#but i desperately needed to get it out before july so i could actually focus on artfight

[simcardiac-arrested]

an understanding [2/2]

(part 1)

[mariacallous]

When people say that music can change the world, they don’t usually mean songs that capture with bright, sharp intimacy how girls feel.

They mean protest songs, political songs, anthems against the Vietnam war; not the soundtracks to aching teenage summers or to eight-year-olds’ dance routines in the playground. They don’t, in short, mean Taylor Swift songs. But that was what Malala Yousafzai, the Nobel peace prize-winning campaigner for women’s right to an education, used to sing with her friends growing up in Pakistan. Music, she posted on Instagram,after attending one of Swift’s London gigs this summer, “made me and my friends feel confident and free”. Which is why, in Afghanistan, the Taliban bans it.

This weekend, Swift was in Miami, starting the final leg of an Eras Tour that coincides neatly with the final leg of the most consequential US election in decades. Already an economic juggernaut, unleashing enough fan expenditure in its wake to have a measurable impact on local GDP wherever it rolls into town,the tour is increasingly a political vehicle, too.

On Friday night, Swift posted an Instagram reel, captioned “back to the office”, of herself exploring the stadium before the show, dressed in jeans and carrying her beloved cat – a pointed choice, given the Republican vice-presidential pick JD Vance’s dismissal of Kamala Harris as a childless cat lady.

The Democrats are piggybacking furiously on Swift’s endorsement of the Harris/Walz ticket to make a push for the younger voters they desperately need, with billboards around the stadium carrying ads proclaiming “I’m in my voting era”, and activists dishing out Kamala-themed friendship bracelets (trading bracelets is a Swiftie ritual).

No swing voter is swung by screaming along to Cruel Summer, but that’s not the point: this is a get-out-the-vote exercise. Her fanbase is young, mostly female, with a sizeable contingent of gay men, and thus liberal-leaning. The more of them she can motivate to actually vote in a highly gendered election, the worse for Donald Trump. Faintly surreal as it sounds, Swift has become a powerful rallying point for liberal resistance to “alt-right” misogyny in an election that has the free world holding its breath.

Taylor Swift isn’t just a pop star now. She is the convergence of celebrity with the kind of soft power – who else could get Yousafzai, two future kings and what feels like half the British cabinet to her London gigs? – that has acquired harder edges this summer.

For power like this has consequences. She had enraged the Maga movement long before formally endorsing Harris/Walz and praising their stance on abortion and LGBTQ+ rights. For months, she’s been the focus of increasingly deranged deep state conspiracy theories, suggesting she’s a front for some kind of fiendishly complex plot to rig the election that, like all conspiracy theories, is funny only until some lunatic believes it.

The office has not always been a comfortable place for Swift lately. In the middle of July, an American man who had allegedly made threats against her on social media was arrested in the German city of Gelsenkirchenon his way to her show, for which he had a ticket.

Less than a fortnight later, three little girls were stabbed to death at a Taylor Swift-themed dance workshop in the English town of Southport, in an attack whose motive remains unknown. (Swift met some of the survivors privately in London this summer.) In August, the singer cancelled three concerts in Vienna, after Austrian police disrupted a suspected Islamist terror plot to kill what they called “a huge number of people”. It was a grim echo of the 2017 bombing at an Ariana Grande gig in Manchester where 22 people died.

Frankly, I don’t blame her mother-turned-manager for getting spooked in London, and reportedly insisting on the kind of blue-light police escort between hotel and stadium normally reserved for heads of state. Nor do I think it was simply the lure of free gig tickets that prompted the home secretary, Yvette Cooper, and London mayor, Sadiq Khan, to take an interest in Swift’s protection and the viability of an event worth around £300m to the capital.

Still, the resulting deeply silly row allowed editors to run huge pictures of Swift in spangly knickers for days on end, only finally jumping the shark whenBoris Johnson(of all people) used it to accuse Keir Starmer of looking corrupt.

Had the prime minister secretly hoped a bit of her stardust would rub off on him, when he was photographed at a Swift gig? Probably. Will he be trying that sort of thing again now? Almost certainly not. If Taylor Swift gets a peerage or a PPE contract, I’ll let you know. Sometimes, we seem like a very, very small island. Meanwhile, Swift is back at the office, temporarily boosting Florida’s GDP and trying to get a black woman elected as president.

When Time magazine chose the 34-year-old singer-songwriter as its Person of the Year in 2023, its profile suggested her power lay in giving women and girls “conditioned to accept dismissal, gaslighting, and mistreatment from a society that treats their emotions as inconsequential” permission to believe those feelings actually matter, through her songs. A year later, she is asking them to make their feelings matter through their votes. A gentle reminder that if music is to change the world, it’s never going to do so by itself.

[sicknessbysalem]

Novemetober (Rescheduled) | Day Sixteen

prompt: waking up puking

hi yes sorry i died for a week. things were rough.

i swear i have other ocs. but something about making novak puke his pretty little guts out makes me happy inside. and i felt like that was a better thing to come back and write.

@monthofsick

if you have any questions, comments, or requests, feel free to send them.

tw emeto, fever, exhaustion, seizure mention (but no actual seizures this time)

Novak stood on the sidelines of the football field, observing the players as they ran through defensive drills. As the defensive coach for the Mavericks, he felt a sense of responsibility to ensure the team was performing at their best. Whether it was the defensive line, the offensive line, or even himself. Novak wanted everyone to perform at their best, even in practice.

For himself, he was desperate to perform at the top of his game, even though he was sidelined. He had to do well. He needed to prove that it wasn't a waste to move him to the coaching position that was open when he couldn't play anymore, not safely anyway. And usually, Novak was good at what he did. He was tough, but not relentless. He was determined for his team to do the best they could do, even in practice, and would hardly accept anything else.

But today, he felt like he was failing them. Novak couldn't shake off the feeling of exhaustion that seemed to weigh him down with each passing minute.

The sun beat down relentlessly on the field, intensifying the heat and adding to Novak's discomfort. Despite the temperature, he felt a chill run through his body, accompanied by a persistent ache in his muscles. Novak rubbed his temples, trying to alleviate the throbbing headache that had been plaguing him all morning.

As the practice continued, Novak found it increasingly difficult to focus on the drills. His movements felt sluggish, and he struggled to keep up with the fast pace of the players. Every step seemed to take more effort than usual, and he couldn't shake off the feeling of fatigue that weighed heavily on him.

Still, Novak pushed through, determined not to let his team down. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to keep moving, ignoring the protests of his tired body. He couldn't afford to show any weakness, especially not in front of his players. He didn't even know why he felt so... bad. Yuliya had been sick, he took care of her. But surely, Novak told himself, that wasn't what caused that. It couldn't be. Not right now.

He checked his watch briefly. His heart rate looked fine. He didn't feel like he was really at risk for a seizure, so at least that was good. He sighed to himself, before going back to his clipboard and resuming his duties, taking off his sweatshirt in hopes to make himself feel at least a little better.

As practice dragged on, Novak's condition only seemed to worsen. The pounding in his head grew more intense, and a wave of nausea swept over him. He staggered slightly, feeling lightheaded and dizzy.

Despite his best efforts to hide his discomfort, one of his assistant coaches noticed Novak's struggle.

"Hey, Novak, you alright?" Kyle asked, concern evident in his voice.

Novak forced a tight-lipped smile. "Yeah, just a little tired. My girlfriend, she was sick over the weekend. SO I'm just a little worn out. Nothing to worry about."

But Kyle wasn't convinced. "You don't look so good. Maybe you should take a break, get some water or something."

Novak shook his head. "I'm fine, really. I'll tough it out."

With a shrug, Kyle reluctantly backed off, but Novak could tell that his condition hadn't gone unnoticed. He cursed himself for not being able to hide it better. The last thing he wanted, especially after the incident in July, was for anyone to be paying extra close attention to him. Even for a short time.

As practice continued, Novak struggled to keep his focus, his vision blurring at the edges. Each passing minute felt like an eternity, and he counted down the clock until he could go home and crash. Maybe that was all he needed, an early night and he would be fine in the morning.

-

Novak had hardly stepped in the door when his mom came out. She immediately noticed the fatigue etched on his face and the weariness in his eyes, he could see her worry on her face. The thought made him feel guilty.

"Novak, you don't look well," Marina said, her voice filled with worry.

Novak forced a smile. "I'm just tired, Mom. Yuliya was sick over the weekend, you know... I took care of her. And took care of Elya. I'll probably just go to bed early tonight."

Marina studied him for a moment, unconvinced by his explanation. She knew her son well enough to sense when something was off, and today, Novak seemed more than just tired.

"Are you sure that's all it is?" Marina pressed, placing her hand on his shoulder, "Do I need to call Willow?"

"I'm not going to have..." Novak couldn't make himself finish the sentence, "I'm fine. I'm just tired."

"Alright, słoneczko," Marina said, trying to hide her concern. "Why don't you sit down and rest? I'll make us some tea."

Novak nodded gratefully, sinking onto the couch with a heavy sigh. Marina disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Novak alone with his thoughts, trying to piece together why exactly he felt so fucking exhausted. He was tired, but it was more than that. Something told him it was much more than that.

Before he knew it, Novak's eyelids grew heavy, and he succumbed to the irresistible pull of sleep. Unaware of his own actions, he drifted off into a restless slumber, his body craving the rest it so desperately needed.

-

Yuliya's hands running through his hair are somehow incredibly comforting and makes his skin crawl at the same time.

He opened his eyes, staring at the living room ceiling. His head was pounding, the living room lights made him cringe and close his eyes again.

"You're sweating..." Yulia said, he heard the sound her her rubbing her hands on her leggings, "Do you feel okay?"

Novak mustered a weak nod in response to Yuliya's question, though he knew it was far from the truth. His body felt like it was on fire, and each movement sent waves of nausea rippling through him. Novak struggled to form a coherent response, his mind fogged by fatigue and the relentless throbbing in his head. He managed a weak nod, though he knew it wasn't entirely truthful.

"Just tired," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just need some rest."

Yuliya's brows furrowed with concern as she observed Novak's pale complexion and the sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. She reached out to touch his cheek, her hand coming away warm and clammy.

"You're burning up," she said softly, her worry palpable in her voice. "I think you might have a fever."

Novak's stomach churned uneasily at her words, a wave of nausea washing over him. He swallowed hard, trying to push back the rising tide of sickness threatening to overwhelm him.

"I'll be fine," he insisted, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his uncertainty.

Yuliya's expression softened with understanding as she gazed at Novak with unwavering concern.

"Let's get you to bed," she said gently, offering him a reassuring smile. "You need to rest."

"I have to get Elya from-"

"Your mom took care of it," Yuliya said, "She's worried. Come on, lets get you in bed..."

Yuliya helped Novak to his feet, supporting him as they made their way to the bedroom. Novak's legs felt like lead, each step a struggle against the mounting exhaustion and dizziness.

Once they reached the bed, Novak sank down onto the mattress with a weary sigh, his body feeling heavier than usual. Novak laid on top of his sheets. He felt entiely uncomfortable, and though he felt slightly cold, he was sure the added feeling of sheets on his skin would send him into an overstimulated spiral.

Yuliya sat beside him, gently brushing her fingers through his hair, carefully detangling the ash blond locks that grew tangled from how wet they were from sweat.

"Do you want to change?" Yuliya asked.

Novak thought about it. And he thought about not changing. Just dealing with it. But, he figured he would probably be more comfortable. So, he nodded, forcing himself to his feet and grabbing a change of clothes. Yuliya looked away, occupying herself by picking things up off the floor. Her clothes, his clothes, she tossed them in the bin.

"I'll probably wash these when you fall asleep, okay?" Yuliya said.

Standing made Novak dizzy, he grabbed his dresser as he pulled on some comfortable clothes. He almost didn't answer, his brain not cooperating.

"You don't have to," Novak said, laying back down.

Yuliya sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing Novak's shoulder. Yuliya was the only exception in terms of his touch aversion. At least, to a degree.

"Try to get some sleep," she said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from Novak's clammy forehead. "I'll be right here if you need anything."

Novak nodded weakly, his eyelids already drooping with fatigue. He closed his eyes, hoping that sleep would offer some relief from the relentless ache in his head and the queasiness in his stomach.

Despite the exhaustion, Novak drifted in and out of consciousness. Each time he surfaced from the depths of sleep, Novak found himself enveloped in a fog of disorientation and confusion. His head throbbed with an intensity that seemed to reverberate through every fiber of his being, pulsing with each beat of his feverish heart.

His room is dark when he finally managed to pry his heavy eyelids open, the world swam in a dizzying haze before him. The room spun around him, tilting and swaying with each movement, leaving him feeling nauseous and unsteady, even as he laid down. He felt the weight of Yuliya behind him, her hand resting on the side of his head, as if she dozed off while lightly scratching the side and back of his head with her nails, as she always did. It was comforting, it made him feel better. Usually.

Now her hand just rested there, a surprinsingly comfortable pressure he could focus on that wasn't the nausea, wasn't the headache.

His stomach churned with a queasy unease, threatening to rebel against him at any moment. Novak clenched his jaw tightly, willing himself to hold back the waves of nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. Despite his best efforts, he could feel the telltale signs of impending sickness clawing at the back of his throat, a bitter taste flooding his mouth with each ragged breath he took.

Novak's limbs felt heavy and leaden, as if weighed down by an invisible force that sapped him of his strength and vitality. He longed to rise from the suffocating confines of his bed, to escape the oppressive grasp of illness that held him captive.

But try as he might, he found himself trapped in a state of being unable to muster the energy to move. He tasted saliva in his mouth, swallowing hard and shuddering against it.

The slight shudder must have woke Yuliya. He heard her behind him, heard her hum softly and sit up, reaching over him to turn on his lamp on his nightstand, Yuliya's concern deepened as she watched Novak struggle, his pale complexion contrasting starkly against the rumpled sheets of the bed. She could see the distress etched into the lines of his furrowed brow, the faint sheen of sweat glistening on his clammy skin.

"Novak, are you alright?" Yuliya's voice was laced with worry, her hand brushing over the side of his face, pushing back sweaty hair. He glanced at his watch, his phone was sitting on the nightstand. At least it wasn't that... she figured.

Novak couldn't even bring himself to shake his head at first. His throat constricted with the effort of holding back the rising tide of nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. Every slight movement sent a fresh wave of dizziness crashing over him, leaving him feeling light-headed and disoriented.

He tried to will himself to move, to push past the suffocating weight that pressed down on him from all sides. He needed to get up, to run to the bathroom, or to his desk, where his trash can was. Something, anything. But his limbs felt leaden and unresponsive, as if anchored to the mattress by invisible chains that refused to loosen their grip.

As the minutes ticked by, Novak's resolve began to waver, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps as the relentless onslaught of sickness tightened its grip around him.

"Novak.. Novak hey," Yuliya said, "What's wrong?"

Desperation clawed at his chest as he struggled to keep the roiling contents of his stomach at bay, his muscles tensed with the effort of holding back what he tried not to imagine was the remains of lunch and breakfast, and maybe dinner from the day before. He could finally move, briefly, only enough to cover his mouth with his hand.

"Shit," Yuliya said, starting to go to get up and grab something.

Novak shook his head. He needed to move, he tried to move. But he couldn't. That was when the panic started to set in.

Maybe he could just... breathe. Maybe he could settle his own stomach. Maybe, maybe.

But despite his best efforts, Novak could feel the telltale churn of his stomach intensifying with each passing second, a grim reminder of his body's relentless betrayal in the face of illness.

As soon as Yuliya set down the trash can, then he could move. He moved just enough to grab the bin. It was milliseconds vefore he started heaving, his body trying to purge whatever dared make him feel so disgusting.

Yuliya watched with a mixture of concern and helplessness as Novak's body convulsed with each violent heave, his features contorted in agony as he struggled to expel the contents of his roiling stomach.

She moved closer, her hand hovering uncertainly over his trembling form, wanting desperately to offer comfort but unsure of how to help.

"Easy, Novak," she murmured, her voice soft and soothing. "Just let it out. You'll feel better once it's all out of your system."

Novak could only nod weakly in response, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he rode out the storm of nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. He clung to the trash can with a white-knuckled grip, his knuckles turning pale with the effort of holding on.

With each retch and gag, Novak felt a small measure of relief wash over him. Each wave of sick made his stomach feel less tense and full.

At one point, Novak stopped briefly to take a breath. His body giving him a split second relief. But when the nausea kicked back up again, this time Novak knew he coulf make it to the bathroom. And make it to the bathroom he did.

He bolted, abandoning the trash bin, knowing there was more in his system. Sure enough, as soon as he was on his knees if front of the toilet he was vomiting again.

Yulia sat it the doorway. Wincing as Novak retched up more and more waves of sludge from his stomach. Waves of gods knew what. Yuliya moved a little closer.

Yuliya reached out a gentle hand to brush the sweat-dampened hair from Novak's forehead, her touch comforting.

Novak continued to heave for what felt like an eternity. But finally, finally he was left gasping, trying to catch his breath.

He looked at Yuliya, who offered a small smile.

“It’s gonna be a long night, my love…” Yuliya said softly. “But, I’ll be right here.”

[ciaossu-imagines]

Again, loving up some underloved fandoms here on Ciaossu-Imagines, so throwing out some headcanons I have about The Mighty Ducks characters! I hope anyone familiar with these movies will enjoy them!

Starting with Averman, he’s definitely Jewish. I think he and Goldberg are really good friends because both of them are Jewish. They attended Hebrew school together, their parents are good friends, and honestly they really rely on each other around the holiday season. Neither boy is ashamed of being Jewish or anything, but especially around the time period those movies are set, Hannukah was not as popular or as talked about as Christmas was. And when all your friends are talking about Christmas and their plans and the gifts they’ll get and all the celebrations you hear about are Christianity based, it’s hard not to feel a little left out so both boys’ kind of really like having another friend they can talk to about their Hannukah plans who will get it. Bonus headcanon but I think Averman has a bigger love of hockey and was the one to get Goldberg into the sport.

Hot take on Adam – I don’t think he’s this abused kid trying desperately to please Daddy. I think that while his father might have high expectations for Adam, his father isn’t really abusive. I think a lot of the pressure that Adam feels – and boy, does he feel a lot – is pressure that Adam puts on himself. I do see Adam as having some issues with perfectionism, with being way too hard on himself, and he struggles with anxiety and a need to be perfect but it’s because Adam himself knows that he’s got a lot of talent and he doesn’t want to waste that talent.

Charlie’s actually got a few hidden skills but the one that ends up surprising most people is that, at one point in his life, Charlie got really into magic and he’s pretty good with a couple of tricks, mostly sleight of hand stuff.

Tammy did enjoy playing hockey, I won’t pretend that she didn’t. But I think when it came down to it, she enjoyed figure skating a lot more. There was more pageantry in that sport, more creativity and more glamour in her mind and I think she left the Ducks before the second movie because she really did want to focus on figure skating and competing in that area. She did win several medals, but I think she largely left the sport around the time she started college.

Julie reads…for fun. While she loves being active and has various hobbies and interests, she’s been a life-long bookworm. She learned to read early, and gobbles books up. She normally gets through at least a book a week and does read a wide variety of things, though she has guilty pleasure reading that she’d be embarrassed if anyone found out about, such as romance novels and the Hardy Boys books.

Guy hates carrying change around with him. There’s just something about the weight of it and the clinking sound it makes in his pocket as he walks that drives him insane. He prefers to carry bills for cash and usually lets the salespeople keep his change wherever he goes.

Surprising thing about Goldberg…the boy is not only gifted with a green thumb, but he genuinely likes taking care of his plants. He only got them because his parents wouldn’t let him get a pet…they didn’t think he was responsible enough for a pet so they bought him a rather high-maintenance houseplant to take care of first so that he could prove that he could be responsible for another living thing. Turns out that he enjoyed caring for the plant so much, even giving it a name, that he ended up wanting more plants instead of an actual pet.

Jesse has a tendency to argue just for the sake of arguing. He legitimately enjoys arguments and I have this headcanon that he found the debate club during high school and it’s the most at home he’s felt since playing with the Ducks. Like, those are his people, that’s where he belongs. He gets really involved with debate throughout his high school career and I think he wants to go to law school after graduating.

Terry Hall…still hasn’t gotten the grasp of gum honestly. Not saying the kid is stupid, because he certainly isn’t. It’s just that he cannot, for the life of him, remember that gum is for consistent chewing, not eating, especially if the gum in question is a really fruity, sweet flavour.

I really do think that Karp is someone who is really easy to take advantage of. He gets bullied a lot as a kid and he’s someone who just naturally is the kind of person who really wants to make others happy and to have others like him. He’s a very generous friend but the fact that he’s willing to do almost anything to have his ‘friends’ like him means that he gets put into some pretty brutal situations and gets used throughout his childhood and teen years.

I think Peter’s an army brat, or something along those lines. Something tells me that this kid is someone who moves around a lot throughout his life because of his parent’s careers. He’s used to never staying anywhere really long enough to form completely solid relationships. He’s used to always being the new kid and needing to impress and be tough enough to both make friends and avoid bullies. I also think that while he really would like to settle down in one spot long enough to make serious friendships, the idea of doing so kind of scares him.

Luis taught himself how to juggle when he was a kid. He’s also really skilled at hackeysack.

Connie has the habit of pacing around when she’s deep in thought. There’s just something about moving that helps her think better and if she really has something on her mind, she tends to go running or jogging. The tougher the problem is, the faster and further she tends to go as she loses track of where she is or how far she’s gone.

Dean can burp the alphabet. Forwards and backwards. He’s really quite proud of this.

Fulton’s worst habit? He’s really bad at sitting and staying still for long periods of time and he starts fidgeting when he has to do so. He’ll stretch, move around in his seat a bit, crack his knuckles, but the worst is his leg because he’s definitely one of those guys who bounces his leg when he’s bored or restless, almost aggressively so.

Dwayne really likes to sing. He’s not horrible at it by any means, though a little tone-deaf. He’s a huge fan, because of how he was raised, of any older country, with Dolly Parton, Johnny Cash, and Conway Twitty being favourites of his.

Russ has the tendency to get cold really easily. It can come out of nowhere too, with no real reason for him to have a chill or to be cold. He just is. He tends to always carry an extra layer with him as a just in case.

Ken has weird eating habits. He has to eat all of one thing before he can allow himself to eat the next thing on his plate. For example, if he has fries and a burger, he’ll have to eat all the burger before he’ll start eating the fries. He can’t bring himself to mix and match his food and not even he knows why.

[got-into-worm-by-mistake]

Arc 19, Reflections

Okay, so, Arc 19 > Arc 18, hands down. Not much better, in toto, since it still ran on idiot balls, contrivances and still centered on Echidna.

In terms of important stuff that happens, there's some reveals about Tattletale, good shit there. The portal, sure. And the reveal about Cauldron.

Couldn't we have had them without Echidna, the big stompy plot device with the cheat powers bag?

I'm not normally one to say 'quit talking, get to the action' about my fiction, and I get that the characters doing the talking were ones who couldn't necessarily do much about Echidna directly, but jesus christ the conversations that were being had while this giant monster is rampaging a block over got incredibly annoying, very quickly.

And fine, in 19.7 Tats explains it was her trying to find a new purpose, but I feel like 'survive the BIG STOMPY MONSTER THAT WANTS TO EAT YOU' is a good purpose for the short term, Tats. You don't need to focus on aggravating everyone about Cauldron and the Portal. I mean, hey, maybe if you hadn't kept talking about Cauldron, clone-Eidolon wouldn't have brought it up!

(Unlikely, granted, but still)

and then it brings us back to Echidna. Which again, was way too much focus on these guys. And she's just surviving everything that's throne at her, while also being huge and powerful on her own AND she makes evil clones!

And then, magically, somehow, the second Sundancer gets into the game, that's all it takes? The bitch survives EVERYTHING else everyone threw at her, but Sundancer kills her like that? *snap*?

Like, yes, Sundancer has an insanely powerful power. But still. Legends beams are supposed to be powerful. Eidolon is fucking Eidolon. Alexandria is Alexandria. And they were bringing out a whole bunch of other powerful capes and they couldn't even SCRATCH her?

Now, I'm not saying I don't get why Sundancer was less than willing to do it at first, why she needed time to get around to the idea, but also...

No? Bitch? You could have saved a lot of time and lives if you'd done it sooner.

Also, maybe I just missed it, but it feels like Trickster barely did anything to help Noelle in the fight, which didn't really line up with some of the stuff I'd read before now, but I'll admit I wasn't paying the closest of attention here, since my eyes were glazing over sometimes in the arc.

I'm glad we're finally gone with the Travelers, at least, thank fuck, but still.

I know we're gonna get to Wards!Taylor soon, though we have a few more arcs, and that's great, but what I really need to know, what I'm really desperate to know, is WHY. What did Taylor pick up as a Ward that actually helped the numbers?

Anyway, at least we DO know that the Bay itself is finally in a stable position... for two years. and that's great. But a blind reader... a blind reader is gonna be left waiting for the next shoe to drop on the Bay, right? Because that's all the story has done. Drop shoes on the bay like a centipede coming home from the gym.

And its really tiresome.

And it's only July.

It's

Only

July

All these shit has happened in three months. Way too fucking fast. Too much character growth in too little real time. Let these characters have a goddamn nap.

Maybe he will in the span of Arc 20 and the Arcadia thing, but I honestly doubt it.

I like Worm, I do. I'm bitching a lot, and I definitely didn't really enjoy the last three arcs much, but I hold out hope it will get better. Because there's a lot to like about Worm.

But also, fucking hell Emma is delulu and Sophia is psychotic beyond all belief.

[fucking-feelings-man]

An update on diagnoses and my hospital stay.

It has been a while since my last blog post. So much has happened since July and it has taken me a while to process everything. I finally received a diagnosis for my severe abdominal pain, nausea, inability to eat, and for the flank pain/blood in my urine. I was diagnosed with Superior Mesenteric Artery Syndrome and Nutcracker Syndrome.

Before I get into my new diagnoses and my lengthy hospital stay, I want to take a step back and look at what the months of August and September were like for me. I am providing a content warning here for talks of suicide and medical trauma. Those two months were extremely difficult for me and I need a space to get out some of the difficult thoughts. If this will be triggering for you, I invite you to skip the next two paragraphs where I will pick back up at the diagnoses and hospital stay. Also, feel free to send me a message or reach out on my social media platforms if you would like to talk one on one. Be sure to protect yourself and your mind.

In August I was ready to give up. There was no end in sight and I was out of options. Or at least that’s what my mind was telling me. But it all felt so unmanageable that I didn’t want to continue living in pain. Now, having lived with intrusive thoughts from my OCD and passive suicidal ideation from adolescence, I thought that I would be equipped to deal with these suicidal thoughts. However, I had never really fully experienced active suicidal ideation. I felt frozen. It seemed that the only logical way out of the pain was by stopping everything and ending my life. As soon as I realized that I was now a danger to myself, I reached out to my psychologist in quite a panic. It’s like the only thing my brain could focus on was how to end my life.

I reflect here for a moment because I realize just how lucky I am to have access to a mental health professional and one that I trust. Our system is broken and this kind of access is few and far between. If I did not have this access, I genuinely do not believe that I would be here writing this post. I mourn all those we have lost. I will fight with every small amount of energy that I have to help people in crisis and to assist those on the frontlines making these much needed changes. I am thankful that I was able to get in to see my therapist and make it through that crisis. Those were two of the hardest months of my life and I was fighting with myself to keep going. I stayed alive for my family and my friends, and out of sheer spite. I did not stay alive for myself because that was not a good enough reason at the time. I despise a lot of the “self help/self care” narratives because a lot of them push for loving yourself and living for yourself, but sometimes that is not enough. You need to find something that is strong to latch onto, and for me that is spite and guilt. I couldn’t break the hearts of the people around me because they were fighting so hard for me to stay alive. I decided I also didn’t want to give the doctors a way out of having to solve the complicated mess that is my health. So, I chose to keep pushing and then a few weeks later finally got some answers and a plan to move forward.

At the end of September I had the call that changed the game. I finally had a diagnosis. I remember tears streaming down my face from the sheer relief that I felt. I had known about Superior Mesenteric Artery Syndrome and Nutcracker Syndrome close to a year before the official diagnosis date because I had been doing so much research on my own time desperately trying to find answers. I didn’t think this would actually be the answer because of how rare the conditions actually are and part of me was also hoping this wouldn’t be the answer because of how dangerous and potentially deadly these compressions can be.

For those of you who are interested in what these conditions are, they are both compression syndromes. SMA Syndrome is when your duodenum (the first part of your small intestine, immediately after your stomach) becomes compressed between your aorta and superior mesenteric artery. These are the two major arteries that provide blood to your organs and lower body. In my case, the compression was so severe that I was having a partial blockage of my small intestine causing food to be trapped in my stomach and duodenum. But Maeghan, why is that bad? Well, unfortunately if food cannot leave your stomach then the only other way for it to get out is by coming right back up which can lead to poor nutritional absorption and damage to the esophagus due to the stomach acid. Also, if your intestine is blocked for too long parts of it can begin to die which could eventually lead to sepsis and death. Nutcracker Syndrome happens in the same area and is when your left renal vein is compressed by the superior mesenteric artery and the aorta. This causes flank pain and blood in your urine and can eventually predispose you to blood clots and kidney damage.

This creates a justifiable fear of eating, which is a double-edged sword because the more weight you lose the worse the condition gets. The only thing protecting your small intestine and veins is a fat pad, so when I kept losing weight the fat pad disappeared which made the compression worse. In my case, weight loss was directly harming me and could’ve lead to very severe outcomes like sepsis or death. All this to say, thank fuck we found the answer because I really was close to death. I could feel it in every breath I took and every step I attempted. Getting out of bed got harder and harder every day. That call in mid-September changed my life and allowed me enough room to keep fighting.

Within hours of the call with my specialist, I was on the top of the list for a hospital bed. I had calls from my other specialists to explain what was going to happen to me while I was in hospital. Number one on the list was nutrition. This was what was going to save my life. It was explained to me that I would likely be in hospital for a week or two to get my nutrition boosted. They said they would try a nasogastric tube first and if that didn’t work then they might consider more extreme measures. Fast forward three days and I got another call from my specialist explaining where I would be headed and that a bed was finally available for me. This was the best news that I have ever received in my life. I was finally being given the chance at life that I had been desperately fighting for for years.

Now when I got to the hospital the plan changed very quickly. They ran some initial bloodwork, weighed me, and took my vitals and they quickly realized that an NG tube was not going to be enough. Within hours I had 2 IVs placed and they started PPN (peripheral parenteral nutrition). This is basically getting nutrition straight into your bloodstream. I was effectively eating through my veins from that first day. A few hours later and they were placing my first NG tube as well. They needed to keep my stomach and bowels working somewhat so I didn’t completely lose the ability to eat. They then booked me in to get a PICC line placed to start TPN (total parenteral nutrition).

By the end of the first week my labs were still all over the place so they played around with my fluid intake. I was then taken for another upper GI scope to double-check that my gastroenterologist didn’t miss anything. My scope was clear, but unfortunately my NG tube couldn’t be re-placed as my throat and nasal passage were swollen. The TPN was running 24 hours a day and I would receive lipids (fats) for 24 hours a day for the first week as well as thiamine infusions and saline drips. At my worst I had 5 machines running at once with 4 different tubes going into my stomach and veins. This was just enough to kick start my body. However, I started reacting badly to the TPN and my bowels and stomach decided that they were going to stop working completely. They had to place a new NG tube as I wasn’t able to eat anything for well over a week.

By the end of week two I was an emotional wreck. I had expected that I was going to be going home soon, but because I was in such rough shape they wouldn’t allow me to leave. I was still heavily reliant on the TPN and my weight wasn’t increasing fast enough. To be allowed to leave I had to be able to sustain myself on enough food that my weight would be stabilized. It was then that psychiatry was brought in as I wasn’t coping well with being stuck in a room without windows and attached 24/7 to tubes. I mean, understandably so as it is not a normal place to see a 24 year old. My experience with psychiatry was horrible. It mirrored my awful experiences with doctors over the last 4 years who told me it was all in my head and that a good dose of antipsychotics would sort me out. Luckily enough, I have a good support system and I trusted the doctors enough to tell them how horrible psychiatry was to me and to never have them return. After that I was seen by social work, and my social worker made the biggest difference during my stay. She actually cared and worked to find me community supports and services.

During my third week I had lots of scares with my heart and lungs. Sudden severe chest pain, heart palpitations, and difficulty breathing. Nothing was showing on x-rays or ECGs. We think it might have been symptoms from my POTS. I was eventually started on a low dose of an antidepressant that is used off label to stimulate appetite and cause weight gain. Within a week of that I was starting to eat a bit more. I had to have my NG tube removed as my throat was raw and I couldn’t swallow very well. It was then that they came up with a game plan to try to get me out of the hospital. They were going to try to place a nasojejunal tube to see if my small bowel was working well enough to absorb food that way as my stomach and duodenum were the problem. If that worked they were going to book me for surgery and have a jejunostomy tube placed. One tiny problem! There were no NJ-tubes in the whole province.

Suddenly my stay in the hospital seemed indefinite and I was scared out of my mind. The thought of having to remain on TPN indefinitely, stuck in a hospital bed, was horrifying. Keep in mind that I was the youngest on my unit by about 30 years and that hospitals are not the place you want to be if you are trying to get better. Due to my mobility issues and Covid precautions, it was almost impossible for me to leave my room. I felt trapped and like I would never be well enough to be sent home.

At the end of week 4 I had an allergic reaction to my PICC site dressing and eventually my PICC site got infected. This meant that my central line was going to have to be removed and the TPN would stop. As scared as I was about having an infection in my central line, I also felt relief that I would be stopping the TPN. It was a necessary evil, but it can be super dangerous to be on TPN long term. I was then started on antibiotics and topical steroids to see if my swelling and infection would calm down. They told me that they would be placing a new PICC line in a few days in my other arm. I was not about to let that happen while my other arm was in rough shape as I was beginning to be able to eat a bit more with the increase in my medications and the introduction of actual pain medication. I made it my mission to show them that I was eating enough to keep TPN off the table.

By this time I was working with occupational therapy, physiotherapy, and social work almost every day to keep me centred and focused on getting stronger. I was having regular check-ins with the hospital dietician (without whom I wouldn’t have survived the stay, she was my saving grace and kept it 100). I was able to talk with her about the plan and we started brainstorming ways in which I would be able to return home. We eventually settled on allowing me to wait at home for my feeding tube placement as long as I was maintaining my weight. If I dropped any weight I was to immediately come back to hospital and start TPN again. I had made it! I was finally allowed to go home. With lots of work from OT, PT, Continuing Care, my dietician, and my doctors it was decided that by the end of week 5 I was to head home and wait for further treatments there.

I was so relieved. What I was expecting to be a week or two turned into 35 days in a hospital bed. I was able to go outside once during my whole stay. There were countless nights I cried myself to sleep. Summer changed to Autumn. The visitors that I had were what kept me together. To everyone who came and spent time with me during the darkest days of my life, I want to thank you with everything I have. Without seeing your faces or getting to talk about something other than medical crap, I don’t think I would’ve made it to the other side. And to everyone who sent flowers and checked-in with me, thank you. I feel so grateful to have the most amazing support system. Even people who I don’t know very well stepped up and provided me with support and connection and that means the world.

I also want to give a HUGE shoutout to all the nurses I had. They reassured me, sat with me while I cried, explained things to me that the doctors just glazed over, and listened to my concerns. They wrote up a care plan when things were getting too overwhelming and my OCD was starting to get hard to control. They really are the heart and soul of our healthcare system. I thank them so much for everything they did for me while I was there.

The day I left the hospital was bittersweet as I knew that I was finally going to be back in my own bed, but the fear of not having constant medical supervision was overwhelming. I was lucky enough to be set up with home care and to this day I still have wonderful healthcare workers coming to my house every morning to help me bathe and prepare meals. The drive home from the hospital was magical. The leaves were a bright orange and I was able to smell the ocean again. It’s the little things I missed the most. And I must’ve slept for 18 hours the day I got home. You don’t really sleep while you’re in hospital.

Over the last few months I’ve been monitoring my health very closely. I have had two trips to the ER since for some complications from my hospital stay. The first was the heart palpitations that I developed while in hospital and the second was a mild concussion. Since I was on blood thinners due to the blood clot I developed after my PICC line was removed, I had to be extra careful about any kind of injury. Oh the joys of being medically complex. I am still waiting for a feeding tube as there are still no updates on shipping dates (thank you Covid), but I have been able to maintain my weight. For that I am thankful.

My community was able to raise enough money for me to get my first electric wheelchair and that has made such a positive impact on my life. It allows me to enjoy simple things like going for a walk and has given me back a bit of independence I was desperately seeking after the hospital stay. Mobility aids are the best thing in the world. Without them, I don’t know where I would be. They are wonderful devices that everyone deserves access to.

As I head into this new year, I hope that my health will be better managed now that all my doctors know how serious my case is. I am further exploring things through psychology to deal with some of the trauma from my hospital stay and the last few years. I will forever be changed by the things that have happened, but I hope to use some of the worst experiences of my life to fight for other people in our healthcare system. No one should have to go through the things I have had to deal with. Everyone deserves access to healthcare, proper healthcare. No one deserves to be left behind or forgotten.

If anybody ever needs someone to talk to or someone to listen, know that I am always here. I may not have a lot of energy, but I will always make time for you. I want to try to help as many people as I can and create a support network for chronically ill people. I want to help you navigate our healthcare system and fight for doctors to listen to you. It can be really fucking hard, but know that there are people here to help you fight.

Thank you everyone for following along on my journey. Life 2.0 has started and I am so excited to see what I can do in the years to come now that I am on the right track. Much love to my friends, family, and support system. Thank you.

[syddsatyrn]

Looks That Kill (EddiexFemreader)

☆Pairing: - Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

☆Warnings: Fluff, swearing, drug use, cigarettes, bullying, Characters are all 18+ Minors DNI, scram!

☆Words: 3k

☆Summary: Eddie takes you out to meet is friends, when things get quiet, he confesses how he really feels. Your relationship is getting interesting and you cant stand to be away from him for too long.

☆Notes: This is Chapter two! Please read the 1st chapter below for some context. Keep an eye out for chapter 3, because that one might get spicy.

Chapter 1: A Piece of your Action

Chapter 3: Heaven's on Fire “So, do you get milkshakes thrown at you weekly? Orrrr…” You inquire. Eddie laughs and pulls into your driveway. “Sometimes. Only when I really piss them off.” He jokes. “Got a pen?” You ask Eddie as you retrieve the receipt from your purchase earlier. He hands you a stray pen stuck between his dashboard and windshield. You write your number down on the back and hand it to him. Eddie seems to be taken by surprise. He looks down at the paper, all the digits are actually there. “Thanks for the ride. Call me sometime, Munson.” You exit the van and waved goodbye, but when you spun around on one heel, your mom was sitting in the front doorway. “Oh here we go.” You get about half way up the driveway before Julie starts playing the game ‘twenty questions. “Y/N, Who was that?! What are you covered in?” She asks frantically as she moves some of your sticky, milkshake soaked hair away from your face. “Don't worry about it, I'm fine, Mom. It's just a milkshake.” You respond with a calm tone. Julie is puzzled as you make your way into the house, she trails behind you.

“Who drove you home?” she asks again, noticing the avoided question. “Just a friend.” You say with an upward tone. Mom has resorted to giving you “the look”. “It's nothing!” you brush off any significance. Mom softens her face and you take the opportunity to discontinue this conversation. “I’m gonna go shower!” You announce as you fly up the stairs. All you could think about was the interaction between you and Eddie. It’s your second day here and you’ve already made a friend, a really cute friend. You attempt to focus on showering, but it's proving to be difficult. Eddies POV: “No way did I just talk to a girl without making a fool of myself.” He asks himself in disbelief. He starts the van and takes off. He looks back down at the receipt and grins from ear to ear. “YESI” Eddie shouts and slams his hands on the steering wheel. He presses a couple buttons on his stereo, turning up the volume allowing “Hallowed Be Thy Name” by Iron Maiden to blare through his speakers. Pulling up to his trailer, Eddie notices his uncle isn't home. He hops out of the van and places a joint between his lips. Usually Eddie doesn't have much to look forward to besides his Hellfire DnD club and band practice. He lights his joint and walks inside, the living room is a little messy. Beer cans and a full ashtray litter the coffee table. “Whatever you do, don’t fuck this up.” He says to himself. “Shit, when should I call her?!” He's not used to this kind of feeling, he definitely doesn't want to come off as desperate. He makes his way to his bedroom and flops back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. You're like a breath of fresh air, someone he can relate to. Plumes of smoke escape his lips as he lets his mind wander. “I wonder what her favorite band is…”

Day 3 in Hawkins You decided to stay home and organize your room. There are still boxes you still need to unpack, and several letters you need to write for some friends back home. The house is rarely quiet so you take the opportunity to sit down and write. Placing your headphones over your ears, you hit play on the portable cassette player your dad got you for graduation. 🎵“You're fire, taking me higher Don't burn me, don't let me down You need me now, I'll teach you how Come on and go all the way Get your piece of your action Ah uh Get a piece of your action”🎵 Despite how loud the music is, you can hear your mother knocking at the door yelling about something, you pull the headphones off. “Y/N, phone call!” She shouts and you’ve never hopped out of your bed so fast. Your mom had a phone installed with a long telephone cord in the upstairs hallway so you could easily take it in your room to ”receive calls from colleges.” “Hello?” You answered, pressing the phone to your ear while taking the receiver to your room. You shut the door behind you and a familiar voice greets you back. “Hey there, milkshake.” Eddie teases. “Whatever, Munson. That treat was for you and you know it.” You clap back and Eddie tries to suppress his laugh. “What are you doing later?” He inquires, your eyes get wide. “Uhm, nothing.” You reply nervously. “That’s what I thought. Wanna come to band practice with me, loser?” “Oh?...you play?” You question, trying to cover up your excitement. Eddie can't help but smile on the other end of that landline. “Yeah, lead guitar. Can I pick you up at eight? Or is that past your bedtime.” “I dunno, will your folks let you borrow the van for that long?” You snicker. Eddie chuckles at your ability to hold your own. “See ya then, milkshake.” Before you can protest the nickname, the phone clicks and you hang up. Your first date since moving to Hawkins. You’ve dated a couple guys here and there, but the relationship usually fizzles out mutually. Most guys are really put off by your clothing and music choice, but you don't have to worry about that when it comes to Eddie. You can't help but hop around your room, you're almost floating. You don't think you’ve ever been this excited about a date. Is this a date? It's definitely a date.

You finish up your letters, even though you're extremely distracted. You add stamps to the envelopes and head downstairs, practically skipping to the mailbox. You place the letters inside and put the red flag up. When you return inside, you’re greeted by your interrogation. “What’s got you in such a good mood?” Mom asks, cocking her head to the side. “Nothing! Oh! I'm going out later.” You reply, trying to downplay the whole thing. “Is that boy in the van picking you up?” She asks, you can tell she's teasing you. “Yeah he is, why?” You question her judgment. Julie has always been pretty open minded, but she can be terribly over protective.  “Just be careful! You've only been here for three days, don't go get yourself into trouble.” Julie says in a worried tone. She’s always worried, and you know she means well. But sometimes she drives you crazy bonkers with her doting. 

"I'll be fine, mom." You reassure her as you head back upstairs. 

Your eyes dart between two outfits. You choose a black pleated skirt, with black thigh high socks. You previously altered a black t-shirt by cutting off the sleeves and the collar. You dig through your closet and find your leather jacket. To top off the look, you add some messy eyeliner.

When you go downstairs, your boots are always a loud announcement. Eddie's headlights pull in and brighten your driveway, he's right on time. "Don't wait up for me!" You call out before shutting the door behind you.

You take a deep breath as you walk in front of his van and open the passenger side door. You plop yourself down into the seat. 

"You didn't have to get all dressed up for me." Eddie says with that dumb smirk plastered across his face.

"What are you trying to say, hm?" You respond as you shoot Eddie a look.

"That you..uh…look nice." He faltered with a cheeky grin, dimples now on display.

You pull up to an old car repair garage. There are a few guys in the front smoking cigarettes, one of them punches the other in the shoulder.

"My buddies dad owns this place and lets us play here." Eddie says, "No jocks here."

You both get out of the van and one of the guys yells Eddie's name. "You're late, Munson!" Suddenly all eyes are on you. 

"Stop gawking or your face will get stuck like that." Eddie says. "This is Y/N. She's new in town." He says and looks back at you. "So let's act like fucking gentlemen!" He says, smacking one of them in the stomach. "This is Jeff and Gareth." He introduces, pointing at each member.

Eddie opens the door and ushers you inside the garage. You take a good look at each instrument. The bass drum says "Corroded Coffin" on the front. "Wow…sweet setup. I'm impressed, Munson." You compliment and take a seat on the nearby couch. 

"Then prepare to have your mind blown." He says, cocky as ever. You rather enjoyed seeing him shake his tail feathers as an attempt to impress you. The boys take their places and tune up.

When they start playing you're surprised they are not complete shit like other garage bands you’ve heard. Despite all the excitement, you're still focused on Eddie. You’d be lying if you said you didn't have a fluttering feeling in the pit of your stomach. He’s gorgeous and you couldn't help but stare. His ring clad, calloused hands skillfully pressing on specific strings. You find yourself daydreaming about how those hands would feel against your skin. How his long, curly hair would feel between your fingers. Oh and those lips- “Hellooo, earth to Y/N.” he waves his hand and you snap out of it, your cheek bones stained red. “There you are, milkshake!” He says with a smile as you descend back to earth. “Sorry, I got lost in my own head. You guys sound pretty good for a bunch of posers.” You joke and the band cackles. This makes you smile a bit especially when Eddie’s band mate says “Where did you find this one, Ed?!” They played a few more songs. But there was one in particular that caught your attention. It's a song from your favorite album “Shout at the Devil '' by Mötley Crüe.

🎵“Now listen up She's a razor sharp If she don't get her way She'll slice you apart Now she's a cool, cool black She moves like a cat If you don't get her name Well, you might not make it back” She's got the looks that kill, that kill, oh She's got the looks that kill, that kill, oh She's got the look (She's got looks that kill She's got looks that kill)”🎵 The entire time he and his friends played that song, Eddie kept sneaking glances at you. You nervously smoothed out your skirt and spun your rings around your fingers. Seeing Eddie in his prime, in his element, made you look at him differently. He’s not just some comical outcast with a bad boy streak. He’s passionate, creative, and very talented. They finish the song and Eddie puts his warlock guitar on a stand. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his vest pocket, but the box is just for show. He pulls out a joint and lights it. You’re not really surprised. You breathe a sigh of relief, you don't have to explain to him how much of a stoner you are. “You smoke?” he asks, extending his arm. You get up from the couch and take it, inhaling as much as your lungs will allow. When you exhale you close your eyes. “I ran out the other day,” you say between a few coughs. “Y’know anyone who might give me a deal?” “You’re lookin’ at him.” Eddie says proudly, his smug face making you laugh even more. You hand the joint back and raise your eyebrows. “I knew I liked you, Munson.” You say while gently bumping your shoulder into his. Eddie was trying to play his cards right. There is something about you he can't shake from his mind. He feels like you’ve infected him with some sort of virus. This feeling is foreign to him, you’re ‘different’ in all the good ways. In a town full of cheerleaders and jocks, you are his breath of fresh air. Eddie realizes he’s spaced out. “Uh, lemme uhhh go get you some of the good stuff.” He says trying to retreat to his van to compose himself. You can tell he's a little flustered, maybe he's just high? His bandmates call out “Hey dude, we’re gonna bounce.” Jeff says. “Give you some privacy with your new lady friend.” Gareth mocks, followed by a laugh. “Same time next week?” He asks. “Yeah, same time next week.” Eddie confirms. “Don't be late next time!” Jeff gets in the last word and slams his car door shut, engine already running. The three boys take off in the same car. Eddie grabs an already bagged up ounce of weed and shuts the van door. He returns and hands you the bag, you open your backpack and take out your wallet. “Don't worry about it, sweets. Consider it a welcome gift.” He smiles and you take the plastic sandwich bag from his hands and place it in the inside pocket of your backpack. You’re not the kind of person to turn down free weed. “Thank you! You are really sweet for a degenerate.” You smile back and he chuckles. Eddie takes two steps closer to you and your body stiffens. “I should probably take you home, huh?” He says towering over your small frame while your eyes immediately lock with his. Such dark brown eyes, like two warm cups of black coffee. Eddie brings his hand up and moves a few hairs away from your face. He drags his thumb down your jawline and tilts your chin upward. You couldn't handle this tension anymore, you felt frozen in time. The tension between you both has been building from the start. Your face gets hot and you ball your fists. Without any warning, you stood on your toes and crashed into Eddie’s lips. He combs his fingers through your hair and holds the back of your head. You bring your hand up to his chest and take a handful of his shirt. His cheap cologne mixed with the smell of cigarettes is intoxicating, it surrounds your senses as he leans into you. This soft kiss evolved into something needy and desperate, turning into a short make out session.

Eddie breaks away with wide eyes and a shade of pink spreading across his cheeks. “I…” He attempts to form a sentence but you cut him off. “Look, I’m not gonna feed you a line of bullshit or beat around the bush. I like you Eddie, like…a lot.” You admit, and he can't help but smile and kiss your forehead. “I like you too, sweet stuff.” He replies and you wrap your arms around his neck, one of your hands begins to twirl and play with his long curly locks. Something you’ve been wanting to do ever since he lit your cigarette in front of Family Video.

Eddie opens both of the back doors to his van and you have a seat, legs hanging off the edge. Regardless of the jacket you brought, maybe a skirt was a bad idea. The temperature dropped significantly throughout the night, a shiver runs up your spine. Eddie places his warlock guitar gently in the back of the van and hops back out. “You ready to go, lovely?” He asks and you nod followed by another shiver. “Not used to the Hawkins weather yet, huh?” He asks with a chuckle. He hops back into the van and retrieves his spare denim jacket with a large Metallica patch on the back. “This outta fix it.” The metal head promptly covers your bare legs with the jacket and gives you a quick peck on the cheek. 

This particular act of chivalry made your heart flutter. Eddie holds out his hand, “We should get you home.” You make your way to the passenger seat and Eddie takes his seat and starts the van. You shakily light a cigarette and tuck the jacket around your thighs. Eddie pulls out of the driveway and gently places his hand on your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. “As much as I love your outfit, and I mean it, I really do. Next time wear warmer clothes hmm?” He suggests with a sympathetic tone in his voice. “You’ll catch a cold.” He adds. You give him a quiet “Okay” and hand him the cigarette you were camping with.

As he pulls into your driveway you feel a little sad that this night has to end. But he turns to you and puts the van in park. You try to return his jacket and he shakes his head. “Hold onto that for me, okay?” He requests while leaning in closer to you for one last goodbye kiss. You meet him halfway and press your lips against his. All of this attention was new and foreign to you. “I could get used to this…” You thought to yourself as Eddie placed his hand on your cheek.

“Can I see you tomorrow?” He whispers just loud enough for you to hear, his lips ghosting yours.

“Absolutely.” You say with a smile and take Eddie’s hand. “I hope I can wait that long.”

Eddie places a few kisses along your knuckles. “Goodnight lovely.”

After making your way into the house quietly, you take off your boots and silently walk up the stairs. The alluring metal head is clearly all you can think about and you wonder how someone could have so much charm. You enter your room and shut the door carefully. Time curl up in bed with his jacket draped over you, surrounded in his essence, and drift off to sleep peacefully.   

[drabbles-mc]

Hurricane

Angel Reyes x F!Reader

Inspired by This Song and Day 26 of the July Prompts: hurricane

Warnings: angst, language, alcohol

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: I couldn’t separate the word prompt from the song so it ended up being a little bit of a mashup here for Day 26 lmao. I hope you guys enjoy it!

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Angel Reyes Taglist: @helli4nthus @angelreyesgirl @starrynite7114 @queenbeered @sincerelyasomebody @sadeyesgf @thesandbeneathmytoes @appropriate-writers-name @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @kelpies-shed @beardburnsupersoldiers @louisianalady @gemini0410 @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @themoonandthewicked @garbinge @bucky-iss-bae @enjoy-the-destruction @withmyteeth @encounterthepast @lilacyennefer @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @holl2712 @lakamaa12 @luckyharley1903 @masterlistforimagines @kkim120 @toni9​ @shadow-of-wonder​ @black-repunzel99​ @crowfootwrites​ @redpoodlern​ @punkgoddess-98​ @lexondeck​ @mrsstevenbuchananstark​ @berniesilvas​ @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo​ @amorestevens​ @angelreyesisdaddy04​

You’d been going back and forth with your friends for the past few days. They desperately wanted you to come out with them, saying that you had spent enough time at home wallowing and now it was time to get back out into the world. You knew that it was coming from a good place, but you also didn’t really think you were ready for the bar and club scene again just yet. Plus, it was a small town and there was no guarantee that Angel wouldn’t be there with the guys.

The last time that you’d talked to them, you told them that you were sitting this one out, that maybe you’d be up for joining them next weekend. They weren’t happy about it per se, but they also knew that it wasn’t like they were going to show up on your doorstep and drag you out with them. So that was the end of the discussion, and the group-chat delved into other topics.

However, as the evening wore on and you were sitting on your couch at home, you couldn’t help but to rethink your decision. As much as you enjoyed your alone time and solitude, it might do you some good to go and be with your friends. It wasn’t like you had to get shitfaced, or throw yourself at the nearest available target. It was possible to just go out and socialize for a couple hours to remind yourself that you could still do it. With a sigh, you got up off the couch and made your way to your room to pull together an outfit. Something simple, but cute. You pulled your hair and makeup together and before you knew it, you were taking off out the door in hopes that the evening was going to go better than the scenarios in your head.

Meanwhile, Angel got basically bullied into going out with the guys for the night. Gilly was about one more argument away from strapping Angel to the back of his bike and driving him out himself. Angel was outnumbered and he knew that if the roles were reversed, he’d be ruthless with his friends as well. So even though he didn’t want to, he rolled out with the rest of them.

The relief that flooded through him when he walked into the bar and didn’t see you was immeasurable. His heart dropped into his stomach at first when he saw your friends, but once he realized that you weren’t with them, he was able to relax a little bit. He was still a little nervous as he approached the guys, not in the mood to catch flack from all of your friends, but they were surprisingly cordial. If you were there it might’ve been a different story, but he was taking his wins where he could get them.

He and the guys were locked into a competitive game of pool. Your friends had migrated to a different part of the bar, and it helped Angel breathe a little easier. Meanwhile, a few different women had begun to hang around the pool table, clearly trying to shoot their shot with Angel and the other guys that were with him. The guys were eating it up, and Angel wished that he could’ve been more enthused about it, but he had no real interest in entertaining any of it.

Just as he was about to take his next shot, the door to the bar opened and he instinctively looked up to see who it was. He wished that he hadn’t, though—the air immediately got sucked out of his lungs when he saw you walk through the door. You looked more beautiful than he remembered, if that was even possible. He could see it on your face that you weren’t totally committed to being there, the same way he was.

“Take your shot, bro, c’mon,” Gilly snapped him out of his daze.

“Shit,” Angel shook his head and tried to focus on the game, but his mind was already too far gone. He missed his shot, and it cost him and Coco the game. He didn’t even really notice EZ and Gilly celebrating their win as he put the pool stick down and headed towards the bathroom, needing a minute or two out of the noise and chaos to get his head back in order.

When he walked back out, he saw you standing by the bar talking with EZ. You sipped on your drink and nodded as you listened to whatever his brother was saying, and every single emotion that he had been trying to stuff down came back up. He clenched and unclenched his hands a few times, trying to steady them. There was no way that he was going to get out of this without talking to you, acknowledging you somehow. It seemed so effortless for you, like it cost you nothing to stand there and talk to Ezekiel, meanwhile just the sight of your friends earlier in the evening almost made him turn around and walk out of the bar.

Deciding that he couldn’t put it off any longer, he made his way up to the bar and landed next to EZ. You saw him coming from the second he walked out of the bathroom, but you chose not to make it awkward. You didn’t want to seem like a majority of your attention was really on him while you were talking to Ezekiel. However, now that he was standing in front of you, you couldn’t quite peel your eyes away from him.

“Hey, Angel.”

“Hey, Y/N,” he tucked his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, “Didn’t think I was gonna see you here.”

“You almost didn’t,” you let out a quiet laugh, “Was a last-minute decision to join the party.”

He nodded, “Gotcha.”

EZ could feel the awkward tension in the air and he truly wanted no part of it. He had no problem talking with you, truthfully, he missed having you around. However, he wasn’t in the mood to have Angel lingering over his shoulder and into the conversation. So, with as much grace as he could, he excused himself and made his way back to Coco and Gilly. It left you and Angel standing there in front of each other, trying to figure out what the next move was going to be.

Letting out a small sigh, you sat yourself down on one of the barstools and nodded for Angel to join you, “Next round on me if you want,” you offered up a cautious smile.

His stomach was in knots but he took you up on the offer and ordered another beer as he sat down next to you. There was a small stretch of uncomfortable silence, neither of you really knowing what a safe topic to talk about was. Angel’s feelings were resting on the tip of his tongue, and truthfully you weren’t in much better shape than he was.

“I see EZ made it through his Prospect stint,” you finally broke the silence, “The full patch looks good on him.”

Angel laughed, nodding, “Yea, made that vote by the skin of his fuckin’ teeth.”

You smiled and shook your head, “Lemme guess, you were the one who almost didn’t vote him in?”

A smirk crossed his face, an expression that you had been missing more than you cared to admit, “Is it that obvious?”

“If it didn’t mean that he’d have to spend a whole ‘nother year prospecting, would you have done it?” you asked with a laugh.

“Maybe,” he took a swig of his beer as he watched you laugh and shake your head.

The sound of your laughter nearly brought him to his knees. He didn’t know how long it had actually been since the last time he saw you smile and laugh, but it felt like it had been an eternity. Muscle memory was trying to take over and it took every ounce of self-control that he had to not reach out and try to hold you, to kiss you. He watched the way you drummed your fingers along the sides of your glass and all he wanted to do was reach out and take your hand in his own. But he couldn’t. You were mere inches away from him but it might as well have been miles if he couldn’t hold you the way that he wanted to.

“I won’t lie,” you said, your expression sobering a little bit, “I almost walked out when I saw that EZ and the guys were here. I, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to see you.”

His felt his heart starting to beat faster in his chest, “What made you change your mind?”

You shrugged, taking another sip of your drink, “I miss you.”

Those three words washed over him like a tidal wave. It was everything that he had been wanting to hear from you for so long. He knew that it didn’t change anything or fix anything, but it suddenly felt a little easier to breathe.

“I miss you too,” he couldn’t even try to lie or downplay it—he wasn’t that good of an actor.

“Are you seeing anyone?” the question came out before you could stop it. You knew that it wasn’t any of your business, and that regardless of what his answer was it wasn’t going to change anything. But there was something in you that just needed to know.

“Nah,” he shook his head, eyes fixed onto his beer bottle, “You think I’d be out with these jokers if I was?” he nodded towards his friends with a laugh. There were a couple beats of silence before he asked, “You?”

You shook your head, “No.”

It felt like you should have some sort of a follow-up statement, but you didn’t. Part of you had almost wanted to lie and say that you were, just so you wouldn’t be confronted with the tension that you were now encompassed in. You were the one who called things off to begin with, and it felt wrong that you were so conflicted about it now, after so much time had gone by. It was too late to take back what you said then, or what you’d just told him now. You could feel his eyes on you as you looked anywhere but back at him. Part of you hoped that he would be smart enough, strong enough, to get up and walk away from where the situation was headed, but you knew that he wouldn’t be. You could spend the rest of your night staring at the glass in your hands and he would be next to you the entire time. For as much as you hated being away from him, he hated it even more.

“Do you still wanna be here, querida?” despite his voice being so quiet, you heard him perfectly through the noise of the bar.

You finally looked back over at him and shook your head, “No.”

He nodded towards the door, “Come on, then. Let’s go.”

“Angel, I don’t think we sho—”

“You could’ve gotten up and walked away when you saw me, but you didn’t,” he got up off his stool and stood in front of you, a pleading look in his eyes, “And I coulda walked out the second I saw you talking to EZ, but I didn’t. What’s the point in kidding ourselves here, hm?”

There was a slight tremble in your hands as you took in everything that he was saying to you. He was absolutely right. You’d been trying, unsuccessfully, to get your mind off of Angel for weeks. But no amount of distractions and keeping yourself busy was effective—your mind always went right back to him. You didn’t know who you were trying to kid by hesitating. There was no way you were going to turn away from him again, not after the turmoil the last few weeks had brought you when you tried to get on with your life.

He held his hand out for you to take. You paused for a moment, wondering if you’d have a sudden surge of self-control, but you knew yourself better than that. Setting your hand in his, you hopped off the stool, immediately comforted by the sensation of his hand clasping around yours. Tossing a few bills onto the bar to cover your tab, you let Angel lead you towards the door. You thought about touching base with your friends, but you knew that they’d know what happened. Looking at Angel’s expression, you could tell that he was having much the same thoughts about his own friends. But EZ had felt the tension and you knew that he’d put it together immediately.

Stepping out of the bar and into the night air, you let the breeze wash over you and cool you off as Angel led you towards his bike. Any last bit of resolve that you had in you was gone the second that you laid eyes on his bike. All of the long days and late nights out on the road with him came rushing back to you and a smile appeared on your face. Angel glanced back at you, and when he saw the look on your face, he couldn’t help but to pull you closer, cupping your face and pressing a kiss to your lips.

Your hands rested on the beat-up leather of his kutte, leaning your chest against his as you let yourself get lost in him. There was so much that the two of you should’ve been saying and doing instead, but that didn’t matter anymore. Feeling the way that his rough hands rested so gently on the sides of your face felt like coming home and you’d been away from it for far too long. You could feel the way his body started to relax as his lips continued to move against yours, trying to get all that he could while he had the chance, not knowing when this was going to get ripped away from him again.

When you finally pulled your lips off of his, you reached up and lightly trailed your fingertips though his beard. Forcing your eyes up to meet his, you could see that there were countless thoughts and feelings swirling around in them. There was a tinge of sadness, but mostly it was desperation, and you couldn’t say that you were in much better shape than he was when it came to that.

Letting your hands drop back down and interlock with his, you nodded towards his bike, “Let’s go.”

[hobidreams]

july 1869.

does some part of him still remember the smiles you once shared?

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: fluff, angst, very brief smut words: 1.2k contains: old friends. memories.

moonlit throne index. this is drabble 22. start from the beginning?

Today, the sky is an overcast of grey clouds, promising at least a few drops of rain before hopefully giving way to the sun as you weave through the crowd in the town marketplace with a package in hand.

“Uinyeo-nim!” A bright voice cuts through the bustle of citizens trying to do their best to earn their living.

You turn, and smile when you see a face you’ve come to know rather well in the past month. “Scholar Park!”

He clutches a bundle of books in his arms as he walks up to you. “If I had known you were going to town, I would have waited for you.”

“You are kind, but I always have an escort.” You gesture to the guard assigned to you today, another stern-faced man with one hand on his sword at all times.

Scholar Park presses his full lips tightly together at the subtle reminder of your status. “Right. Well, at least we can walk together now! Are you finished with your errands?”

“Not yet. I have one last stop. We’re almost there, actually.” You fall into a comfortable step, keeping your pace light as you begin to walk forward again. “What’re you studying today?”

He groans. “I have to memorize all the guidelines on taxation. Even though they seem needlessly complicated, and I am far from interested in that area. I would much rather focus on agriculture.”

“But you’re working hard on it anyway, right? Not sneaking in any romance novels in with the texts?” You grin, giving the books a light poke with a finger.

“Um! No, of course not!” He denies it too quickly, and you make a note to bring him one of your favorite books later to see if he’ll take. Master Taehyun’s novels have only gotten better as the years pass, and his latest is a riveting story about a dashing young soldier and his childhood friend, who disguises herself as a man to bravely join him in the military ranks.

For now, you let Scholar Park off with a smile. “We’re here.”

Before you, Chun-ja scowls down at her son with a loose fistful of his hair caught between her fingers. “Yah!” She yells, “how could you break another plate?! I told you, no more running inside!”

“Sorry mom…” The kid shuffles from foot to foot, glancing to the side for a way out. His guilt-ridden face lights up when he sees you approach: the perfect escape plan. “Uinyeo-nim!” He runs towards you, slipping out of Chun-ja’s grasp before barreling right into your stomach.

You laugh as fondly pat his head. “Hey there, Han-jae.” Then you give him a knowing look. “You’re causing trouble for your mom again?”

“When is he not, is the question.” Chun-ja rolls her eyes, but in good humor now that you’re here. “It’s so great to see you. Grandma’s going to be overjoyed you could come. Let me go get her.”

“Here. Take these books I brought for you first.” You hand her the package, which she accepts with a grateful bow. “Oh, and Eunuch Kim included some for you as well. With a letter.”

Chun-ja flushes, her smile easily pulled wider at the mention of the kind man before she disappears through the door.

Left alone, Han-jae turns his head to the man beside you. “Who’re you?” Han-jae asks Scholar Park, regarding him with some suspicion. “Are you with uinyeo-nim?”

“A scholar. Who’re you?” is the reply, said with the same amount of maturity in the tone (though you can tell Scholar Park is mostly playing along. You think.)

“Han-jae.”

They stare each other down, and you leave them be to sort out whatever man to man fixation they’ve got going on as Sook-ja opens the door. “Uinyeo-nim!” With a huge smile, she immediately pulls you into a warm hug. She soon proceeds to interrogate you about your health and the importance of drinking hot water, even in summer, before she pushes a box of colorful dasik treats into your arms, making you promise to give some to the young lord that is still most definitely not your betrothed. Inevitably, Han-jae tries to steal a sweet before long and you’re forced to play keep-away from the rambunctious boy for a little while until you’re breathless, but smiling so hard your face hurts.

Even as the rain starts to fall on your way back to the palace, today is, without a doubt, a good day.

At the palace gate, upon your return, you are immediately instructed to go to the king’s quarters. You bid goodbye to Scholar Park as the guard escorts you through the palace grounds. You wish you could change, as your hanbok is rather soaked, but there is no time.

As soon as you enter his room, you sense a tension in the air, a thickness that makes you feel uneasy. The king sits at his desk, his back straight as he intently studies parchments. You know he was scheduled to have a particularly grueling meeting today, and it seems to have taken its toll on him by the scowl on his face. You aren’t sure whether to announce your presence again, and are just mulling it over when—

“Where were you?” He snaps, his stare still on the papers. “You weren’t in your room.”

“I was in town, jeonha.”

“Alone?”

“With the guard. And with Scholar Park.”

Now he looks up. His eyes are narrowed as he takes in your damp appearance. “Park? That recently acquired academic?”

“Yes, we met by coincidence in the market.”

“I see.” His attention is drawn downward once more as he flips the page. “Strip.”

“N-Now, jeonha?” He will have you, even when he seems wrapped up in his reading?

“Unless you would rather catch ill, su-uinyeo-nim.”

Oh. Your chest tightens ever so slightly at the unexpected reason. You do as he instructs, peeling off the outer layer of your blouse and skirt before hanging them over a nearby chair.

“I, um, saw Sook-ja-nim in town. She’s doing well. She asked after you, and asked me to bring you these dasik.”

You wonder if he remembers her. And if he does, if he even cares. Still, you pick up the box and approach the desk to set it carefully on the solid surface. He watches you lift the lid to reveal the assortment of sweets, but doesn’t reach for them.

“You don’t wear it anymore,” he says suddenly, his eyes concentrating on your skin. “The bracelet.”

Instinctively, you wrap fingers around your bare wrist. “I’m sorry. It broke.” (An accident with a sharp edge just last week. You still keep the pieces in a small case buried beneath your clothes, but you don’t tell him that.)

“I’ll send Eunuch Kim for another one.”

“But that’s not the…” You shake your head, biting off the truth. “No, thank you, jeonha. There is no need to go to the trouble. It’s fine.” It could never be the same.

His brow wrinkles at your answer, but he seems to accept what you’ve said, so he doesn’t fight you. Instead, he stands. Takes you in his arms as he leads you to the bed, always the solution when he no longer wants to talk and risk letting you in that tangled, thorny mind of his. Among the luxurious fabrics, he claims you again. Reaffirms over and over with his head between your thighs that you are his, with a fervor that makes you want desperately to believe that he needs you as much as you do him.

[munsnz]

Bittersweet Critic — Steve Harrington ☘︎︎

TW: Cussing??

Requested: None

Pairing: Steve Harrington x GN! Reader

Lydinous Radio: Bittersweet— Kennen

Summary: Steve is sick and tired after working at Family Video for months after the Starcourt incident. Christmas break comes up, meaning more people coming over to their homes. Unlike him, a witty college student comes by for an odd request, making him look like that douche from years back. Days later, he finds this person again, wanting to apologize for the prude actions from the previous..

Masterlist — Requests are open!

Another boring day.

Cold everywhere.

Showing where the bathroom was.

Rummaging through movie posters.

Checking out the pretty girls.

Organizing VHS shelves.

Another Thursday in the cold mornings in Hawkins, Indiana. Steve Harrington had been sick of working at Family Video after working here for 3 months since the incident in July. Now he and Robin were taking different shifts in days and rarely got time to work together at the same times. Watching the customers coming in and out of the store, he sighed due to boredom working there. He would’ve been off to college, possibly coming back for Christmas Break since everyone was coming home for Christmas. More families and couples came in and out of the store now, happy-looking faces, and cheerful moods. Steve realized how lonely he was, after his heartbreak with Nancy, the rejection from Robin, just grew on him, leaving him with the group of kids he mentally adopted. Where was he going with his life now? Was there a possible future for him? Is there-

“Hello? Are you deaf or something?”

The voice made him snap out of his thoughts and feelings to find a conventional rather good-looking person who stood upon him. Steve shakes his head to focus on his attention. “Sorry I was..... I was.....”

”Distracted?” You smiled at him and tapped your fingers on the counter.

Steve nods at your response and shrugs, “I suppose you’re correct.”

“I’m always correct,” You boasted while trying to sound humble about it. There was a silent chuckle shared between the two of you, but continued with the silence, “Anywho, I was wondering if you could give me a good movie recommendation.”

”A what now?” He questioned while being throughly confused by the weird request given by this person who he had just met in 5 minutes.

You sigh at his reaction and lean closer, “I need a good movie recommendation.”

”Oh... Oh...Right,” Steve looks around, trying to remember the movies he’s seen. Although working at a video store, it was hard to keep up with the most popular movies nowadays. He snaps with his fingers and looks up at you, “Back to the future is a good one.”

”I’ve watched it and it wasn’t that good.”

Well, there went one shot. Steve tried to keep concentration in this memory from the last film he saw while dozing off to look at you. Realizing another movies, he chuckles, “Star Wars?”

”A new hope?” You say, furrowing your eyebrows. It reminded Steve when he first got the job at this shithole.

”I don’t really know,” He mumbles, digging his fingers into his hair and watches you cross your arms.

“Well isnt this store supposed to have good staff that actually know a bit about film?”

Steve squints his eyes and clicks his tongue, “Well, I’m just a teenage boy who couldn’t get into college and is trying to earn a living, so I don’t know much.”

“Oh,” You sigh, looking down at your feet, and slide your paper from a notebook harshly across the counter, “Thanks for the help dipshit.”

”Are you a movie critic or something?” He desperately blurts out, wanting to continue to talk to someone,making you turn back to him.

In awe, you look at him up and down, sternly as you said, “I’m not, but I’m studying to work in the film industry in the future as if I’m here to fill out this assignment about the public’s perception on movies, but it’s okay if you don’t want to help, you don’t seem like it.”

”No! It’s actually okay,” Steve apologizes, softening his face and extended his hand to give him the paper, “I really got nothing else to do.”

You watched his hand, almost with pleading eyes to do something in such boredom he was in. After a hot minute of decided, you smiled and breathed to walk away to the exit of the store, “No thank you dipshit! Just remember first impressions are important!”

”What?” Steve gasps, with his mouth open at such rejection, watching you swiftly walk outside into your car to drive off. First impressions were important, he had looked like a total asshole in front of them. Now this was just a huge blow for him, no luck.

☘︎︎ ☘︎︎ ☘︎︎

“So..... what are you doing tomorrow?” Dustin questions, shuffling his feet in the snowy cement, putting his small hands in his pockets to avoid frostbite.

Steve sniffs, watching the people inside relaxing inside the cafe on a Tuesday morning in Hawkins, it was still Christmas break and now both guys were going to have their own day after the holidays.

”I don’t know, I’ll probably catch a movie,” He sighs, shivering in the snow falling on his hair. Watching the people inside, he sees that one familiar person. That movie critic. Different it was though, the person looked awfully stressed with a huge amount of papers scurried everyone on the table, not that one put together person he saw a few days back. His stomach dropped at the sight, not wanting to interact with them, “oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, can we cancel this? I’m not comfortable.”

Dustin looked up at Steve, “Why not? We get a free time to hang out together, I heard they give the best hot chocolate!” Seeing Steve flustered, Dustin turned to see at what he was looking at before getting so weird, it seemed to be a person, somewhat Steve’s age, good-looking meanwhile scribbling notes onto sheets of paper. He hangs his mouth open and nudges Steve with a sly smile, “Oooooh! Someone’s got a crush!”

”Shut up,” He snaps, making Dustin stop giggling like an idiot. Steve gulps and feels a bit anxious about it, after all this time, why did he feel this way?

“Try talking to them,” Steve’s friend advices, both of them watching her through the window in deep concentration, “Until you feel the electricity.”

Steve glances at Dustin, “Don’t use my advice against me.”

”It’s not that bad, Steve,” Dustin claims, moving his jacket around a bit, “Maybe this is your chance.”

”Chance,” He scoffs at the comment, “I haven’t felt like this in months, what ever happened to the glory days where everybody would fall for me at first sight?”

“They probably like you,” Dustin shrugs and looks up at his friend hopelessly sigh, “What’s the matter? Do they not?”

“Well......” He mumbles, trailing off, “I made a really bad impression on them, they came over to the store and I seemed like an asshole, they don’t like me.”

After peering through the window, both boys noticed that same person’s eyes meet theirs. Panicked, they looked away rapidly, trying to not make the situation awkward. The person they were eyeing went back to their task, Dustin ran to the door, dragging Steve inside, “Go talk to them.”

Steve flattened his jacket and breathed deeply, feeling Dustin’s pudgy hands push him forward, making the bell ring as soon as he walked inside. Feeling awkward, he slowly trudged towards the table where you were sitting.

”Hey,” He shyly whispered, ruffling his hands inside his sweater, you looked up to meet his warm, brown eyes, confused of who this might be.

”Hey?” You watch him stand weirdly in front of you, feeling a sense of awkwardness in the air, “Take a seat if you want.”

Steve pulls the chair back to sit, scooting himself forward into the table. He looked over at Dustin who was grinning from the outside of the cafe, “How are you?”

”Fine, but have we met?” You squinted, trying your best to remember him, although you couldn’t, then went back to scurrying through your assignments.

”I believe so,” He watches you scurry through more and more assignments, writing quick notes on each page, “What are you working on?”

After finishing the second to last pair of notes, you reply, “Assignments, it’s crazy how college still wants to make you work your ass even though you’re on break. And how have we met?”

”Film student right?” The comment he made making you look up, he was correct. You nodded, watching his every move on how he knew, he sighs and goes on, “Well I’m that asshole that couldn’t do your stupid assignment for college.”

Wide eyed, you nodded your head and breathily giggled, “Oh yeah, the dipshit.”

”The dipshit,” He nervously repeated, remembering the brood impression he made on you, “Yeah so...... how did that go?”

”No one else wanted to do it,” You huffed as the memories of what dick he had been towards you, he seemed sorry for you, rapidly making sharp eye contact and looking away.

Steve watched your expressions changed as your thoughts did too, “Sorry about that.” Was all he said.

“It’s whatever,” You shrug, getting irritated a bit, but before you could comment anything else, he blurted out.

”Wecouldgowatchamovietogetheranddothatwork.”

All you did was giggle at his flustering comment he gave you, he looked so hopeless and dazed off. Taking a sip of your French Roast coffee, feeling the bitter taste touch your taste buds, a new burst of energy filling you, you scratched your head, “Not so easy..... Dipshit. A. I don’t even know your name and who you are, B. you’re desperate.”

”I- w-what?” His words tumbled off his mouth, denying the answer, “I’m not, I-I just wanna help you.”

His dumbfounded expression made it harder for you not to laugh, “It’s okay, I was just teasing you. And I’m free around 4, if that works out.”

”O-oh, yeah I mean I have work but a day to skip won’t hurt,” Steve chuckles, feeling tingly around his hands, he had never felt this for years on end. Cliche much right?

You raised your eyebrows up and a tiny smile escaped your lips, “Okay, just so you know, it’s going to be a challenge to warm up to me.”

He nods his head, bringing his hands together in front of you, “Well I’m up for that challenge!”

”You dipshit.”

”You movie critic.”

[almostnugget]

Eyeliner

Reggie x Reader

Y/N manages to convince Reggie to let them put eyeliner on him. It just ends up being a little more distracting—considering their not-so-subtle feelings for one another—than either of them would have thought.

Warnings: uh, romantic tension? but otherwise: none that i know of! it’s just kinda fluff-ish

A/N: okay so this was originally part of something bigger that i was writing but i decided i needed to post and i figured i should share this all with you so hope you enjoy! (it’s not even that good tho nothing even happens i-) (also happy thanksgiving if you celebrate it, hi what’s up)

If anyone asked, Y/N wouldn't be able to tell them how this had happened. Having the garage to their selves wasn't much of a problem for Y/N and Reggie. Alex left for an impromptu date with Willie and Luke decided to bother Julie at school.

"Stop moving," Y/N whined, shifting on the couch. They were half in Reggie's lap by now, a hand holding his chin with their face twisted in concentration.

"Why is this taking so long?" He asked, scrunching his face up as Y/N let out a reprimanding hiss. "I'm just asking!"

"You're moving your face!" 

"I'm talking," he corrected, trying to keep his face as still as possible now. He could feel Y/N’s breath on his face, which was making it hard enough not to fidget around, but it felt like they were purposely taking forever.

"I've never done this on another person," they explained, shifting their weight again and turning Reggie's face slightly. "Plus, I'm focusing on what I'm doing and holding this eyeliner."

Talking Reggie into putting on eyeliner was surprisingly easier than Y/N had thought it would be. They supposed he was from the 90s, and in a rock band, so maybe they shouldn't have been so surprised.

"Can you focus faster?" he whined, his eyes still shut. Y/N let out a laugh, prompting him to open his eyes so he could glimpse the smile on their face.

"Hey! I can't do your makeup like this," they scolded quickly, though their lips were still quirked upward. "Close your eyes."

Reggie hummed in response, shutting his eyes and letting them continue. He was getting antsy, but part of him was enjoying the attention too much to make it stop.

Chewing their bottom lip, Y/N began to actually apply the eyeliner. They softly hummed a familiar song under their breath, making a dorky smile spread across Reggie's face.

"Is that a Sunset Curve song?"

"I listened to the demo," they replied nonchalantly, continuing to work and hum quietly to themselves—as if Reggie couldn't find himself any higher on cloud nine.

He stopped concentrating on how long this was taking, instead putting his full attention on the person practically humming in his ear and the fact they were so close there was almost no distance between the two of them

"This is not turning out right," Y/N said suddenly, a laugh bubbling out as they sat back—though not fully removing themselves from his lap either. "I was way too confident in my abilities."

“I'll try," Reggie declared excitedly, opening his eyes. Y/N held the eyeliner out, the boy enthusiastically seizing it from them. The garage had a bathroom with a mirror, and fortunately ghosts were visible in mirrors—to themselves at least. "Oh! Can you...?"

He nodded down at Y/N’s legs, Y/N taking the hint and sheepishly moving back beside him.

Getting to his feet, Reggie hurried to the bathroom to do his own eyeliner as Y/N collapsed back onto the couch. Drumming their fingers against their stomach, they stared up at the ceiling in wait.

"Alright!" Reggie exclaimed from the bathroom after a few moments. "Drumroll please!"

Y/N chuckled and rolled their eyes, but they sat up nonetheless and began to rhythmically pat their thighs like a drumroll.

Reggie jumped out of the bathroom doorway, enthusiastically throwing his arms outward. "Tada!"

Y/N was on their feet in an instant, crossing the room to get a better look. Reggie wore a proud smile that was only moderately giddy. Around his eyes was black eyeliner, slightly smudged for the perfect grunge look.

“Oh, definitely way better than whatever I could do," Y/N decided with a nod. They squinted their eyes for a moment before reaching up to ruffle his hair a little.

"Better?"

Y/N nodded. "Better." They continued to study him a moment, oblivious to the distance between them that Reggie was trying desperately to ignore.

"What?" he croaked out after a long silence, Y/N snapping out of their momentary trance as they staggered back.

"N-nothing! You look good," they admitted, trying to act natural like they hadn't nearly lost it over how good Reggie looked with eyeliner. Instead, the words bubbled out before they could stop them. "You look hot."

Their eyes blew wide, any other words to correct themselves dying in her throat. It took Reggie a moment, his brain trying to decide between flustered or brazenly confident. He chose the latter.

"You think I'm hot?" he questioned, his usual dorky grin replaced with a slightly cockier one.

"Shut up," Y/N dismissed, ears growing warm as they twisted away. They jumped back when Reggie just appeared in front of them. "Hey—!"

"Hey! I'm just repeating what you said!" he defended casually, a sense of pride still blooming in his chest.

"Eyeliner has that effect!" They tried to reason, but they were clearly floundering now. Why did everyone have to leave them alone? Alex had to get back from his date soon, right?

“You think I'm hot," he repeated in a sing-song tone as Y/N playfully rolled their eyes. He had definitely just got an ego boost, that was for sure.

"Go take it off," they instructed, gesturing toward the bathroom. "Our little experiment's over."

"Oh no, it's staying on forever now!"

"Reggie!"

[blush-and-books]

Julie didn’t expect it to happen. I mean, she always felt like Luke was alive when he was around her, but she didn’t think-

She didn’t ever think about this. 

They were on the couch – his couch, their couch, as he liked to say now – and he was, to be brief, kissing her senseless. It was a songwriting session that took a turn for the romantic, and ended with their notebooks on the floor; her back pressed into the couch cushions as Luke hovered over her. 

He always felt the same: Warm but only on the surface, soft as he ran his hands up and down her sides, magnetic when his lips clasped hers with an urgency that neither of them could quite pin the origin of. But after a while, when Julie attempted to flip them so that she could be on top, her hand pressed solid against his chest as she lowered herself onto him-

And a rapid, ever-present, undeniable thumping met her palm like a greeting. 

She barely had time to react before Luke’s callused hand was sliding up her scalp and tugging her down to meet him in another kiss. 

“Luke,” she mumbles into his mouth with little effort to pull away. Even though it wants to wander, her hand hasn’t abandoned it’s position against his ribs where there is pressure echoing against it with frightening speed. 

He only pulls her closer; thinking that her murmurs were the result of satisfaction less than shock. 

He actually manages to distract her for another moment – the intoxicating combination of rough hands and sweet lips and Luke – but her hands find their way back home.

The beating is still there. 

She speaks more forcefully this time; slightly pushing back against the hammer trying to make itself known. “Luke.” 

Being the ever-aware boyfriend, he is in-tune to the tones of her voice, and he pulls himself out of her space. 

“What? Are you okay? Did I-”

“Your heart,” she chokes out. Her hand pushes a little harder, as if she is giving him CPR. “I feel your heart.”

His hands, which are gripping her waist, loosen their hold. 

“W-What?”

Her right hand briefly lifts from his chest to bring his hand back with her; both of them able to feel the thumping lightly against their skin. His eyes meet hers as it registers to him that they now share beating hearts, and that a beating heart is a sign that points to life. 

His mouth has been gaping for so long that she almost cracks a joke, but she can only imagine she looks the same. 

“How is…?” Luke trails off, and suddenly, Julie’s hands are fumbling over his body in search to contact his wrist and his neck; pressing firmly in a desperate search for the light pulse that should be present with an accompanying heartbeat. 

Nothing is there for a while. Her middle and index fingers apply more pressure, less concerned about hurting Luke and more about the ability she has to hurt Luke. 

But then-

It’s light, like a little butterfly flapping it’s wings against her fingertips. But it’s there. 

And a relieved sigh flushes from her grinning lips. 

“You have a pulse.” 

He reaches up to replace her fingers and feel it for himself – and sure enough, there it is. 

“Oh my God.”

His body against hers is no longer emitting a false sense of heat – he’s warm. Toasty, like a furnace, like a living teenage boy should be. 

“You’re warm. You’re so warm, I-”

“Julie!” 

Carlos comes barreling into the studio with little warning save for a loud yell after opening the barn doors. But when his eyes trace the space and focus in on his sister, they almost pop out of his head. 

“You’re with a boy? The guitarist? Ew, oh my God! Does Dad know?”

The couple is less focused on the fact that they have been caught with Julie literally straddling Luke and more on the fact that Carlos can see Julie straddling Luke. 

“Carlos, you-” Julie gulps. “You can see him?”

Her little brother, still equally as disgusted, looks hard and long at Luke. “Wait, isn’t he supposed to be a ghost?”

“Yes!” The two of them answer at the same time. As a trio, their eyes bounce from person to person with the clear question of what the hell is going on. “We need to find Reggie and Alex,” Julie whispers, finally. 

Luke is still in shock over the fact that he has a heart – which is rapidly pounding under his ribs – but ne manages a nod, and tightens his hands around Julie’s waist to help her off of his lap. 

“I’ll go see if Reggie’s in the kitchen,” Carlos informs them before giving the couple a moment to themselves. “Julie… We’ll talk about that-” He gestures around his sister and her boyfriend- “Later.”

Once he has left them to be alone together once again, Julie runs her hands over her face. “Or never,” she grumbles. 

“So… What do we do?”

Luke’s question seems to snap Julie back into the reality of things. Less “my little brother caught me in a suggestive position with my ghost boyfriend” and more “my boyfriend is no longer a ghost.”

At seeing the panicked look in his eyes, her hands dart forward and tightly knit her fingers between his. They are so warm, and soft, and if she really focuses there is blood rushing through his veins.

“Hey,” she says, voice affectionate. “Whatever is going on, if you’re alive again, it- That’s a good thing. That’s a great thing, Luke. I know there’ll be a lot to work out. But… No more peaking over our shoulders for Caleb, or praying that I won’t pass through you when I reach for you, or…”

“Or what?”

“You worrying about me growing up.” 

Her voice is so high, so weak, that she almost thinks she is on the verge of tears. It was always a fear for the two of them that was meant to be tucked away in each other’s presence, but now, if he’s alive… 

There’s no leaving him, or any of the boys, behind. 

Luke fights back his own tears as he unwinds their hands in favor of pulling Julie into his lap once again for a hug. “We can’t get out hopes up,” he reminds her with a rough voice. “But my heart is beating, and it’s beating for you, Julie.”

She somehow wraps herself around him tighter. 

“My heart was always beating for you,” she informs him.

“I know. But I wanted to be able to beat back. Your heart was going to get tired at some point, wasn’t it?”

Neither of them dare to speak any more, both overthinking the implications of his final comment. He sniffles into her hair, and she fists her fingers into his shirt, and he can feel it: Their chests, pressed one and two against, heartbeats feeding into one another. 

They go to find Alex after a long while of holding each other. The next morning, as he runs his fingers through her hair, both Julie and Luke notice that his nails have grown. 

Tags: @willexx @unsaid-emily

[stars-falling]

late night at the local convenience store (elriel)

summary: elain, desperate for snacks, visits her local store late at night and bumps into her supposed rival (and he's hot).

prompt: esteemed rival chefs find each other shamefully buying ramen at 3 in the morning AU

word count: 1985

note: welcome to the first july upload! this piece was written for a writing month challenge and i had great fun with it! i'm really excited for the other pieces i'll be posting over the next month. i hope you enjoy them as much as i enjoyed writing them! i'll continue working on other pieces over the month too, so there will be more coming after july (hopefully i can finally finish part 2 of both a storm and a summer's day).

in the meantime, hope you enjoy!

lily (tysm for 760 followers btw! love you all <3)

read here on ao3 // masterlist

*******************************

Archeron’s Kitchen was the most popular restaurant in Velaris. It had the best food, the best drinks, the best atmosphere, and Elain had never been more proud to say that she was the Head Chef. It had taken years of hard work from both her and her two sisters to reach the level they were at now and they only continued to grow. The sisters worked closely together: Nesta (the eldest) directed the finance and other admin, Feyre (the youngest) worked on the design aspects and managed the staff and Elain manned the menus and the actual cooking. They worked well together, with only minor disagreements happening occasionally, and soon they had rocketed to the most well known and sought after restaurant in Velaris.

This was why she was contemplating her life choices as she pulled up to the local convenience store to buy ramen at 3 am. It wasn’t even the nice ramen; it was the crappy 50p packet of ramen that took less than a minute to cook. She often tried to utilise her skills to cook herself the healthiest and tastiest meals but recently she had been working overtime due to another restaurant's rising popularity. The two staff had even formed some sort of rivalry, trash-talking each other in the streets and slandering the other restaurant to their patrons. She found it childish, so Elain didn’t partake, but she did find it mildly amusing. The new restaurant was several streets over and it was the opposite of Archeron’s Kitchen in every way. Where they were warm and cosy, Starfall was sleek and modern. Where they focused on comfort foods, Starfall served new and innovative dishes. People went to the Archeron’s for the food, whereas people went to Starfall for the experience. And where the Archeron’s Kitchen was run by three sisters, Starfall was run by three brothers.

She had never actually met them. She knew their names and what they looked like but in terms of interactions she had only caught a glimpse of two of them once before. They had stood in the main square with Feyre and Nesta arguing about the importance of serving classic food. Her sisters had both come away grumbling about ‘upstart assholes with no sense of tradition’. As far as Elain was aware, the two brothers they had argued with weren’t actually in charge of the menu, making her unsure if they had full authority over the subject, but she didn’t want to start them off again so she refrained from mentioning it.

Elain pulled into an empty parking space and took a moment to lay her head against the headrest and close her eyes. She was tired and hungry. There was no food in the fridge, her bank account was looking quite sorry for itself and she still had more menus to plan and ideas for new dishes to brainstorm. Steeling herself, she hauled herself out of the car and locked it as she walked to the bright light of the store. She pulled the hood of the tattered sweatshirt she wore over her head as a precaution against recognition. With the status of a semi-famous chef, she didn’t want anyone to see her in the somewhat pitiful state she was in. The bell rang as she pushed open the door, signalling her entrance. The bright flickering lights and cool temperature made it feel like she was entering a separate dimension, one that lacked all sense of time and direction. Elain nodded at the cashier as she walked past them, making a beeline to the snacks aisle. She was greeted by a wide range of ramen, the different flavours and prices making it difficult to choose. She had about £1.50 in her purse and she desperately wanted a coffee too so she would have to be frugal. She was so engrossed with her ramen selection that she failed to notice a person coming up beside her. When she swivelled around to check the time on the obscenely large digital clock above the checkout, she crashed into them hard, causing her, them and the copious amounts of ramen they had piled in their arms to go flying to the floor.

Elain let out a yelp as she landed hard on her tailbone and felt her face heat up.

“I am so sorry!”

A deep, warm chuckle floated toward her and her head snapped up to look at its source. She found hazel eyes staring back. A large man with tan skin and dark hair sat in front of her, surrounded by many colourful packets of ramen. Her heart fluttered slightly as he smiled at her. He was handsome, even in this shitty convenience store lighting at 3 am dressed in similar attire to her.

“Don’t worry about it. I should have been paying more attention. Are you okay?”

She nodded before sitting up fully and helped to gather the ramen that lay around them. He smiled at her gratefully and they sat in content if not slightly awkward silence as they pulled the packets into a pile before finally rising. As she looked closer at him, a spark of recognition kindled within her.

“Do I know you?”

He looked at her curiously, tilting his head.

“I’m not sure but you do look familiar.”

They stood analysing each other. Normally the staring would make her uncomfortable, but with him, she found it didn’t bother her nearly as much as it should have. This went on for about a minute before she saw realisation set into his eyes.

“You’re Elain Archeron. The Head Chef for Archeron’s Kitchen. Why are you buying shitty ramen at 3 am? Shouldn’t you have made yourself a three-course meal by now?”

Elain felt something drop inside her. She hadn’t noticed that her hood had fallen off when she fell, exposing her and her shameful ramen buying to the whole world. But as he laughed softly, she remembered where she recognised him from.

She scowled at him as she said, “ Well you’re Azriel Knight, Starfall’s Head Chef, so you can’t exactly talk.”

She gestured to the stack of ramen that she had just helped pile into his arms. He turned away slightly as if to hide them.

“My stash had run out, okay. I need it to keep me going when I stay up late planning dishes.”

“I get that. That’s why I’m here right now.” She replied and a mutual understanding passed between them.

Elain knew she shouldn’t be talking to him right now, the reminders of the supposed rivalry between the two restaurants loomed like a shadow behind her. But the longer they spent together, the more she found herself not caring.

“I feel like we should be arguing,” He told her. “If my brothers were here, they would have been kicked out for yelling by now.”

She smiled, “Same for my sisters. But I’ve never really cared to be honest. I just want to focus on the food, not a silly competition that people seem to be taking too seriously.”

He nodded in agreement and they both began to walk to the cashier.

“So, what kind of dishes are you planning then?” She asked. “I promise I won’t steal any ideas. It’s not my style anyway.”

“I”m not a hundred percent sure on the actual contents of the dish right now, but I’m currently trying to create a more experimental menu. We recently unveiled a new line of drinks that have a more theatrical element to them. Colour changing, dry ice, bubbling, the whole shebang and I wanted to design a food menu that went along with that.”

He turned away from her to pay the cashier, giving her a moment to turn over his words in her head. She’d gotten a glimpse at some of the drinks and food from when she had taken a look at (read: stalked) their website and various social media sites. She had called it ‘scouting out the competition' when really she was curious to see what had set them apart enough for them to have such a rise in patronage. Whilst it wasn’t her style, she had always thought that she’d like to visit them and try what they had to offer. That was until the stupid rivalry had started and just walking by the restaurant was asking for trouble. Azriel finished paying and grabbed the plastic bag the cashier had placed his ramen in, moving out of the way so she could step up to the counter.

“That sounds amazing!” She replied. ‘I admit, I’ve always wanted to try some of your food but unfortunately, my sister’s might disown me if I even mention it. Calling them over-competitive would be the understatement of the century.”

He laughed at this and she took the opportunity to turn away and press the 50p coin into the cashier's hand. They nodded at her, satisfied and she turned back to Azriel. Together, they walked out of the door and into the cool night.

“I’d say you should stop by, but as you said, our siblings may not be too happy about that.” He let out a sigh. “As much as it amused me at first, I do wish we could just get along. I’d like to come and try some of your food too.”

He swivelled towards her, the white light from the store casting his face into shadows.

“I hope this isn’t too forward of me, but would you like to grab some coffee?”

She smiled at him, shoving the packet of ramen into her hoodie pocket.

“I’d love to. And maybe in the future, we could make some of our food for each other.”

He raised an eyebrow at that. “Like a date?”

She felt dread trickle in. Maybe she had misread the situation. They seemed to have been getting on well, and she had caught him checking her out when they first bumped into each other. Plus, he had just asked her to grab coffee with him. Perhaps he was just being friendly.

She swallowed anxiously before replying, “Yeah. If that’s something you’d be interested in.”

He smiled at her brightly, making her heart stutter and skip a beat.

“I’d like that.”

They stood under the streetlamps in an almost abandoned parking lot. Two head chef’s from popular restaurants with bad ramen and a budding connection between them.

“What are you feeling? Starbucks or maybe that local coffee shop down the street? I think it’s called Veritas?”

Elain hummed as they started walking along the road.

“Veritas, I think. I can get a cup of tea for a pound.” She reached into her pocket to show him her single coin.

For the second time that evening (or was it morning?), he raised an eyebrow at her. “I thought I was buying?”

She glanced at him in confusion. “Since when?”

“I thought since I had asked you it was implied?”

She let out a laugh, shaking her head. “My god, we are bad at this. I think we need to get out of the kitchen more.”

“I’m not sure about that, I’ve got plenty of pick up lines I've stolen from my chefs.” He stepped in front of her, stopping her in her path. “Baby, you’re the crème to my brûlée.”

She groaned, hitting him on the arm as she pushed past him. “That was so bad! I might leave.”

“As if you could do better.”

She pulled out her phone, searching up ‘chef pick up lines’. She grimaced, “These are all so sexual! I think it might be best if we keep flirting out of the kitchen.”

They both doubled over in fits of laughter before continuing down the street. She was glad she gave in to her cravings and went to buy ramen at 3 am. She could tell that whatever this was, it was going to turn into something great.

*******************************

taglist + others who might be interested!

@amusedowl @court-of-fuck-me-daddy @akb12348 @illyrian-bookworm @actuallyacotartrash @thesirenwashere @julesherondalex @queen-of-glass @verifiefangirl @rhysanoodle @sadbitchlorcan @thefangirlofhp @abraxos-is-toothless @elrielllll @b00kworm @maastrash @rosssas @illyrianbeauty @nightcourtcinnamonroll @ireallyshouldsleeprn @tswaney17 @secretbondsandloveconfessions @sleeping-and-books @thewayshedreamed @rowaelinismyotp @swankii-art-teacher @the-laughing-bubble @123moiaussi

let me know if you would like to be added/removed from my tag list!

[gaemkyuu]

So...Boyfriend? Boyfriend.

Warnings: death of a loved one and grief. There is one mention to drinking a bottle of wine but all characters in the story are above the age of 21. A/N: this is based off a post @ah2113​ made a little while ago! I liked the idea and decided to write a cute fluffy piece on it! Hope you like it! “Reader and Charlie are best friends and they met on JATP. Charlie and the reader are in love with each other but don’t know. The readers grandma passes away and she calls Charlie, who is in a completely different state/country, in tears about the situation. Charlie feels horrible and completely drops everything he’s doing and immediately flies out to the reader and surprises them. He is with them throughout the whole viewing and funeral and meets her entire family. Everybody mistakens him for the readers boyfriend because of how much he is doing to help and tells the reader that he is clearly in love with them.”  Disclaimer: This is a FICITONAL writing piece! In no way do I claim characters in this piece act this way in real life. 

Masterlist *now taking requests ;)

So...Boyfriend? Boyfriend.

Bzzz. Bzzz.

Charlie was in the middle of an interview when his phone started vibrating. Normally he kept it on airplane mode, but today he forgot. He quickly reached for his phone and saw her name pop up on the screen, losing focus for a brief moment on the interview. 

“Pardon me? Could you repeat the question?” Charlie was trying so hard to focus on the interview at hand but knowing he was on the last question, made it all the more difficult to focus when he knew she was calling.

“Charlie, the fans want to know. Are you single?” he chuckled but since he was distracted, he didn’t give a really good answer.

“Kinda” he regretted it as soon as it left his mouth and the fact that he started blushing made the situation worse! Thankfully the interviewer didn’t press any further into the matter and made a casual joke about it. They quickly wrapped the interview knowing that Charlie had another one scheduled right afterwards, but he had a few minutes to make up a phone call.

Amelie had worked on set for season one of Julie as a hair and make up artist and shocked many at how talented she was for her age. She got along well with the cast and would often hang out with them on their days off, but for some reason she gravitated the most to Charlie. Everyone often teased them about the chemistry they had and how they would make a great couple but both of them would laugh at the comments and deny any feelings towards one another. They were simply nothing more but really good friends.

Or so they thought.

Amelie was head over heels for the brunette and Charlie for her. She loved his smile and enthusiasm for life. She admired his work ethic and passion for what he did. She would squash every thought about being with Charlie because he was too good for her. She liked the weirdest things and entertained people with the most random facts. She could spend hours in an art and fashion museum, when most people could only spend so much time. Amelie saw herself as weird and knew that Charlie saw her as nothing more than a friend.

The opposite was true. Charlie loved her quirkiness and nerdiness around the strangest things. He loved that she was always so modest and humble, even though she had all the right to brag at how amazing she was at her talents. He loved how she was always up for trying something new and that she had an eye for fashion, design and art, but he knew she didn’t see him as anything more than a friend. That still didn’t stop Charlie from always being there for her.

“Charlie?” her voice came out in a broken and quiet whisper. He could tell that she was crying and he instantly felt his stomach drop. A few sniffles came from the other line before the voice spoke again. “She’s gone Charlie... Grandmaman is gone...” he could hear her voice start to shake again.

“Say the word Amelie and I am there” Charlie glanced at his watch,8:55pm. He had five more minutes until the next interview with the pop culture podcast from Sydney. This meant that it was 5:00am in London, where Amelie was working on Netflix’s newest series. “Ams?”

“It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to disturb you, I just didn’t know who else to talk to...” she sniffled quietly not sure what else to say.

“What time are you leaving to get to set?” 8:57pm, he was running out of time. He saw the notification that the next interviewer had signed on to their zoom meeting.

“I gotta be on set at 7:00am so the van will be here to pick me up at 6:30am. It’s my last day on set, so there’s that” she sniffled again, feeling herself calm down with Charlie on the other line. She desperately needed him, but she couldn’t ask him that. He was doing press for season 2 of Julie and the Phantoms and he needed to be available, not off consoling his friend who was madly in love with him. 

“Amelie, listen, I have to jump onto the next interview, but try to get a little more sleep and drink some water. I’ll call you as soon as I’m done. When are you flying back?” Charlie felt awful having to hang up on her when he knew she needed him.

“I’ll be on the next flight out to Vancouver. Hopefully there’s a flight this evening back to Canada. My mom’s really upset and my siblings are rushing to get home for her” Amelie took a deep breath and listened to the frustrated sigh on the other end. He was probably annoyed that she called him. “Thank you for picking up Char”

“Anything for you Ams... I’m really sorry but I have to go now... If you’re busy when I call, can you let me know when you’re at the airport?” Amelie agreed and hung up the phone, flopping on the bed and a silent stream of tears falling from her eyes again. Meanwhile, Charlie sat in his LA bedroom, head in hands frustrated that he couldn’t be there for her.

***

Amelie watched out the window as the plane landed in Vancouver. She felt an anxiousness to get off the plane and be with her mom, but she knew she had to go through security and baggage. She didn’t notice that her leg was restlessly bouncing until the nice old lady beside her placed a hand on her lap. 

“Excited are we?” she smiled at her kindly and Amelie blushed, a little embarrassed. “I was once in love too. I get the feeling”

“Actually, I’m just anxious to be with my mom... My grandmother passed away yesterday and I wanna be there for her” the old lady’s smile changed to an empathetic one and she patted her knee.

“I’m sorry for your loss my dear... I lost my sister a year ago today. It is not an easy thing to grieve and I can tell that your soul feels heavy. You might want to think about sharing that load with someone” she smiled. A flight attendant interrupted their conversation letting them know that she had priority to leave the plane. The old woman then looked at Amelie and winked. “They’re letting us off the plane now honey. Thank you miss, but my daughter can grab my bags from the upper compartment, can’t she” baffled at the kindness of the old woman, Amelie dumbly nodded and stood to help her. As they made their way through the gate, an attendant was waiting for the old woman. “You can leave my bags with this gentle man” she smiled.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to do that” the old woman took her hand. “Your mother is fortunate to have you as a daughter. Now go and be with her” Amelie smiled and gave the old woman a hug, and teared up a bit remembering her own grandmother. Wiping away a tear, Amelie said thank you again and headed off to get her bags. To no surprise, getting her suitcase was a gong show because they had to share a lane with another flight. By the time she got there, tons of people waited right by the carousel for their bags, making Amelie stand in the back and tippy toe to see a glimpse of her bag. She was fortunate that a man had helped her as she squeezed her way to the front, waiting for her bag. With a deep breath, she exited the doors and dialed her mother.

“Hello? Maman? What car are you in? Oh wait! I see it!” Amelie quickly rushed outside of the door at YVR to get to her mother’s vehicle. She was able to find a flight that evening and she left right away. The flight was long, but she was able to make it home to her mother’s side in 24 hours. She trotted over to her mother’s vehicle that pulled into the loading zone, flashing their hazards on, her mother getting out of the passenger side. Amelie stopped for a moment, confused that her mother wasn’t driving the car. Her mother quickly embraced her in her arms and both of them shared a tearful hug. “Who’s driving maman?”

Charlie stepped out of the driver’s seat and took Amelie’s suitcase from her, as she stood there with her mouth open. “Surprise?” she immediately felt a sudden wave of emotion wash over her and she jumped into Charlie’s waiting arms crying as he held her tight. She felt sadness and happiness while grieving over her Grandmother and feeling elated at the sudden presence of the boy.

“How?” she sniffled and pulled away, wiping her tears.

“Charlie knew how sad you were over Grandmaman, so he texted me late last night and flew in early this morning” her mother explained. Amelie’s mother knew of her crush on the boy and always encouraged her to pursue the relationship further, but she always insisted to her mother that they would be nothing more than friends. Her mother would roll her eyes at her daughter every time she said that, knowing that the chemistry and the feelings were there, but the two were just too stubborn to admit it.

“That’s what friends are for right?” 

Right. Friends.

***

After being picked up at the airport, they went straight to her mother’s house and helped her mom plan out things for the funeral. Naturally, Charlie became the chauffer, driving Amelie and her mom around the city to make various appointments with funeral directors and lawyers. Amelie’s grandmother gave birth to five children and never remarried after her husband passed away. Amelie had very little recollection of her grandfather as he passed away when she was quite young. Each of her mother’s siblings had at least three kids and each child had at least three kids, making their family huge. That didn’t include her mother’s cousins and their families, all of which would be flying in to attend the funeral in two days time.

Running around was an emotionally exhausting task, not to mention the exhaustion that came with grief. The two women were grateful that Charlie was around for them that day as Amelie’s siblings slowly started to get into town. He ordered pizza for everyone, knowing that all of her siblings would be in Vancouver in time for the funeral. Her grandmother was clear that she wanted the viewing and funeral to be combined into one day, not wanting to prolong her burial process, something that they honored. But with that request, it meant a lot had to be done.

Amelie had four siblings, all of which were older than her, making her the baby of the family. Her brother Benoit had moved to New Brunswick to live with the love of his life Maxime, and he was the second to arrive. He had work to take care of and unfortunately Maxime couldn’t get the time off. Benoit got along very well with Charlie, connecting over Dieppe and how it differed from Fredericton where Benoit lived with his partner. Her twin sisters Rachelle and Rene got into Vancouver right before dinner and actually carried the pizza inside while Charlie paid. Both sisters lived in Toronto, one training on the Olympic figure skating team and the other working in Parliament. Throughout the night, they joked about how cute Charlie was and how they were both single and didn’t mind dating someone younger. This annoyed Amelie but she wouldn’t admit that to anyone. Her third oldest brother, Theo, was the last to arrive, getting in way past dinner but before midnight. He lived in New York pursuing photography and had to finish a shoot before he could come home. Hearing this, Charlie asked him multiple questions about photography when they sat around their mother’s fireplace that night. It was nice to be able to gather as a family before the craziness of their relatives. French Canadian families were big, loud and full of personality, but Amelie knew Charlie understood this dynamic very well.

The next two days passed by in a blur with Charlie helping out wherever he could and sometimes locking himself in her mother’s office to do an interview or meeting here and there. Amelie was so grateful for him because every time she felt overwhelmed or that she was going to cry, he somehow made it to her side, comforting her and helping her be strong. Rachelle and Rene kept telling her to claim Charlie before they did, but Amelie would always insist that they were friends. But when her brothers got involved, Amelie couldn’t help but think that maybe her siblings were right. Maybe she should ask Charlie out, but how could she do that when her entire family was still dealing with the loss of her grandmother?

Just last night, Charlie sat up late into the evening comforting Amelie as she put the slideshow together on her Macbook. She could hardly look at the pictures or listen to the music without tearing up and having mini cry sessions on his shoulder, something he took in stride. It also didn’t help that she had consumed an entire bottle of wine...

In all honesty, Charlie couldn’t be more happy to be by her side at this moment. He knew how hard it was to lose a loved one, especially since he lost his grandmother before filming season one of Julie and the Phantoms. Being here for her was important to him and he wanted to show her that she could always come to him. When she passed out on his shoulder that night, he thought about how badly he wanted to be with her as he tucked her in bed. He loved how she snuggled into his shoulder as he finished up the slide show and he loved that she reached out for him and called his name in her sleep as he walked away. He kissed your forehead goodnight and hated the fact that he couldn’t just call you his.

A soft knock at the door interrupted Amelie’s day dream of her grandmother. She wiped the tears that have unexpectedly fallen from her eyes and took a deep breath. “Come in” her voice was shakier than she wanted it to be, but relief washed over her when Charlie walked in wearing a black dress shirt and tie. He smiled empathetically to her and approached her with open arms, something she gladly accepted. She inhaled his scent, burying her face in his chest, while he rested his head on top of hers. 

“You ready?” Charlie held her tight as he asked this question. This would be the first and last time Amelie would be seeing her deceased grandmother.

“I should be asking you that question” she softly giggled. Charlie would be meeting all of her relatives today, including her annoying cousin Madeleine. 

“You forget that I too have a big family. It’ll be fine. Plus, I’m here for you and not them” Amelie pulled away from the hug to stare him in the eyes, silently figuring whether now was a time to discuss her feelings or not. In the end, she decided against it and smiled softly at him, which he returned.

“Thank you for being here Char... It really means a lot” he chuckled and pulled her close for a second hug, something she would never tire hearing.

“Anything for you Ams. Anything.”

***

The funeral and mass went according to plan and soon enough they found themselves in the church basement with a slide show of her grandmother playing in the background, while guests visited the pastries and beverages being served. Amelie was occupied with the many questions her aunts and uncles had about her career and how she was doing, but she couldn’t help but worry about Charlie. Throughout her conversations with her relatives, she watched Charlie help out her mother with the pastries and beverages, stopping once in a while to entertain the younger cousins at the children’s table. She smiled at him gratefully for helping out so much, but grew a little nervous when her nosy aunts and uncles pulled him aside and started interviewing him. It seemed like he was handling himself fine, but Amelie felt even more confident when he made eye contact with her and winked. 

“Well if it isn’t the Hollywood superstar.” Amelie could feel herself cringe at the sound of the voice. It was Madeline, Amelie’s cousin. They were the same age and same stature, but they couldn’t be more opposite. Madeline pursued modeling at a young age and still continued to do it, but for some reason, she always felt that everything was a competition. Amelie wanted to simply be cousins, but Madeline would take every opportunity to upstage her or show off to their aunts and uncles. Amelie didn’t really care, but the more she didn’t the more vicious Madeleine became. At one point in their lives, Madeleine had moved to Vancouver for more opportunities and ended up living with her family. This caused a lot of drama between the two of them, including Madeleine dating several of her exes and bringing them to family events.

“Hey Mads. Long time no see” Amelie forced herself to be nice and polite, even though she felt her cousin didn’t deserve it. Her black dress was a little too tight and a little too revealing for a funeral, but she wasn’t about to bring that up. “How have you been?”

“Oh you know, living it up in Paris, traveling all over Europe for different modeling jobs. It’s exhausting, but I’m sure you know of it” anyone could hear the sarcasm and apprehension in her voice. Her aunts awkwardly moved away, making up some excuse about visiting other family members so that they could catch up. “How does it feel to be working on a children’s show?”

“I mean, I love what I do, so I can’t complain” Amelie bit her tongue before she could say anything rude. She never understood why her cousin always felt the need to announce how much better she was over her.

“So... optimistic. What’s it feel like to settle?” she felt the blood rush to her face, starting to lose control of her emotions. This was not the place or time to have this conversation, yet Madeline persisted. She took a deep breath trying to level herself and forced a smile on her face. As she opened her mouth to reply, she felt a warm hand hug her lower back and the slight smell of cologne fill the air.

“Everything alright babe?” she blushed at the name and gesture from Charlie, who kissed the top of her head. Madeline flushed and her eyes were as wide as saucers. “Oh hi, I don’t believe we’ve met, I’m Charlie” he reached out his hand towards Madeline, keeping the other wrapped around Amelie. 

“Madeline. It’s nice to meet you Charlie. You’re an actor from the show that she worked on, right? What are you doing here?” Amelie could hear the faintest trace of annoyance in her voice, and shook his hand. Charlie and Amelie looked at each other, a cocky smile on Charlie’s face and slight confusion on Amelie’s. 

“I’m her boyfriend and I came to support her. I’m sure you’ve been dealing with the grief as well and I couldn’t let her go through this alone” part of what Charlie said was true, but Amelie couldn’t help but blush at the mention of boyfriend. No one had actually asked Charlie if they were dating, but a lot of relatives were beating around the bush. Apparently Charlie had said that rather loudly and some of the relatives started gossiping in a hushed voice. 

“Wow Amelie. I didn’t know you had such good taste in men based on your past partners” Charlie laughed at the comment, something Madeline didn’t suspect.

“I wouldn’t say I’m good taste, but Ams if definitely a catch” he gloated and kissed her cheek, causing Amelie to blush furiously. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I actually came over because your mom needs some help” if there was one thing Amelie could count on, it would be Charlie’s ability to read a situation and get her out of it. “Shall we, my love?” she nodded and walked away from Madeline flushed and confused, but also really excited. He moved his hand from her back to her hand, softly dragging her away from the conversation.

“Boyfriend?” Amelie whispered to him, inferring the comments he made to Madeline. 

“I know she ruffles your feathers, so why not ruffle hers?” Benoit interrupted Charlie, asking him if he could help put some of the tables from upstairs away. “You’re mom’s in the kitchenette, you can probably hide there for a bit. I got you a plate of pastries that I stashed in the back” she thanked him and watched him walk away with her brother. Before she could take another step, Rachelle and Rene linked arms with her on either side and rushed her into the kitchenette.

“So you’re dating now?!” Rene questioned and before Amelie could answer, Rachelle interrupted her. “When were you going to tell us this?!”

“About time” her mother scoffed, stirring another jug of fruit punch. “Okay you two, leave your sister alone to breathe for a second. Take these pitchers out to the table and find Theo. Make sure Tante Genevive hasn’t stolen him for a private photoshoot for Facebook” Amelie was grateful that her mother shooed the twins off and passed her the plate that Charlie put aside. 

“Thanks Maman” her mother smiled smugly at her, moving about the kitchenette. “Please don’t say I told you so” her mother made the motion to zip her lips as she giddily made her way around the kitchen.

***

That evening, Amelie’s family stumbled through the front door of her mother’s house, everyone retiring to their rooms for a short moment of relaxation while their mother ordered take out for a late dinner. They had stayed behind to clean up with a few other relatives and put away the church tables and chairs. Charlie didn’t complain a single time and rushed to do whatever he could to help everyone out. Charlie followed Amelie up the stairs to her old bedroom and shut the door behind him as she plopped onto the bed. Part of Amelie did this was because she was tired, but the other part of her did it hopefully to avoid the conversation they were about to have. Charlie quietly sat beside her on the bed and played with her hair, something she absolutely loved.

“So, about today...” this conversation was happening whether she wanted it to or not.

“It was really nice of you to stand up for me but you didn’t have to. I have no problem telling my family it was a small misunderstanding. It should stop them from blabbering to the media” She sat up and Charlie looked incredulously at Amelie confused at what she was saying.

“Ams, I don’t think you get it” again, she interrupted him before he could continue.

“No I do, I get it. You’re an amazing friend Char and you didn’t have to risk the rumours for-” she didn’t complete the thought because Charlie’s lips were suddenly on hers and she completely melted into them. It was like this tension that she never acknowledged left her shoulders, making her feel like she was floating.

“Do you understand now?” he searched her eyes for some sort of confirmation. “I really like you Amelie and I’ve liked you for a long time, but I’ve always thought you wanted to be friends”

“I wanted to be friends?! I thought you friend zoned me first!” he gave her a look for interrupting him. “Sorry”

“Regardless of what happened, being with you here and helping you and your family throughout all of this made me want to be a part of your life so much more. I want to be more than your friend. I know this is a bad time to say this, but I don’t think I can keep pretending that I don’t want to be with you” he held her hand in his and drew nearer to her again. “I really want to be with you if you’ll have me”

She closed the gap between the two of them and kissed him this time, something which Charlie gladly accepted. The two shared a simple but passionate kiss, as if they were confessing two years of secret feelings to each other. A bang at the door startled them.

“Put your pants on! Maman wants you guys to go pick up the take out!” Benoit yelled from behind the door. The two flushed at the comment and heard the snickers and giggles from the other siblings.

“So...boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend.”

[nicknellie]

@millie-andrews-rose requested: Alex gets put with a bully on a paired project, so Willie goes with him when they work on it to help him stay calm. Willie and the boy bond over skateboarding and Alex gets jealous, causing an argument between them. The boy then apologises to Alex for being so awful. Alex and Willie make up and it ends with their first “I love you”s. (This was edited/simplified just to make it shorter.)

This is the longest oneshot I’ve ever written and I absolutely love it. I really hope I’ve done you proud, especially since this was such a great prompt! Thanks!

And It’s Not My Fault

Alex adored projects. He loved having something big to focus on, a goal to work towards, something to keep him preoccupied. Any big time-consuming task was a lot of fun for him whether it was a five-thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle or work for school worth a large part of his grade. There was, however, a single word that could be placed before the ‘project’ that would instantly transform it from Alex’s dream to his worst nightmare.

The word wasn’t ‘group’ as it would be for a lot of people. Alex liked group projects almost as much as he liked solo projects. Group projects were what he did with Julie, Luke, and Reggie almost every day, jamming in the studio and working towards having a complete set list in time for an upcoming gig. Group projects were what he occasionally did with Carrie and the girls of Dirty Candi when he would assist them with some choreography. Group projects were even tolerable with people Alex didn’t know well because he knew how they were supposed to work and usually he could convince everyone to do their fair share. So group projects were fine.

The word the ruined any chance of Alex having fun was ‘paired’.

Paired projects were the worst type of project. They always spelled trouble and Alex had never got a decent grade on one in his whole school career. It never felt like his fault, but when he thought about it he was the common denominator in every nightmare paired project scenario, so he had long ago decided that there must be something about paired projects that he was simply doing wrong.

Maybe it was that he wasn’t good one-on-one. Alex had always functioned better in groups (albeit small ones that couldn’t be overwhelming) and being face to face with just one person could be stressful. It was fine if it was a friend, and more than fine if it was his boyfriend, but when alone with a stranger Alex found himself running out of things to say and having nowhere to turn when the awkward silences set in. Or if he didn’t run out of things to say he would eventually say the wrong thing and that would start an entirely new alarm bell ringing in his mind as he panicked about accidentally being offensive. Overall, conversations without his emotional support band could be frustrating at best and somewhat dangerous at worst.

Perhaps it was true that Alex was the link in all these situations, but what he had always failed to consider was the fact that he had never been paired in a project with somebody who was actually willing to try and do well, which perhaps was a more prominent reason he’d never received a decent grade.

Alex had been having a good day. He was feeling bright for no reason in particular – needlessly optimistic days like this were his favourite, even though they usually were followed by needlessly pessimistic days as all those bad feelings caught up with him at once. Still, by now Alex had learnt to clutch that senseless joy while it was there and relish it before it was gone.

The joy was gone by noon.

“Alright, class,” Ms Osbourne said, clapping her hands to gain the class’s attention.

Alex hated his English classes. While he was good at English and rather enjoyed the subject itself, his class was rowdy and unruly and made it difficult to concentrate, while Ms Osbourne was a teacher so strict that if someone so much as thought about breaking a rule she would be able to sniff it out like a dog – but her bark was worse than her bite, and while she would shout an unnatural amount she rarely doled out punishments. The combination made for a lesson that was purely people shouting and no work being done.

The class quieted to a steady hum of chatter which was usually as silent as Ms Osbourne could get it. She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes, and continued. “Seeing as the end of the semester is coming up, I’m going to be setting you a project that will be worth forty percent of your grade. Essentially, it’s your final exam on our study of Macbeth.”

Alex perked up a little. He had been assigned projects for a lot of classes, but English projects were always the most enjoyable – they involved a lot of writing, which most people hated, but Alex found therapeutic; the only downside was that the source material was usually dreadfully dull. Still, Alex suddenly found himself looking forward to it.

And then she had to go and ruin it.

“I will tell you your assigned partners at the end of the lesson.”

Alex felt himself deflate and heaved a sigh. It had been too good to be true. Now he was going to be stuck on some boring project with a random student from his awful English class because he had no friends in this lesson and it was going to be horrible. It was all he could do to not let his head fall onto the table and scream in furious defeat.

It was on his mind all lesson. Who he was going to be with, what specific things the project would be on, how he could get out of it. His mind was buzzing with questions, building up energy that released itself by making his leg bounce up and down. Several times he found himself tapping out a rhythm on the table like it was his drumkit, his bouncing leg acting as if it was pounding the bass drum, and he had to force himself to stop and actually pay attention to the lesson.

The end came painfully slowly. The school bell rang and most of the students were up out of their seats immediately, ready to leave.

“Hang on,” Ms Osbourne yelled. “Everyone sit back down! I need to tell you your partners for the upcoming project.”

Alex listened attentively as she reeled off a list of names. Most people let out an annoyed groan when they found out they weren’t with a friend, and there was the occasional excited, “Yay!”

Alex knew he wouldn’t be one of the ones celebrating.

“Alex Mercer,” Ms Osbourne said eventually, pushing her glasses further up her tiny nose. “Your partner is Harry Reynolds.”

“Oh god,” Alex murmured. He felt his stomach squirm just as somebody kicked the back of his chair so hard that he jolted forward and nearly whacked his face on the table. The person laughed a moment later, obnoxiously loud, begging for retaliation – Alex didn’t dare turn around to look at them.

He knew already that it was Harry Reynolds sat behind him who had kicked his chair. His project partner, and possibly the worst person in the class that it could have been. For reasons unknown to Alex, Harry had always had it out for him. In middle school he had pushed Alex down a flight of stairs and he had landed unceremoniously in a trash can – Harry had started calling him Bin Boy and the nickname had stuck for a year afterwards; Harry was the only one who used it anymore though. Since then, Harry had just been a general jerk towards him, and upon hearing that they were going to be partners, Alex’s whole body told him to run.

Run where? Alex thought. This wasn’t a problem he could run from. Besides, Harry could probably run faster.

“Looks like it’s you and me, Bin Boy,” came Harry’s voice from behind. “I’m sure we’ll have loads of fun.”

Ms Osbourne finally finished listing pairs and then announced, “These partners are non-negotiable. I will not indulge any requests to switch for any reason. Life isn’t fair, sometimes we have to work with people we don’t like. Get used to it. Now go on, you’re already late for your next class.”

Alex wasn’t usually one to ignore instructions, but as the rest of the class filed out into the hallway he remained behind. He didn’t know what he was planning to say to Ms Osbourne, but he desperately needed to find a way out of the project, or at least switch partners.

“Go on, Alex,” Ms Osbourne said, “you’re going to be late.”

He swallowed thickly and said, “Miss, I was just wondering about the proj–”

“You’re not swapping partners,” she returned sternly. “I’ve already said this. I won’t make any allowances.”

“But, Miss, I can’t work with him,” Alex protested. She raised her eyebrows and started walking around the room, putting sheets on each table for her next class. Alex followed her as she went. “He hates me! It’s going to be awful.”

“Well, maybe the two of you can use this as a way to bond and get to know each other better, hm?”

“Miss, please,” Alex said, his desperation finally rearing its ugly head in his voice. He could feel his legs shaking and his hands wringing themselves together and his head tingling in a way he couldn’t describe, and finally he broke. “He has it out for me and I don’t even know why! He’s been awful to me ever since we were kids, he tries to pick fights with me, he calls me names. Last year he chased me around the field with a baseball bat for a whole PE lesson! If I have to work with him I’ll just end up panicking – or dead, that’s also a possibility – and the project will go terribly and I’ll fail the class. Please can I just work by myself?”

Ms Osbourne’s expression softened as she look at Alex over her glasses. For a moment, Alex’s hopes were raised just that tiny bit – maybe he had got through to her, maybe she would see sense.

But then her face turned to stone again.

“No,” she spat. “What you can do is figure out with Harry when the two of you are going to work on this project and how you’re going to go about it. And you can get to your next class.” She turned away with a cold air of finality. Alex could have sworn he actually felt chills.

Without a word, Alex heaved his bag onto his shoulder and made his way out of the classroom, crushed and dejected. He stared down at his feet as he walked and tried not to think about what the next few weeks could have in store for him.

Lunch couldn’t have come sooner. After what felt like an eternity, Alex finally made his way down to the cafeteria to meet up with his friends. If there was any one thing that was guaranteed to cheer Alex up when he was in a bad mood, it was the good company of his band and his boyfriend.

The rest of the group was already sat at their usual table when Alex arrived in the cafeteria; just seeing them laughing and joking together put the tiniest hint of a smile of his face. He headed over to them, but was stopped in his tracks by somebody stood in front of him – it was Harry Reynolds.

The boy had his arms crossed over his massive chest and was leering down at Alex with an expression of disgust. Alex tried to look past him at his friends, to get their attention, to ask for help, but they hadn’t seen him. Instead, he forced himself to look up into Harry’s brutish face and try not to squirm.

“Partners, huh?” Harry grunted. “I’m failing English so you’ll need to get us a good grade.”

“That’s the plan,” Alex said, willing his voice not to shake. It wasn’t that he was too frightened or intimidated by Harry, it was just the fact that he really didn’t feel like getting chucked in a bin today. One wrong move and he could consider that a real possibility.

“Be at my place on Saturday at one. Bring all your notes – I don’t have any.”

“I can’t do Saturday,” Alex told him, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I have band practise.”

Harry took a step closer. Alex couldn’t move back – his feet were rooted to the spot. “You think I care about your dopey little band practise? You’ll be there. That’s that.”

Alex swallowed, nodded hurriedly, and finally forced himself to take a step back so that he wasn’t chest to chest with Harry. “I’ll be there,” he echoed, still nodding.

Harry snarled, condescendingly patted Alex on the head, and walked off. Alex took a moment to collect himself, to breathe, to remind himself that he was okay and he wasn’t hurt, that Harry hadn’t done anything. He steadied himself and kept walking towards his friends, trying to mask the worry on his face.

Of course, he failed miserably.

The moment Alex sat down in his usual space between Willie and Luke, Willie took his hand, watching him with concern. “Hey,” Willie said gently, “what’s up?”

Julie, Luke, and Reggie immediately stopped their conversation, turning to face Alex and Willie. Alex hated the way they were looking at him, like he’d break if they dropped him, but it wasn’t like he could ask them to stop caring – instead, he looked at each of them, trying and failing to give them a reassuring smile before he spoke.

“Nothing,” Alex said, “nothing, it’s just… just this project for English.”

Luke sighed dramatically. “Has your class got that stupid Shakespeare assignment too? I get it, bro, it’s totally pointless–”

“No,” Alex interrupted quietly. “No, that’s not it. Well, kind of. Yeah, we’ve got the Shakespeare assignment but that’s not… not the problem.”

“What is it?” Willie prompted gently when Alex didn’t continue.

Alex shrugged. “It’s stupid.”

Julie leaned over the table and grasped Alex’s other hand. “Alex, your feelings are not stupid.”

She smiled warmly. Funny things happened when Julie smiled – when she did it to Luke, it wasn’t uncommon for him to literally trip over himself; when she did it to Reggie, it made him smile in return for hours on end; and when she did it to Alex, it gave him such overwhelming confidence that for a moment or two he could truly do anything.

“It’s just that we were assigned partners and I got stuck with Harry Reynolds,” he admitted, clutching Willie and Julie’s hands tighter. “It’s nothing and I shouldn’t be worried but–”

“It’s not nothing,” Willie said. Alex couldn’t quite read his expression – it looked to be something between sympathy and outrage. “That guy is the worst. Did you talk to your teacher about it?”

Alex nodded gravely. “She wouldn’t let me switch.”

“How much did you tell her?” Willie asked.

“What I thought would have been enough,” he replied, shrugging like it was nothing. “But it wasn’t.”

“She should be fired for that,” Reggie interjected. Everyone turned to look at him. “I’m just saying – if by ‘enough’ you mean that you told her what a jerk he’s been to you then she should follow that up and treat it like an issue instead of making you work with him.”

What would have been wise words were ruined slightly by the fact that Reggie spoke them around a mouthful of pizza.

“Reggie’s right,” Julie said, “she’s definitely in the wrong here.”

“I know that,” Alex told them, because he did, that much was obvious. “But it’s a little late for that now. I’m stuck with him.”

Willie clutched his hand tighter, threaded their fingers together. Alex leaned to the side, rested his head on Willie’s shoulder. Julie let go of his hand and Willie immediately picked it up – he smiled a little at both of them.

“I know saying it’s all going to be okay won’t help,” Willie whispered to him, “but you’ve got to try and believe that it will. And if it isn’t, I am just one call away. If you need anything – I mean anything – you call me and I will be there. Okay?”

Alex’s tense muscles relaxed the tiniest bit. “Okay,” he muttered back. “That’s okay.”

Willie kissed the top of his head and a fraction of Alex’s anxiety lifted. Willie would be there when he needed him no matter what. That was something he could always count on.

*

Luke hadn’t been happy when Alex had called him early on Saturday morning to tell him he wouldn’t be coming to band practise that day. He had given Alex a half-hour-long earful about how they had a gig coming up in a few days’ time and they needed to be rehearsing like crazy. It hadn’t been pleasant for Alex in the slightest, but at least it had been a welcome distraction from the other thing on his mind, the reason he had had to cancel band practise in the first place.

It was the day he was supposed to go to Harry’s house to work on their project. Alex had hardly slept the night before – he had lay awake in bed for hours, tossing and turning, trying to empty his mind and relax, but sleep just wouldn’t come. At half past two he had crept downstairs and made a batch of brownies using a recipe of his grandmother’s. At the time he’d thought that maybe he could use them to placate Harry once he got to his house, but he’d accidentally ended up stress-eating the entire batch instead.

He felt sick, but couldn’t tell if it was the brownies or the anxiety. Probably an unhealthy mix of both, he decided.

But he had passed the first hurdle and he told himself to be proud of that – he had arrived outside Harry’s house. It was a small bungalow on a road that led nowhere and Alex was struck by how normal it looked. It didn’t look like the sort of place somebody like Harry Reynolds should have lived; Harry was larger than life, tall and brooding, moody and mean – this house looked as if its occupants sold flowers and rescued kittens in their spare time.

Despite the outward appearances of the house, Alex was almost certain that he was in the right place. The front window seemed to show Harry’s bedroom because through it Alex could see innumerable trophies, all for different sporting events; a large stack of magazines (Alex was sure he could already guess what each contained); and a small enclosure that looked to Alex unbearably similar to a tank that might house a snake or a spider or any other creature that Alex would have preferred stayed thousands of miles away from him where it belonged.

He could not make himself walk into the house.

He had been trying for almost fifteen minutes and had walked past the house almost thirty times. He had counted his steps and was somewhere near eight thousand. His mind was racing, shooting through a hundred anxieties before Alex had the chance to dwell on any of them – maybe that was for the best. But it didn’t help the fact that he could not force his legs to walk in the direction of the door.

The worries stopping him weren’t even big ones like ‘What if he tries to hurt me?’ which Alex stressed over every time he interacted with Harry. It was the little things and the impossible things pricking the back of his mind like needles: What if he doesn’t answer the door? What if nobody’s home? What if I’m at the wrong house? What if he’s changed his mind? What if I got the wrong day? What if I got the wrong time? What if he’s not actually my project partner? What if… What if… What if…

What if I call Willie?

Alex blessed his brain for having its first sensible thought that day. He fished his phone out his pocket and called Willie, who picked up after one ring.

“Hey,” Willie said, “what’s up, hotdog?”

“I, um… I’m at Harry’s house. I can’t go inside.”

“Why not?” Willie asked. “Is the door locked? Are they out?”

Alex shook his head although Willie couldn’t see him. “No. I don’t think so. It’s just… I… I can’t do it.”

“What do you mean you can’t do it?” Willie asked patiently.

“I can’t go inside,” Alex repeated. With his free hand, he tugged at the strap of his fanny pack, fiddling with the buckle where it lay over his chest. “I can’t go up to the door. I’ve been trying for, like, twenty minutes and every time I try my head starts buzzing and my legs go numb and I’m starting to feel really sick now because I ate an entire batch of brownies meant for at least ten people and I can’t do this–”

“Okay,” Willie interrupted. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Breathe, Alex. Remember the breathing exercises we went over? Breathe in for four and out for six. Come on, hotdog, you’ve got this.”

Alex did as he said, taking great shuddering breaths of bitter air and releasing them slowly. Willie kept talking him through it, slowly, softly, kindly, and after about ten minutes Alex felt refreshed. Not necessarily worry-free, but his mind had cleared a little bit.

“Okay,” Willie said. “That was great, well done. Can you give me this guy’s address?”

Alex gave it to him.

“Luckily for you, that’s just down the road from where I am right now,” Willie said, chipper. Alex could hear the smile in his voice and it almost made him smile himself. Almost. “I’ll be there in a minute. I’ll go inside with you, if that’s what you want?”

Alex breathed a haggard, relieved sigh. “Yes. Please. If you don’t mind. Thank you, Willie.”

Willie gave a small chuckle. “Any time, hotdog. You know I’d do anything for you. I’ll see you in a minute.”

And he hung up.

Alex waited, still doing his breathing exercises, but didn’t need to wait long. Hardly five minutes later, Willie rolled up (literally – he was on his skateboard) and gave him a bright smile. Alex didn’t hesitate before lurching forward and pulling him into a hug.

“Thank you, Willie,” he whispered. “I really appreciate it.”

Willie’s response was simply to hug him tighter.

Together, hands clasped tightly between them, Willie with his board tucked under his arm, they made their way up to the bungalow’s front door. Alex swallowed, steeled himself, and then firmly knocked on the door. When nobody answered it in the first five seconds, Alex told Willie, “This is a bad idea,” and tried to turn away to leave.

However, Willie just pulled him back and a moment later the door opened. On the threshold of the house was Harry, staring down at Alex and Willie. Something about him wasn’t quite as nightmarish as it was at school, yet at the same time Alex was much more afraid. He held Willie’s hand tighter.

Harry nodded in Willie’s direction. “Who’s this, Bin Boy? You brought your boyfriend?”

“Actually, yeah,” Willie said, speaking for Alex. He was glad – his throat felt thick and he didn’t think he could have summoned up any words if he tried. “I’m Willie. I’ve heard about you.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? What?”

“Just a few things,” Willie said nonchalantly. “Nothing important. Anyway, I was in the neighbourhood and Alex and I are set to hang out when he’s done here anyway so I thought I’d come along. Is that alright with you?”

“It’s fine,” Harry returned with a shrug. Then his eyes landed on something and his entire expression changed. Alex didn’t think he’d ever seen Harry look like this before. Could it have been what he thought it was: excitement? “Bro! You skate?”

Willie lifted his board half-heartedly. “This isn’t just for decoration.”

Harry grinned, clapping Willie on the shoulder so hard that his hand dropped from Alex’s. “Dude, that’s sick, I do too. Come on, get inside, man.”

Harry headed back into the house and Willie followed him. Alex took a moment to wonder what the hell that had been, then took a deep breath and hurried after them. When he caught up with Willie he grabbed his hand again. Willie just smiled bemusedly up at him.

Harry led them to his bedroom and beckoned them towards his desk.

“Come look at this,” Harry said. “I had a photo taken with Tony Hawk last year!”

Alex perched himself right on the edge of the bed awkwardly as Willie went over to inspect the framed photo.

“Are you sure that’s Tony Hawk?” Willie asked. “Doesn’t look like him.”

Harry shook his head. “You’ve got to imagine he’s holding a skateboard, then you’ll see it.”

Alex watched Willie squint at the photo for a moment or two longer, then he gasped and, to Alex’s horror, began to smile. “Oh, wait… yeah, kinda. That’s awesome, dude!”

“Yeah! Anyway, how long have you been skating for?”

As Willie answered, Alex zoned out of the conversation. Ordinarily, he loved listening to Willie talk about skating – he lit up whenever he explained a new trick he’d learnt, and seeing him flush with pride after he demonstrated it perfectly to Alex always made him feel giddy – but it just wasn’t the same listening to him chat with Harry Reynolds of all people. Alex didn’t even know who that Tony Hawk guy was and it didn’t seem like anyone was about to bother explaining it to him. He would never have admitted it, but listening to Willie talk to Harry was almost annoying.

He busied himself by looking around the room, getting a glimpse at what the real Harry Reynolds was like. At school, Harry was the classic, early-2000s movie jock, on every sports team the school had to offer, constantly bragging about his luck with girls, and picking on people smaller than him (which, because Harry was built like a tree trunk, was pretty much everyone). His room reflected it too; there were even more trophies than Alex had seen through the window, most for football or, unexpectedly, karate, and the walls were plastered in posters displaying buff men and weirdly specific motivational quotes. Only now did Alex notice the skateboards stuck on the wall and the stack of helmets by his bed, as well as several skating posters directly above them.

He turned back to Willie and Harry just in time to hear Willie laugh. Properly laugh, loud and genuine. Willie only laughed like that with his friends and it hearing it in Harry’s room stirred an uneasy feeling in the pit of Alex’s stomach.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, trying to smile.

Willie waved him off. “Don’t worry, hotdog, just a skating joke.”

Harry snickered, shaking his head. “Pretty freaking funny though.”

“Oh,” Alex said. He tried for a laugh but it was the least genuine noise he had ever made – judging by the look Harry sent him, it had been obvious how fake it was to him too. Alex cleared his throat awkwardly. “Shouldn’t we get on with our work? We’re already running behind schedule.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Shut it, Bin Boy, we’re having a conversation here. You start if you want, I’ll join you whenever.”

Alex sent a look to Willie, eyes wide and pleading. Willie frowned, looking conflicted, but then shrugged.

Willie and Alex didn’t fight often, but Alex wouldn’t have minded giving Willie a piece of his mind right then and there.

He didn’t though. He sighed, shuffled back on the bed so that he could have more room and lean on the mattress, and he started working on the project. It wasn’t too difficult, just an analysis on the themes of Macbeth, something they had gone over in class a hundred times; still, Alex would have appreciated some help, seeing as this was a paired project and he didn’t exactly want to do the whole thing alone.

But it was fine. He kept telling himself that it was completely and utterly fine. But every so often Willie or Harry would laugh or suddenly shout, and the abrupt noise would startle Alex. The third time that happened he accidentally jogged his highlighter so it zigzagged all over his painstakingly neat paragraph on King James I. He gripped his pen so hard that the plastic almost cracked, and set about writing the whole thing again on a new piece of paper.

Alex didn’t know how long he had been working for, but he did know that it had been a hell of a long time and Harry still hadn’t made any effort to help him. He had copied up all his notes on the supernatural, women, ambition, and the Great Chain of Being, all the while Harry had sat there with Willie, not doing anything.

The strange thing was, Alex found himself more angry at Willie than he was at Harry.

Eventually, he checked the time, his hand aching. It was almost five o’clock, which meant he had been working alone for about four hours solidly. He had done pretty much half of the project in that time and was nearing his breaking point – he thought that if he left now he could catch the tail end of band practise and take his frustration out on his drumkit.

Gathering his notes and all his work, Alex said, “I’m going to head out.”

Willie checked the clock on Harry’s desk and then set about clipping his helmet on. “Yeah, we should get going. This was fun, though, man. It was nice to talk to a fellow skater for once.”

“I hear you, dude,” Harry returned. They fist-bumped and Alex physically cringed. “Catch you later.”

Alex didn’t say goodbye, just saw himself out. He didn’t wait for Willie. He simply walked, trying to get out of the house and as far away as possible in as little time as he could. Alex could hear Willie shouting for him to wait up but he didn’t stop.

He felt Willie grab his hand and pull him to a halt, but pulled his hand from Willie’s grasp.

“What’s up with you?” Willie asked, seeming truly bewildered. “I thought that was alright back there, it was relaxed, not stressful. Are you still feeling anxious?”

Alex didn’t answer his question and instead he said with much more venom than he had intended, “What the hell was that?”

Willie looked taken aback. Alex almost felt bad. Almost.

“What was what?”

“In there!” Alex yelled, pointing in the direction of Harry’s house. “You talking to him like you’re best friends! That guy is a jerk, you know that, Willie, so why were you laughing and joking with him as if he’s the nicest guy in the world?”

Willie didn’t look impressed. “Sorry, I was under the impression you wanted me there. I was talking to him to distract from you. That’s what you wanted, right? You were nervous about going so you wanted my help to take the pressure off you. I was helping you, Alex, because that was what you asked me to do!”

“Not like that,” Alex protested. “You weren’t supposed to bond with him, leave me out completely so that I had to do all the work by myself and listen to you two talk about skateboards and… Toby Eagle, or whoever that guy was!”

“It was Tony Hawk. And it’s not my fault that Harry likes skateboarding,” Willie shot back. “It’s also not my fault that I enjoyed talking to someone who shares that interest for once. You listen and you pretend to know what I’m talking about, but it isn’t the same.”

“It didn’t have to be him!”

“Actually, given the circumstances, it did. And like I said – it got the attention off you, so I don’t see why you’re complaining.”

Alex felt his temper rising with each sentence. He never got this upset at Willie, this was a complete first. Sure, they had argued like any couple would, but he had never felt any real anger towards his boyfriend. It frightened him, and that fright stopped him from seeing any sense, taking a step back, calming himself down.

“I didn’t want you to do it like that,” he said, as if it was obvious. It was obvious to Alex – why wasn’t it obvious to Willie?

“I can’t read your mind, Alex,” Willie shouted, pointing at himself. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head!”

“You should know!”

“I don’t! It could be anything! I don’t think you realise that when it comes to you and your anxiety, I’m pretty much flying as blind as you are. Sure, I’ve done my research and I can handle it, but I never know what’s going to trigger you and set you off like earlier today. I may seem prepared, but I don’t know what you’re thinking and I don’t know what you’re going to worry about most. It is not my fault that sometimes I might not handle it in the best way. I’m trying my hardest, Alex.”

“You aren’t the one who has to go through the panic attacks and the constant worry, are you?” Alex seethed.

Willie shrugged. “No, I’m not. But I still worry about you all the time because I don’t know what’s going to set you off.”

“It’s not my fault I have anxiety,” Alex yelled.

“I never said it was! But it’s not my fault either – I dropped everything just to come and help you today and all you’re doing is throwing it right back in my face and arguing with me for helping you out! It’s not my fault that you can’t do these easy things and that you need me to hold your hand all the time!”

Alex froze. Willie did too. The words were out there, they’d been spoken without hesitation. They hung between the two of them like a toxic cloud, as both of them slowly realised the weight those words had held.

Willie broke the silence, reaching out his hand to Alex, trying to bridge that gap between them that had widened impossibly in the last ten seconds. “Alex, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean t–”

Alex stepped back, out of reach from Willie. Willie flinched and he withdrew his hand, instead crossing his arms and rubbing circles by his elbow with his thumb. It was a nervous tick Alex only ever saw when Willie was really stressed out. Normally he would have tried to soothe him, calm him down, but all he could hear were Willie’s words echoing back and forth through his mind.

It’s not my fault that you can’t do these easy things and that you need me to hold your hand all the time!

Alex schooled his features to careful neutrality, not betraying any emotion. It wasn’t hard, seeing as he wasn’t feeling much at that moment anyway, just a cold detachment.

“I heard you,” Alex said quietly. He couldn’t look Willie in the eye. “I heard exactly what you said. I know what you meant.”

“Then you’ve got to know that I wasn’t trying to–”

“I know what you meant,” he repeated. “I’m going back to band practise. I don’t think you should come and watch today.”

He shook his head and, turning on his heel, walked away. He didn’t hear Willie’s footsteps following him this time.

*

Band practise had helped calm Alex down with a mixture of wrestling his drumkit and talking things out with Julie, Luke, and Reggie. They had all seemed utterly shocked that Willie would say anything like that, but Alex wasn’t so surprised. After all, things like this were what he worried about – being left alone, being disliked by the people he cared for most, being a nuisance, being abandoned. Deep down in the pit of his worst anxieties, he had been worried that something like this could have happened.

He just had never thought it would have come from Willie.

While band helped him calm down, it didn’t help cheer him up. He regretted even bringing the argument up in the first place – if he had ignored his feelings (which Julie had bluntly explained to him were jealousy) then he could have avoided the whole argument. Instead of lying in his cold bed, unable to sleep that night, he could have been curled up with Willie on the couch in the studio, warm and cosy because Willie was like a human radiator.

He knew that neither of them had been fair on each other. He could see Willie’s side of the argument once he had calmed down. But he knew that what he had said was equally valid and he couldn’t get past the scorn in Willie’s voice when he’d said those damning words.

He didn’t hear from Willie all throughout Sunday and didn’t make any moves to contact him himself either. If he did, he had no clue where he would have even begun. Perhaps an apology – but where was he supposed to take the conversation from there?

So Sunday was silent.

Alex was slightly dreading school on Monday, but he wasn’t about to ruin his high grades by not showing up, especially this close to the end of the semester. Grudgingly, he headed to school and went straight to his first lesson, which just so happened to be the lesson from Hell: English.

He arrived there before the rest of the class, including Ms Osbourne, which meant he had time to dwell on his thoughts alone. He probably wasn’t going to fail this class – despite Saturday having been a nightmare, he had managed to get a lot of good work done on the project and it would be of a very high quality when he finally got it finished. But he still had more work to do and he knew that he really ought to do it with Harry. Absently, he pondered whether or not to bring Willie next time he needed to go to Harry’s house.

Talk of the devil, Alex thought as the classroom door swung open and none other than Harry himself sauntered in. He looked at Alex sat there alone, the only other person in the room, and grunted, coming to sit beside him.

Alex didn’t have the energy to be scared of Harry Reynolds today.

“I’ve been looking for you, Mercer,” Harry said conversationally.

“Oh, joy,” Alex deadpanned. Harry looked surprised, probably because Alex wasn’t cowering in fear, but he shrugged it off.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he continued. “I just wanted to say that your boyfriend, that Willie guy, he’s really cool. I mean, the way he was talking about skating the other day – I don’t know if you realise it, man, but he has a real shot at going pro.”

“I know,” Alex spat. “He’s my boyfriend, of course I know. Maybe I don’t skate but I still listen to him. And I know him better than you do.”

Harry held up a hand. “Woah, calm down, Bin B– uh. Alex. I’m just trying to say the guy is really cool and you’re really lucky to have him. And also… talking to him the other day, he said– well, you weren’t listening, were you?”

Alex shook his head.

“We did stop talking about skating at some point, you know,” Harry told him. “Willie was telling me how awesome you are and, you know, explaining why he likes you so much. And I guess it made me realise that I’ve kind of been a jerk to you for a long time – I mean, he literally told me so. He told me to stop being such a douchebag to you.”

Alex grunted. “He’s right. You should stop. It sucks.”

Harry nodded. “I wanted to apologise for it, I guess. I’m sorry for being so nasty to you. I think it’s just because I was young and dumb and I didn’t realise it was hurting you at first, then it just stuck. I kind of always thought it was friendly too – I didn’t think you minded. I thought it was banter.”

“It wasn’t,” Alex said, meeting his eyes. “It never was. I’m terrified of you, you’ve made my life a misery. Thanks for the apology, but it’s no excuse.”

“I know that,” he admitted. “But I just wanted to explain why. I’m going to try my best to be a better guy from now on. It won’t make up for everything I’ve done in the past, but can you give me a chance to get this right?”

Alex considered. Somehow, Harry seemed completely serious. His expression was slightly pleading and he looked a little awkward and uncomfortable to be asking this of Alex, but it seemed real.

So he nodded.

“Fine. Thank you.”

Harry clapped him on the back. “No worries, dude. And, uh… this might not be my place to ask, but are you okay? You look down.”

Alex shrugged. “I had an argument with Willie after we left your place the other day. I’ve not spoken to him since.”

“Was it my fault?” Harry asked.

“Kinda,” Alex told him, shrugging again. “I just… I didn’t like how friendly you two seemed. After everything you’ve done to me in the past, watching him get along with you like it was nothing made me a little mad.”

“Sorry, bro,” Harry said, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m not into him or anything, so you’ve got nothing to worry about there – plus, he’s crazy about you, so even if someone else did like him they’d be out of luck. I just wanted to talk with someone about skating for once, none of my friends are into it.”

“Willie said the same thing,” Alex admitted.

Harry nodded awkwardly. “I don’t have any say in your relationship, but honestly I’m kind of invested in it now and I think you guys should talk it out. I’d hate to think I played some part if you ended up breaking up over this.”

“I don’t want to break up with him,” Alex objected, horrified. The thought of breaking up with Willie, losing him forever, made him feel sick to the stomach.

The rest of the class began filing into the classroom. Harry stood up, shrugged, and then clapped Alex on the shoulder.

“Go talk to him, then.”

*

Alex, for the first time in his life, took the advice Harry had given him and decided to take that first, absolutely terrifying step towards fixing the break between himself and Willie. If he knew his boyfriend (and he did) then Willie would have gone to the skatepark straight after school, so that was where Alex headed too.

Sure enough, Alex found Willie at the skatepark, sat at the top of the highest ramp. Every now and then, someone on a board would do a trick nail-bitingly close to Willie’s face, but he didn’t flinch even once. He was staring off into the peachy sunset, seemingly lost in his thoughts. Alex climbed up there and sat himself down next to him.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked uneasily.

Willie startled and turned to Alex, caught unawares. “Alex! I thought you–”

Willie didn’t get to finish his sentence because Alex pulled him into a tight, bone-crushing, fierce hug, pouring every last ounce of love and regret into it. He felt Willie hug back with equal force and buried his face into Willie’s long hair. This, he knew, was how it was supposed to be – Alex and Willie, boyfriends who care far too much about each other, not Alex and Willie, boyfriends on the edge of a break-up.

Eventually, Alex withdrew himself and let Willie go mostly, still keeping a tight clutch on his upper arms.

“I am so sorry,” he said, breathless. “I’m sorry for everything I said and for starting the argument and for everything that happened that day.”

Willie shook his head. “Don’t. I’m sorry, I should have realised how talking to Harry like that would have made you feel. It was dumb of me, and I shouldn’t have said such hurtful things to you, and–”

“I get it,” Alex said breezily, “I’m a lot to deal with.”

Desperately, Willie said, “But that’s not what I meant! I can’t explain what I was trying to say, but I wouldn’t change anything about you or our relationship for the world. You mean the everything to me, Alex, and I never want to do something to jeopardise what we have ever again. I’d do anything to take back what I said to you that day.”

Alex pulled him back into the hug, needing to be close to him. “It wasn’t just you. It was both of us. And Harry. But we’ve all apologised now, even him, so we can put this whole thing behind us.”

Willie pulled back, surprised. “He apologised?”

“Yeah,” Alex said, nodding. “Because of you. He said you were going on about how amazing I am and he realised he’d been a jerk.”

Willie blushed the tiniest bit, and playfully punched Alex’s arm. “Well, you are amazing. You’re more than amazing. You’re a miracle and I’m lucky to have you.”

Smiling, Alex cupped Willie’s cheek and gently pulled him in for a kiss. It was soft, slow, and Alex felt like they were glowing, bright and warm and happy. They kissed until every unspoken word had been said, until the last of the orange sunset had ebbed away into night-time blue, until streetlights cast an amber glow across the skatepark, in which they were the only ones left. Alex felt like he was finally at peace, with himself and with Willie.

He pulled back and rested his forehead against Willie’s. “I’m lucky to have you too. I can’t even begin to understand what good luck brought you to me.”

Willie moved back slightly, shuffled further away until he was only holding Alex’s hands, until that was the only point where they touched. Alex missed his warmth.

“Sorry,” Willie giggled, smile bright. “I wanted to be able to look you in the eyes for this.”

“For what?” Alex asked.

Willie’s smile softened. “I love you, Alex. And I’m pretty sure I always will.”

Alex’s heart stopped. It was the first time he’d ever heard those words out loud. Sure, he had felt them in every little action from Willie in all the time they’d been together – he had felt his love in the way he cared for him when he was sick, in the way he bundled himself up in Alex’s hoodies, in the way he played with Alex’s hair, in the way he brought him back from the edge when he was anxious, in the way he devoted every part of himself to Alex.

He had loved Willie in return too, in the little ways – how he listened to Willie talk about skating and watched him practise, how he brushed and braided Willie’s hair to relax them both, how he danced with Willie whenever he wanted because he simply couldn’t say no, how he wrote songs that only Willie would ever hear, how he listened to Willie talk nonsense in his sleep on those nights they slept at the studio together.

But he too had never said the words out loud.

He pulled Willie in for another kiss, brief but burning, and then held his hands again. Willie was right – this was something Alex wanted to look in his eyes for.

“I love you, too, Willie. I’ll never stop.”

[mochegato]

Will you Fake Date Me?

A bit of fun for the Jasonette July Fake Dating prompt.  I think this was the first fic I actually completed.

 “Explain this to me again,” Marinette said with slight exasperation as she stirred her coffee. She watched her friend, one of her best friends, run a hand through his hair looking slightly desperate and anxious. The fact that messing up his hair like that just made him even more attractive was utterly not fair.  Wait, she was supposed to be annoyed not turned on. Stop Marinette, focus!

Jason sighed staring down at the coffee in front of him, “I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend for the upcoming Wayne gala.  Bruce is forcing me go and I need some protection.”

“You need my protection?” she asked eyeing him suspiciously.  He nodded, still looking intently at his coffee. “From?”

“Bruce, Alfred, attention seeking harpies looking for a meal ticket,” he listed off gruffly, “Dick.”

“Dick?” She raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Dick,” he nodded.  “He is positive I need to find a significant other. But, see, here’s the genius of the plan, if I have one already, he’ll stop trying to set me up with every single, roughly our age, mildly-attractive-in-Dick’s-eyes person he sees.”

“Just to be clear, you think pretending you have a girlfriend that Dick didn’t know about will get Dick to pester you less,” she deadpanned.  “I’m still looking for the genius part of this plan.”

Jason opened his mouth then closed it quickly.  She wasn’t wrong, but that wasn’t the point.  Stupid logic. “Come on, don’t make me go to this thing alone.  It’s going to be miserable and boring and annoying and it would be at least tolerable if you were there with me.”

“Wow you are selling it so well.  When you put it that way, how could I resist such an amazing offer?” she scoffed and rolled her eyes taking a sip of her coffee.  “Also, ‘tolerable’?  When did you turn into Damian?”

This wasn’t working.  He needed a different tactic, one he knew worked on her every time, “Please?” he begged asked in a very manly way, giving her the biggest puppy dog eyes he could manage.  

Marinette looked at the puppy dog eyes warily.  She could already feel herself giving in.  Damn beautiful, gorgeous, big blue eyes she could get lost in.  He knew she couldn’t resist his eyes.  She needed to think of something quick or she was going to lose her dignity and pretend to date someone she really did want to date and she was not some fucking fanfic trope, even if it was one of her favorites. One of Jason’s favorites, too, if she remembered correctly.  Even if it would be fun to “have to” spend even more time together, close together, touching and making out endlessly in order to sell the story.  

Wait, she had a point… Right! She was not going to let her real life succumb to her and Jason’s favorite trope…

Jason’s favorite... trope

What. The. Fuck.  That scruffy-looking, fic-loving, nerd-rat!  He was playing her… but only if he liked her.  So… he liked her?  What!?  When did that start!?  Why weren’t they already dating!?  He was sitting there playing games instead of kissing her!  Bastard.  He needed to stop playing games and act.  They could be kissing right now!!

Okay, so maybe he hadn’t asked directly because he was afraid of how she would react.  He wanted to keep their friendship and his dignity intact no matter what.  Aww, that was so adorable.  Still a nerd-rat, but an adorable one.  It was going to take tact and finesse to help keep the fine balance Jason was walking.

“Jason, if you want to ask me out, ask me, you coward.”  Finesse.  To be fair to her efforts... screw the balance.

Jason stared at her mouth agape.  Shit. This was not how this conversation was supposed to go.  She was supposed to agree to go with him to the gala.  He was supposed to show up wearing a dashing tux that would make her blush deep red and render her speechless.  She was supposed to wear a beautiful dress that took his breath away and made his jaw drop, so any dress really, or anything… or nothing.  No wait.  That wasn’t a fantasy he had time to indulge in right now.  If he started down that road…. What was he thinking about before? Oh right.  “What?” He gurgled out.  Eloquent. He knew words.

“We’ve both read enough fake dating fics to know how you think this ends.” She looked at him with narrowed eyes.

Jason considered his options for response and still keep his self-respect.  He was Red Hood.  He took down mob bosses, hell he was one for a long time.  He could handle this little soft-hearted pixie.  Surely.  

His knee-jerk response to any situation was his patented emotional detachment.  He didn’t care, not about this not about her.  But that wouldn’t work with Marinette, especially if he wanted to get a date out of this.  She knew he cared.  Maybe she didn’t know how much he loved CARED! cared about her, but she knew the detachment was a mask.  She’d certainly called him out on it enough.

He could play dumb.  He was good at that.  Damian always leapt at the chance to believe he was an idiot. Mari knew him better though and always trusted his insights into any situation because she trusted that he knew what he was talking about.  She knew he was smarter than he liked people to think.  She treated him like he was brilliant.  Even if it wasn’t the same way Tim or Barbara were, he still had as much to contribute, as much value.  She completely trusted him, even when she shouldn’t, giving him those eyes that melted him into a puddle.  So that was out.

He could try to play her, a corollary of the Play Dumb approach, playing off of her weaknesses; her refusal to back down from a challenge, her anxiety, her willingness to believe the best in everyone, her need to help everyone around her, her soft heart, her creativity, her kindness, her intelligence, her wit, her bravery, her beauty, her… wait… what was… WEAKNESSES!  Right.  He’d already used his puppy dog eyes though.  He could pull them out again and it might work, but...  Fuck it.  The direct approach then.  Just be straight forward with her, sincere.

“What are you talking about?” Sincerity is vastly overrated.

She stared at him, mouth set in a thin line.  He was still playing games.  Fine. He wanted to play games?  She could play, too.  And just like every game she played with him, she would destroy him.

“I don't know... I’m thinking about becoming a roommate with Roy and…” she gasped placing her hands on her cheeks, eyes and mouth wide open in shock. “…there might only be one bed,”

“The fuck you are,” Jason growled out under his breath before he could stop himself.  He noticed the victorious grin and light blush that appeared on Marinette’s face at his outburst before she schooled her face again.  He narrowed her eyes back at her.  She was playing with him.  She wasn’t walking away and she wasn’t saying ‘no’.  That meant… she was interested too, right?  She was interested and flirting with him.  A small smirk spread across his face before he schooled his expression as well.  Flirting he could do. “You better be careful or you might make me into an enemy, then when I get hurt I’ll have to come to you for comfort.”

Marinette drew in a breath “enemies to lovers, 10,000 word slow burn” she whispered in mock scandal nodding her head.

He chuckled at her and looked back into her eyes, “you didn’t say no, you know”.

“No” she said leaning back.

He stared at her for a second, his heart stumbling.  Had he read this wrong?

“I will not fake date you.  If you want a date, you can ask for one.”  

She started to get up but Jason grabbed her hand gently “Will you go on a date with me, secret princess Marinette?”  He said looking at her with soft eyes, smiling at her as a shy smile spread across her face.

“Yes, of course I will. I could never deny my soulmate.” She smiled wider.  “But…” She paused hesitantly.  

“But?” He asked nerves suddenly surfacing.

“But, where will we go? We’re already in a coffee shop…” she threw him a devastatingly wicked smile.

He groaned.  This was his life now.  He was never going to live this down.  

 Bonus:

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” He held her hand as they walked out of the coffee shop, reveling in finally being able to touch her for more than a few seconds at a time.  He could feel her warm skin whenever he wanted.

“One thing though,” she started as they left the coffee shop.

He groaned again and threw his head back in mock exasperation, “Oh God, what?  You worried about your found family?”

“Oooo, that’s a good one, but no.  I was thinking,” she said suddenly a bit bashful, “that we don’t want anyone to suspect that we are just pretending to be dating, right?”

He eyed her suspiciously, “Right… because we’re not.”

“Right, but we don’t want Dick to keep pushing, so we want to make sure we look completely comfortable with each other, right?”

A happy grin spread across his face as he caught onto where she was going with this, “right, so we should maybe practice.  Things like being close to each other, holding hands, hugging, touching, kissing…”

“Exactly,” she nodded, looking up at him through her eyelashes.  “Just to make sure we completely convince Dick we are completely in love… so there’s no question.”

His hands cupped her cheeks as he stared into her eyes, “and I am” he whispered, lowering his head down to gently touch his lips to hers.

 Slightly dirtier bonus:

“Oh God,” he said with sudden realization breaking the kiss.

“What?” Marinette asked concern edging into her expression.

“Am I the Alpha or the Omega in this relationship?”

She let out a loud laugh, wound her arms around his neck, and pulled him down for another more searing kiss. “Who said you had to choose?  We can always switch.”

  Thanks to @gajer-1226 for helping me figure out who share the one bed with.

And thanks to siderealSandman for teaching me what “switch” means.

Tag:

@fsketchart  @jasonette-july-2k20