…”

“Me and Niall!” You scoff. “No…now that I think about it, I think we have a no dating policy here.” You pause to ponder. “Or if you do date your colleague, you have to disclose it with HR. No, we’re sort of like work spouses, you know? He’s been there for me through some tough times. I’m lucky to know him and have him in my life the way I do.”

“You two make working here look like fun.”

“Working in an office isn’t always glamorous, but when you make good friends it definitely helps. Knowing I’ll get to chat with him Monday morning always gets me excited for the week.”

“So you two don’t hang out outside of work much?”

“No we do, just not as often as we were. He’s dating one of my best girlfriends, and I’m obviously with Harry, so some priorities have changed. But, we still make time for each other. Double dates have been fun.” You smile. “We look out for each other, we always have each other’s back.”

“That’s good. I hope I make friends so easily when I actually start working.”

“Do you think you wouldn’t?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “It’s just weird about coming into the real world. I mean, I only have one more year of school left.”

“It flies by, that’s for sure. But, you’re making good connections here. We like to keep our interns too, so you never know what could happen.”

“You’re a very nice person, has anyone ever told you that?” Your eyes widen a little.

“Um, once or twice, but thank you.” You look at the time, and see it’s 4:30. “Hey, if you wanna duck out early, feel free. My brain is fried, so I think I’m just gonna catch up on email for the next half hour.”

“Oh, alright thanks.” He gets up and packs his laptop away. “I didn’t, uh, make you uncomfortable with my comment did? I was just trying to say that I appreciate how nice you’ve been to me. You all could treat me as a coffee boy, but you don’t. I like getting to work on real projects.”

“You didn’t, don’t worry. And thanks. Wouldn’t be much of an internship if we had you running around doing nonsense. You’re definitely valued here.” After he leaves you go down to Niall’s office and plop down into one of his chairs.

“I feel like I either see you all day, or not at all. There’s no in between.” He smiles.

“I think you were right about Matt.”

“What do you mean?” His smile completely gone.

“I think he has a crush on me or something.”

“What happened?”

“I was very quiet with him today, up until the end of the day, I sent him out early. But I noticed he kept like, stealing glances…especially here.” You point to your cleavage. “I could wear the highest neckline, but there’s nothing I can do, I have big boobs.”

“Was he like blatantly staring?”

“No, but he was definitely looking, trying to be discrete about it, but a woman just knows when she’s being ogled. And then he started asking me all these questions about you and I, and how we became such great friends, and if we ever dated.”

“Maybe he was just curious…if he gets creepy or weird let me know and we can tell HR. Gotta cut the shit on the kind of behavior right away.”

“Definitely. God I hope he didn’t hear me on the phone with Harry earlier.”

“You took a call with him in there?”

“I thought he was just calling to say hi, but I moved to other side of the room, and he had his headphones in.”

“Could’ve paused his music to listen in.”

“I was whispering.” Niall sighs.

“How old is he?”

“Almost twenty-one.”

“I don’t want to make this sound like a boys will be boys thing, but try to see it from a different perspective. He’s a young guy who gets to sit an office, alone, with a pretty, older woman for four hours a day. I bet he goes back to his buddies at school and tells them all about what you wear and how you laugh. But like I said, if it gets weird or creepy, we will squash it.”

“It didn’t make me uncomfortable, and I’ve made it clear I have a boyfriend…people are allowed to have crushes. May not even be a crush, he might just be attracted to me.” Niall sighs. “What?”

“I don’t want to make you upset, but sometimes you’re a little too nice. It’s okay to be upfront with him, set some guidelines to how this all works. He doesn’t actually work here, he needs to know what appropriate behavior is and what’s not.” He sighs again. “Look, why don’t I talk to him next time he’s in. Okay?”

“Okay, yeah, I think it’ll be better if you chat with him first.” You groan. “It’s not easy being irresistible you know?” You both giggle.

//

You can’t wait to get home to Harry. He had seen you without makeup plenty of times, so at least you knew he wouldn’t make any comments about your appearance. When you keyed into your apartment, you smelled something absolutely delectable.

“Hey you!” He says, looking at you over his shoulder. You walk over and give him a kiss on the cheek.

“What are you making?”

“Pancakes…made from bananas. Thought we could have breakfast for dinner.” He smiles.

“I could cry this look amazing, thank you.” You give him another kiss on the cheek. “Just gonna go change into something cozy.”

“I have some extra sweats here, feel free to wear m’pants.”

“Thanks babe.”

Nothing was better than supreme domestic bliss. Nothing was better than coming home, and having your apartment smell so amazing. Nothing was better than Harry, plain and simple.

[rebelcap]

We are not just friends — part 9

Chris Evans x bi!latina!character (Sofia is a person of color, she's brown.)

Chris and Sofia meet when their best friends started dating, it all started at friends with loads of bumps on the road.  

Warnings: drinking, smoking, drug use (weed), assault, Chris being Steve Rogers, commitment issues, my girl Sofia kinda messy, lots of fucking (eventually) 

This is slow burn at its best, at least emotionally. 

Series masterlist

“ It's not fancy, isn't it?” Sofia asked going through her suitcase in the middle of the bed, hoping to find something to wear.

“ Nah, it's casual. Like a get-together—” Chris answered her thought the phone, they were Facetiming as they both get ready.

“Alright, what about… this and this?” She said holding up a red mini skirt with a red crop top. “I feel like matching.”

“Love it, red suits you. “ Chris answered and Sofía wiggle on the bed and began undressing, not caring for modesty as Chris looked at her.

“Enjoying the show? creep. “ She laughed as Chris rubbed her beard watching her get undressed, she wasn't being sexy or anything close, Chris just find her fucking hot all the time.

“Sure, don't mind me.” Chris answered her smiling. “want me to pick you up?”

“No honey, it's okay. I'll Uber the rest so you can't have to drive back and forth.’

‘I really don't mind, Sof.’

‘I know, but you know how I am with getting ready. I don't want you running late and shit. It's fine, you go ahead and I'll text you when I'm there.”

‘You sure?”

‘Yes, dumbass. You go ahead I'll text you. “ She said kissing the screen making Chris laugh.

“Alright, I'll be going then. call me. “

They hung up and Chris go ahead and grabbed his things and went ahead to his friend's birthday.

And Sofia took her time and arrived forty-five minutes later cause she can.

Chris was already waiting for her outside, having a sly smoke and playing with his phone on the side of the building, high-end building on LA.

Sofia called him out and shake her head when she saw the cigarette on his hand and Chris put it out.

“Sorry, I know you hate it. “

“It's bad for you. “

“I know—You're pretty,” Chris observed her, she was wearing what she shows him earlier, looked much better on her, red was definitely her color.

“Do I? I feel a little silly. I nervous—I don't know.” She nervously laughed shrugging as Chris pulled her in for a quick kiss. “I don't know anyone.”

“Neither do I, really. I know some of them.” Chris told her and she hummed. “I'm a little anxious.”

Sofia smiled and kissed him again, he wrapped his arms around her waist and fight the urge to grab her ass.

“We should go in.” He said letting her go and she agreed, rearranging her skirt and walked in with Chris.

The party wasn't what she was expecting, you know like a get together a few beers and friends hanging out but no, it was a full-blown party with a lot of people.

She didn't say anything as Chris greet people and introduced them to her, it was a little taxing but she did it anyway because it's Chris.

“Dude, so many people.”

“Yes, I thought it wasn't like this.” He looked at her with an apologetic look.

“It's fine, you do your thing and I'll mingle with that bar over there.” She told him with a smile and almost pushed him towards his friends.

“You sure?”

“Yes, go.” Sofía pushed him again and Chris leans over and plants a quick kiss on the top of her head.

“You're the best, it will be just for a little bit. I'll be back.” He kissed her again and disappear on the crowd and she looked forward to the bar, maybe getting a little bit tipsy will loosen her up but the crowd here was way different to what she and Mandy hung out back at home.

She felt pretentious wearing matching top and skirt, she couldn't imagine what she would feel wearing a thousand-dollar dress like the bunch of girls over there.

She grabbed a beer and isolated herself to a corner, where she could observe the party—witch was absolutely cool with her, what she wasn't expecting was seeing Chris's ex-girlfriend chatting with some girls and pointing out exactly where he was.

“Oh boy.” She mumbles drinking her beer and looked at her walk through until she reached him and he acted amicable with her, hugs and cheeks being kissed.

At that moment she decided to get fucked up and dance if he was going to be with his ex might as well she find something to do at this stupid party. Sofia quickly drank her beer and head back to the bar to do a few shots, clearly catching the attention of a few guys hovering over there.

“Hey,” One of them says, he had a kind smile and was attractive enough.

“Hi.” She said back, smiling too.

They chatted for a bit, his name was Tom, he's a publicist and single.

“You came here with someone?” Tom asked as she sips her drink, the second one.

“Mm-hm, with my friend.” She vaguely said, not wanting to hint that it was Chris.

“Oh, do I know her?” He asked, trying to find out who and assumed it was a girl.

“It's a he and probably you do.” Sofía quickly answers and without thinking looked back at where he was before and his back was facing her while he talked to his ex's ear. Sofia couldn't help but sigh deeply and drank the rest of the drink. “Can I have another one?” She flagged the bartender and he quickly began making her another.

“You work on the industry?” He asked taking a sip of his own drink and Sofia realized that he really didn't like this dude anymore, she didn't want to talk about work of the industry.

“Not really—”

“You should, you've got this young Salma Hayek thing going on.” He said moving his hands and Sofia raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, we're both Latinas.”

“Really? where you from?”

“Yeap, Argentina,” Sofía answered back and quickly looked back at Chris and he kept talking with his ex, now drinks in hand and he had that pink on his cheeks and moving his hands.

man, am I jealous? She thought for a second but quickly shake her head and looked at Tom, trying to find out if she could possibly, at least, make out.

But he was a little off-putting and Sofia started thinking that he was recruiting or some shit—witch she wasn't interested at all. Leave that to the talented people, she wasn't that.

“—You know, I could introduce you to our manager. We're looking for someone with your profile, there's a lot of new—”

“I'm going to stop you there because I've got no interest in having a manager or working on the industry.” She said that with a mocking tone. “I'm good at my normal job.”

Tom actually scoffed at her then shake his head, “Then what are you doing at a party like this? are you an escort?”

Sofia was the one to scoff now and give Chris another look, and his ex had her arm around his waist they were going to make out anytime soon. Now she really wanted to get the fuck out of here.

“I came with a friend, whatever. Bye,” She waves him off and turned her back at him, not bothering to see if he walked away or not.

She pulled her phone and furiously text Mandy.

Christofer, it's all cozy with his fucking ex and people here are treating me like I am a fucking escort.

“I'm a fucking idiot.” She mutters to herself after she press sends, totally regretting that because she knows how she exaggerates things.

Baby, leave that party. Go to the hotel and we'll talk.

Sofia stare at the screen and decided that Mandy's idea wasn't bad, at all. She wasn't going to wait around as Chris fuck the girl—and she did felt bad like it wasn't enough for him. She looked one more time and indeed, they were absolutely making out.

“Yeah, fuck this.”

~~

“I can't do this anymore,” Chris push her away and shake his head."I came here with someone, I can't be doing this. She's important to me,"

She scoffed, "Yet, you are here making out with me. Why then? " She asked and tried to resume the kissing.

"No, I can't—I shouldn't be here," He turned around and drank the rest of his beer praying that Sofia didn't see that.

Of course, she wasn't picking up, Chris began to panic actual panic as he quickly typed.

Where are you? can't find you.

Sof, are you okay?

Please call me.

Sofía was walking as she looked at the screen and scoffed, the hotel wasn't that far and she feels like walking trying to clear off her mind. For a moment there she had those awful flashbacks with Tiffany, she used to do the same shit, worst of all she allowed it. She knew that this was nothing, that they weren't absolutely nothing besides friends but if this is how he was gonna behave as friends.

"I'm walking to the hotel," She spoke softly at the phone, it was Mandy.

"What happened?" She asked and Sofia told her the whole thing. "Well fuck, he's calling me,"

"Yeah I should probably let him know that I'm heading to the hotel before he called the police," Sofia said softly and sighed. "Tiffany used to pull this shit—

"He's not Tifanny, "

"Yeah, I'll talk to you back at the hotel. I'm going to text him and buy booze." Sofia said and tell their goodbyes and hung up.

Chris was calling again and Sofia picked up.

"I'm fine, I'm going to the hotel."

"Jesus Christ, Sofia. I was freaking out,"

"Yeah, sure," She laughs bitterly. "Whatever, I'm going to sleep. I'll text your assistant the details for the contract and photoshoot. You still wanna do that?, or I call the whole thing off? no pressure."

"You saw, don't you?"

"Whole fucking party saw that kiss, dude." She said softly, "It's okay, but I don't wanna be in the middle of nothing. I thought you had figured it out and moved on,"

"I did fuck. I'm sorry Sof—"

"Did you? you were just fucking kissing her."

"It took me by surprised, I told her I was with you that—come on, can we talk about it?"

"We are,"

"In-person, Sof."

"I'm tired Chris, I'm kinda drunk and I'm about to enter the hotel lobby." She said softly. "Are you in for tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I'll be there," Chris answered defeated. "I'm sorry Sofia."

"Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow." She hung up.

~~

He fucked up.

Thanks everyone! ❤️

Tag list:

@letsdothemonstermash

@lunaticbarnes

@firstangeldragonranch

@lovepeacefood

@thegirlwithpaperheart

[babybottlepop96]

Jorogumo

Summary: You and the Attack on Titan gang go on adventures to visit murder sites, but on one trip, nothing is as it seems

A/N: This will be multi chapter, and probably the first of a series I’ll do involving mythical creatures and beast. Please let me know what you think of it!

Jorogumo: A mythical creature from Japan, described as  spider woman. It takes the apperance of  a beautiful woman to lure in unexpecting men.

(picture drawn by me, don't judge lol)

Chapter One

Ten Years Earlier

Emilee stuck her hand out the window of the beat up, old, green pick up truck, letting her hand fly through the air. Her boyfriend, Jason, in the driver’s seat, window down singing to some song she didn’t know the name of. The two were on a road trip, camping here and there in the back of the truck. Their destination unknown, for the two had taken the essentials and whatever money they saved up and left. No notes, no goodbyes, just left the world they knew to start a new life together. Stopping for some gas, Emilee runs into the small run down shop to get some snacks. “Will that be all?” The woman behind the counter asked as she rang the items up and placed them into a bag. 

“Could I also get a pack of Newport Menthol one-hundreds?” She asked as she handed the woman her I.D., looking out at the darkening sky. The woman took a look and grabbed the cigarettes.

“That’ll be thirty-two dollars and forty-six cents.” She tossed the smokes in the bag with the rest of the things. Putting the money in the register, she handed Emilee her bag. “Your man’s a looker, better keep him close unless you want to lose him.” She spoke seriously. 

“And what's that supposed to mean?” Emilee asked defensively, she knows Jason is downright one of the most handsome men out there, but obviously this man knows he is taken, so why would she come out and such a thing?

“There’s something that lurks out in these parts at night. Something evil, people say it likes to take handsome men. Just be careful.” The woman spoke again, her voice was serious, lacking any other emotion. 

“You have got to be shitting me, you're a crazy bitch.” Emilee grabbed her bag and left, lighting a cigarette as she walked towards the truck, Jason patiently waiting for her in the cab.

“You okay, babe?” He asked with an eyebrow raised, his hand out asking to bum a smoke from her.

“Yeah,” She handed him a cigarette. “But the bitch behind the register tried saying some shit about keeping you close because something evil lurks in this area and takes handsome men.” She took a drag and slowly blew the smoke out. “I’m pretty sure she was just interested in getting into your pants.” Jason laughed, leaning over to kiss his girlfriend on the cheek.

“No crazy bitch will be getting into my pants anytime soon. Except for you of course.” Emilee gasped, smiling and playfully slapping her boyfriend on the chest.

“You asshole, just drive. I want to get the back set up before it gets too terribly dark.” Emilee stomped out her cigarette and got into the truck.

“Anything you want, babe.” Jason smiled and started up the truck. They drove for another thirty minutes before finding a spot just inside a wooden area. The roads were deserted, but in case any car decided to pass, it would be more comfortable if they were somewhat hidden. Laying in the bed of the truck, air mattress blown, pillows lining the bed walls and blankets haphazardly thrown on top of the couple. Legs and arms tangled with one another, Emilee laid her head on Jason’s chest, listening to his heart beat.

“Fuck, I gotta take a piss.” She sighed, gently pushing herself up and making her way towards the back of the truck. 

“Don’t get lost babe!” She heard Jason call.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily!” She continued for a moment before she felt safe enough to drop her pants and squat. As she held the roll of toilet paper in her hand, she heard a rustle in the bushes not far off to her left. “Jason?” She asked, but received no reply. “Jason, if that’s you, this isn't funny!” She wiped herself briefly before pulling up her sleep shorts. The bushes rustled once again. “Jason?” She asked once more, making her way to the rustling branches of the berry bush. Suddenly, a squirrel ran out from underneath causing Emilee to let out a small squeak and then chuckle to herself. “Fucking woods. I feel like I’m in some cliche, shitty horror movie” She turned and stared into the eyes of the woman from the gas station. 

“Told you to keep a close eye on your man.” 

After a few minutes, Jason sat up from his comfortable position, looking towards the area Emilee had walked towards. “Em?! Baby?! You okay?!” He called, eyes looking around the surrounding area. 

“I’m okay, babe. Just… Ran into an old friend.” Emilee suddenly appeared next to him. 

“Jesus fucking christ!” Jason rested a hand over his chest.

“No. Not quite.”

~~~~

“The police never found Jason’s body. It’s like he just… vanished. Emilee’s body was drained of her blood, not even a trace of it on the ground where she died. Only thing they found was some puncture wounds on her arm, but other than that… nothing.” Jean spoke to the group of his friends while they sat in a rounded booth at the local diner.

“Come on, Jean. You're telling me that a girl was bitten by a vampire and her boyfriend just vanished? I bet it was the boyfriend. Kill the girl and just leave.” Connie spoke as he took a bite from his burger, his girlfriend, Sasha stealing some of his fries.

“See, I thought about that too. But that wouldn’t explain how she was bled dry with no traces of it anywhere, nor does it explain the puncture wounds on her arm.” This was a normal thing for the group, it started after they graduated, traveling around to visit certain murder areas. They been to Lizzie Bourden’s house, the Amityville Horror house, they even been to the sight of the Murder Hotel H.H. Holmes created. Mazes and trap doors, dead ends and torture rooms where countless victims had suffered. But this one was knew, this was a murder that happen only ten years earlier, but what was strange was the fact that there was multiple similar cases scattered across the united states over the last couple hundred years, all unsolved.

“Jean makes a good point, even if I hate to admit it.” Eren spoke, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I’m so proud of you, Eren! Finally agreeing to something my brother said without calling him ‘Horseface’!” You exclaimed while clapping your hands. The rest laughed while Eren grumbled.

“Come on, Brats. It’s getting dark and I want to get to the motel early enough to clean it and get enough sleep.” The group's driver, Levi, spoke as he came from the restroom. Levi was older than the rest of the group by a couple of years, but he was the only one with a R.V. that could transport the entire group around. He was also there as a “chaperone” due to the fact that Eren, Jean, Connie and Armin somehow always got themselves into trouble. 

With Levi in the driver’s seat, his best friend and forensic major, Hanje in the passenger seat, the rest of you in the back, you headed off You had your legs across Eren’s as he, Jean and Connie played among us and your head rested in Armin’s lap as you two talked about conspiracy theories.

Sahsha was raiding the mini fridge, Marco fiddling with his camera, Ymir and Krista doing something in the back room, no one cared to figure out what, and Mikasa sat reading a book. How she never got motion sickness you would never know.

“Okay, brats. I gotta get gas. Someone go inside and pay and grab some more snacks. I think Sasha ate them all.” Levi grumbled as he pulled into a shitty little gas station.  Connie and Sasha quickly ran in and got snacks and paid for the gas. 

“Will that be everything?” The woman behind the counter asked, a smile quickly replacing her scowl upon noticing the boy with the buzzcut. 

“And these snacks please!” Sasha yelled as she threw the chips, nuts and can of soda and energy drinks onto the counter. 

“Can I also get a pack of smokes? Whatever the cheapest is, menthol.” The woman nodded kindly, grabbing the pack he got for Levi, knowing that may be the only way to keep his rage under control. “You better be careful out there. Wouldn’t want a handsome man like yourself to get lost.” She winked at him. Connie gave her a weird look before looking at Sasha, “Imma head back.” He nodded towards the RV and Sasha nodded quickly.

“I’ll be right there, I’m debating if I want to get these weird looking candies.” He shook his and gave a smile. 

“Don’t be too long! Levi won’t hesitate to leave you behind!” Sasha waved him off, too busy with the treats. Sasha decided she was going to buy ten bags, even if she didn’t like them. Who the hell is she kidding, Sasha liked everything she ate. She went to the counter and put the candies down, pulling her wallet out and putting thirty bucks on the counter.

The woman bagged the snacks and put the cash into the register. Handing Sasha back the change, she spoke. “Better keep an eye on your man. He is cute and I’d hate for anything bad to happen to him. 

“Fuck off, freak.” She grabbed her shit and made to leave. The cashier grabbed her arm with a wicked smile taking over her face.

“Where the fuck is Sasha?” Eren grumbled.

“I told you, she was eyeing the candy. You know how she is with food.” Connie defended though it wasn’t to any one’s surprise. Everyone knew Connie had a thing for her.

“Hey! I’m back! Sorry, the cashier was being fucking weird.” Sasha said as she scrambled back into the RV snack bag in hand. 

“About fucking time. Lets go brats! The motel is just up ahead.” Levi said as he started up the engine, driving ten minutes to the motel. 

Once in the rooms, everyone got who they were rooming with and what room. Armin and Eren, Connie and Jean, Ymir and Krista, Mikasa and you, Sasha and Hanje, and then Levi and poor poor Marco in another. Everyone settled down and began to discuss what they hoped to find. Not like they would be able to find much after ten years, but the thought was still thrilling. 

As Hanje was falling asleep she swore she heard giggling from Sasha, not bothering to even spare a glance, figuring it was just her texting Connie. Sasha looked at the ceiling, her smile forming. “So…. hungry.”

Ten Years Earlier

Emilee stuck her hand out the window of the beat up, old, green pick up truck, letting her hand fly through the air. Her boyfriend, Jason, in the driver’s seat, window down singing to some song she didn’t know the name of. The two were on a road trip, camping here and there in the back of the truck. Their destination unknown, for the two had taken the essentials and whatever money they saved up and left. No notes, no goodbyes, just left the world they knew to start a new life together. Stopping for some gas, Emilee runs into the small run down shop to get some snacks. “Will that be all?” The woman behind the counter asked as she rang the items up and placed them into a bag. 

“Could I also get a pack of Newport Menthol one-hundreds?” She asked as she handed the woman her I.D., looking out at the darkening sky. The woman took a look and grabbed the cigarettes.

“That’ll be thirty-two dollars and forty-six cents.” She tossed the smokes in the bag with the rest of the things. Putting the money in the register, she handed Emilee her bag. “Your man’s a looker, better keep him close unless you want to lose him.” She spoke seriously. 

“And what's that supposed to mean?” Emilee asked defensively, she knows Jason is downright one of the most handsome men out there, but obviously this man knows he is taken, so why would she come out and such a thing?

“There’s something that lurks out in these parts at night. Something evil, people say it likes to take handsome men. Just be careful.” The woman spoke again, her voice was serious, lacking any other emotion. 

“You have got to be shitting me, you're a crazy bitch.” Emilee grabbed her bag and left, lighting a cigarette as she walked towards the truck, Jason patiently waiting for her in the cab.

“You okay, babe?” He asked with an eyebrow raised, his hand out asking to bum a smoke from her.

“Yeah,” She handed him a cigarette. “But the bitch behind the register tried saying some shit about keeping you close because something evil lurks in this area and takes handsome men.” She took a drag and slowly blew the smoke out. “I’m pretty sure she was just interested in getting into your pants.” Jason laughed, leaning over to kiss his girlfriend on the cheek.

“No crazy bitch will be getting into my pants anytime soon. Except for you of course.” Emilee gasped, smiling and playfully slapping her boyfriend on the chest.

“You asshole, just drive. I want to get the back set up before it gets too terribly dark.” Emilee stomped out her cigarette and got into the truck.

“Anything you want, babe.” Jason smiled and started up the truck. They drove for another thirty minutes before finding a spot just inside a wooden area. The roads were deserted, but in case any car decided to pass, it would be more comfortable if they were somewhat hidden. Laying in the bed of the truck, air mattress blown, pillows lining the bed walls and blankets haphazardly thrown on top of the couple. Legs and arms tangled with one another, Emilee laid her head on Jason’s chest, listening to his heart beat.

“Fuck, I gotta take a piss.” She sighed, gently pushing herself up and making her way towards the back of the truck. 

“Don’t get lost babe!” She heard Jason call.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily!” She continued for a moment before she felt safe enough to drop her pants and squat. As she held the roll of toilet paper in her hand, she heard a rustle in the bushes not far off to her left. “Jason?” She asked, but received no reply. “Jason, if that’s you, this isn't funny!” She wiped herself briefly before pulling up her sleep shorts. The bushes rustled once again. “Jason?” She asked once more, making her way to the rustling branches of the berry bush. Suddenly, a squirrel ran out from underneath causing Emilee to let out a small squeak and then chuckle to herself. “Fucking woods. I feel like I’m in some cliche, shitty horror movie” She turned and stared into the eyes of the woman from the gas station. 

“Told you to keep a close eye on your man.” 

After a few minutes, Jason sat up from his comfortable position, looking towards the area Emilee had walked towards. “Em?! Baby?! You okay?!” He called, eyes looking around the surrounding area. 

“I’m okay, babe. Just… Ran into an old friend.” Emilee suddenly appeared next to him. 

“Jesus fucking christ!” Jason rested a hand over his chest.

“No. Not quite.”

~~~~

“The police never found Jason’s body. It’s like he just… vanished. Emilee’s body was drained of her blood, not even a trace of it on the ground where she died. Only thing they found was some puncture wounds on her arm, but other than that… nothing.” Jean spoke to the group of his friends while they sat in a rounded booth at the local diner.

“Come on, Jean. You're telling me that a girl was bitten by a vampire and her boyfriend just vanished? I bet it was the boyfriend. Kill the girl and just leave.” Connie spoke as he took a bite from his burger, his girlfriend, Sasha stealing some of his fries.

“See, I thought about that too. But that wouldn’t explain how she was bled dry with no traces of it anywhere, nor does it explain the puncture wounds on her arm.” This was a normal thing for the group, it started after they graduated, traveling around to visit certain murder areas. They been to Lizzie Bourden’s house, the Amityville Horror house, they even been to the sight of the Murder Hotel H.H. Holmes created. Mazes and trap doors, dead ends and torture rooms where countless victims had suffered. But this one was knew, this was a murder that happen only ten years earlier, but what was strange was the fact that there was multiple similar cases scattered across the united states over the last couple hundred years, all unsolved.

“Jean makes a good point, even if I hate to admit it.” Eren spoke, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I’m so proud of you, Eren! Finally agreeing to something my brother said without calling him ‘Horseface’!” You exclaimed while clapping your hands. The rest laughed while Eren grumbled.

“Come on, Brats. It’s getting dark and I want to get to the motel early enough to clean it and get enough sleep.” The group's driver, Levi, spoke as he came from the restroom. Levi was older than the rest of the group by a couple of years, but he was the only one with a R.V. that could transport the entire group around. He was also there as a “chaperone” due to the fact that Eren, Jean, Connie and Armin somehow always got themselves into trouble. 

With Levi in the driver’s seat, his best friend and forensic major, Hanje in the passenger seat, the rest of you in the back, you headed off You had your legs across Eren’s as he, Jean and Connie played among us and your head rested in Armin’s lap as you two talked about conspiracy theories.

Sahsha was raiding the mini fridge, Marco fiddling with his camera, Ymir and Krista doing something in the back room, no one cared to figure out what, and Mikasa sat reading a book. How she never got motion sickness you would never know.

“Okay, brats. I gotta get gas. Someone go inside and pay and grab some more snacks. I think Sasha ate them all.” Levi grumbled as he pulled into a shitty little gas station.  Connie and Sasha quickly ran in and got snacks and paid for the gas. 

“Will that be everything?” The woman behind the counter asked, a smile quickly replacing her scowl upon noticing the boy with the buzzcut. 

“And these snacks please!” Sasha yelled as she threw the chips, nuts and can of soda and energy drinks onto the counter. 

“Can I also get a pack of smokes? Whatever the cheapest is, menthol.” The woman nodded kindly, grabbing the pack he got for Levi, knowing that may be the only way to keep his rage under control. “You better be careful out there. Wouldn’t want a handsome man like yourself to get lost.” She winked at him. Connie gave her a weird look before looking at Sasha, “Imma head back.” He nodded towards the RV and Sasha nodded quickly.

“I’ll be right there, I’m debating if I want to get these weird looking candies.” He shook his and gave a smile. 

“Don’t be too long! Levi won’t hesitate to leave you behind!” Sasha waved him off, too busy with the treats. Sasha decided she was going to buy ten bags, even if she didn’t like them. Who the hell is she kidding, Sasha liked everything she ate. She went to the counter and put the candies down, pulling her wallet out and putting thirty bucks on the counter.

The woman bagged the snacks and put the cash into the register. Handing Sasha back the change, she spoke. “Better keep an eye on your man. He is cute and I’d hate for anything bad to happen to him. 

“Fuck off, freak.” She grabbed her shit and made to leave. The cashier grabbed her arm with a wicked smile taking over her face.

“Where the fuck is Sasha?” Eren grumbled.

“I told you, she was eyeing the candy. You know how she is with food.” Connie defended though it wasn’t to any one’s surprise. Everyone knew Connie had a thing for her.

“Hey! I’m back! Sorry, the cashier was being fucking weird.” Sasha said as she scrambled back into the RV snack bag in hand. 

“About fucking time. Lets go brats! The motel is just up ahead.” Levi said as he started up the engine, driving ten minutes to the motel. 

Once in the rooms, everyone got who they were rooming with and what room. Armin and Eren, Connie and Jean, Ymir and Krista, Mikasa and you, Sasha and Hanje, and then Levi and poor poor Marco in another. Everyone settled down and began to discuss what they hoped to find. Not like they would be able to find much after ten years, but the thought was still thrilling. 

As Hanje was falling asleep she swore she heard giggling from Sasha, not bothering to even spare a glance, figuring it was just her texting Connie. Sasha looked at the ceiling, her smile forming. “So…. hungry.”

[narcoleptic-drag-queen]

47. Shalaska 👀

👀👀👀 thank u sm this prompt is so adorable - also I got to live my early ghost hunters au fantasy

-

In hindsight, Alaska really should have seen this coming.

Meaning, she should have expected to end up in a condemned, supposedly haunted house in the middle of nowhere with only her girlfriend for company sooner or later, and she should have expected Sharon to break something while in said condemned, supposedly haunted house.

“You’re such a fucking idiot,” Alaska tells her, once they’ve gotten Sharon’s foot out of the collapsed pile of wood that was once a stair step. They’re now sitting against the safest-looking wall in the parlor room, Sharon’s ankle bent at a nauseating angle and Alaska trying very hard not to panic.

She’s never letting Sharon watch Ghost Adventures again.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Sharon groans, letting her head thud against the wall. 

“Sorry, I thought I was,” Alaska says harshly, panic making her voice sharp. “Do you understand how fucked we are?”

Sharon shrugs, pressing her lips together and glaring at the opposite wall. “Does it even matter how I answer? You’re just gonna review everything anyway.”

Alaska bristles. “Maybe because you don’t seem to get it,” she says. “Your ankle is broken, because you’re an idiot, we’re locked in this fucking piano room, possibly with ghosts, because apparently I’m just as stupid as you are, and we have no signal, because the fucking haunted house you chose is apparently right next door to Purgatory.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” Sharon says drily. Alaska raises an eyebrow, swinging the flashlight so that it’s pointed at the side of Sharon’s face. 

“You’re welcome,” she says. “And let’s not forget how we had to walk the last quarter-mile here because you forgot to fill up your truck. Or how you dropped the camera before we even got inside, rendering this whole trip completely useless. Or how you insisted we go in any–”

“Alright!” Sharon snaps out, swiping at the flashlight. It clatters to the ground, Alaska too focused on her list to tighten her grip. As it rolls away across the floorboards, the light flickers once. Twice.

It goes out.

They’re plunged into darkness, the only light coming from between the slates of the boards nailed to the windows, creating long, pale stripes across the furniture and Sharon’s thighs. There’s a long beat of silence.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Sharon,” Alaska snaps, frustration and a new kind of fear bubbling in her gut. She hasn’t forgotten the horrifying story of axe murderers and the innocent children they slaughtered Sharon had told her on the forty-five minute drive here, and the shadows suddenly stretching behind the piano are making the hair raise on the back of her neck.

“Alaska, I get it,” Sharon shoots back, her hands coming up to cover her face, fingertips digging into her temples. “It’s all my fault. But there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Alaska sniffs. “Maybe–”

“I’m the one with a broken ankle, Alaska!” Sharon interrupts sharply, jerking her head up from her hands to motion down at her leg. With the way the light is shining on it, it almost looks like it ends just above the ankle. “You’re not the only one that’s freaking out!”

Guilt twinges in Alaska’s gut at the mention of Sharon’s ankle, and she deflates, letting out a small sigh. She scoots over so that their thighs are nearly touching, skin sticky with humidity, and she takes Sharon’s hand in hers. Her guilt only heightens as Sharon immediately relaxes into her, her head falling to rest against Alaska’s shoulder. She swallows.

“You’re right,” she says, softening her voice. “I’m sorry. You’re being punished enough, I guess.”

“You think?” Sharon snorts, and Alaska smiles. She’s still tense, eyeing the pitch black that covers the corner behind one of the chairs, but the weight of Sharon against her has her feeling a little bit braver. 

“I’ll be mad once we’re out of here,” she says, squeezing Sharon’s hand reassuringly.

“How diplomatic.”

“I try my best,” Alaska says, and then she narrows her eyes in the darkness, trying to get a good look at Sharon’s ankle. “How’s it feel?”

There’s a pause, and then Sharon sighs out what sounds like all of the air in her body. “It really fucking hurts,” she says, and her voice is significantly quieter. Alaska’s heart aches at it.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she says, and Sharon hums.

“It’s also making me nervous,” she says, and while her tone says she’s joking, there’s an undercurrent of truth to it. “I’m not gonna be able to run if any ghosts come out of the woodwork.”

“Sharon,” Alaska says, the glee that comes with the opportunity to tease her girlfriend curling into her chest. “Are you saying you’re scared?”

A pause. “Shut up.”

“My girlfriend?” Alaska continues, heedless of Sharon’s pouting. “Spooky Needles? The girl who made fun of me for screaming at the jumpscares in The Shining?”

“Hey!” Sharon says, but she’s giggling, and Alaska’s chest is warmer than it has any right to be when she’s sitting in the middle of a condemned, possibly haunted house. “This is completel–”

A loud creak from upstairs cuts her off, and they both freeze, Sharon’s hand squeezing Alaska’s so hard she’s a little afraid her fingers might break. Another creak occurs just after the first, this time a little further away, and Alaska finds herself holding her breath in fear.

They sit in silence for a long while after, waiting for another sound, too afraid to speak for fear that something might hear them. Alaska can hear Sharon taking fast, shallow breaths next to her, her grip unyielding on Alaska’s hand even as Alaska inches towards relaxation again, confidence returning the longer they sit in the quiet.

“Baby, I’m scared,” Sharon whispers after a while, still breathing far too quickly. Alaska scoots again, so that she’s pressed right up against Sharon.

“You don’t have to be - not as long as I’m here,” she murmurs, and Sharon lets out a weak huff of a laugh.

“No offense, pumpkin, but you’re not gonna be able to do much.”

“Don’t be so quick to judge,” Alaska says airily. “I’m wearing my Dickies today. And I brought my taser.”

“Load of good that’ll do to a ghost,” Sharon says, skeptical. Alaska feels a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, affection welling up in her chest. Her girlfriend is adorable.

“I think we’re fine, baby,” she says, and she presses a kiss into Sharon’s bleached hair. It’s still new, and Alaska loves it too much, considering how shitty of a job Sharon had done. “Willam should be here soon, anyway.”

Sharon lifts her head up to stare at Alaska. It’s hard to tell with her face backlit by the moonlight, but presumably, she’s frowning. “Willam?”

“I told her to come and get us if I didn’t text by one.”

“You mean you didn’t trust me?”

“We were going to a house that’s been condemned for fifteen years, Sharon,” Alaska points out. “I was practically required to text her just in case the whole thing collapsed on us. And, oh look, it did.”

“More like I collapsed the stair step,” Sharon mutters, and Alaska rolls her eyes.

“Does it really matter?”

Sharon huffs, laying her head back on Alaska’s shoulder. Alaska rubs her thumb over the back of Sharon’s hand, comforting her teasingly. “I hate you,” she says, and Alaska grins, pressing another kiss into Sharon’s hair.

“Love you too, baby.”

send me a pairing and a prompt!

[lyssismagical]

string along my soul, dear, ‘til my breath feels useless

Whumptober Day Eight - Stab Wound 

Read on AO3

Tony had been having a relatively good day, all things considered.

Morgan had slept in more than she usually does. It’s the weekend, so they don’t have any responsibilities beyond the weekly tea party and swimming. (Tony doesn’t know how he’ll break it to Morgan that by the end of September, it’ll be too cold to go swimming in the lake. For now, he’ll let her swim to her heart’s desire, though.)

The only thing that really burdens him a little bit on this fine Saturday, is how much he misses two of the most important people in his life. Peter’s off at MIT, having the time of his life according to their call last night, and Pepper’s been busy upstate with the company for the past few days. Some big emergency they needed her for.

Tony’s more than capable of taking care of Morgan by himself, despite what lots of people believe. He doesn’t need Pepper or Peter to help him, he just enjoys it a little bit more when he doesn’t constantly have to be the responsible adult.

“Daddy?” Morgan says. She’s lying flat on her back on the carpet in the living room, coffee table pushed to the side so she can see through the skylight he added when building the house. (Mostly he was thinking about Peter’s love of space.)

“Yes?” Tony replies, turning his full attention on Morgan.

She turns to him, eyes big and sparkling in the sunlight. “Why is the sky blue?”

Tony smiles. “Because I said so.”

“That’s a lie,” Morgan replies, rolling her eyes. “Why is it actually?”

“Because Mom said so?” Tony tries. He could try to explain, and he’ll probably tell her for bedtime stories tonight, but she’s had too much energy this morning to really hear his explanations.

Morgan thinks about it for a long few moments, eyes squinted in concentration before she nods decisively. “Okay.”

“Why does Mom get to make the rules, but I don’t?” It’s meant to be a rhetorical question, but Morgan stares at him perplexed.

“Because Mommy is… She’s mommy. She makes all the rules.”

“And what? I’m just her servant? I don’t get to do anything?”

Morgan nods. “Obviously. Mommy’s the Queen, I’m the princess, Petey’s the prince, and you’re the horsey.”

“I’m the horse. Oh my god, child, why are you so mean to me?” Tony gasps, pretending to be offended by his daughter’s words.

Morgan sits up, rolling her eyes again. It makes her look so much like Pepper. “Can we go swimming?”

“It’s barely nine in the morning, piccola. You wanna help me make pancakes for breakfast?”

“Only if there’s chocola’e chips!”

*

It’s not surprising when he gets a call from Peter around noon that day.

He’s sitting out on the back deck, a glass of lemonade on the table beside him, a pair of sunglasses, for once being used for their purpose. Morgan’s playing by her tent, following all the rules of playing outside, Tony hasn’t had to remind her once.

“Hey, Pete. Didn’t think I’d be hearing from you for another couple hours. Thought you had that project you were working on with that new friend of yours,” Tony says peacefully.

But his peace is almost instantly broken.

“Tony?” Peter’s voice is too quiet, fear filling the short syllable to the very brim. He coughs, crackling in the phone.

“Pete?” Tony echoes, worry very suddenly coloring his voice. He sits up in his chair, keeping his eyes trained on Morgan. “Everything okay?”

“I- I-” There’s an awful choking noise and then static fills the phone.

“Fuck, jesus fuck- FRI, get it- fix the connection. Get Peter back on the line,” Tony demands. With the hand not holding the phone, he waves Morgan over urgently. He needs to get to Peter.

A parental instinct has filled his chest and all he knows is that he needs Peter. Now. And there’s no way in hell he’s letting Morgan be anywhere but at his side.

Morgan doesn’t say anything as she warily wanders over, somehow understanding her father’s fear and seriousness.

“Grab a backpack, honey. We’re going on a little trip, okay?” Tony tells his daughter, waiting anxiously for the phone call to reconnect. “Put your shoes on and wait at the front door for me, okay, piccola?”

“Wha’s wrong?” Morgan asks, eyes wide and scared. Tony hates it and he hates that he doesn’t even have the mind to fix the fear, he’s too busy focusing on his other kid. “Okay?”

“Yeah, it’s okay, little miss. Go get a backpack and your shoes on.”

This time, Morgan doesn’t try to ask any more questions, just races into the house. Almost as soon as she’s gone, the call finally reconnects.

“Peter? C’mon, kiddo, talk to me,” Tony begs, following his kid into the house on shaky legs. He needs to find car keys. One step at a time.

“M’ster S’ark?” Peter slurs through the phone, crackly and thick.

“Yeah, kid. I’m right here. I need you to talk to me. What’s going on?”

Peter makes a noise, somewhere between pleased and pained, if that’s even possible. “’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry, Pete? What’s going on? Please, kid, I need to work with something here.” He pulls the phone away enough to speak to FRIDAY without Peter hearing. “FRI, hack into Peter’s watch or his phone or something and get me his vitals. And his location. Just because I live in a cabin does not mean I’m not Tony fucking Stark.”

“He is located in Massachusetts. A block away from his dorm building on campus,” FRIDAY informs. “I am unable to reach his watch or any accurate vitals from his phone.”

“Fuck, shit, jesus christ, Peter, what the fuck happened?” Tony knows he shouldn’t be swearing this much in front of both his kids, but he can’t help it. His stress levels are through the roof and he’s scared one of his children are dying, he thinks that warrants a little bit of cussing.

“Hurts, please,” Peter cries, sounding more like Morgan than himself with how whiny his voice has gotten. “Please, m’s’er s’ark, please.”

Tony finally finds his keys and shoves on a pair of shoes, keeping up a litany of reassurances and soothing words, getting to the car at the same time Morgan comes racing out of the house, an Elmo backpack bouncing on her back.

“Peter, I need you to listen to me, okay?” Tony says, starting up the car, and barely having the mind to check and make sure Morgan’s strapped into her seat, before he takes off down the street.

Peter makes a noise of affirmation.

“You know how long it takes to get to Massachusetts? We timed it, remember?”

“Mm,” Peter says, probably not coherent enough to remember any specific numbers. Three hours and forty-seven minutes, remember?” Tony says. He continues without waiting for a response. “Be honest with me, bambino, can you wait nearly four hours for me?”

Peter sobs in response, broken and hopeless. “Hurts, T’ny. Can’t- I can’t-”

“Okay, kiddie, okay,” Tony says, nearly crying himself, but he can’t afford to cry. If he cries, Morgan might freak, and that’ll make Peter feel worse, and Tony can’t possibly to deal with both of his kids at the same time.

“Petey okay?” Morgan says. She has her tablet in her hands, playing a game already, but the worry is still marring her innocent face.

“Yeah, it’s okay, honey,” Tony says quickly. He’s already on the verge of panicking, he needs to focus and drive. “Pete, kiddo, I love you, okay? But I have to get off the phone for just a second, okay? I have an idea. I’ll call you back in just a second.”

“Mmkay,” Peter slurs.

“Don’t fall asleep, kid, please. I’ll call you right back.”

He hangs up the phone as he merges onto the highway, speeding the car up to at least 1.5x the speed limit, trying his best to keep his eyes on the road as he dials a new number.

“Hey, Tony, I didn’t think I’d be hearing from you for at least-”

“Fuck, Steve, where are you?” Tony demands, jerking the wheel to stay in his lane. His kid sounds like he’s dying and he’s four hours away. Fuck everything. “Please tell me you’re near Massachusetts.”

Steve doesn’t respond for too long and Tony worries he’s going to need to pull over, tears blurring his vision.

“Sam and Bucky are in New Hampshire, Dover, if that helps,” Steve finally says, “I’m in Brooklyn. They had to go on Shield business.”

“Tell them to drop everything. And I mean everything and get their asses to MIT. Peter called me and he’s hurt and fuck- I’m too far and he needs help, Steve. Please.”

Morgan gasps in the back of the car. “You lied? Petey hurt?”

“Yeah, of course, Tony. They can be there in like half an hour if they take the bike. Text me the coordinates.”

Tony hangs up and drops his phone into the passenger seat, knowing FRIDAY will take over with everything else. He focuses his attention on the road, steadily climbing in speed. He doesn’t care if Sam and Bucky can be there for his kid, he needs to be there for his kid.

Finally, the call reconnects.

Tony slips the Bluetooth piece into his ear to make sure Morgan doesn’t have to hear Peter’s end of the conversation.

“Pete, kiddo, talk to me,” Tony begs, glad he’s got FRIDAY on his side. A car honks at him as he swerves into another lane to avoid having to slow down. He’s putting Morgan in danger by driving so recklessly, but he can’t stop-

Peter doesn’t respond, only sobs in response, an awful gut-wrenching noise that makes Tony want to explode.

“Daddy?” Morgan pipes up from the backseat. She looks too old all of a sudden, no longer with the six-year-old bright innocence, but more like Pepper, face drawn in worry and fear. “You’re going too fast.”

“It’s like a rollercoaster, Morguna,” Tony replies half-heartedly, too focused on Peter and his cries of pain.

Morgan’s face crumples. “I don’t like ro’ercoas’ers.”

His knuckles are white from how tight he’s gripping the steering wheel and the cars are honking and Morgan’s starting to cry and Peter’s choking on his sobs and Tony can’t breathe-

He swerves too suddenly, slamming on the brakes, his heart aches when he hears Morgan let out a whine of surprise at the sudden movement. As soon as the car is stopped, he mutes his end of the earpiece and falls onto the gravel on the side of the road.

His body won’t stop shaking, he can’t stop thinking that his kid is dead or at least will be if he doesn’t make it there to him and he’s going to kill his other kid with his reckless driving or he’ll get arrested and he’ll never make it to Peter.

And then, like a beacon of hope, a second car pulls up behind them, and Rhodey’s running towards him.

“You need to breathe, Tony. C’mon,” Rhodey says, dropping to the ground beside Tony. “What the hell is going on?”

“Peter- he-”

“Breathe first, Tones. I know you can do it.” Hands are on his shoulder and chest and then the earpiece is gone, taking Peter’s cries away with it. “Breathe.”

It takes a few panicked minutes before Tony finally has his breathing under control, but when he does, he’s immediately reaching for the little white piece again.

“Tell me what’s going on first,” Rhodey demands.

“Pete- the kid, he’s hurt. He’s- I don’t know. I have to get him. I have to- I-”

“Barnes sent a message,” FRIDAY interrupts. “We’re on our way. ETA twenty minutes. Stay calm. I’ll fill you in as soon as I can.”

Rhodey offers a reassuring smile. “Barnes is getting him. It’s okay, Tony. It’s all fine. You just need to breathe and apologizing for scaring the little one.”

“He’s my kid!” Tony’s hands flail with his sudden anger, nearly hitting Rhodey. “I should be- I should- He could be dead, and I- I’m not there for him.”

Rhodey’s hands are grounding and strong on his shoulders. “He’s okay. He’s Peter Parker. He’s made it through a shitload so far, this won’t be the end, Tones. He’s going to be okay. He always is.”

And even if his words might make sense, Tony can’t comprehend much more than the idea that Peter’s hurt and alone.

Eventually, Rhodey convinces Tony up off the gravel and into the backseat of the car, pushing the earpiece into his best friend’s hand.

“I’ll drive. You take care of your kids,” Rhodey instructs and the car takes off again, nowhere near as fast as Tony was going, but still fast enough, Tony hopes.

“Peter?” he calls out gently when he gets the earpiece in again. “Pete, you with me?”

Peter’s making a scary gurgling noise, breaths few and far between. “T’ny- T’ny- Please-”

“I’m right here, bambino,” Tony reassures, keeping one of his hands holding onto Morgan’s. “I’m right here, I promise. You’re going to be just fine.”

Peter coughs wetly and when he gets control again, he sounds hopeless. “’m sorry. I- I love you. I need- I don’t-”

“You’re okay, kid. I promise. Everything’s going to be okay. Just hang on for another few minutes, okay? Bucky and Sam are going to get to you and I’m coming too, okay? I just-”

Tony’s voice is cut off by a blood-curdling, desperate cry from Peter’s end.

“Fuck, you were supposed to die. You’ve seen my face. You- you know things you shouldn’t,” a new voice is saying, far away from Peter’s phone. “You were supposed to stay quiet.”

“Please,” Peter begs, voice wavering. “I don’t- I don’t wanna die. Please.”

“Maybe you should’ve thought about that sooner.”

“Please-”

The line turns to static.

*

It takes too long. Much, much too long to arrive to the hospital near the campus.

Tony and Rhodey have been to this hospital one too many times, not for Peter but for Tony’s drunken nights taken too far back when they were in MIT.

Morgan clings onto Tony, arms and legs wrapped around him like a koala, as they rush into the hospital together. Her face stays hidden in the crook of his neck and he vaguely worries what kind of emotional toll this is going to take on her in the future.

“Stark, thank god you’re here,” Sam says, standing from one of the waiting room chairs.

"Where’s Peter? Where’s my kid?” Tony says, voice falling into a plead. “Please, is he okay?”

Bucky stands, bloodshot eyes finding Tony’s. “We don’t know yet. They took him into the ER, and we haven’t heard anything since. It was- It wasn’t great, if I’m being honest. But I think, I hope, he’ll be okay.”

Tony almost drops Morgan when he sees the blood caked under their nails and staining their hands, nearly up to their elbows in blood. Peter’s blood. Their clothing is bloodstained too, covering them from head to toe in blood. So much fucking blood.

Rhodey quickly takes Morgan from Tony, and Sam and Bucky gently help him sit in a chair.

“He’s going to be okay,” Sam says. “He’ll be just fine.”

Tony wants to argue, but there’s no fight left in him. He doesn’t even want to think about the possibilities. He has to be okay. There’s no other option.

*

“C’mon, Tony. Up and at ‘em,” Rhodey says, shaking Tony’s shoulder.

The billionaire shoots awake, rubbing his eyes. “Is he okay? Do we know-”

“Before you have an aneurysm, yes, Peter’s okay. They’re letting us go see him,” he says.

“Where’s Morgan?” Tony demands, finally feeling a little bit of relief loosen his chest.

Rhodey helps Tony to his feet. “Pepper came and took her home. Said you were absolutely insane for taking her all the way down here, but she’s not mad. Sam and Bucky are staying at a nearby hotel for the night. C’mon, room one eighteen.”

The door pushes open with a soft creak, revealing a hospital room not too different from the ones Tony remembers waking up in all the time after binge-drinking or OD-ing. He walks into the room, wincing at the stained blue tiles under his shoes. He only now realizes he’s wearing a pair of Peter’s high tops.

Peter looks much, much worse for wear. An oxygen mask covers the majority of his face, strapped in place and pushing his hair down in weird places. His eyes are closed, but there’re dark shadows underneath them and visible, recent tear-streaks down his cheeks.

His shirt is gone, revealing a thick wad of bandages in the center of his chest. There are some leftover streaks of dried blood over his stomach. A hospital gown is pushed down to his waist, away from the wound on his chest and his legs are covered by a thick heating blanket.

The worst, though, is the thick bandages encircling Peter’s throat, blood dotting through the white gauze.

“What happened to him?” Tony asks slowly, refusing to move any closer.

Rhodey’s face is drawn, forehead creasing. “Police checked the security tapes. Peter was walking home when he was stopped in an alleyway. A mugging. His wallet and watch were taken. Peter tried to fight back, you know, with his training, but he didn’t realize the man had a knife. Stabbed him right in the middle. Punctured one of his lungs and narrowly missed the other. The mugger came back for whatever reason and when he saw Peter was still alive…”

“He- fuck, Rhodey, his throat?” Tony exclaims, voice breaking. “How is he not-”

“Bucky and Sam got there right when it happened. They fought the mugger, nearly killed him with how angry they were. They helped stop the bleeding and got Peter here in just enough time.”

Tony’s knees are shaking and the last thing he needs is to collapse right now, so he forces himself to take the few extra steps to get to Peter’s bedside and sit in the chair.

Peter’s eyes blink open almost instantly like he could sense Tony’s presence. His eyes widen, panic glazing over him. He tries to push himself up, a hand fumbling for his oxygen mask and for his neck, but the movement obviously pulls at something because he cries out quietly in pain behind the oxygen mask.

“Hey, hey, hey, woah there, Pete. You’re okay,” Tony murmurs, gently pushing on Peter’s shoulders to get him lying down. “You’re okay. You’re in the hospital, but I’m here now, okay?”

Peter opens his mouth to speak, but he can’t from behind the mask. His eyes are welling with tears and it hurts Tony so badly to see him hurting, but at least he’s safe. At least he’s alive.

“You’re okay, bambino. You’re okay,” Tony repeats, gently pressing a kiss to Peter’s forehead and taking his hand. “It’s alright now, you can breathe, kid. Relax.”

The fight and tension leaves Peter’s body on command, slumping into the bed. His fingers fumble with Tony’s until he can tap on Tony’s palm.

H.U.R.T.S

“I know it hurts, kiddo. Your spidey-metabolism probably isn’t very good for these drugs, huh. But I planned for that, don’t you worry,” Tony says, digging through his pockets until he finds a hand-sized needle. “Bruce whipped this up for you a few months ago. Rhodey, you wanna do the honors?”

Rhodey doesn’t want to, but he will. And once the drugs have been injected into Peter’s arms, he excuses himself, saying he should probably call everyone and let them know the kid’s okay.

T.O.N.Y

“Yeah, bambino, I’m right here. You’re going to be okay. You’re safe now.”

S.C.A.R.E.D

D.O.N.T W.A.N.T. D.I.E

“You’re not going to die, kid. Not on my watch. I told you I’d protect you, and I will. Even if I have to do it through the other avengers. How would you feel about in impromptu vacation once you’re healed? Maybe Italy? May, Morgan, me, you, and Pepper. Italy for a few weeks. That sounds nice. Didn’t think my heart could deal with that kinda stress anymore, but I guess we’re all full of surprises, huh?”

There are a few seconds of nothing from Peter before he taps three times on Tony’s palm. It’s his way of saying I love you. They’ve been doing it since after the snap and Tony was the bedridden one. Peter would tap three times against Tony’s real hand.

Tony taps three times in response eliciting a little smile from behind the oxygen mask.

T.H.A.N.K.S

“You never have to thank me for helping you, kid. I wish it would be about crushes or homework, but I’m here for you, Pete. Always.”

Peter taps three times again.

“I love you too, kid. Get some rest.”

N.I.G.H.T

Followed by three more taps.

“I get it, kid, we’re sappy and lovey, but seriously, Goodnight. I love you too.”

Tony doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of saying it.

[duckbeater]

People Think You’re Really into Church

My friend Neely also recently underwent a breakup, a hardship she finds comparable to something like a botched surgery. “I’m actually physically sore all the time now,” she said, “and I feel ugly.”

She had moved to L.A. for Luis. At first they only fought about money. Her work (she reports, irregularly, for the Times there) made them fight about other things too, like the environment and homelessness and certain irredeemable publicly-funded architectural projects. So they broke up.

“It’s weird, but I found out I have all this aggression that I thought was passion. ‘I’m very passionate about housing rights,’ you know? That’s something I would say to myself in the car. But Luis said I didn’t cultivate passion, I just stoked anger, and the anger was in me. Now he won’t even be friends with me. He doesn’t want to be friends with angry people. He says I wreck his vibe. I can respect that. But I don’t really know anybody else in L.A.”

I commiserarated. I didn’t really know anybody else in Chicago—why I was Facetiming Neely at her job. She was in some desert glen, a canyon perhaps, resplendent in bee whites, her veil open but still sun-shaded, so the contrast made it seem like I had a Stormtrooper on the line. I never quite got the full story on her apiary jaunts, but apprarently she was working (probably volunteering) at some sort of bee farm (bee non-profit?) and that day was painting the tops of Langstrop hives a viciously marigold yellow.

I didn’t know anyone in Chicago, I offered before averring, “I am, though... I’m having more sex than I’ve ever had in my entire life.” Not that I really knew these people, either, I explained. Not even their names. They were often wonderful, attentive, breathy, dashing, fashionable, curious, age-appropriate and obsequiously grateful men—and I knew them as either single letters (J) or emoji (rain drop, hand)—but had declined follow-up encounters just as surely as I’d declined remembering full names and taking down full phone numbers.

“You don’t want them to know you’re an angry person,” she said.

“I don’t want them to know I’m...” But actually that was it. Wow. I was furious. All the time. I was so piping-hot full of fucking anger, so lunatic with rage, I was spending a visible part of my commute crying in the car listening to music now. I hardly ever listen to music. I don’t like how music makes me feel, how it sucks at my feelings, and embellishes them, like tequila. Now I depended on it, at 6:30 a.m., to wreck me into a tantrum. So here I was, doing “Knee 5” by Philip Glass and Robert Wilson off the Einstein on the Beach recording, sobbing as soon as the baritone steps in to sing:

two lovers sat on a park bench with their bodies touching each other holding hands in the moonlight there was silence between them so profound was their love for each other they needed no words to express it

That image alone—of lovers, a park bench, the stupid moonlight—and the lovers’ silence, it brought me to a boil. I argued with the song. SILENT AFFECTION IS SENSELESS AND DOESN’T SUSTAIN ANYONE. LANGUAGE DOESN’T MAKE LOVE. LOVE IS MADE BY ACTIONS. IT IS IMPORTANT TO BE SPECIFIC AND ACTIVE WHEN YOU LOVE SOMEONE. The song didn’t care. Maybe it even agreed. Regardless, I was arriving to my building’s parking garage an hour later, so depleted by disgust and anger and impotence, by the feeling of complete failure, of five years destroyed, of my youth and beauty corroded, of the hackneyed cliché of my entirely normal situation, that I’d sit barking out sobs under the concrete ramps in the dark, until it was safe to stagger inside. What surprised me was that I hated it. I hated him. There was this new person in my life (despite the relative lack of people), and that person lived in my car and made a striking, humorless, dramatic and painful cacophony. I left him there, parked, every day, then inhabited him for the hour and half commute back home.

“People think you’re really into church now,” said Neely, “because of all your Instagram posts in churches.”

“Oh yeah,” I said. “I’m not. Into church.” I had been going to churches a lot. To sit in them, and to sit through services, and to meekly sing. “I like them though,” I conceded. “I like that they’re the very beautiful and very quiet.”

“You can like church, you know,” she said. Luis and Neely were a part of the Catholic Relief in South Bend, IN, their senior years, and lived among the Brothers and other devout volunteers for a time, until falling in love. They served meals together to the homeless, and volunteered on home-builds and river cleanups, and rock-climbed with the city’s under-served youths. I let them live rent-free for a few months at 1269 Woodward when it became untenable for them to try to keep fucking in what was essentially a gender-segregated Catholic co-op. She said, “For me, I’m not really, specifically into church right now, or prayer, but I’m really into everyday intentions, you know? Energy in the world.”

“Thank you,” I said, “I’m really not into that either. You don’t—we don’t—need to do—please let’s not with ‘thoughts and prayers,’ if that’ okay?”

“But!” shouted Neely, laughing, “You have all my thoughts! Aww!”

“Thank you, thank you.”

“And with all the sex you’re having, maybe going to church is okay?”

“It’s definitely a prophylactic: I’ve not gotten pregnant one time. And the STIs—I can feel em’ just, falling away.”

Neely keeps her hair in two thick brown braids. She has freckles and ears that slightly stick out, and until very recently, confusingly, a top-row of braces that I’ve also never bothered to ask about. Women with braces in their late-20s (besides giving off that extreme Parker Posey-vibe) have always projected an air of fearless unconventionality to me, despite braces being, obviously, an expensive and prescriptive and primarily cosmetic ordeal. When she was thinking, she still touched her teeth as though they were braced.

“What are you doing with your anger now?” I asked.

“I’m giving it to the valley, you know?”

While scrutinizing her face I nonetheless forgot we were doing Facetime so she could see my consternation, which was radical.

“I give it to the valley, Evan! To the bees and the flowers and the arroyo and the brush!” She laughed at me. “I can’t figure out what to do with it. I was listening to myself on the phone with my mom the other night, and had this overwhelming sense that she hated who I’d become. Because I’d become this poor, boring person who just wanted to find shelters for 60,000 Americans, and implement a needle exchange program, and super-charge our food pantries, and develop a network of affordable health care services and career prep classrooms for families on hard times—and the obviousness of this, the obvious good need of this, of caring for my brothers and sisters, and seeing them warm and fed and safe, it was so stupid and boring and strange to her, because it was so impossible, and so we ended up spending like the next forty-five minutes talking about my sister’s big Fucking Expensive STUPID WEDDING!” On this crescendo she added an “AAAAAHHHHH!”—really giving her anger to the valley. “AAAAHHHH! It’s like, the things I know I could do, like write about these things, I can’t pay myself to focus on. I feel very... young,” she said, choosing the word carefully.

“I feel very, very old, Neely,” I said. Then I said something that surprised me: “I feel as though I am too old to have sons, now, that I’ve poisoned my timeline.”

“Your dick! Seems to work! Just fine!” she sing-songed.

“I think I mean that I had thought I had the family I was building. I had spent five years working toward the place where I could have a son. Or a daughter. I’m not sure what brazen sexist impulse keeps me making these patrician claims. I had thought I was coming home every night to this... place... condo, I guess... where the next day or the next year, I knew held greater peace. More success. Manageable strife, if ever strife.”

“You can start that again,” said Neely.

“I can start that again. And develop it over the next five years again, so I’m past forty when I’m a father, and an old man when my son starts his own family, and a burden,” I added, to seem more pitiable than I actually felt. (Or anyway to acknowledge how pitiable I was sometimes feeling.)

“I want to give some of your anger to the valley,” she said, “before I have to hang up. Gimme a little of that sweet sweet anger.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“No no, lemme have just a teaspoon. Let me whisper something to the valley.”

I thought for a moment and then said: “I’m mad that I’ve stopped liking kissing.”

“Evan is”—and she whispered this part—“mad that kissing’s no good no mo’. What else?”

“I’m mad that I don’t have a parking tag for my neighborhood.”

“No place to park,” whispered Neely.

“I’m mad that in addition to moving into a tower-garret-studio-apartment, with a broken towel rod and busted dishwasher, I left the cat, I left what feels like a piece of my soul, and I can’t hold that part of my soul anymore, and that part of my soul was the patient part, the part that could read in place for hours and sleep uncomfortably and carry heavy things.”

“Needs a new cat,” said Neely to the valley.

“I’m not getting a new fucking cat.”

“Needs a new soul,” said Neely.

We considered the silence that followed. The valley was quiet. My office was quiet. “Ugh,” I said, and snorted.

Neely’s bonnet fluttered back to reveal her wide forehead and braids. “That wind!” she laughed.

And indeed, I thought I had hated Neely’s valley thing, but then I did not listen to any music on the drive home.

[lightdrabbles]

title: amo

pairing: brian kang/youngk x female reader

disclaimers: explicit language, smut, drinking.

genre: fluff&smut.

summary: your favorite band was finally touring, unfortunately for you, you were driving to another city to see them, and none of your friends even liked them. fortunately, however, while at the bar, you find yourself befriending a guy in a somewhat similar situation. 

authors note: i’m currently listening to “amo” by bmth which is what inspired me to write this after seeing the prompt. also uh don’t go home with strange people at gigs ig ??? i’ve never have a bad experience with them at the gig but yeah. also this was not re-read through so uhm. 

word count: 3.4k what the fuck

your rings hit the side of the plastic cup filled with water, forgetting your fake i.d at home before you drove to the busy main city a few towns over, you were currently stuck on water. you’d much rather be drinking a vodka and cola at this point, after meeting your fave band, and watching the crowd fill the barrier. you should probably head over there to score a decent place in the crowd where you can’t get hit by a crowd surfer but also have a good view of the band that you dedicated the past three years of your life to. 

as you turned around from the bar to walk to the barrier, you hear someone speak to you, “hey, sorry, but are you here alone?”

you look up from the cup, to the man speaking, raising your eyebrow, “sorry it’s just you give off the aura you’re here alone and my friend has basically just ditched me for one of the girls working backstage.” he rubs the back of his neck before notioning to another guy, who waves at him, giving him a thumbs up, and you take a look at him. he’s highkey attractive, and you wonder why he’s talking to you, “also i kinda hate mosh pits alone but i also love them and need someone to participate with me.”

you smile a little, holding back a laugh, if you were with this strange guy, maybe you wouldn’t be so scared of standing in the crowd. “i actually am, all my friends hate this band.” 

this time he raises his eyebrow, “hate them? 3racha are one of the best upcoming rock bands of the late twenty tens.”

“that’s what i said!” you almost exclaim, and he laughs.

“i’m brian, you want a drink?” he asks, notioning towards the fully stocked bar, and you bite your lip softly, nodding your head.

“___, nice to meet you. i’ll have a vodka and cola.” 

you watch the bartender prepare your drink, while he opens a beer for your new friend. after you receive your drinks you make your way to the small crowd to watch soundcheck, the doors for general admission would be opening in about forty minutes, so you had time to enjoy the music while being around the second row. 

after soundcheck was over, you had about twenty minutes left to talk to brian, and he was the one who sparked up the conversation first, motioning towards the tattoos he could see through the band shirt you had cut the sleeves off, and tied at your waist and the high waisted, black, leather mini skirt. “what’s the story behind these,” he motioned, first towards the roses that layered your left arm, and you proceeded to tell him a story about how you were lost as a child and roses helped you home.

as you waited for the first band to head on stage you found out he was in his own band, with jae, the friend who had “abandoned” him, he loved travelling and was currently studying in his masters at college. you’d have to remember not to mention you had just started your first year; he’d totally find it weird knowing you were nineteen.

finally, after what seemed like hours, the show had began. the first opening act, riot fever, had managed to storm through their set, even with the venue still filling up, and nobody singing when they asked for it during one of their songs. as they finished and the stage was changing over for the next act, 15&, brian’s attention was pulled away from another conversation you were having about how friends suck.

when his attention was back, he looked down to you and started to speak, pushing a backstage pass to your face, “maybe friends don’t suck,” he laughed as you took the pass.

“how the fuck?”

he looked over at jae, who had his arm around a girl, “you see the girl he’s been talking to all night? part of the crew, not just the backstage staff.”

that made your night entirely. you reached to grab the pass from him but he moves it away from your face before you can, “no way, little lady. how do i know you’re not about to take this and find another guy? hm. gotta prioritise myself.” he tells you over the music playing in the background; as he speaks your favorite song comes on -- drown by bring me the horizon. you wanna scream the song out at the top of your lungs but your attention is on the man in front of you.

“why would i do that?” 

he taps your nose slightly before you find yourself being pushed closer to him as people gather closer to the barrier, you wanna yell at the person who pushed you, but when brian wraps his arms close around your waist and whispers, “hey, i got you, it’s fine.” your anger just melts away.

15& played their set, and finally 3racha were due on. the group of 5 members had been your safe space since you were sixteen, now you finally get to see them live. during their set, you had helped multiple crowd surfers and had been pushed even closer to brian. there was something about his manor that made you drawn to him, so when the lead singer, chris, came up to the mic and asked everyone to turn to the person next to them and give them a hug -- a sign of respect for each other, your heart pounded in your chest, as brian grabs your shoulders, pushing you towards his chest and into a hug. the embrace warm, and you lean your head on his chest before you break out of the hug.

it happened fast, when his lips found yours, surrounded by people in a sweaty concert, you lost yourself. “damn, we got a couple of love birds in the audience right now,” the bassist, felix, had yelled, gathering your attention as you pulled away from the kiss. the way his hands lingered over your waist, just above your ass made you wonder if he was trying to go further with it.

you looked at the stage, as people cheered, a blush forming on your cheeks, your ears burning red with everything that was happening. “let’s dedicate this song to you two, then,” felix said into the microphone as they started to play their latest single, “XO”. 

the rest of the set felt different somehow, brian never moving his arm from your waist, making sure nobody kicked you in the head when crowd surfing. and finally 3racha had finished their show, the venue leaving. 

brian turned to you, as everyone headed to merch, “so backstage?”

you bit your lip softly, looking at the time on your phone. you hadn’t planned on staying in town, but hopefully making your way home before midnight. it was only eleven, but if you went backstage, there was a big chance of more drinks and you’d have to pay out for a hotel or sleep in your car.

on the other hand; here was an insanely attractive man, who had scored you backstage passes to your favorite band. “backstage.” you nodded your head.

he smiles brightly, “want another drink before we go?”

you nodded again and the older man walked back to the bar quickly, seeing his friend jae standing there with his arm candy. after a few moments he turned so he was facing you again and motioned you to head over. dragging your feet to the bar you stood next to him as he pulled his arm around you, “jae, chungha, this is ___.”

“hi.” you smiled. your drink was passed to you by the bartender as he filled up a tray with shots and various other drinks, you took a small sip before making a face at it. “jesus christ,” you muttered.

“too much vodka, not enough coke?” the female, chungha said, smirking a little.

“something like that,” you replied, almost laughing. 

brian looked at you, “sorry,” he whispered into your ear as chungha had grabbed a few bottles of beer before jae grabbed the tray. 

“backstage?” she asked, and the two of you nodded. “i’m just gonna say the boys get hella rowdy after a show and tonight’s was insane, so if they’re loud, or try and beat each other then, well. yeah.” she said as the four of you walked past some members of the crew backstage. brian’s arm never leaving your shoulder as he occasionally sipped on the beer in his hand. 

tonight was definitely going down in the best nights of your life. chungha had passed beers to a few members of the crew before you had reached a room backstage. “we’re probably gonna be here for like an hour before the guys go out to meet fans and i think they wanna head to a club or something afterwards. maybe they’ll just hang out in the bus with some music, extra booze.”

brian pulls you down onto a sofa as you enter the room where three of the members of 3racha are already sat. “oh,” he whispers in your ear, “i totally lied by the way,” you raise your eyebrows. “i kinda know the guys.”

you look around the room, taking a sip from your drink, you try to steady your breathing. 

“god i’m out of it,” chris said, grabbing a shot of tequila from the tray and downing it as he ran a towel through his damp hair. he looked at you, then brian and laughed softly, “hope he’s treating you right, honey.”

you take another sip of your drink, pulling your legs onto the couch, and leaning against brian, “what’s that-”

“ignore him, ___. he’s been like this since highschool.” he mutters, rubbing his fingers over your arm. you look up at him as he looks down at you, smiling softly. 

maybe the fact you had 2 glasses of the mixture swimming in your gut, but you wouldn’t mind if brian had asked you back to his place; wherever that may be. “you’ve been there through everything with 3racha, then?” 

he nods his head, “mhm. helped them write their first few songs,” he tells you as felix opens up a bottle of beer, but instead of a normal way - he slams it against the table, breaking the glass, causing everyone to look at him. felix wasn’t even twenty one yet, and here chungha was, feeding a starting alcohol habit. you couldn’t really say much, you were nineteen and on your second drink of the night. 

“jesus christ, felix.”

“shit, i’m fuckin’ sorry. gross, i smell of beer.”

“yeah that’s what typically happens when you smash a bottle of beer. dumb fuck.” changkyun, the drummer, said, slapping the boy on the back of his head.”if yunho or jooheon saw that they would’ve locked you in a guitar case.”

“how would i even fit into a guitar case?!” felix almost shrieks in anger, and changkyun just gives him a glare - an almost evil glare.

as if by magic the last two members of the group walk into the dressing room, seeing alcohol sitting on a tray in the middle of the table, they both grab a cup of something, before they see the glass on the floor. “jesus, who did that?” jooheon says, rolling his eyes and taking a seat next to you.

okay ___, stay cool. one of your favorite guitarists isn’t exactly sat next to you right now. 

he stops drinking the alcohol in his hand, looks at you then chris, then brian and back to you, “uh hi?”

you turn to him, “hi.” you reply back, brian’s arm gets tighter around you, now leaving your arm and sitting on your side. you turn your attention to him, after he puts his beer glass down, he places his fingers under your chin and pulls you into the second kiss of the night. this time it’s more heated as music starts playing in the dressing room.

if your mother could see you now, she would probably scream at you. call you a whore, or something else. she didn’t even know you were out of town that night, thinking you were with your friend, jamie. the kiss gets more intense, fast, his tongue pressing against yours, his teeth occasionally biting down into your bottom lip.

“dude, if you’re gonna makeout with her take it to the tour bus, i’ll give you the keys and you can use the back room.” yunho almost throws a pillow at the two, as brian pulls away. he pulls off his bandana holding back all the blonde hair, and throws it over at his friend. 

“shut up,” he says, pressing another kiss to your lips, but this time it’s soft and sweet. he leans down to your ear, whispering, “i’d love to take you back to my place, but only if you’re okay with it.”

fuck yeah you were okay with it, inside of telling him, you respond with a kiss of your own. hand grabbing the back of his neck, holding him as close to you as you can. 

for the next hour, you find yourself listening to music, getting to know the boys of 3racha, and drinking. while occasionally locking lips with the man you had met only a few hours ago. 

they agreed to drop the two of you off at brian’s apartment, only twenty minutes away from the venue, and even though you dreaded leaving your car where it was parked, you didn’t want to risk the idea of getting into a car accident. plus it was already two in the morning.

when the two of you are finally in the apartment, you immediately take off your shoes, holding the red heals in your hand, you feel brian hold onto your waist. “so, we can order a pizza, i have some more booze laying around, or we could get to fucking first and i can take you out for breakfast tomorrow.” he whispers in your ear, leaving a line of soft kisses down the back of your neck, your hair had already been pulled into a bun the minute 3racha had entered the stage. 

you turned your body around, “hm, pizza, sex and alcohol? sounds like a plan.” with your answer, you kiss him again, lips feeling like heaven as he taps your butt softly. 

“any allergies i should know of?” 

you shake your head as he gives you a small tour of the apartment, leading you finally into the bedroom. he looks you up and down, untying the bow you had at the bottom of your shirt, before pulling it over your head and kissing your lips again. his hands find themselves tangled in your hair as he pushes you down to the bed. “fuck the pizza, i need you first.” he says as he manages to push his way out of the skinny jeans on his waist. 

quickly he pulls down your skirt, hands gripping at your thighs. you were always insecure about the way they pushed together but his eyes latched onto them, marking them with hickies along the inside. you mentally thanked yourself for shaving last night. and shaving everywhere. he moves up to your face, kissing you softly again, hands trailing down the bra straps before he eventually unclasps the back. “sit on my face.” 

you gulp a little, sobering up somewhat with his words. you shook your head a little, your bra still covering up your breasts. “i - i can’t.” you tell him.

raising his eyebrow, “it wasn’t a question, babydoll. sit. on. my. face.”

you hesitate but find yourself adjusting your position and sitting on his face, to put it blunt. his hands grip at your underwear, the faded pink lace. you didn’t assume anything was going to happen that night, so you weren’t going to throw on your good pair of matching lingerie. brian bites down on your left thigh, but softly, enough to leave another mark not to the point of actual pain. he pulls your underwear off, snapping the band. “sorry,” he whispers into your thigh, throwing the pair of busted panties to the side, “if you’re a good girl, i’ll buy you some new ones.” he teases before going straight to the gold.

his tongue flicks over your clit, his fingers digging into your thighs, leaving bruises. he warms you up before his tongue enters you, exploring the new area. you lean your hands against the headboard of his bed, nails digging into it. using one hand to keep you still, brian’s fingers find your clit this time, slight pressure added as he uses two fingers to rub it.

you weren’t a virgin by any point, but it had been so long to the point of you could’ve came from any dirty talk. 

his mouth moves away, “fuck, you’re so damn sweet.” he mutters, before his mouth is back at your entrance. you needed something more to feel a stronger orgasm, but at the way he was going, you were about to cum. 

“i’m gonna - shit,” you mutter, feeling your legs start to plummet, “shit.” you repeat. breathing heavy, your throat felt dry as brian pulled away again. 

“you gonna cum, baby?” a smirk is present on his face as you look down at him, nodding your head. “good girl.”

the second his tongue latches itself back around you, you feel the waves in your stomach as your orgasm approaches you. brian helps you ride it out, and helps you off him, laying you down on the bed, your bra now long gone too. he pulls his shirt off, your hands immediately going towards running down his stomach. another kiss is pressed against your mouth as he lets you catch your breath. “you did well,” he tells you, a hand pressed against your cheek. “the place that’s open at this time takes forty minutes, i’m gonna order it and then i’m going to ruin you.” he kisses you again, before leaving the room. 

you sit up on your elbows, going to your bag that was thrown near the edge of the bed to check the time and see if your mother had called your best friend yet. aside from a few twitter and instagram notifications you had barely anything to see. it was closer to two am now, you knew your mother was about to kill you if she had seen the snapchat stories you had been posting all night. you had various notifications from your friends on that app, and as you were about to check them, the male walked back into the room.

“you ready, sweetheart?” he asks you, as you lock your phone, looking up at him and smirking. your phone gets placed on a bedside table, and before you know it, brian is pushing you back onto the bed, leaving hickies over your neck, throat, both your breasts and down your stomach, god, you were going to have a hard time explaining this to your family but in the moment, you were in bliss. 

he grabs a condom from the bedside table, ripping it open with his teeth and slides it on, his boxers long gone. it doesn’t take him long before he has himself lined up, and pressing against you, your faces pressed together in a deep makeout. your hands dragging along his back with every thrust he made. your lipstick long gone, and your eye makeup smudged already. he stops for a second, taking your appearance in.

“what?”

“nothing, you just look beautiful.” he tells you, and you find yourself blushing before he continues his pace and speed. it continues for what seems like no time at all, as you fall deep into the mattress. “you tell me when you’re close, babydoll. i wanna hear you scream.”

fuck. those words sent you into oblivion, “god, i’m gonna cum.” you mutter only a few minutes later, to which he replies with a bite of your earlobe. after you let out a string of loud moans, and curses, he emptied himself into you. the pair of you sweating, looking at each other.

you shut your eyes for a split second, but wake up to brian pushing one of his shirts over your torso, and telling you the pizza had arrived. 

“do you wanna go out with me sometime?” he asks out of the blue, as you’re halfway through a slice of pizza. you swallow and nod your head, smiling at him.

“i’d like that a lot.”

[dumbassbestiary]

That Time Camille Met Glenn - Drabble (NSFW)

{The fic i wrote for @nosferatuinblue as crack that then became Glennmille. Go figure.}

It was the mid-nineties: Bill Clinton was President (possibly, I don’t know the exact dates), Vanilla Ice was inexplicably a musical star, and cartoons had never been edgier.

As Camille stepped out of the Trans Am, and threw away the phone book she’d been sitting on to properly operate it, the night smelled of blood…and opportunity.

She’d picked up the car in New Jersey after its owner had wolf-whistled at her. Said owner - a hard-as-nails ex-con who’d done fifteen at Riker’s for armed robbery - now sat in several trash cans behind a Shoney’s. Camille had picked the fragments of skull and brain that’d been left on the wheel of his car after she’d smashed his head against it fourteen and a half times, and chewed them during the drive like gum.

Now, she was in the great state of New York: one of the many stops in her wet (read: bloody), hot (read: deathly cold), American Summer (read: winter). During this little excursion across the states, she’d killed no less than forty people, all of which would be attributed to other, less-competent murderers across the country. She’d kill many more before the trip was up, but that’s not the story we’re telling today.

It’s outside of a filthy-looking dive bar called Randy’s that we join our sanguinarian heroine (Anti-Heroine? Villain?) as she prepared for a night of miscellaneous debauchery.

She trudged across the blacktop, wearing painted-on jeans and a leather jacket that made her look like a tiny biker. She fiddled with a curly lock of her kinky, purple hair and grinned - at a place like this, all bets were off, and that’s the only occasion where Little Miss Domino felt like she could truly have a good time.

The guy at the door was about to make a comment - maybe about her skin, or her gaping facial triangle where her nose should have been, or her pointy buck teeth. The exact nature will never be known, because when Camille’s hand darted preemptively for his groin and squeezed his nuts into butter, the sound he made could only be heard by dogs, and all nearby dogs were reticent to deliver the exact nature of his pained exclamation.

She passed through the door without a care as the beefy doorman crumbled next to her.

When she saw the inside of the bar - which looked kind of like if you took all the furniture out of a doll house and arranged it around the dirtiest gutter, full of dead rats and used condoms,  that you’ve ever had the misfortune to see in your life - she wanted to chug ten gallons of Purell with a chaser of a bathtub full of bleach. But, she managed to suppress the urge, when something else distracted her.

There was a man at the bar - not exceptionally tall, but still somehow imposing. His pale, angular face betrayed a preternatural sense of malice that Camille felt she could really identify with - and his hair might have been the only set of hair in the bar frizzier than her’s.

Like a nest of ginger clown pubes, Camille thought.

He swilled his drink, uninterested. There was something else on the stranger’s mind - but what?

She’d just have to find out.

Camille sauntered over to the bar, and floated up onto the seat.

The stranger didn’t turn to regard her. He just looked at the two ice cubes floating in his drink.

“Hey,” the bartender, who looked like an angry Mario, said on approach. “No kids in my bar.”

Camille’s teeth clenched, and her eyes took on a strange, reflective quality.

The bartender felt mesmerised, and oddly…compliant.

“Take off your belt,” she said, her voice lisping but not undermining the gravity of her tone. “And hang yourself in the bathroom.”

The bartender nodded.

“Yes, ma'am.”

He walked off to the bathroom, loosening his belt.

The redhead stranger perked up, like someone had just told him his VD test came back negative, and turned to Camille. She noticed he was wearing the ugliest Hawaiian shirt she’d ever seen: palm trees, guns, and corgis.

“Nice work,” he said, his voice deep and cruel. “Normally, I need to unholster something to be that persuasive.”

Camille smiled.

“It’s a gift,” she said.

“You got a name?”

“Camille. You?”

“Rhodes. I’d get you a drink, but you just sent the bartender to go all Hari-Kari in the stalls.”

Camille giggled.

“I don’t like anything on tap here, anyway.”

Glenn put his drink down on the bar, and leaned against his hand.

“I’m guessing you’ve heard of me,” he said.

“Huh?”

“It’s why you approached me, right? You’ve heard frightened whispers about the great Glenn Rhodes, and you wanted to come try my services.”

She cocked her head, perplexed.

“Are you a gigolo or something?”

Glenn sneered.

“I’m the guy you pay when you want someone dead. Isn’t that why you’re here?”

The pint-sized vampire practically snorted in amusement.

“If I want someone dead, they end up dead. I don’t need to pay Ronald McDonald to do it for me.”

The look in Glenn’s eye after that told her she’d touched a nerve. Maybe a mean name he’d been called back in high school. There was a moment of excitement where she thought he might try something, but instead, he just sighed softly, composed himself, and put on the most perfect example of a shit-eating grin.

“Say, anyone ever tell you that you sound a little like Sylvester the Cat?” he asked.

Camille felt the muscles in her face tense.

“What?” she said, giving him a chance to walk it back.

“From Looney Tunes. Try to say Suffering Succotash, you’ll see what I mean.”

Not wanting to dignify his idiotic taunting with a response, she leaned forwards, and moved the edge of his green bomber jacket to the side, so she could see the large hunting knife holstered at his hip.

“You know what they say about men with big knives,” she said.

Rhodes grabbed her by the wrist, irritated.

“They make big stab wounds,” he said.

Camille - not one to ever let herself be bested - grabbed his arm with almost bone-crushing force.

Rhodes winced and resisted the powerful urge to let out a scream.

“Yeah,” Camille said, smiling. “But they usually don’t need them.”

She let him go, and he brought his aching wrist back, rubbing it. His pride was hurting worse.

“That’s quite a grip you’ve got there, short stack,” he said. “I’d hate to be your boyfriend.”

Camille’s eyebrows arched into a “V.”

“Oh yeah?” she said.

***

The bar was evacuated by police within the hour, when someone stumbled into the bathroom, found the hanging bartender, and spilled what they intended to put in the toilet down the side of their left leg.

By that time, though, Camille and Glenn were gone - they were having nasty car sex in the back of the Trans Am like a pair of dumb, horny teens with a respectable collective body count.

She was on top. She was always on top.

“Jesus Christ,” Glenn said, between heavy breaths. “Why are you so cold? I feel like I’m fucking a corpse.”

“How do you know what that feels like?” Camille asked. “And you could have at least taken your gun belt off, you fucking jerk.”

Glenn didn’t answer, but the insults did make them both, for some reason, feel a little more aroused.

They both went at it like wolf-rabbits for a strong three minutes before an explosive conclusion. Camille’s Orlock-esque cum face would haunt his memories until Jenny Walker shot him through the head two years later in the ruins of the Dubois mansion, after an exciting but somewhat confusing fight scene.

Afterwards, they put their clothes back on, and sat in the back of a dead man’s stolen car - feeling, as all of their other sexual partners had before, deeply regretful.

Neither of them asked whether it was good for the other. They weren’t the kind of people who cared.

“Well,” Glenn said. “That’s one for the memoirs I’ll never write. If I did, though, they’d legally have to publish them under horror.”

“Oh, please,” Camille said. “Don’t flatter yourself. I had sex with Pope Pius X. Don’t let the name fool you, he was the freakiest motherfucker I’ve ever seen. He tried stuff I couldn’t describe.”

Glenn shuddered at the mental image.

“I better get off…” Glenn said, climbing out of the back seats of the Trans Am.

“I thought you just did,” Camille said, thinking it was very clever and funny.

“There’s some people I need to kill,” he finished.

“Yeah,” Camille said. “Me too.”

Note: if Camille was able to read this narration, she’d also have replied “I thought you just did” to “he finished” as well. She would have thought that was very clever and funny too.

That was the first and last time they’d ever met - nobody could make a definitive comment on the nature of their relationship. Were they friends? No. Lovers? I mean, could you really call that back seat abomination love? Did they even like each other? Who knows?

The thing that could indeed be said about their relationship, though, is that they probably deserved each other.

[olivieblake]

Death Wish

It’s always hot in Vegas. Inferno hot, Harry thinks, and the glare from the pool isn’t helpful. Saturday means club beats pounding while he sits aloft in his lifeguard throne and bakes, hovering somewhere between the circles of hell reserved for gluttons and sloths. If someone set fire to this town, he thinks, nobody would even notice.

He shades his eyes from the sun, sighing. Two children (where are their parents?) splash around wildly and two drunk women complain, looking to Harry for assistance. He’s not here for them. Not as they are, anyway. His job is not to be dissatisfaction police for rich women gradually turning their skin to leather. He’s here for when they inevitably try fucking in the pool, or when someone gets drunk enough to try to dive into three feet of water (if that). He’s the last line of defense between irresponsible fun and death. 

Despite this, Harry recognizes the collective compulsion to find water. It calls to him, too. Funny thing, he thinks, being a lifeguard at the Mirage. It’s a name so apt it should almost be funny.

He sighs again, rubbing at the sweat pooling under his sunglasses.

It’s too fucking hot in Vegas.

———————

Vegas is so over. So fucking over, Theo thinks, and another glance around the Mirage pool does nothing to convince him otherwise. None of the swimsuits are in any way stylish. None of the tattoos are artsy. Too many people are drinking Miller Lite in one place than should be drinking Miller Lite at all, ever.  Los Angeles, he thinks, even at its worst and most pretentious, is at least never trying this hard.

Theo considers going home early, but that’s not happening. He isn’t sure why he forgets every time that the drive back from Vegas to L.A. is always harder than the opposite direction. Drives to Vegas are comforting, full of promise, like diving directly into a sun-soaked pool (though not this particular pool, which would be to aim for certain death and very probably chlamydia). The other direction, on the other hand, is like leaping directly into the sun. And not in a good way.

Theo glances around, Draco pausing at his side. “No room,” Theo says. Draco, meanwhile, is happily drinking a mai tai, which Theo wants to knock from his hands directly into the pool. “Why’d you pick this hotel again?”

(The suite they have at the Mirage is fucking resplendent with the worst of the 1970s. It’s retro, and again, not in a good way. Not to say there’s a good way. But if there is, the Mirage is not it.)

“You hate every hotel,” Draco reminds him. “I’m telling you, Nott, Vegas just is what it is. The city of sin,” he adds, winking as he fits his lips around a weed pen.

“I’m surprised you aren’t more opposed,” Theo notes. “None of this seems elite enough for you. And didn’t you do coke last night? It’s not 1982.”

“What do you want me to do?” Draco prompts lazily. “I didn’t have any meth.”

“Ah, see, you’re joking, but it’s not even a good joke,” Theo points out. “Everyone knows pharmaceuticals are the new cocaine. Coke is so Gen X, and meth, as literally everyone on earth agrees, is exclusively for midwesterners.”

“That’s fucking fascinating, Nott. Tell me more,” Draco says drily.

“Remember ecstasy?” Theo muses. “Talk about a throwback—”

“Stop,” Draco says, and points. “Look. Chairs.”

“I’d rather drown,” Theo mutters.

Draco squints up, eyeing the lifeguard. “You hear that?” he calls up obnoxiously. “My friend has a death wish. If you let him drown, I’d be happy to tip.”

Theo doesn’t expect the lifeguard to answer, but surprisingly, he does. He nudges a pair of sunglasses further up his nose and slumps down, warily regarding Theo and Draco before speaking.

“I died once,” the lifeguard says. His hair is messy and wild, his skin bronzed and slick. “I was without oxygen for five minutes. Can’t say I’d try it again. Can’t say I wouldn’t.”

“Jesus Christ,” mutters Draco, about to walk away, but Theo stays behind.

“Tell me more,” he commands. The lifeguard lifts his sunglasses, squinting at him.

“You thinking of trying?” the lifeguard says. His nametag says HARRY, LAS VEGAS, just like that. All caps. As if it’s something to be proud of. “Overdose would be more pleasant, I think, given the option. Pretty sure you could afford it.”

“That’s presumptuous,” Theo says testily. Draco grabs his arm but Theo nudges him away, flashing him a polarized glare from beneath thousand-dollar lenses before turning back to the lifeguard. “Any recommendations?”

The lifeguard, Harry, considers it for a second. “Not a stimulant,” he says.

“Beg pardon?” Theo asks.

“I mean, could always overdose on caffeine,” Harry muses, “but I have to imagine it would hurt. Like, with a normal overdose—”

Theo balks. “Normal overdose?”

“—yeah, normal, like sleeping pills or whatever,” Harry continues, unfazed, “you just lose consciousness, right? Everything slows down. Sedatives would be the way to go. Want to die with stimulants, pretty sure that’s a heart attack. Can’t say for certain, but I’d guess it hurts more. You know how your heart races sometimes and shit? And it, like, stings? That’s—that’s no good. Might as well drown if you’re going to go out that way.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Draco says, but Theo is enraptured.

“What time do you get off?” Theo asks Harry, ignoring Draco as he walks away, exasperated.

Harry laughs. “Fuck off,” he says, and turns back towards the pool.

“I’m serious,” Theo says. “Hey,” he adds, when the lifeguard doesn’t turn. “I’m fucking talking to you.”

“I see that,” Harry notes. It’s irritating, and Theo fucking loves it.

“I’ll be back in an hour,” Theo says.

Harry nudges his sunglasses back on. “Fuck off.”

Theo smiles.

Maybe Vegas isn’t over yet.

———————

Harry isn’t sure why he decided to talk to the rich kid with the sunglasses and the death wish who has hair that screams Los Angeles who was probably ‘ironically’ at the Pitbull concert last night, but he doesn’t think much of it until the too-skinny asshole with the dry voice shows up again.

“One hour on the dot,” he says, and Harry rolls his eyes.

“Can’t prove it,” Harry replies. “Wasn’t counting.”

“You’re a fucking liar,” says Asshole, flagrantly. Shamelessly.

Harry glances down at his watch.

“Fine,” he permits. “One hour on the dot.”

The Asshole smiles.

“My friend dragged me here,” Asshole says. “The blond one, looks real smug? Him. Anyway, we’re here for the weekend. Drove in from L.A., for no real reason. Vegas always seems like a good fucking idea, you know? And then you get here and six hours later you’re like, shit. This place is so over.”

Typical, Harry thinks. It’s not like hating Las Vegas is somehow avant-garde.

“I actually like Vegas in theory,” Asshole continues. “I like the idea that it’s just so fake and we’re all in on the joke. Like, we’re all here to entertain this grandiose idea that we can escape into a fantasy for forty-eight hours or whatever.” He pauses. “The Venetian is my favorite hotel,” he adds, “because they really fucking committed, you know? I mean yeah, sure, it’s fake, but it’s beautiful. The gaudy kind of beautiful, too—like, um, what’s the word—”

“Opulence,” Harry says by accident.

“Yes.” He can hear the satisfaction in Asshole’s voice. “Exactly.”

The Venetian is Harry’s favorite hotel.

“I mean, you have to like the Bellagio,” Asshole says, apparently not bothered at all by Harry’s lack of communication. “It’s got a real sense of the absurd, you know? The giant flowers and gardens and the fountains. It’s like—the Bellagio is Dada. It’s all just fucking satire, man.”

“Do you ever stop talking?” Harry asks.

“Tell you over dinner,” Asshole says.

“I have no interest in hanging out with you,” Harry says, “or your smug blond friend.”

“That’s fine. Been thinking about killing him for years,” Asshole says.

Harry says nothing.

“I’ve got this theory about Pitbull,” Asshole remarks, and Harry rolls his eyes. Knew it, he thinks, until Asshole abruptly surprises him. 

“I think he might be a god,” Asshole says. 

Harry blinks.

“A minor god,” Asshole amends quickly. “Like Bacchus, maybe? Or some sort of revelry creature, or maybe an incubus of some kind? I mean okay, I’m not saying he’s literally divine, but he had a cold last night at the start of the show and then by the end of the night he was fine and I had the fucking cold, so. You do the math.”

“You think Pitbull,” Harry echoes slowly, “the singer from Miami, might be Bacchus.”

“Yeah, I mean.” Asshole shrugs. “Yeah.”

Harry turns, staring at him. “Seriously?”

“He’s Mr Worldwide,” Asshole says defensively. “Who makes that kind of claim? A god of revelry, that’s who.”

Fuck this lunatic, Harry thinks for a second, but after the idea settles in, he grudgingly decides he kind of likes it. It makes Vegas less hellish and more fantastic, in the literal sense. Fantasy. That’s what Vegas promises, and what it fails to deliver, favoring $30 mai tais instead.

“Dah-le,” Asshole adds, grinning, and then, evidently pleased with himself, he half-shouts, “Mujeeeeeres!”

“Stop,” Harry says.

“I’ll stop over dinner,” Asshole replies.

“Please stop,” Harry says, though he checks his watch.

Asshole clearly notices. “You know I have a death wish,” he remarks. “Could just try to repeatedly drown until your shift is over.”

Harry grimaces. His shift is over.

“What’s your name?” Harry says.

“Theodore Videlio Nott the third,” replies Asshole.

“Seriously?” Harry asks.

“No.” Asshole barks out a laugh. “I’m only the second.”

“Theodore?” Harry echoes, and frowns. “Go by Ted?”

“Theo,” Asshole corrects him, and shudders. “If you ever fucking call me Ted I’ll bury your dick in the ground.”

Harry sighs. “Fine. Dinner,” he says. “You’re paying. And I’m not doing cocaine.”

“Pharmaceuticals are the new cocaine,” Theo says.

Harry wants to kiss him on the mouth.

“Fine,” he says, and climbs down from the lifeguard stand, wondering if he might die tonight.

[peonysimmer]

previous|beginning|next

The world blurs outside her window, a dizzying array of colors that blend into nothingness. The engine of her brand new car purrs beautifully as she shifts gears, but it does nothing to brighten her sour mood. Shauna’s disappointed face and parting words are still lingering in her head, joining forces with Adrianna’s relentless barrage of harsh comments and Whitney’s constant worrying. She’s used to people trying to control her life, it’s been that way since birth, but her friends’ constant badgering has begun to take its toll.

‘You’re so naïve, Haleigh.’

‘Don’t be an idiot, Haleigh.’

‘He doesn’t care about you, Haleigh.’

Poor innocent Haleigh, doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into. They talk about her like she’s a fucking infant, sure they mean well, but she can feel the resentment growing every time one of them makes another stupid comment. She’s not a goddamn child; she practically raised herself for Christ’s sake. She doesn’t need their input or their approval, she’s doing just fine.

She cranks the volume, top forty blaring in her ears; she’ll probably have tinnitus when she’s older but fuck it, she needs to decompress. Digging her fingers into the steering wheel she tries to focus on the beat and lyrics, but it’s no use. She shouldn’t have skipped lacrosse practice; it would have been the perfect way to work out her frustrations, honestly she shouldn’t have skipped at all. She’s the freaking co-captain, what kind of example was she setting for the rest of her team? And what if they lose because she’s not up to par?

With an annoyed huff she takes her exit well above the recommended speed limit. She just needs to let it go, at least for the moment. Jax was making time for her after all, he’d cleared his afternoon for her- though she’s not really sure what else he had to do anyway; as far she knows he spends most of his time at the garage with the rest of his little crew, working on their cars and drinking cheap beer. But still, he didn’t need to take the time to indulge Haleigh in her latest interest; she knows he thinks it’s kind of ridiculous so she should be more grateful.

The city around her has slowly changed as she drove, from her upper class neighborhood into dilapidated streets with graffiti covered buildings and trash piled on street corners. Over the past month she’s gotten used to the view, though that doesn’t mean she’s a huge fan of it; she sticks out like a sore thumb here in her flashy new car, she might as well have ‘Filthy Fucking Rich’ written on her forehead.

A faded brick building that’s seen better days comes into view and she rolls to a stop in front of it. She’s only been to the garage once before, and it was only for a brief moment while Jax ran inside to grab something one night. Inside it had been filled with more tools than she would know what to do with, car parts scattered across the dirty cement floor, and the remnants of takeout spilling out of the trash; she’d waited for him outside rather than risking the possibility of tetanus.

Now she sits in her car for a moment, warm afternoon sun spilling through her window and warming the left side of her body. The car’s still running as she takes a moment to collect herself, her earlier anger is still simmering under the surface and she does her best to choke it back. Jax doesn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of her rage after all, he’s done nothing wrong, she just needs to get into a better headspace for the time being. Taking a deep breath she plasters on a smile and pulls the key from the ignition and steps out into the spring air.

She can hear bass heavy music blaring inside the garage and the unmistakable sound of Tori bitching about something, though it’s too muffled to make out the exact words. Uninterested in dealing with her bullshit, Haleigh fires off a text to Jax and waits for him to come to her. She leans against the hood, her smile becoming a bit more genuine as she starts to imagine Jax’s reaction to her new ride; she’s pretty sure he’s going to lose his shit, although he’ll probably argue it still has nothing on American Muscle.

A few minutes pass before he spills out of the rusted door, she can pinpoint the moment he comprehends what’s going on. His eyebrows practically shoot to his hairline, eyes wide in surprise before he schools his features.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” he drawls as he moves in closer, he stops a few feet away from her near a red car she’s never seen before.

“She’s pretty cute, huh?” Haleigh says a bit smugly, she likes her car, okay?

Jax scoffs. “Yeah, that’s one way to describe it. Jesus, this is what your parents buy you for your first car, huh? Thought you said your daddy wanted you to get a Bentley?” There’s an edge to his voice that’s a little mean, she’s heard it before; it’s the tone he defaults to when the topic of her family’s wealth is brought up. It’s a tone that leaves her feeling vaguely unsettled but she ignores it; the differences between the two of them are bound to be an obstacle to overcome, there’s no way around it.

Haleigh fixes a smirk on her face and wonders if it looks as brittle as it feels. “Yeah, he did, but he got called away for a meeting while we were out car shopping, so he had to forfeit to my choice if he wanted to be on time.” She doesn’t mention that the meeting her father was so keen to get to was with his mistress of the month, at this point in her life her parents’ constant string of affairs is so commonplace it’s not worth bringing it up. No one really cares anyway, it’s a pretty normal thing in her world and you get used to it after a while.

Jax shakes his head and murmurs something under his breath that she doesn’t catch, and she’s not really sure if she wants to. The longer she stands out here under his judging stare the more she regrets her decision to come at all. She shakes the feeling off, it’s too late to change her mind; she might as well make the most of the situation.

“So you said something about teaching me how to properly drive?” she hedges. “Though I hope you know I’m not about to subject Lucile to that.”

He quirks a brow in question. “Lucile?”

Haleigh nods her head towards her car. “Yeah, Lucile.” She never thought she’d bet the type of person to name a car, but for some reason it seemed incredibly fitting.

Jax’s lips lift subtly at the corners, amusement in his eyes. “Well I wouldn’t dream of having our dear Lucile endure that kind of treatment, you’re gonna drive this,” he says, patting the door of the red car behind him. He moves in closer until he’s in her personal space, but his eyes are tracing the contours of Lucile’s body.  “Although she might enjoy a more experienced driver taking her for a spin,” he hints, blue eyes twinkling with anticipation.

Haleigh laughs and his eyes snap to hers. She places her hands on his cheeks and pulls his face down to her level. “Listen closely,” she starts, her voice serious. “Nobody, and I mean nobody, is driving that car but me. I don’t care how good you think you are; if anything happens to this car my parents will murder me. Understood?” In reality her parent’s would probably just be mildly annoyed and refuse to buy her a new one, but she needs to drive the point home.

She can feel his cheeks move underneath her palms as he grins. “Understood. But you know,” he says, his voice dropping considerably, “I am really good.” The suggestiveness of his tone makes it crystal clear that they’re not just talking about driving skills anymore.

His handsome face moves in closer and she can’t help but roll her eyes as she holds one hand up in front of his face. “That was terrible, you can do better.”

“I’m going to take that as an invitation,” he says. Large, warm hands slide down her sides, settling on her hips and pulling her body towards his; she goes with it, allowing herself to shut out her thoughts and just feel for a moment. It’s nice to feel something positive, at least for this brief intermission, lately she’s been feeling like she’s been drowning in negativity, like it’s coming at her from all sides. But right now all she feels is soft blond hair between her fingers and a hard body pressed against hers; Jax smells like mint and gasoline and it’s strangely comforting.

She loses herself in him, lets him manipulate her however he pleases in the middle of the street and she finds she doesn’t mind being out in the open like that. That is until a harsh voice cuts through the bubble she’d made for herself.

“Seriously? I don’t know what part of this disgusts me more,” Tori says scathingly. “The fact that my eyes are being subjected to this hideous view since you both seem to lack any sort of decency, or that a fucking teenager was just handed that,” she says with a wave towards Haleigh’s car.

Haleigh pulls away from Jax’s hold, whatever semblance of peace she’d momentarily obtained slips away like silk through her fingers. She’s not entirely sure what Tori’s problem is with her, but she’s fucking over it. “Hi, Tori, I’m great. How are you?” she asks with the peppiest tone she can manage and a sly smile on her lips.

Jax chokes back a laugh and pulls her back into his side. “Lighten up, Tor,” he says evenly.

Tori glares harder. “Do you remember what I said about unwanted attention?” she asks pointedly. “This is what I was talking about.”

Jax rolls his eyes. “Relax, we’re leaving anyway.”

“The whole street thanks you,” she sneers and stalks back into the garage.

“Honestly, if she wasn’t a lesbian I’d think she was into you just judging by how much she seems to hate me,” Haleigh says after a moment.

Jax chuckles. “Nah, she’s just protective, but we should just get going.”

Haleigh nods, the sooner they’re away from hostile territory the better. “Lead the way,” she says and moves towards the car door.

“You sure I can’t drive her? It’s just a few miles away.”

Haleigh laughs and slides into the seat. “Not even in your dreams.”

[hollyplays]

The Roundup: July 2018

It’s been a shitty, shitty month. I’m getting evicted, we got into a car accident, the new insurance has my girlfriend confused for someone with a horrible speeding ticket record, and my little brother, who is learning to drive, has started hiding the car keys for some reason.

I have a tendency to hoard media. During my first year of college I was extremely depressed and contemplating suicide when I read a piece of advice- find something to look forward to, and you’ll never do it. So I started hoarding comics- I think I have 180 GBs of comics on my computer- and movies.

Well, at some point during July things got so bad I started burning through my movies. I’m not sure exactly how many I watched, but...it’s a lot. This is going to be long. 

(I have since stopped watching multiple movies a day, and gone back to semi normal movie watching habits.)

Tampopo: I think I technically watched this in June and forgot, but I love it. Tampopo is a “food western” about a group of food enthusiasts helping a young woman perfect her ramen restaurant. Tampopo has lots of smaller vignettes about how food affects our lives, and the result is lovely and comforting and meditative. Tampopo is excellent, and manages to have one of the best opening scenes to a movie I’ve ever seen.

The Exterminating Angel: This was my first movie by Luis Bunuel, and I loved it. This kind of supernaturalish, surreal horror really really works for me. Plus, the rich suffer, which is always nice. This movie is really wonderful, plus the behind-the-scenes stuff on the blu-ray was super interesting. Apparently to make the actors more uncomfortable in the scene, Bunuel would rub honey all over their arms. Nasty.

The Fisher King: My second Gilliam movie. Better than Jabberwocky, but I still wouldn’t call it good. Robin Williams was excellent as always, but I felt like Jeff Bridges was playing half a character. It had some touching scenes, but overall kind of forgettable. I don’t think I’ll be seeking out Gilliam anymore.

Badlands: I try not to judge directors on their first movie, but Badlands really comes out in Malick’s favor. This is as wonderful a movie about a serial killer as I’m likely to ever see. It’s like a landscape painting with characters. It manages to never be slow or drag despite long flowing scenes. I’m still thinking about Badlands more than a month later, and that says a lot.

Where the Water Tastes Like Wine: This is a really interesting game. WWTLW has one of the most unique mechanics I’ve ever seen in a video game, and the process of watching your stories grow and evolve is so, so cool. I wish the overworld map wasn’t so barren, and that the sprinting mechanic wasn’t such a pain, but beyond that this game is excellent. The writing here is top-notch.

Eraserhead: I’d technically seen this before, but I was half asleep so I’m counting it. Eraserhead is obviously good- it’s film history for a reason- but on a second viewing I’m struck by just how impressive the visual storytelling is. The dialogue in this movie could fit on half a page, but there’s still so so much to it. You need to see this at least once.

Frances Ha: “Frustrating, but enjoyable” seems to be Baumbach’s general ouvre, and Frances Ha is no exception. Still, I enjoyed this more than I thought I would. Frances is likable, even when she’s fucking up, which is more than I can say for her life partner Sophie. For as much time as Frances spends making mistakes, it’s really lovely and warm to see things come together for her in the end. Worth a watch, especially at an hour and fifteen minutes.

The Thin Red Line: Jesus christ, this movie is so long. It’s two hours and forty minutes long, and nothing of worth happens after the forty minute mark. It’s a war movie that manages to be beautiful and haunting, which would be impressive if it didn’t just fucking drag. I might watch this again and just turn it off at two hours, honestly.

Days of Heaven: I wanted this to be better than Thin Red Line and it was. Days of Heaven brings Malick’s landscape painter sensibility to labor in the 20th century, and the result is genuinely fantastic. The visuals here are stunning, even if the story is a little lacking- my biggest frustration is that most of the story events take place in the third act, like Days of Heaven is the first part in a series of novels that doesn’t exist.

Fat Girl: I get what this movie was trying to do. I understand the metaphor for how dangerous it is to be a woman. I get it, and I can respect it, but fuck do I hate this movie. I just don’t wanna watch 2 hours of a young fat girl getting shit on by her family, interspersed with rape scenes. I’m not interested in that, no matter how pretty it’s shot.

Mary and the Witch’s Flower: I watched this as a palate cleanser after Fat Girl, and it served that purpose just fine. It’s an okay movie on it’s own, but in the shadow of the rest of Ghibli it kind of pales. The animation and visuals are as phenomenal as ever, but the story is a little all over the place. Definitely still enjoyable, but sort of middling.

Sounds of Summer by Ten Toes Spumoni: If we’re Facebook friends, you’ve probably already seen me talk about this album. It’s been on repeat around here pretty much since it came out. Ten Toes Spumoni is a good friend of mine, and I genuinely believed nothing he made would top Journal of Hypnosis, but Sounds of Summer blows it out of the fuckin water. Throw a few bucks his way, because he deserves it.

Hannah Gadsby’s Nanette: This is a standup comedy act that isn’t particularly funny. It’s amazing, and full of toothed commentary on the world and LGBT issues, but it isn’t funny. It’s heavy, and hard to watch, and worth the trouble. I think this is one of the few things I gave 5 stars this month, and it deserves it.

Wizard of Legend: A big part of watching movies for me this month has been finding the perfect roguelike to play while I watch movies. I eventually settled on Gungeon, but Wizard of Legend was a strong contender too. It’s roguelike elements are really enjoyable, and finding the perfect combination of spells is fun, but resources are a little too scarce for my liking.

My Own Private Idaho: I loved this movie more than I expected to, and I knew I’d like it. My Own Private Idaho offers an exceptionally gay take on modern Shakespeare, and River Phoenix and Keanu Reeves are absolutely phenomenal here. The interview segments are a little hard to watch, but the rest of the movie is beautiful and sad and lovely. One of my favorites in a long time.

Coco: Similar to Witch’s Flower, I thought this was fine. The music is wonderful, and the animation is beautiful, but the story is a little lacking, especially towards the third act. I think Pixar forgot how to write villains that aren’t just ‘good guy’s been bad the whole time’. Hell, even Incredibles 2 did it.Those complaints aside, Coco is really enjoyable and well worth your time.

The Spirit of the Beehive: A meditation on childhood, the Spanish civil war, early film, and Frankenstein. I enjoyed thinking about this movie later more than I actually enjoyed watching it, I think. It’s a little slow, but the third act picks up and wraps the story up nicely. Definitely watch Huellas De Un Espiritu if you watch it, it adds a lot of context which helps the movie out.

Simon Of The Desert: Short movies are nice when you’re watching three a day, so I really appreciated Simon Del Desierto’s 45 minute runtime. It’s both less surreal and funnier than I expected- Simon Del Desierto feels more like Monty Python than Jabberwocky did. Highly recommended.

Cronos: A little disappointing, I’m not gonna lie. I’m a huge Del Toro fan, so I was really excited to watch his first movie, but it left me lukewarm. He describes it as a vampire film, but it takes a long time to find it’s legs. Worth the watch just for Ron Perlman and the scene where a little girl breaks his nose.

The Devil’s Backbone: This is what I wanted Cronos to be. A Del Toro twist on gothic romance and ghost story, Devil’s Backbone is as unsettling as it is charming. The kids in this movie are exceptional actors, and the script sells their childhood so, so well.

The Adventure Zone: Here There Be Gerblins: I didn’t expect too much from the graphic novel of TAZ’s first arc, but it really surprised me. Carey Pietsch’s art is just cartoony enough to bely the adult humor in the series, and the characters have been deftly adapted. The first arc in the podcast suffers a lot from ‘pregen syndrome’, where Taako and Merle weren’t super fleshed out, but the graphic novel rights the ship really well.

Black Girl: At 59 minutes, Black Girl is well worth your time mostly for how angry it’ll make you. Black Girl tells the story of a Senegalese woman who is deceived into becoming a house maid for a rich French woman, and the sheer amount of bullshit she puts up with before losing it makes her a saint in my eyes. I enjoyed this movie a lot, and I’m excited to see more African cinema.

A Hat In Time: I’ve played the shit out of this game and it never gets old. A Hat in Time is as charming as charming gets, and it perfectly recreates the feeling of playing Mario Sunshine for the first time. Only, you know, Hat in Time is fun.

Pony Island: Pony Island is one of those games that’s just a little too short- not because it feels rushed, but because I wished there was more when it ended. It’s a little cheesy in places, and the dialogue is a little slow, but the puzzles are perfectly scaled and the sense of humor is really great.

Styx: Shards of Darkness: This game might be good. I don’t know. The main character’s dialogue was so shitty I only played about 40 minutes of it. Imagine the mechanic in Jak & Daxter where Daxter makes fun of you when you die, but they got the writers from Family Guy really drunk and had them write it and never told them no.