#don't even get me started on what happens if i say i'm irish

[bondsmagii]

lmao god this is the mood right here. like I know it's not every American but jesus. I have never had anyone from any other country comment on my writing or message me "correcting" my spelling. it baffles me how it's a uniquely American phenomena online to just... forget that you might be talking to somebody from another country. when I was a fairly prolific creepypasta author this was actually so constant and derailed so majorly from some projects I was working on that I had to change all my spelling to American English, just so people would read my fucking work without insulting me with "jokes" about my word choices or spelling errors. (god help you if you refer to a flashlight as a torch. people just lost their minds.) there's still writing of mine in circulation that's written in American English, and it pisses me off so much. I absolutely refuse now, and if anyone tries to be smart about how I write I start hitting them with Northern Irish slang just to make them even more confused.

while I'm going Off on this subject I have to mention the funniest American Gotcha moment that I experienced. I was sharing a story online and part of the context was that I was at McDonald's at 3am. this small fact created uproar in the thread, throwing my entire account into accusations of lying, because "OP said they were in the UK and their McDonald's restaurants are never open that late... 24 hour McDick's in an American thing." in the end I had to take a fucking timestamped picture of the nearby plug sockets to get everyone to shut the fuck up.

[maidservant-hecubus]

My father is an Ashkenazi Jew. His parents were first generation Americans. Their parents escaped the pogroms in Russia and Ukraine and came to find their American dream. They fought in wars and opened businesses and assimilated and my generation barely has a few words of Yiddish between us. My mother is as much of a WASP as it gets. American Revolutionaries and Signers and some household name civil war feature players. Not old money, but old America and undoubtedly white. I'm patrilineal. Not a Jew to a lot of Jews. Not a Jew to a lot of my Jewish family. Even though i was raised Jewish. Even though I look like my father. Even though i got enough of something in my DNA to get asked "What are you?" more often than not. More often than I'm just accepted at face value as "white". When i was little we lived in an Irish Catholic neighborhood. Like the 5-10 kids in every family sort of Irish catholic neighborhood. The kids calling me a christ killer and refusing to play with me because they heard it from their parents sort of irish catholic neighborhood. For some reason my parents tried to send me to the catholic school down the street. I lasted less than a week because i didn't understand their rituals and their language and they found out my father was a Jew and they couldn't have a christ killer in their midst. I was just sad i didn't get to wear the cute plaid skirt anymore. So i went to the public school and my well meaning shiksa mother who never converted but learned the Chanukah prayers and helped cook Seder dinners came to the school to teach the class about Chanukah. She taught them songs and all the kids got dreidels and had so much fun spinning the top for chocolate coins. It was nice to feel normal. A few weeks later a boy in a higher grade attacked me on the way to the bus and smashed my art project (we had made pig noses from solo cups to celebrate reading charlotte's web) into my face and called me a filthy jew. I didn't understand, i was more upset to lose the project i was so proud of. Other things happened. Things I wont talk about because putting them in context would doxx me. But a million reminders that i wasn't one of them. I wasn't welcome because i was Jewish. My parents divorced. My mother left. Far away so I'd only see her a handful of times growing up. And I went to live with my Dad in a city that seemed like it was overflowing with Jews. Everyone knew my holidays! In public school the teachers looked like my family and had familiar sounding names. We had the high holy days off just like christmas or easter. We sang Chanukah songs in the winter recital and nobody's mom had to come teach them to the class. Finally I belonged! My friends and cousins started planning for their b mitzvah celebrations and i asked for my own. I asked to go to hebrew school so i could be more like the people i belonged with and celebrate the things i loved about myself and them. "But you're not jewish." My father would say. This was news to me. The christ killer. The filthy jew. But a 10 year old has little power over their lives. So i didn't go. I didn't have a bat mitzva while my cousins had theirs. It was okay because i still belonged more than i ever had. But i was still jewish enough to keep the holidays and pray and fast and get sent with a box of matzo to my WASP grandmothers for easter, and have matzo packed in my lunch to eat in AP algebra in 7th grade and get asked if I'm a "Yid" by the teacher. And still to this day not know if it was endearment or insult but by then I knew even in this magical city being a Jew wasn't always safe. in highschool I tried to take hebrew lessons with a friend in a similar situation as me. She was also hungry to reconnect. I don't remember why the classes or the friendship fell through, but they did. My next "friend", a goy raised catholic from another neighborhood, liked to accuse me of being money driven when i picked up a penny on the sidewalk or tried to ask who was going to pay for the zine's she wanted to publish.

 "What are you?" I'd get asked a lot on the street by curious strangers, "Where are you from?" "Are you Italian?" Always Italian. I never really understood that, but its become code in my head for "You look like you're white but something about you is very not white and I just can't place it, so Italian seems safe and polite." I'm not here to unpack the Italian part of all that. I don't even know what I'm unpacking for myself by writing this except I've been sick for days and I'm so tired and this is all that my foggy brain can wrap itself around. Later I'm an adult and on my own and getting bloodwork done. The Nurse is a black woman and so sweet to me. She can tell I'm nervous about the needles because I've already stumbled through my apologies for my herd to find veins. So she distracts me with small talk. Where do i live? I tell her. She looks worried for me. Tells me that it used to be a nice neighborhood before white people took it over and she warns me like she's my own mother to be careful because they aren't safe. I doublecheck the skin she's putting a needle into. Whatever she sees isn't white. I love her for it. For a moment I belong there with her. She doesn't ask what I am or where i'm from, but she knows what i'm not. I'm the only one keeping the holidays with my family. We celebrate Passover because I go home to my fathers and cook the dinner and print out the Haggadah and lead the Seder to the tune of my drunk catholic stepmother eating my food and telling me i'll never be a jew. She's more of a jew than I'll ever be because she grew up in a jewish neighborhood and her friends were all jews and she married a jew and i was just playing pretend. I stopped going home for holidays and they stopped observing anything except Christmas. I marry a goy. "Is he a jew?" is the first thing my father asks and he's disappointed when i say no. He's abusive, i run. I end up living in the attic of this older old money WASP couple who need a live in house sitter. They're pillars of their church and they know someone from the WASP side of my family very well and its a funny coincidence and they think i belong there. I know from their divest from Israel bumper stickers that i don't. Then they find out I consider myself Jewish and i see the light in their eyes die and its replaced by something hard and disappointed. Now, while writing this, i can laugh about being the jew in someone's attic. But then, it was only a few months after that they started coming up with excuses for why I needed to move out. I did, their excuses never manifested into reality. I got married again. A jew this time! a Jewish medical professional liek grandma always wanted. She's a convert and her ex was a rabbinical student. I think maybe i'm home finally. She has to understand. I'm not Jewish enough for her. We don't keep holidays at home because i'm not a jew. I cry every year when pesach comes and goes and i haven't recited the plagues or eaten matzo piled high with horseradish. She insists on putting up a christmas tree. She turns abusive. I run.

I'm alone now and no longer in that magic jewish city. I'm far away and surrounded by mega churches and cows and the bagels suck and people quote the bible at me like some call and response that i don't have the cheat code for and I don't belong here at all but i'm finally finally free to light my menorah and recite the plagues and study torah with the group i found here on tumblr who love and accept me even though i'm patrilineal. Oct. 7th happened a few weeks after I moved here. I worry about my family back home and i think no one will look for Jews here among the cows and mega churches, so I can be a safe place for them to run if things get bad again. But i still don't fit in here. I don't look right. The last name I have now is common here and too white for whatever people see when they look in my face. I get interrogated about it a lot. But i learned quickly how to smile and say "have a blessed day". I hide my menorah when maintenance comes to work on my apartment. I flew home last month. Just for a visit. I've never been away from home this far or this long. And I'm the type that covers nerves and anxiety with chattiness, so at the airport i made a for-now-friend while we both waited for the plane to board. She's Puerto Rican. We talk about our lives. Our families. Her twin sister and i go by the same nickname and so we're family now. We talk about food. So much food and how much we love cooking and how important food was at home. "Are you Italian?" she asks as we're stepping through the hatch into the plane. Why always Italian? I wonder for the millionth time in my life. And I freeze up for a moment between fighting my carry-on over the gap and terror that I'm about to see the light go out behind her eyes and i'll lose this for-now friend. "No," i laugh but its not a real laugh and i see the concern in her face as we squeeze through the aisle because she can hear the apprehension in my voice, "I'm Jewish." And something strange happened because her face lit up and she smiled and said "No way?! You guys have GREAT food!"

[toothfa-1-ry]

Little Miss Diggory

"Is that her?" You whisper as you lean towards the sandy haired boy who was slightly frowing

"Yea" cedric breathed out as he noticed Rita Skeeter and her abomination of a outfit

Your quote un quote bestfriend Cedric diggory was chosen as one of the contestants for the tri wizard competition which lead to being interviewd by a certain witch called Rita Skeeter who had a rather infamous reputation, not the good kind of course

"She seems" your lost for words as you look at her "interesting"

"She's bloody mad, completly lost her marbles" cedric rambles, obviously annoyed as he attempts to block you away from her vision. His light Irish accent suddenly flaring up which only happened when he was uncomfortable

The fact usually kind and sweet cedric diggory was calling someone mad, you knew that whatever you had heard of Rita skeeter before, she must have been worser than her rumours

"Don't make eye contact" he whispered

You nodd, quickly turning your head away but it's too late, Rita skeeter had locked eyes with you and a nasty grin forms on her face when she sees cedric with you

"Yoohoo! Cedric!" She cried out in a patronizing sing song voice as she approaches the both of you

You suddenly feel the urge to cling to your books and hide behind cedric

Cedric grimace before he turns around, putting on a forced awkward smile "Rita... I wish I could say it's a pleasure"

"Oh you naughty boy!" Rita's giggles in a high pitch tone "I'm back here again for another interview, a more casual one of course" she says as she ogles between you and cedric

Cedric notices and comes inbetween you and Rita "well shall we go somewhere else than?"

He seriously did not want Rita skeeter among all people to talk to you, God knows what she might write about you. It was already bad enough that Rita had written about him in such a patronizing way

"Oh no" Rita motions cedric to move away "I want to know, who this is" her eyes widen as he looks at you

Cedric inwardly groans, he whispers "I'm really sorry, i didn't want to get you into this"

You nodd, squeezing his arm which seemed to be the wrong thing to do as Rita Skeeter suddenly gasp and her pen begin writing something down

"Oh my your very pretty" Rita came closer to you, her manicured nails now rest on your shoulders "i bet Mr diggory here thinks your very pretty don't you?" She questions cedric

"I mean- well yes" cedric blurts out, his face rather pink with the suddenly confrontation "but I'm not sure why that's relevant right now"

"What about you sweetheart?" Rita questions you

"Cedric and I are good friends" you manage to mutter put before she cuts you in again

"Good friends? Bestfriends? Whats your name dearie?"

You give a confused look as you nodd slowly "im y/n uh l/n and-"

She cuts you off again

"Well do you fancy him? Is this a friends to lovers sort of thing? Ooh now that's something I like" Rita nodds excitedly as her feather pen moves even faster

You notice Cedrics red face with matched yours aswell "Oh i-"

But neither of you can butt in to say anything

"Tell me, how does it feel that your boyfriend" she points at cedric "is in the triwizard competition? Are you happy? Worried? Scared"

Your face goes bright pink "Oh cedric's not my..."

"Y/n and I are good friends" cedric manages to say from underneath the tint of red which clouded his face

"Oh pish posh!" Rita skeeter exclaims as she hit cedric with a pen which made you sneer slightly "you can tell me anything dear! Now tell me how did the both of you start dating?"

"We're not dating-"

"My my... your quite private aren't you" Rita raises her eyebrows as she purses her lips, obviously annoyed at the lack of intell "no worries, ill just have to make up an interesting story"

"Rita i think that's enough for today" Cedric announces, sensing your uncomfortablness

"Oh! But one last question! One last!"

Exasperated cedric sighs as you brace yourself for whatever the last question it may be

"If you had to rate your experience with your boyfriend" she wiggles her eyebrows "ehm.. how much would you rate him?"

Your face flushes a deep crimson, before you can even manage to squeak out a response cedric cuts it off

"Okay that's it" he grabs your hand and rushes off despite Rita Skeeter's protest

"Would you say that he's a good kisser miss y/n? If you don't answer I'm gonna take that as a yes" you could hear Rita skeeter bellow from down the hallway

[scribblesofagoonerr]

— Where's dumb and dumber?

here's pt. 4 of chaos fc, this is honestly so much fun to write and its' a nice break from the angsty stuff as well, cos' I really can't be dealing with any of it right now!

thanks to @alotofpockets as always for helping me out with ideas along the way and giving me the confidence to post!

pairings: kim little x reader, kyra cooney cross x reader, awfc x reader

summary: reader and kyra continue to try and cause trouble down under, however, some of the girls are quick to realise before its' too late.

also, reader is a protective guarddog when it comes to her best friend getting hurt.

"Come on Kimmy, it was harmless fun!" You exclaim, trailing through the hotel after the long bus ride back from the open traning session and it was safe to say that your Captain was still pretty miffed about what had happened in the changing rooms.

Well, if the looks from the Scots' women were anything to go by then, yeah, you were definitely still in trouble.

"Harlmess or not, I told you to not cause anymore trouble!" Kim states in a firm tone of voice, stopping in her step to turn and look at you, "I feel like I can't even leave you alone for 5 minutes without you gettin' into trouble!"

"I don't see what the big deal is," You can't help but huff and wonder if your Captain is being slightly dramatic.

That was definitely the wrong answer to say, if the look that the older Scots' was anything to go by.

"The big deal?" Kim scoffs and shakes her head, "The big deal is that I'm really gettin' fed up with the constant immature behaviour-- When are you going to grow up, Y/N!?" She snaps.

This is probably the point in which you should say something sensible...

"Where's the fun in that though?"

Or not then.

You watch as your Captains' eyes widen in disbelief before shes' shaking her head, "Thank God we're going back to London in a few days!" She mutters before she pinches the bridge of her nose, "Enough of the pranks, now! I mean it, Y/N. You so much as pull another prank and I'm phoning Leah again to let her know of the recent trouble you've gotten yourself into!"

Without so much as another word, Kim storms off in another direction and your left dumbfound, feeling more than guilty for causing your skipper a near nervous breakdown from the trouble you've been causing.

"Leprachauns' out for revenge," Your partner in crime leans in and whispers, careful to not get caught as shes' under the watchful eye of Steph still, so you can guess that she got a grilling about things as well.

Plus, Caitlin as well most likely, after all it was her girlfriend that got the brunt of the prank that backfired on the wrong victim.

"Yeah, I'd say we're toast whenever she catches up to us," You tell her in a hushed whisper as she wince when your eye catches the Irish defender, who your certain is definitely still holding a grudge about what happened.

"How much trouble did you get in with Kim this time?" Kyra wonders, curiously.

"Eh its' nothin' I can't handle, but she did threaten to call Leah again," Your face pales at the thought of the blonde hearing what else you had been up to. "What did Steph say to you?" You ask.

"Pretty much to not do it again, you know? Blah, blah, blah," Kyra relays what said back as she rolls her eyes. "Caitlin wasn't too happy either about things, considering its' her misses." She states, amusedly.

"Oops," You can't help but surpress the giggle that slips out of your mouth. "Guess we've gotta tone it down on the pranks for a bit." You murmer in realisation.

No way did you want to deal with an angry blonde yelling at you down the phone again, needless to say you were going to try and keep a low profile for now at least.

"Where's the fun in that though?" Kyra jokes as she slides her phone out of her pocket and starts to scroll through her Instagram feed, "Hey, Y/N-- Have you seen these?" With that being said, she not so politely shoves her phone in your face.

"Wha-- No way, seriously?" You can't help but crack up laughing as you watch the fan edit replay over fans' speculating that you and Kyra being together as more than just friends, "There's no way that people are believing this!" You exclaim.

Kyra can't stifle her laughter as she nods, "I know, right? We're just friends!" She finds humour in the situation; Your used to fans freaking out about things, but seeing the interaction between you both and immediately labelling it as a relationship was just hilarious to even see.

"We're nothing but chaotic, platonic little shit best friends," You grin as you playfully throw your arm around the older girl and lock her in a head lock. "Hey! I have an idea, let's just give the fans what they want!" You exclaim as an idea pops into your head.

Kyra manages to wrangle herself out of your grasp and scrunches her face up, "Ew. No offence, Y/N/N, but I don't see you that way. I'm not kissing you." She states.

"Wha-- No, not like that you idiot. Lets' just wind them up!" You roll your eyes as you pull your phone out of your pocket, tapping on your Instagram and hold it in front of you both as you playfully plant a kiss on the older girls' cheek, "Ere', smile!"

"Right, so when we get to the stadium we'll-- Oh hold on a second!" Kyra's quick to get distracted in the middle of her explanation, leaving the piece of paper with varies scribbles out in plain sight for anyone else to walk past and see it.

Definitely not careful enough to hide it.

A certain blonde is able to find them easy enough.

"What're they up to now?" Alessia furrows her eyebrow as she lifts up the piece of paper, skeptical of being caught victim to another one of your pranks after watching the latest mayhem unfold with the Irish being the one to pay the price, "Vic, have you seen this?" She motions to the Dutch player.

"Seen what?" Vic asks, confused.

"This," Alessia mumers, gesturing to the paper that she holds up in her hand. "I can't really understand it-- Butterfingers and pancake? Are they, like, yeah I'm confused." The blondes' at a loss, trying to wrap her head around the explanation of the writing on the paper.

Vic isn't able to understand it either by her puzzled facial expression, "What the-- Are they baking a cake?" She questions, confused.

"I... I don't know," Alessia is clearly stumped over what it means as she looks around for someone who might understand it clearly, "Katie! Come look at this a second, please?" She gestures in the direction for the Irish girl to join the conversation.

"What's up?" Katie wonders, walking over to the two girls. "What you got there?" She asks, confused as she glances at the paper in her hands that Vic hands to her.

"We don't know. We can't understand it," Vic admits, confused.

"Butterfingers and pancake," Katie repeats, bewildered. "What... Whos' is this?" She asks, at a loss of what to even make of this right now.

"Kyra left it on the bench," Alessia answers.

Katies' eyes widen in realisation, "It's another prank." She mutters, searching round the room for the two culprits, who are strangely quiet right now. "Caitlin! Have you seen dumb and dumber?" She questions.

"Who're we talkin' about, right now?" Caitlin questions, laughing in amusement.

"Y/N and Kyra," Katie states, motioning to the paper that she holds in her hand. "I think they're up to something again." She adds.

"Oh you mean the English and Aussie pest," Caitlin jokes, walking over to join the three of them as she eyes' the paper in her girlfriends hands, "Seriously? Not again." She grumbles, shaking her head.

"I say that we let Kim know what's going on," Katie declares, looking around for the older Scots' women. "Kim!" She got the attention of the captain.

"Ye', what's up?" Kim looks over in the Irish girls' direction.

Katie wordessly hands the paper over to the Scottish women with an amused expression plastered on her face, "Thought I'd give you the heads up, Cap." She jokes.

Taking in the notes on the paper, Kims' left looking bewildered and lost for words, "Just one day," She mutters to herself, at her wits' end the troublemaker duo.

"What'd they do?" Steph chimes in, being near to the Scots' women.

"Take a look yourself," Katie jokes, glancing to the paper.

"Oh boy," Steph exhales a sigh as she reads over it, "What the hell does butterfingers and pancake mean?" She asks, confused.

"I don't know, but I know it means they're up to no good," Kim mutters, exhaling a sigh.

"Steph and I will have a word with Kyra and we'll leave Y/N to you," Caitlin reassures the older Scots' woman as she pats her on the shoulder before trying to spot out the Australian girl, "Kyra, over here!" She speaks aloud to get her attention.

"Wha-- I didn't do out!" Kyra exclaims in protest, throwing her hands up in the air.

"Not yet you haven't, we're putting a stop to it before it happens," Steph chimes in, shaking her head as she slings her arm around the girl.

"Y/N, come here!" Kim shouts aloud to get your attention from across the room.

"Busted," You mutter to yourself and slump over to meet the stern look of your captain, suddenly having a sense of dejavu about this certain situation. "Whatever you think I did, I didn't do." You state.

"What's this?" Kim holds up the paper note in her hand.

"Er, well its' a piece of paper. Was that supposed to be a trick question?" You question, sarcastically.

By the look on the older womens' face, you should know that she is not messing around and you should most definitely refrain from any further sarcastic comment.

However, you just can't help yourself sometimes.

"You know what I mean," Kim deadpans, pursing her lips. "Whatever this is, it stops right now!" Your captain is promptly wagging her finger in front of your face.

"I don't know what your on about," You mumble, trying to play innocent. "I don't even know what that is." You add, continuing to play dumb about it all.

"Yes you do, Y/N-- The girls found it, I know its' a prank and I'm telling you to pack it in right now!" Kim lectures; You have to admit that she really can be scary sometimes, and its' nothing to do with her height.

"Snitches," You murmer under your breath as you can't help but glare at the girls around the room.

"You should be gettin' ready for the match, not planning any of this dumb pranks-- Carry on and I'll have you benched!" Kim continues to scold you, mentioning about the upcoming match you're currently supposed to be getting ready for to play against the All Stars. "Stop muckin' around and get ready right now, do you understand?"

You swallow the lump in your throat and shuffle in your spot, "Yes Kim, I understand." You mumble, although you can't help but stare down at the floor.

Sure enough the lecture is enough to scare you to try and not cause any more chaos, besides that can wait for after the match at least for now.

"So, Tiny threatened to have me benched if I pull another prank," You murmer to your best friend after you finish getting ready for the match.

"I just got a right earful from Floof and Veggie," Kyra huffs in agreement as she finishes tying up the laces on the boots. "They found the papers." She adds in realisation.

"No shit, only cos' you left them aside for anyone to see!" You exclaim, glaring at the older Aussie girl.

"It weren't my fault I got distracted!" Kyras' quick to protest as she throws her hands up in mock surrender.

"Well either way, I have to keep on her good side now or shes' gonna call Malfoy!" You tell her, huffing and slumping your shoulders; You really didn't want to endure a certain blonde defender lecturing you down the phone at all.

"Malfoy?" Kyra questions, confused.

You nod in agreement, already reaching for your phone to explain the reason behind the newfound nickname for the centre back, "Yep, new nickname for the English skip, cos' I seen the comments about her new haircut and they're hilarious comparing her to a draco malfoy wannabee," You tap on the former picture that the girls had taken back in London and show the older girl. "See?" You smirk in amusement.

"That's brilliant!" Kyra can't help but burst out laughing, "Your right, suits' her well!" She adds in agreement with your name for the stern english captain.

"Come on, lets' go girls. We need to line up!" Kim motions the pair of them out of the changing rooms with the rest of the girls.

"Comin'!" You shout in response, the two of you both dwadling to join the rest of the girls.

Kim spins around and eyes you both skeptically, "Remember what I said? No trouble!" She warns.

"You got it, Cap. No trouble whatsoever!" You grin in agreement, eager to stay on the Scot womens' good side for the time being.

"I mean it," Kim states.

"I know, I know. I'll be on my best behaviour, don't yer' worry!" You agree, signalling a mock salute as you join the end of the line, ready to head on to the pitch to face the All Stars.

"Agh!" You know you should be focusing on the game, however, its' impossible with what is currently going on right now.

Seagulls, feral birds that you're terrified off.

"God damn this ball-- They keep deflating!" Katie exclaims, motioning to the ref for the need to change the ball again, meanwhile you're still trying to not have a complete meltdown about the severe amount of seagulls flying around the pitch.

"Kimmy, help me! Somebody, anybody, help me!" You dart around the pitch like a maniac, to try and avoid them.

"Y/N, calm down! You're fine!" Kim tries to reassure you, all while trying to keep her focus on the game that you're currently playing on the pitch.

You shake your head and your not afraid to admit you were deeply scared of this birds, "I'm not fine! There's... Theres' birds, everywhere!" You exclaim.

"Y/N, they're harlmess..." Steph chimes in, mostly amused with your freak out on the pitch.

"No, no, they're fuckin' not!" You shout aloud in fear, doing your best to try and duck down as one flies in your direction. "Why the heck are they flying so low?" You question in horror.

"Y/N, focus on the game!" Caitlin chuckles, shaking her head.

"I... I can't! There everywhere, Caitlin!" Your downright petrified of these birds, however, your team all seem to find the situation amusing.

Kim pinches the bridge of her nose and shakes her head, "Good lord," She mutters to herself as she moves to gain possession of the ball. "Ere' Y/N!" She shouts in your direction to pass you the ball seeing as your stood in a spot that's open.

Dodging the pesky seagulls, you swoop in towards the direction of the ball and kick it towards Mini Viv who then is able to knock it to Alessia, whos' remaining unmarked and shes' able to head it in the back of the net to give your team to advantage to take the lead and be 1 nil up.

"G'wan, Lessi!" You exclaim, running towards the blonde to dive on her in celebration for the wonderful goal she had scored. "Lessi Russo with the stunning header!"

"Shut up you idiot," Alessia chuckles and swats the back of your head.

Taking the opportunity to enjoy the moment, your focus is switched back to the game in hand, wanting to at least have the chance to score another goal before the end of the game.

However, your fear for the certain birds turned into anger at the very minute that you watched your counter partner be involved in a particulary nasty foul and land on the ground.

"What the-- Nah seriously, ref? What the actual fuck!" Your throwing your hands in air in protest, outraged how the player on the opposite team was able to get away with it. "Are you blind!? Your an absolute idiot to not see that!"

You can admit that you might have been a slight bit more angrier with your words than you should have been.

Thank God it is just a friendly and no yellow cards can be given out.

"Kyra!" You are quick to rush to her side, the fear for the older Aussie girl whos' now being seen by the medical team. "Are you okay?" You question, concerned.

"Ow," Kyra murmers, wincing in pain.

Breathing a sigh of relief that she seems to be fine, given the cheeky grin she gave to the camera when she was being seen by the medical team, you stood up and turned to look at the player in anger.

"What the actual fuck-- Are you that stupid to hurt her like that?" You just see red, getting up in their face and pushing them back roughly. "You'rea fuckin' idiot!" You seeth.

"Y/N, cool it!" Kims' quick to try and reign in your outburst on the pitch,  trying to grab a hold of your upper bicep and drag you away from the situation before you make it worse for yourself. "What the hell are you playing at? Are you purposely looking for a way to cause trouble-- Control your anger!" She states, firmly.

"They hurt Kyra," You murmer, looking over to check in on your best friend. "They didn't even care about it either!" You motion to the player, who seemed completely unphased about the foul.

"Relax, Y/N. Kyra's fine, you need to control your temper," Kim states, sternly as she shook her head. "Your lucky this is just a friendly, or you'd have been sent off already!"

"They... They hurt Kyra," You repeat, not entirely happy that the player got away with it like she did.

It seems like your outburst on the pitch was more of a reason for Jonas, or as you'd kindly labelled him, Thanos to sub you off in replacement from one of the young guns; Initially, you were annoyed about it, however, you were soon joined by Kyra, so at least the two of you could chat on the bench.

"Are you alright?" You try and see if Kyra's actually okay, depsite the fact the medical team had seen to her on the pitch and even went to so much trouble as bring a stretcher on.

"I'm fine, relax, guard dog," Kyra jokes, plonking herself down in a seat beside you. "You know, fans' seeing your outburst like that is just gonna give them more reason to speculate them rumours." She jokes.

"Let them speculate all they want. I'm just a protective best friend," You grumble in response, not liking the fact of seeing the Aussie girl go down on the pitch at all.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[stubz]

"Maverick is here."

"Hi Maverick! Want some coffee?" the human groaned.

"Only if it's Irish..."

"Heh, if only."

The two humans tried but couldn't help the shift of tone when talking about the youngling. Couldn't help the sighs or forced enthusiasm when it came to Maverick.

Maverick, age 6, species Ewelsjay, and the unknowing arch nemesis of Kim and Max.

.

"Maverick get down from there!" the man shouted up to the child dangling from the fire sprinklers.

"But it's fun!" giggled the child.

"They're not for climbing! Get down now!"

"No I'm no-!" the sprinkler snapped.

"I told him," he growled running towards the crying youngling. "a million times I told him don't climb the sprinklers! They're not for climbing! But did he listen? Nooooo."

..

"Maverick! What happened!?"

"Mr. Aurum, Maverick climbed the fire sprinklers and fell when they broke. Luckily it wasn't that high and he landed on the mats, he only has a bruise and scrapped knee."

"And you let him??"

"..No. I did not. We have told Maverick multiple times not to climb them because of this very reason."

"Oh Mavy. You need to listen your teachers. I'll have a talk with him."

"See you tomorrow then."

...

"And he looked at me as if I let his kid climb the sprinklers!!" he took a swig of his Irish coffee.

"Tell me about it...the guy acts as if it's always our fault. One time he told me it was my job that his kid puts his bag in his locker. His 6 year old kid...he's 6 years old! I tell him and sometimes he does it but most of the time he looks me in the eyes and says you do it."

"Exactly! We're not servants!"

"Gah please let them move or switch schools!"

....

"All right kids, foods ready so line up."

"But before you grab a plate let us tell you what's just for the humans today. The kitchen made an accident today and put in too much of a spice that can be dangerous for other species, it's the blue pot. Okay? Only humans can eat that."

"Human kids, only have a little to start with because its spicy. If you like it then you can have more later."

The kids nodded and started to serve themselves, only the humans taking food from the blue pot.

When they ate the adults chuckled and smiled watching their fellow humans eat the spicy curry. Some kids loved it for the spice or flavor while others chugged their milk. They're non-human friends laughed or gasped.

"Human Kim, can I try some?"

"Sorry Maverick but not today. It's not safe for some of you kids. We'll have this again on Friday though and we'll make sure it's safe for the rest of you kids."

"Aw. Okay." the human cracked a small smile and ruffled his golden hair.

"How about you try some of this? It from the same place on earth."

"It's green!"

.....

"Excuse me, Max and Kim? Maverick told me something very concerning yesterday."

"Oh, what was it?"

He told me that yesterday there was a dish just for the humans. That no one but humans were allowed to eat it." the Ewelsjay glared at them.

'Here we go' they both thought.

"Mr. Aurum the kitchen made a mistake when making one of the dishes yesterday and put in too much of a spice that is dangerous to most species. So to not waste the food and keep the others safe we only allowed the human children to eat it.

This was a simple mistake and Kim has talked to the kitchen already and made arrangements to make the dish again on Friday."

"Really? 'Too much spice' is what stopped my child from eating? Unbelievable."

"...listen-"

"Sir, this type of spice is one that can be rather harmful to younglings, even adults, and since we couldn't quite call everyone's parents asking for permission we decided to play it safe." the human placed a hand on her co-workers back. Trying her best to calm her friend. Even though she too wanted to rip Aurum a new one.

"I'll be the judge of that. Tell me, what's the name of the dish and how exactly the kitchen made it."

"Mr. Aurum I don't think-"

"Goat curry and it has many different variations but this recipe had 1 seeded scotch bonnet pepper."

And with that the Ewelsjay left with his son.

"Are you sure that was a good idea?"

"No but I don't care. Besides as much as an a-hole he is there's no way he'll let Maverick eat it before he tries it first."

"Ooo the perfect crime."

*the next day*

"Teachers teachers teachers!"

"Yes Maverick?"

"My Dad tried the goat carry and his face turned bright orange! He took one bite and then screamed for water but it didn't help."

"Yeah water doesn't do much. Rookie mistake."

"Yeah but then I remembered what teacher Kim said about milk and gave him that and it helped!"

"So how's your Dad now?"

"He's stuck in the bathroom still drinking milk." he said so matter of factly making the humans snort.

"A-and now do you see why we didn't want you eating it?" asked Max trying his best not to laugh.

"Yeah...I guess I should be listening to you two. You are my teachers."

"Glad to hear that. Now go to put your stuff away and play."

"Okay!" once he was out of earshot the two finally allowed themselves to laugh till they cried.

Maverick was a handful most times but moments like these reminded the two that he was a kid. And kids learn from those around them. Hopeful Mr. Aurum would learn what his son did today, listen to the teachers.

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐔𝐛𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: a long awaited cross over that I promised months ago.. please do not hate me! Also, Danes = vikings, but the word viking is also a verb. So, you could say 'Hey Ma I'm off to go viking!'.

Saxons = those from England

Celts are an umbrella term for Native Britons who were here before the Saxons.

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

It didn't make sense.

Ubbe's shoes walked the length of the boat and back again. Creaking wherever he put his feet, the wind was howling. Even during the day. With the sun high in the sky; not that he could see it.

None of the men or women could see more than five feet in front of them. Once he, along with two other ships left Kattegat, the mist had surrounded them.

Ubbe had the mind to turn back, but he couldn't see the shorline of Kattegat. Only the thick whirls of fog surrounding the boats.

What would have been a long journey, was shortened to mere seconds. And Ubbe was in a place he did not wish to be.

It was a place where his father had died. Where a many great Viking men had died.

But something was different. The time, Ubbe knew it; years had passed somehow. Many, many years. And when he took 4 men into a tavern to investigate, he asked and was told.

Ubbe and his men had gone through 100 years on the water.

・Life had gotten better since Uhtred and his men frequented your village - hell, everywhere had gotten better; not only were the raids less and less.

・But safety and hope were two words that Uhtred of Bebbanberg gave the people

・Well, Uhtred along with his three men - Finan, Sihtric & Osferth.

・You always had a crush on Finan. His Irish charm and humour always brightened your day.

・But he had never ventured for more than conversation and company

・You thought he must have an eye on someone else, but news never reached your ears about anyone else.

・And then something happened.

・Two ships full of Danes had washed on Englands' shores. It was not like any other raid. The Danes spoke differently, their weapons seemed old and the way they dressed was so ... incredibly different to the Danes you all knew

・Where did they come from? Why hadn't any other Dane claimed to know them? And why couldn't they point to where they were from on a map?

・These thoughts plagude you for days. You did your chores and you thought about it, you cooked and cleaned - and thought about it.

・However, curiosity won out and you snuck into the woods to get a better look at the semi-prisoners.

・One man caught your eye instantly.

・And he ...

・He was ... beautiful.

・Outlandishly so, you hadn't seen such a man and with so many unique tattoos...

・His hair was long and braided, parts shaved on the sides and you were taken aback.

・A blush creeping so bright you swore he would be able to see you in the dark - like a beacon of sorts

・But a body had bumped against your own, a hand over your mouth. You bit down - hard and Osferth hissed

"Ow!" He said, trying to keep his voice low as he flung his hand about in pain.

"Well don't do that!" You whispered incredulously.

"What are you staring at?" whispered Osferth, crouching down and following your line of sight.

"No-nothing, nothing, stop it-"

"Ooh got your eye on somethin' then?" he mocked.

・You rolled your eyes and pushed him. He caught your arm and hoisted himself up, catching you against him in the process.

・This back and forth behaviour was normal between you and Osferth. As soon as you met, it had started.

・He knows about your feelings for Finan, and has helped you to gain his attention time and time again

・The only failure in this was the fact that he didn't want to put you at risk. Finan couldn't bear to have you as some sort of target.

・But god did that change when Ubbe started talking to you.

・You decided to help around with the new Danes

・Your skills were highly renound and useful no matter who you were with

・Ubbe did everything he could to get your attention and soon Finan became a shell of his witty self.

・Grouchy and sensitive, Finan couldn't stop watching the two of you interract.

"I mean wha' does she see in 'im??"

"- Finan, please-" Uhtred interjected, trying to calm him down. He did not calm down.

"Just tell her how you feel-" Sihtric exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

"I - I cannot."

"You cannot what?" You said coming up behind him, the trees and darkness hiding you easily.

・From that day on you and Finan were together, but the subject of Ubbe hung loosely in the air.

・However, your relationship was changed because of Ubbe. Who shocked both you and Finan.

"It is true, I want you. But I want both of you. The funny one as well."

・Finan gulped.

・Your relationship is very loving. It truly is.

・There's a lot of PDA

・But even more affection when people aren't around

・Like casually sitting on each other's laps

・Forehead Touches

・The union between all three of you created something. It was peace.

・Peace settled over the group, a sense of ease becoming easier and easier to grasp.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Shut Up” (You) x “Make Me” (Ubbe) x “Just Kiss Already.” (Finan)

Found Family

Intuitive & Attentive (Finan) x Restless & Flirty (Ubbe) x Witty & Intuitive (You)

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Intertwined Destinies

Love Transcending Boundaries

Legacy and Legend

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Scotland by the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra

Golden Years by David Bowie

To Bring You My Love by PJ Harvey

[purplecoffee13]

The Fake Girlfriend - pt. 4*

Summary: “Harry and Y/N faked their break-up when they got back to the wedding, and they haven’t seen each other since. But Y/N can’t handle the silence, and decides to confront him.”

Wc: 5.2k

Tropes: semi-enemies-to-lovers (she hates him)

Warnings: angst, overdue confessions, possessiveness, feral!Harry, elevator sex, multiple orgasms (f!receiving), overstimulation (slightly)

A/N: The final part is here!!! I hope you enjoyed this little ride. Thank you for the likes, reblogs and comments. I just wrote this in one sitting, and I haven’t actively proof read it, but I wanted to upload it anyway and I’ll go over it again tomorrow. Enjoy!

It has been three weeks since Harry and I flew back home. After our adventure in the broom closet, Harry’s entire energy had shifted and he was being distant, except when we needed to prove to everyone that we were a couple.

The flight was nothing short of excruciating, and a part of my soul, one that I had decided to lock up for my own sanity, hoped that the plane would never hit the ground. It had become evident that once back home, everything would go back to how it used to be. That stupid flight was the last time I could pretend Harry and I would ever stand a chance.

I was in awe with how fast I'd fallen for him, but seeing him around his family, having him touch me in the ways he did, and watching his eyes sparkle whenever he looked at me. I'm positive I'm making half of it up, especially because I've been reeling over everything that happened over the past week.

Harry and I had agreed, before we even stepped on the plane to Italy, to just tell our friends that it didn't work out once we got back. To say that we got into a fight on the way home, and we were back to hating each other's guts.

At the time I wondered how I was going to fake being heart broken in front of my friends, but I didn't have to lie. Zoey and Natalia were shocked to see how affected I was by this supposed break-up. They never said 'I told you so', but I know they were thinking it. Nonetheless, they stayed with me, talking about it all night.

I managed to twist the story to fit the narrative Harry and I told everyone. I just needed to talk to someone about the whole situation with Ophelia and how I felt foolish for ever thinking we'd have a shot in the first place.

A week after we got back, I saw him in the hallway of the literature building. He doesn't take any literary classes, so I was startled when I saw him standing there. He was alone, and looking at me, but he didn't walk up to me. I tore my gaze away from him and walked into the classroom. I still don't know what we talked about in that class, but I remember sitting by the window to watch him walk to the engineering building, hands buried in his pockets.

Thirty days have passed, and I'm still not entirely over it. Zoey and Natalia asked me to go out for drinks tonight, and I reluctantly accepted. I need to get out of this house and start moving on from the confusing mess I worked myself into.

We meet at a local Irish pub near the campus. Upon arriving, I almost immediately spot the girls sitting in one of the bigger booths. As I near, I spot a few of Malcolm's friends, and my ex himself in the booth too. Zoey sees me and comes running as fast as she can, pulling me away from the table.

"I am so sorry!" She begins, a stressed look on her face. "We texted you that he was here, but we weren't sure if you'd get them in time. I swear, we didn't know he was coming."

I throw her a smile, then pull her into a hug. Zoey stays still first, but slowly wraps her around me too. When I get out of the hug and look back at her, her wide eyes are filled with question marks.

"I really don't care, but thank you for trying to warn me." I rub her arms soothingly. I still sound sad, I know that, but I can't help it. Maybe a beer will help me relieve some of the weight I've been feeling on my shoulders these past few weeks.

"You really liked Harry, didn't you?" She asks me, and I nod, because it's in the past now so there is no point in denying it anymore. "Even though you dated for such a short time."

"He just... I don't know, Zoe. He felt so familiar, and I thought that meant something..." I shrug, feeling my heart strain as I talk. "But it didn't. My mistake."

Zoey gives me a sad smile, and suggests to go get a drink. I agree and we walk to the bar together, where we both order some kind of special beer we've never tasted before. We get caught up in a conversation, and our huge glasses are half-empty by the time we get back to the booth. I greet everyone, blowing a kiss to Natalia who sits in the middle of the booth. She shares the same worried look as Zoey, but at the sight of our faces, she relaxes a bit.

I feel Malcolm's burning stare on me. He is sitting with his arm around another girl, slouched back, fiddling with his empty glass on the table. I don't gift him the satisfaction of meeting his eye any more than necessary, and pick up the conversation with Zoey where we left it off.

An hour goes by, and no one dares to mention Harry so far, which makes me a lucky girl because I don't want to hear about him right now. But I think my mind jinxed it, unfortunately, because over Zoey, Natalia and my laughter, I hear Malcolm's voice say something I didn't even know I was dreading until the words come out of his mouth.

"Did you see that blonde chick Harry was with the other day?" He asks Noel, one of his idiot friends, who has always hated me for some reason. Noel nods intently.

"Oh yeah she was insanely hot, where the fuck did he even get her from?" He replies, and even though I'm not looking at him, I can feel the smirk in his voice.

But I don't really care about the malice with which those words were spoken. All I can think about is the word 'blonde', and how much I wish it isn't who I think it is.

I take a deep breath and finish my beer in one go. I have taken note of the awkward silence that dominates the table, but I don't let it get me self-conscious.

"I have to go." I say to Zoey, and start moving towards the end of the booth. She moves along with me and gets out of the booth so I can get out, but she looks concerned.

"Don't let Mal get to you. He's a jerk." She pleas, and I shake my head.

"He isn't getting to me. I just need to go, I need to see Harry." I explain, even though I'm risking the chance that Natalia and Zoey will physically restrain me from going.

"I'll drive you." I hear Natalia say from behind me. I turn around and see her getting out of the booth as she throws on her jacket.

"Where are you guys going?" Noel asks, a bit of an angry tone in his voice. Natalia turns around and scowls at him.

"To find guys whose balls have dropped."

With that, Zoey and Natalia escort me out of the pub, and we giggle as we get into the car.

"Okay, where does he live again?" Natalia says, getting her car GPS ready. I give her the address, which is actually quite close to the pub, and in under five minutes we have arrived at his apartment complex. I've never been here before, but I keep that to myself, of course.

"All right," Natalia and Zoey turn around to me, who is sitting in the backseat. "let us know when you're inside and if you want us to wait, okay?"

I nod at them, and they cheer me on as I get out of the car. Anxiety fills me as I make my way towards the door, and I feel like I might just throw up as I ring the bell. However, Harry doesn't answer it. To my luck, a woman opens the door from the inside, and holds the door for me so I can walk inside.

Utter fear and excitement make my body shiver as I stand in the empty elevator, waiting to reach the seventh floor where Harry lives. I speed walk towards his front door, but once I'm in front of her, I get increasingly more anxious about knocking.

What if Ophelia is still here? What if they're inside together? I'd look like a fool. Hell, I already do. What part of me even assumed he feels something for me in the first place. For all I know, he doesn't give two shits about me.

But the second I take a physical step back, I shake my head. No, I need to talk to him.

I knock a couple of times, but there is no answer. I stand there for a minute, then knock again. After three minutes of standing there in silence, my shoulders start to slump. He's not here. But there is a string of motivation that pulls me along anyway, and it makes me pick up my phone and dial his number.

Much like his door, he doesn't answer the phone, and I am connected to his voicemail. I take a deep breathe as the peep reaches my ear.

"Hi," I softly say when the peep has faded and it's up to me to leave him a message. "I... I'm uh, I'm at your apartment, but you're not home— Of course, otherwise I wouldn't have had to leave this voicemail."

I squeeze my eyes shut at the awkward trailing off, and clench my jaw to shut myself up before I say too much stupid shit.

"But uhm, I heard you were with— never mind. Can we talk? Let me know, okay?" I stumble, before hanging up. I sigh, rolling my eyes at my own stupidity as I walk back to the elevator.

When I'm back at the car again, the girls are quick to jump me with questions, but their voices fade at the sight of my disappointed face.

"We'll drop you off at your apartment, okay?" Natalia says as Zoey grabs my hand and squeezes it. I silently nod, feeling too stupid to talk or move.

It doesn't take long to get to my apartment, which is on campus. I huh the girls goodbye and make a beeline for the elevator, wanting to get into my bed as soon as possible and watch movies for the rest of the night.

When the elevator reaches my floor, I am quick to step out, but my eyes widen at the person I spot.

At my front door is Harry, whose head shoots towards me at the ping of the elevator. His eyebrows raise at the sight of me, like he's relieved to see me. In a matter of seconds, he's standing in front of me.

"What are you doing here?" I managed to say, my mind cloudy from the surprise of him standing at my front door after I just came back from standing at his front door.

"Making up for my stupidity." He says without missing a beat, a sad look in his eyes. It looks an awful lot like the way he looked at me in the broom closet as his energy completely shifted and he emotionally closed himself off from me for the rest of the trip.

"D– did you get my voicemail?" I ask him, but he shakes his head. I stare at him, doe eyed. Freaky.

"I was just at your apartment. You weren't there, and I thought you were with... Malcolm said he saw you with a blonde girl and I... oh, I don't know I'm rambling." I wave it off, shrugging my shoulders.

"I wasn't." Harry leans down to meet my eyes, and when he does, he says it again. "I wasn't."

He cups my face with his hands and waits for me to respond to him. I nod, softly, my stomach turning at the touch of his hands on my face, and I fight the urge to close my eyes.

"Look, this whole thing is stupid. I caught feelings, and I think I saw things and found meanings that weren't there." I confess to him, the tension in my body already starting to fade away. "I just got weirdly jealous of Ophelia. I mean, here I was with this crush that had been developing for a couple weeks, while she has this deep history with you. I know I can't compete with someone like that."

Harry frowns as if I'm telling him lies, and it gets me a little bit insecure.

"But, I don't know. I guess I just wanted to apologize for if I made things weirder than they needed to be." I give him a half-smile. "So, sorry."

It stays silent between us, for a couple of minutes, but then Harry let's put a short laugh. My cheeks begin to heat up at the sound of it. Is he laughing at me?

I roll my eyes. I thought he was serious about talking to me, and now I feel stupid for what I just said. I go to walk past him, but he doesn't allow me to.

"Let me through." I demand, trying to push his arm away, but he just shakes his head.

"No."

"I'm not going to stand if you're just going to laugh at me. Let me through, Harry." I argue, but he doesn't budge. I groan loudly, then turn around and walk towards the elevator. I hear his footsteps behind me , but I ignore them.

"What are you doing?" He asks, watching me as I push the button from the elevator over and over again, as if it has any effect on the speed with which it will arrive.

"Getting away from you." I grit through my teeth, a little sense of victory washing over me as the elevator door opens. I have no idea where I'm going, but I'm currently opting for tattling Harry to the janitor so he'll get kicked out of the building.

Not so much to my surprise, he follows, standing in front of the buttons. He smirks lazily as I try to move him away, and eventually manage to push the '1' button. The door closes, and I go to turn around, but Harry pulls me back against him, and suddenly the elevator starts shaking a bit, and we come to a halt. I push Harry's arm away from my waist and turn around to see his hand still around the emergency stop. My eyes widen at the realization of what he just did.

"What did you do?!" I cry out.

"We weren't done talking." He says, face turned serious again.

"We were." I argue, crossing my arms. He rolls his eyes at me, just like I did before.

"We were not."

"Well, I was!"

"You can be so difficult sometimes, do you know that?" He tells me, voice strained with irritation.

"Says the guy who stopped the elevator!" I fight back.

"You won't hear me out." Harry reasons, and he's right. I don't. I'm too mad to hear him out right now. So, I don't respond to him with anything but a scowl. He takes a step closer, and I instinctively take one back, tearing my eyes off him and instead staring at the ground.

"And if you don't hear me out, you wouldn't know that Ophelia was never here. I haven't seen her since the wedding. They probably saw me with someone from class." He tells me, and while I feel relieved, I also feel like an idiot for ever having the plan to let janitor Hector throw Harry out of the building.

"And you also wouldn't know that when I was eighteen, I went to this pool party, and I saw this girl in a lilac bikini, playing volleyball in the pool with a beer in her hand," He steps closer again, and I let him. My brows knit and I meet his eyes. "and I fell in love with her right then and there."

I remember that party. I didn't know he was there, too.

"But she was dancing with someone else, so I hooked up with this girl named Marie. And when I went on a date with her, I discovered her best friend was the girl from the pool party." He explains, and I scoff. What a pretty fairytale like story, too good to be true. Harry shakes his head slowly, and then cups my face with his hands again.

"I swear to god, Y/N. I've liked you from the first time I laid eyes on you three years ago. I was young, and stupid and I'm sorry you lost that friendship because of me. I shouldn't have made a move on you while dating someone else, that was stupid and I can't take that back. But I got too excited with the fact that I could finally talk to you."

"You worry about me and Ophelia's history. Well, I've wanted you for three years. I've just been waiting for even a sliver of a chance, and I promised myself I wouldn't fuck it up when I got it." He tells me, and the generosity in his voice makes me want to cry. "I just got a bit nervous, after what happened those two nights. I didn't want it to be a one time thing. But I acted too distant, I shouldn't have done that. But I swear, from the moment I saw you, it's been you. Not Ophelia or anyone else, just you, okay? And if you don't believe me, let me add that my parents actually don't know Leila's gay."

I take a deep, shaky breath, unable to take my eyes off of him, and then push my lips onto his. It's sudden, and it's needy, and it stems from the overwhelming urge to be as close to him as I possibly can. I can't articulate what I feel but I can show it by the way I kiss him.

He doesn't waste anytime and deepens the kiss as soon as my arms have flung around his neck. His tongue dances around mine hungrily, but there is still this gentleness in his movements. He is holding back a bit, as if he kissing me like he really wants to will make me disappear. I decide to pull out of the kiss for a moment, and we stare at each other, breathless with the passion that is burning in both our bodies.

"I missed you." I blurt out, shocking myself and him. Harry's mouth forms into a wide smile, and dives his head straight into my neck. A moan escapes my mouth the second I feel him starting to suck on my skin.

"Harry... we probably shouldn't do this here." I protest ever so slightly, because I actually do not care but I'd rather have him in my bed than against the hard wall. "Let's go back to my place."

He kisses his way up to my jaw, and gums in agreement. I go to step away from him to push back the emergency stop, but Harry doesn't let me. He puts his left hand around my neck and kisses me again, while his right hand hikes up my skirt. Upon stopping the kiss, he leans into my ear.

"We'll get out of here once you've had an orgasm. Consider it an apology for laughing just now." He purred. The combination his heavy breathing and his fingers slipping into my panties makes me shut my eyes tightly. He strokes my pussy with two of his fingers, getting a feel of my wetness.

"Poor girl, I've got you all soaked, don't I?" He taunts as he begins to rub my clit. I moan a 'yes', too aroused to be able to handle the slow teasing. I just want to come so we can get out of here and he can fuck me on my bed.

"Harry, please..." I plead with him, and somewhat of a growl leaves his mouth. His fingers disappear from my heat and I whine at the sudden coolness of my underwear's fabric in my pussy.

I hear the jingle of his belt and I look down to see him taking his rock hard cock out of his pants. Before I can even ask what he's doing, Harry grabs my ass and lifts me up. I instinctively wrap my legs around him, gasping at the feel of his cock against my wet folds.

"I'm going to give you my cock baby, and you're going to take it like the good girl you are, alright?" He commands, taking my underwear between both of his hands and ripping it apart. I widen my eyes at the sight of him pushing away my torn panties, but I'm too turned on from it to get mad.

"Harry, we're in an elevator. What if other people—"

"Do I look like I give a shit about other people? They can take the stairs for all I care." He interrupts me, voice raised a bit. I shake my head ever so hesitantly. "Now, do you want my cock or not?"

He slaps my thigh when I don't respond to him immediately, so I nod as fast as I can.

"Yes, I want it. Please." I look at him, and he leans in to kiss me again. This time it's harsh, and sloppy and needy, the passion having turned into a rough fire that can only be put out with a hard fuck.

He stops the kiss, aligns himself with my pussy, and then pushes himself into me. I let out a shameless cry at the feeling of his dick gliding into me. It's so easy because of how wet I am, and I like how big he is and how it hurts the first minute.

"Fuck, you have no idea how much I've dreamed of this, love." He starts out slow, knowing his size is something to get used to, but I want none of that.

"Go faster, Harry. I don't care if it hurts, I just want you." I gasp into his mouth in between kisses, and he groans loudly before pushing himself into me with a sharp trust that gives me a burning feeling in my core. It's like I've turned a switch, because Harry's pace is unbelievable and I find it might be too much to handle. Every thought I have fades away until the only thing I can think about is him.

I moan like we're in an isolated room and watch his beautiful face and the curls that fall in front of his face because of the harshness of the thrusts.

"Ah! Fuck, fuck, Harry!" The only words I'm able to articulate from all that are flying through my brain.

"Thaaat's it baby. You get what you asked for " He smirks, his fingers finding their way to my clit. I cry out from the moment he starts to rub circles on it, and I know I won't last very long anymore.

"Are you gonna cum for me already, baby? Are you gonna cream all over my thick cock?" He asks and I can't help but scream out. My tits are almost spilling out of my top because of the way Harry's fucking me against this wall.

"Yes, yes, please! I'm gonna—" I can't even finish my sentence before my orgasm takes ahold of my body, mind and soul. My walls are pulsating around Harry and I'm pulling on his hair for some kind of support as I fall apart. I try to catch my breath, but I'm not able to because Harry drills into me even harder than before.

"H– Harry what are you, oh..." My eyes roll to the back of my head at the amount of stimulation that I'm currently feeling. My grip on his head loosens and I slowly start becoming nothing but a rag doll for him to fuck stupid.

"You're mine now." He growls, and I nod at him, too out of breath to say anything. "And I'm going fuck you until I cum inside your sweet pussy, and you'll hold it in there until we get to your apartment. Do you understand?"

I nod at his request, but he isn't pleased with that. He wraps one of his hands around my neck and squeezes ever so slightly.

"I said: do you understand?"

"I understand." I sputter out, and with that he is back to pounding himself into me. He doesn't take his time, and I know it's because he needs this release just as much as I do. His thumb finds its way to my button again and he continues rubbing and rubbing until I'm nothing but a shivering mess under him.

"Look at you, getting fucked stupid in an elevator by your boyfriend. Such a little slut, all for– fuck! All for me, huh?" He rambles and nothing but words of agreement leave my mouth at his dirty words as I feel my legs tremble with the arrival of a second orgasm.

I push Harry's face against mine to muffle my own scream, but the way he moans into me doesn't quite help my case.

"Fuck I'm gonna cum, baby." He says, and I gather all my mental strength to return some of that dirty talk he's been providing me with.

"Cum for me, please. I need it so fucking bad, baby. Make me yours." I mewl and his thrusts become more erratic with every word I utter, and by the time I'm done talking, I feel the hot spurts of his cum coating my walls.

We're both unable to talk for a minute. We stand there, catching our breath with our foreheads pressed against each other.

"I'm gonna pull out, baby." Harry says after another minute of coming back to earth. I nod tiredly, and hiss as he removes his dick from me. He slowly lowers my legs to the ground, but I hold on tight to his neck because my legs need a few seconds to adjust to holding up my entire body weight.

Harry puts on his pants again and shimmies down my skirt for me before pushing the emergency stop. The elevator goes up almost immediately, but it feels like forever, especially with the feeling of Harry's cum starting to leak out of me. I do my best to hold it in, but it's hard when your legs have just done the most intense work-out they've ever done in their entire life.

When the elevator door opens on my floor, we are met with another couple, who looks at us with a frown when met with the state of us. It doesn't help that the elevator smells like sex now, so we walk out as quickly as we can, Harry adding a cheeky 'goodnight' before we rush to my door.

We both burst into laughter the second the elevator closes and I open my front door for us to get in. Once inside, Harry picks me up and Carrie's me to my couch, where he lays me down on my back. He lies on top of me, partly holding himself up so I don't crush under him, and gives me a deep, long kiss.

His hands stroke through my hair as our lips brush against each other. It's delicate and I could cry at the softness of it all. Harry pulls out of the kiss to analyze my face. He takes in every feature, as do I, and after a bit of silence he speaks up.

"I can't believe you let me have you." He says, those stars in his eyes that I love so much.

"I can't believe your parents don't know Leila's gay."

That makes him laugh, and in time me, because his laugh is the most beautiful thing I've ever heard, apart from his moans.

"You liked me for three years." I state what he said earlier, and he nods a genuine nod.

"Three and half, to be exact."

"You're crazy." I shake my head with a chuckle.

"Deal with it. Your boyfriend is a crazy guy." He says and kisses my neck again, before moving away from me.

"Where are you going?" I ask with a frown, not happy with him just going away out of nowhere. I roll my eyes when he hikes up my skirt once again and starts kissing my thigh.

"Harry, I already came two times. I don't know if I'll be able to come."

"Ssh, baby. Just want a taste." He says before attaching his mouth to my clit. I let out a shriek at how intense the feeling is, especially in regards to the sensitivity of my clit.

I become a moaning mess right away, and my hand finds its way to his hair. He sucks and licks long stripes all over my pussy. He lifts his face for a moment, mouth and nose glistening with our arousal and pushes two of his fingers further and further into my mouth. I suck on them with a satisfied moan, until he retracts them and shoved them into my already filled up hole.

"Oh, m– oh my god!" I whimper as his fingers pump in and out of me, and he knocks me out of the park when he starts flicking his tongue over my clit.

I know my orgasm is closing in, but I've never experienced three orgasms in one night before, and I have to say I'm slightly scared of this one. Everything feels so intense that I don't know how I'm going to react to this third one.

A string of curses and moans are the only thing that leave my mouth as I shut my eyes so tight that I swear I see stars, and my entire body pulsates as he helps me ride out my high. I don't even have the strength to open my eyes until Harry gets back on eye level with me.

"Open your eyes baby." He whispers, his fingers caressing my cheek. My eyes flutter open and I whine incoherently.

"I know love, I know. I'll get you all cleaned up and then we' go to sleep, alright." He tells me, planting a kiss on my cheek before getting up and scooping me up from the couch. I already feel awake enough to walk myself, but I keep quiet so he can carry me to my bathroom.

He strips both of us from our clothes and turns on the shower. He cleans me up, even though I insist I do it myself, and afterwards he also fancies himself in charge of what I'm wearing to bed. He picks out a simple, oversized Metallica t-shirt I got from my dad, and helps me put it on before getting into bed with me.

I have to say I am quite sleepy, so my eyes fall shut quite easily. Harry keeps on playing with my now wet hair, making me even more drowsy.

"I won't mess this up." He says, mostly to himself, I think. But I respond anyway.

"I won't let you."

[missvelvetsstuff]

The Situation Room

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: After a mission almost gone wrong, Tony brings back Bucky's former assistant, who is also Bucky's ex. Can they work together without hurting each other? Will the whole truth about their break up finally come out?

Avengers AU where Thanos never happened.

Chapter 5

Warnings: angst, swearing

Notes: I really got caught up in my own head between this story not working out how I wanted and the political BS going on in my country (US). I'm still a mess but pushed through to write this chapter. Idk if I'll ever finish or post the alternate to this story but am going on with what I started.

I hope it doesn't suck.

Vision sat with Wanda while she waited for Bucky to return, stewing in her anger, he knew she could make a real mess if she let her anger out so rubbed her back and whispered sweet words to help diffuse her wrath.

Friday announced that a quinjet was incoming and Wanda stood to walk to the hangar, Vision held her hand and felt her squeeze when Bucky came into sight.

Bucky saw Wanda and Vision in the hangar, presumably waiting for him, and shook his head, speaking before Wanda could "I'm not sure you can punish me any worse than I am." he ran his flesh hand down his face "I let my temper and insecurity take over and didn't even give her the chance to say anything."

He looked at Wanda sadly "I don't deserve anything but please let me just talk to her, I need to apologize. Even if she never forgives me, I have to tell her."

Wanda looked at him skeptically for a moment before giving a curt nod "Fine but she's sleeping right now. Listening to you and John set off her PTSD and I had to calm her down to bring her out and the whole thing exhausted her."

Bucky nodded "Yeah, that's fine. I'll ugh, I'll go take a shower and just let me know when she's available."

Bucky took a long shower, initially hoping to occupy himself while he waited for Radar to wake but his mind wouldn't let him stop going over John's words. Which triggered the memory of that day 2 years ago when Sharon greeted him with pictures of Radar, seemingly naked and intimate with Walker. The look on Radars face when she hurried to their room and saw Sharon with him. The way he yelled at her, uninterested in her attempt to explain.

He thought back to the last 2 years that he had spent cursing Y/N for breaking his heart, trying to bury his heartbreak in countless, random women none of whom could hold a candle to the one he believed had betrayed him.

He knew there was nothing he could do to make up for what he did, couldn't imagine any words or actions that could repair the damage that he had caused. The hurt he had inflicted on the woman who had meant more to him than he had words to explain.

The ache in his chest was worse than that awful day because he knew he was responsible for destroying his own happiness. He couldn't blame Hydra for this one, couldn't blame the Soldat. This atrocity was 100% on his own shoulders and there was nothing he could do but get on his knees before her and beg for forgiveness. Forget about reconciliation, absolution was the best he could hope for and more than he deserved.

Bucky was spooked out of his pity party by Friday's soft Irish lilt "Sargent Barnes? Miss Maximoff wants you to know Miss Radar is awake in her own room if you wish to speak to her."

He felt his knees buckle, a fear more intense and debilitating than he could recall ever feeling consumed him as he sat heavily in his shower.

"Sargent Barnes? Are you alright? You appear to be having a panic attack. I've contacted Captain Rogers to come help you."

Bucky tried to protest but couldn't get the words out and had given up by the time Steve arrived at his room. "Buck? You alright in here?"

When he didn't hear a response over the running water, Steve headed to the bathroom grabbing a towel. He saw Bucky sitting on the shower floor, mumbling and shaking his head. Steve turned the water off, causing Bucky to look up at him.

"C'mon pal, let's get you out of here."

Bucky stood, still shaking his head before looking at his friend "Stevie? When did you get here?" He grabbed the towel "I need to get dressed. I have talk to Y/N."

Steve nodded "Yeah, I know Buck but Fury wants to talk to you. Walker has a broken nose, jaw, eye socket, dislocated left shoulder and broken wrist plus multiple broken ribs. Fury isn't going to let us sweep this under the rug."

Bucky smirked for a moment "What? He's got some serum, he'll be fine in a day or two. I'll just avoid Fury for a few days and it'll blow over."

Steve shook his head "He's already on the warpath, you'd better talk to him before you go to see Radar. Don't want him busting in when you two are talking."

Bucky sighed before something occurred to him "Hey Steve, do you know if my conversation with Walker might have been recorded? If it was we could play it for Fury and prove what he did to Radar. Maybe get rid of him?"

Steve nodded "I don't know if it was recorded but I'll talk to Sophia and see if she can find anything."

He sighed "I'll try to keep Fury occupied but don't know how long I can hold him off. You better go talk to her."

Bucky dried off and quickly dressed "Thanks jerk. I'll let you know how it goes."

He looked in the hallway to make sure it was clear and headed for Radars room, avoiding all the main halls and gathering areas.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Radar woke up slowly, feeling groggy with sore eyes. It took her a few minutes to wake fully and figure out what happened. The last thing she remembered was the mission being finished and getting ready to log out of her laptop and back to her room before Bucky returned.

Her heart stopped when the memory returned, John telling Bucky about that day, the memories had come back faster than she could handle. She felt like she couldn't breathe and then peace. It all went quiet and then she woke up here.

Radar groaned and shook her head, fucking John couldn't keep his mouth shut. She didn't want to deal with this mess and get into the past. She just wanted to find a new Angel for Bucky and go back to Madripoor or anywhere that wasn't here. She wasn't in the right frame of mind to deal with Bucky's guilt or whatever from the past.

Radar felt like she was drowning in her memories when someone knocked on the door. "Fuck!" She swore as she walked to the door and opened it only to be happily surprised to see Wanda and Vision.

Wanda smiled "How are you feeling?"

Radar just stared blankly for a moment before speaking "Really, Wands? I feel like I just relived the worst day of my life and it's not fun."

She started hyperventilating "Now Bucky knows what happened that day and is gonna want the whole story and I know he'll to want to talk about it. I don't know if I can do that." She started looking around her room, calculating how difficult it would be to pack the meager possessions she brought here and get out of the compound.

Wanda reached out and grabbed her hand "You can't just run away. You need to deal with this so you can have some closure and move on. You've been running for 2 years."

Radar shook her head "I'm pretty sure Bucky gave me closure when he told me to get my stuff and get out. He wasn't interested in my side of the story then but now since John fucking Walker told him he was wrong, I'm supposed to give him the time of day? Why do I owe him any more than what he gave me? Why should I care if he's sorry when he didn't care about anything I had to say?"

She grabbed her backpack "I need to get out of here."

Wanda squeezed Radar's hand and spoke softly, like she was trying to calm a spooked horse "Y/N, please. You've been running from this, from him since that day. You'll never be able to move on and be happy, or fall in love again if you don't face him. Even if it's just to tie a bow on it and be over him."

Radar pulled away "I can't do this Wanda, please don't make me. I-"

She was interrupted by knocking on her door and paled, then looked at Wanda "I'm gonna be sick."

Wanda hugged her "You can do this, Sestra. I'll be right outside if you need me."

Wanda opened the door to see Bucky's anxious face, telling him "You better not fuck this up, Barnes." Before she walked out with Vision.

Radar looked up, feeling shaky and nauseous, seeing the blue eyes she had loved so much.

Bucky tried to give her a reassuring smile but in his state it looked more like a grimace. "Y/N" was all he could get out.

"James."

@unaxv @calwitch @buckitostan @cjand10. @vicmc624 @sandrab02

Chapter 6

[farfromstrange]

Chaos Theory | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Chapter 25: Wondering If I Just Lost The Love Of My Life

Masterlist ° Chapter List

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader (she/her)

Summary: After your conversation with Frank, you start spiraling, and you find yourself at Jimmy's house, looking desperately for answers. Michael isn't too happy about that.

Warnings: ANGST, cursing, snooping around, snakes, allusions to child abuse & PTSD, Michael is pissed (and maybe a bit mean), rough grabbing of the arm (Is that a warning?), fighting, crying, semi-break up

Word Count: 8.6k

A/n: WOHOO I'M BACK!! Anyway, this chapter is only the beginning of this angst plot line, so... Don't hate me.

Tick, tick, tick…

One hour turns into two. Two hours turned into three. You’re alone, stuck in a house that isn’t yours, holding pictures of your sister who you haven’t seen in years in your hands because the man you chose to fall in love with has a family set out to destroy you; and for what? Because they aren’t happy with an adult man’s decisions?

Your life feels like it was written by a sadistic author; far more sadistic than yourself. You can’t keep up anymore.

Just a few months ago, you were somewhat happy working your ass off for some money at the Butterfly Effect. You made the process of brewing coffee for customers your life, and you enjoyed it. You fled your home to chase your dream of being a writer. What else are you supposed to do with your degree, anyway? And you were on a good path, saving money and trying to find an agent, but then Michael walked into your life. 

You don’t want to say that he ruined everything. You love him. You love him more than you have ever loved anyone, which is horrifying in itself, but you can’t deny that your life may have been a little easier if he hadn’t come into the shop that morning. If you hadn’t allowed yourself to get attached. Now, you’re involved with a family who is swimming against the flow of legality—and what scares you most about all of this are the thoughts you keep having that perhaps the Kinsellas could help you in a way not even the police ever could. 

You’re pressed against the wall next to the dining table, and your lungs keep forgetting that they are supposed to supply your body with life-sustaining oxygen. Every now and then, your eyes drift to the pictures in your hands. A tear rolls down your cheek, landing on the paper. It magnifies the size of your father’s face, and the memories that hit you at full force leave you clawing at the wood of the nearest chair. 

You were doing so well. You were an awkward barista with a safe future to look forward to. Now, you’re a barista using up all of her sick days because she isn’t allowed to leave the house of her Irish boyfriend—who just so happens to be part of an organized crime family. It sounds like the plot of a bad novel, but to you, it is very much real. 

Time was on your side until it wasn’t, and you have reached a point where desperation seems too kind of a word to explain what you’re feeling. Raw, unbridled anger fills your veins; the need to take the next plane out of Dublin is all-consuming, but you can’t be irrational. Not now. Michael was right about that part. 

You can’t help who you fall in love with, you know as much. Michael is damaged, but he’s yours. He is so human, you wish you could wrap him up and shield him from the world forever. From his family. From the pain. From the uncertainty. You wish you could grab him, your bags, and his daughter and run far away from this city. But those are wishes that seem too far away to even grasp.

If you have to get involved to prevent the worst from happening, you don’t have much of a choice but to do so. You only have one more thing left to lose, and she means the world to you. Breaking the rules—the law—seems like the lesser evil compared to waiting for the hourglass to run out of sand.

With shaky fingers, you dial the number you have dialed a few days ago. It’s still in your caller list. 

The line clicks, and the woman at Scotland Yard’s front desk answers again. It’s the same as last time. “Uh, hi,” you stammer into the speaker. “I called a few days ago, but I haven’t received an answer yet. I need to speak to Inspector Jones. It’s urgent. Would you mind connecting me with his office?”

Silence follows. Either she is taking a very pregnant pause to tell you something completely opposite of what you want to hear, or she is checking something in her system. You do hope it is the latter option. But of course, luck is still not on your side. 

The woman utters your name in the lowest tone possible. “Inspector Jones told me to inform you that he does not want to take your call,” she says. “He put you on his, uh, no-call list. I’m sorry, Miss. I wish I had better news.”

Her apology doesn’t bring back the hope he so mercilessly crushed in his bare hands and left it there, dying on the side of the road. Her apology doesn’t bring back your sister or supply you with the information on the case only Richard Jones has. He used to be so helpful when it happened. He told you that you could always call him. 

The question that nags you is, what changed? You haven’t called him in years, and now he suddenly acts like you’re the plague personified? It doesn’t sit right with you, but as soon as you’re on the no-call list, there is no way you can get through to him. 

You don’t wish her goodbye. You don’t tell her, ‘Oh no, it’s alright,’ because it isn’t alright. You hang up without another word, your phone slipping from your hand onto the floor. 

Swallowing a sob, you decide to pull yourself together. Michael keeps his laptop in the living room—though you suppose not always. You flop down on the couch with a huff. Of course, the device is password-protected. A picture on one of his shelves catches your eye, and you reach for it. Part of you is screaming to stop because looking at a picture of his daughter feels like an invasion of privacy, but you can’t listen to the left side of your brain. You turn it around, in search of the right combination of numbers. 

Anna’s birthday. It sounds so obvious—too obvious for a man as careful as Michael—but as soon as you type the numbers into the bar and hit enter, his laptop unlocks. 

“So predictable,” you mutter.

Instead of finding his desktop though, you stare right at an open folder you are sure is not meant for your eyes. It is also protected by a password, which you can tell by the little lock following the icon, but Michael must have forgotten to close it.

You should close the folder, open a browser, and do what you intended to do—write an email to forego the no-call list and guilt-trip Inspector Jones into finding the balls to contact you back. It is a desperate attempt that might get you a restraining order, but you have to try. For that, Michael would surely not be mad at you. If you start snooping though…

Your eyes have a mind of their own, following an instinct as old as time. You can’t help yourself. You tilt the screen back, and you take a closer look. 

The idea is so maddeningly risky your stomach churns at the thought of the possible consequences of your actions, but who else is going to tell you the truth if you don’t find out yourself? Michael doesn’t want to drag you into his mess as you’re dealing with your own, and while you get that, you are so far beyond common sense that you need to know what the man you love is involved in. You need to know what his family is involved in. If you don’t, you’re sure curiosity might actually kill you. 

You tried to avoid getting caught up in the dangers of the Kinsella family; you should have known that trying and succeeding hardly ever go hand-in-hand when it comes to your mess of a life.

You know Michael. You know how careful he is when it comes to dealing with delicate matters. He told you he didn’t want to get swept up in his family’s bullshit again, but as you look at what’s in front of you, you’re not so sure he told you the truth. 

The file contains mostly recollections of the family business. Drugs, weapons, larceny—not that it would ever change the way you feel about him, even if he did lie to you. This is not the worst you have seen, and it surely won’t be the last piece of dramatic information that will ever pass before your eyes. 

What catches your attention is the mention of Jamie, the record of his death, and a stolen autopsy report. And among all of that, you find a name Michael and Jimmy threw at each other’s heads the other day. Your hand still hurts just thinking about it. 

A loud thud echoes through the house when you forcefully shut the laptop. Every nerve in your body is burning itself alive. Your soul can’t withstand the storm of your emotions. The truth hits you. Around you, the world is falling apart, and you are unable to move anywhere but further into the chaos. 

Michael came into the café months ago because he was in desperate need of a reprieve—he was the butterfly that flapped its wings over in Asia—and now you are on the verge of getting caught up in something that you will never be able to get out of again; it is a catastrophe waiting to happen. 

Destiny and karma are very real phenomena, but so is the Butterfly Effect. Instead of innocent coffee though, you are staring into the face of disaster, and you have no idea what to do. 

An idea pops into your head. You shouldn’t seek out trouble. You really, really should not, but not even five minutes later, the door to Michael’s home falls shut behind you as you take determined steps next door. Not across the street, not to your car but next door.

The realization that Michael might never forgive you for putting yourself in this position moves to the back of your mind. You promised him not to do anything stupid while he was gone, but you knew from the start that you would never be able to keep that promise. 

Your feet are rooted to the ground as you ring the doorbell. At first, you receive no response. Just when you figured that you must have misinterpreted the movements in the neighboring home that you caught through the bedroom window earlier this morning, the gate opens, and you snap out of the endless spiral of your thoughts.

“What’re you doin’ here?” Jimmy asks, his eyes trailing over your disheveled frame on his doorstep. 

Your eyes are red and swollen, and your outfit consists of a pair of Michael’s sweatpants and a shirt, but you weren’t planning on winning a fashion contest anyway. Jimmy deserves to see how miserable you are. Maybe then he will let you in.

He raises his eyebrows. “What? Came to hit my wife again? Last time wasn’t enough for ya?”

You let out an exasperated sigh, trying to hold contact with his dark eyes. “I need to talk to you,” you state matter-of-factly.

He eyes you again. “You look like shit.”

“Then I look better than I feel.”

“Hm. Does Michael know yer here?”

You expected him to snap at you—to lecture you—but that moment never comes.

You swallow thickly, then shake your head. “I’m here for answers,” you say. “And I feel like out of everyone in this family, you’re the only one who’ll be honest with me.”

“Why d’ya think I’d do that?” Jimmy asks.

“‘Cause you don’t like that I’m fucking your brother. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you couldn’t care less about what happens to me, which means that you also don’t feel the need to protect me or my delicate feelings.”

His lips curl into a smirk. As different as they are when it comes to their behavior, it is obvious that Jimmy and Michael are related. 

“I’m so sick and tired of not knowing. Not understanding. Not…not being in control.” Your lip quivers, and you bite down on it for a moment. “You didn’t act on Frank’s offer to threaten someone you don’t even know, so a twisted part of me feels like I can trust you. I won’t apologize for falling in love with your brother because despite what you all believe, he is an incredible man and he deserves the world. But loving him put my sister’s life at stake, and I need to know what I’m getting myself into before I lose her too. I–I just...I need five minutes. Please. And then I’ll be out of your hair, I promise.”

Against all odds, Jimmy steps aside, motioning for you to enter. The house is as luxurious as you expected. High walls, big windows, and cool tones. The nature of your visit, however, only fills you with a sense of uneasiness. 

You close the door behind you and follow Jimmy down the hallway. You wouldn’t dare push your luck by saying something uncalled for.

Now that Jamie’s dead, you understand why Michael always seems so stuck in thought. The stakes are higher. You try to find a sliver of understanding for why Birdy was so cautious with you and asked you all the questions that you saw as a personal attack. She wanted to protect you, and maybe that is true, but she let Frank’s actions slide for a little too long and you don’t know if you can forgive her for that.

She ended up attacking you personally even if that was never her intention, and she let her brother attack everything you hold dear by trying to protect her own family, and that is not something you can let slide.

Jimmy walks up to a set of stairs that lead into the basement. You’re hesitant at first, standing at the top of the steps and staring down at him with narrow eyes. “Are you going to kill me?” you bluntly ask. 

He rolls his eyes. “Unarmed,” he says. “You can check me. I’m not carryin’.”

“What if there are guns down there?”

“There are, but I’m not gonna use ‘em to hurt ya. Michael would cut off my head and feed it to the dogs.”

You huff, but you eventually cave and follow him down the stairs. You hear him mumble something about you being complicated, and maybe you are, but can anyone blame you? You feel like you just walked into the lion’s den. Perhaps you are insane. 

You function on a very determined autopilot that wants you to do things you would never have done a few weeks ago, and you have no choice but to follow or else you will bang your head against the wall; Michael really shouldn’t have left you alone. 

The basement resembles a second living room. A leather couch stands against the wall to the right, and Jimmy has a collection of free weights to choose from to work out. There is even a pool table and a fridge you suppose holds liquor only. It must be the family’s layer for when they get together and discuss whatever a family like them has to discuss. 

Looking further, you notice the terrarium in the middle of the room. It’s gigantic. You step a little closer. The yellow anaconda is easy to spot. You don’t doubt it could strangle you if you put it around your neck. It is surely thick enough to crush your windpipe in an instant.

“Drink?” Jimmy asks from somewhere behind you.

You shake your head. “I’m good.”

He hums. You can hear the sound of ice cubes hitting a glass, and he pours whiskey over it. 

“You like snakes?”

You look at him, and then back at the snake. “I find them fascinating,” you state. 

“They’re fascinatin’ creatures, alright,” he says. “You wanna hold her?”

You don’t miss a beat, “Absolutely not.”

“Okay.”

You stand there in silence for a while, just watching the anaconda move her large body around her transparent living quarters. She sticks out her tongue. If you could talk to animals, you wonder what she would tell you. What has she witnessed in this room? The snake knows all the answers to the questions you are asking yourself.

“Why Michael?” Jimmy breaks the silence.

“He’s a good man,” you answer. It doesn’t require much thought. “I told you. He’s a much better man than you give him credit for.”

“A good man has no place here.”

“Who are you to judge that?”

He scoffs. “You have any idea what yer gettin’ yourself into?” 

“I knew from the moment I found out who he was. That doesn’t change how I feel about him.”

“Fuckin’ hell.” 

“If you’re going to tell me that it’s my fault that I got caught up in all of this, save it. I’m well aware of that.”

“Then why are you still here?”

“Because I love him!” your voice echoes in the spacious basement. “I love Michael with all my heart. So much it hurts. I would do anything for him because you failed him over and over again, and he deserves so much better than you useless lot.”

Taken aback by the force of your words without actively yelling at him, Jimmy lowers his glass. He stares at you with a mixture of surprise and bewilderment in his eyes, and you’ve seen that look in Michael’s eyes one too many times. You want to smash something, but that would only make matters worse, and you really didn’t come to cause a scene.

Jimmy infuriates you in a way not many men have managed. You want to hit him, give him a shiner that will rival the one his wife is probably carrying, but realistically, you don’t stand much of a chance against this man. He is strong. He could feed you to his anaconda if he wanted to. Even if Michael would behead him, he would do anything to save himself. He is the epitome of selfishness, and you refuse to stoop low enough to be on his level.

You take a deep breath, lowering your voice again. “But I’m not just here because I love Michael. I’m here because your uncle decided that he had to let out his disdain for me on an innocent child,” you say.

“I’m not okay with that either,” Jimmy cuts in. “I don’t have control over Frank’s actions. I lost my son–”

“I’m aware, and I am so sorry for your loss, I am. I know how it feels to lose a child because my father killed my little sister and while she wasn’t my biological daughter, I was the one who raised her. And I raised Maya too. So, even if I left, even if I broke Michael’s heart and gave you what you so desperately want, my sister would still be in danger. My father would still be running free. And I’d still have no choice but to stay here because thanks to you, I am in danger too and Michael refuses to let me leave.”

A sigh leaves his parted lips, and he empties his glass. 

“This isn’t about me, Jimmy. It never has been. Not for me, at least. This is about Maya as much as your insecurities are about Michael. Except that Maya is a human being who has nothing to do with any of this. Not with Michael, not with you, and not with your godforsaken family. You don’t have to remind me how awful of a human being I am—I’m well aware of that myself, trust me, but I won’t stop trying to get answers until I have found a way to make sure she’s okay. That she’s safe. That I can get her back and end this once and for all because Frank didn’t leave me a fucking choice.”

You pull the pictures out of your coat. “He came to the house earlier. Gave me those. He said he told his men to leave her alone, but who’s to say that he didn’t already do irreversible damage?” you say. “I don’t know why Michael being happy is such a huge inconvenience to you, but I don’t care. I care about my family. Now, you can either help me or not, but don’t act like you have any right whatsoever to lecture me. You don’t even fucking know me.”

Jimmy takes the photographs. His eyebrows furrow slightly as he stares down at them. A drop of condensation from his glass drops on the paper, the same spot your tears dried into.

Your chest still heaves with every breath you take. “Jimmy,” you growl. The silence drills into your skull. 

When he finally opens his mouth, his voice resembles a steady tune. “I don’t stand behind Frank,” he says. “Not on this. He shouldn’t have done it.”

“I am well aware of that, thank you.”

“None of us knew yer story. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. For Frank, for Birdy—hell, I’m even sorry fer how Amanda treated you. If I’d known…”

“Would you’ve stopped her?” you counter. 

He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter now.”

“It matters to me.”

“There are ways to get rid of someone without puttin’ anyone in unnecessary danger. That’s all I’m gonna say.”

His expression is set in stone. You can’t determine whether or not he’s lying to you.

“Did Michael offer ya his help?” Jimmy asks then. “Regarding your, uh, father.”

You blink a few times, wondering if he really just asked you that. But you swallow your doubts, straighten your shoulders, and you nod. “Yeah, he did,” you say.

“Offered t’put a protective detail on her? Kill the bastard?”

“Something along those lines.”

“Then why hasn’t he?”

“Because death would be too kind for that man.”

The faintest smirk starts playing on his lips. “Can’t blame ya,” he states. 

“Of course not,” you retort. “I won’t stoop to my father’s level. He deserves to be put in prison for the rest of his life. A bullet to his head would end his suffering, and I refuse to let him down that easily.”

“Is that why you came here?”

You shake your head again. “I need answers.”

“Why wouldn’t Michael give them to ya?” Jimmy cocks an eyebrow. “He’s fuckin’ obsessed.”

“He may love me, but he has a protective instinct that makes it almost impossible for me to get the whole truth out of him,” you explain. “Michael wasn’t there when Frank came over. Perhaps because he knew Michael wouldn’t be there. He caught me off guard. I was vulnerable, and he used that against me.”

He tilts his head. “What did he say?”

“Just that he put an end to what he started. But I can’t believe that, now can I? He’d already started it.”

“You’re a lot smarter than I thought.”

Your lips part in a bitter scoff. “I found some things on Michael’s laptop,” you tell him. “I need to understand what I got myself into here. Maybe find some common ground. In my mind, after everything that went down at Birdy’s house, you’re the least untrustworthy, and while we may not be the best of friends, I can’t limit myself to what Michael thinks is right. Take it as a compliment or don’t, but I’m desperate here.”

He murmurs your name as he makes his way over to the open bottle of whiskey to pour himself another glass. His steps are careful.

You are well aware that you should tread carefully, and Jimmy seems to be on the same page as you that this is a bad idea, but you were desperate and you saw no other choice. You would have crawled up the walls of Michael’s empty house if you had waited, staring at the bullet holes in the walls and wondering if you would end up dead at the end of this the same way his wife did; or if you’d merely lose everything you’ve ever loved and be left with nothing else left to give.

“Who’s Eamon?” you blurt out. 

Jimmy stops dead in his tracks. You hit a nerve. Seemingly with a sledgehammer, too.

“Because from what I heard and what Michael has on him, he’s a perilous man.”

“Fuck!” Jimmy curses under his breath.

“Please, I just want to know. What is Michael caught up in?”

“We’re all caught up in it.” The tone of his voice has changed and switched to a more dangerous octave, and it sends shivers down your spine. “Eamon—Eamon fuckin’ Cunningham had my son killed, and Michael thinks he’s too good to help us get back at him because of Anna. That’s what.”

Your eyes soften. “I’m sorry, I—”

“He’s our supplier. Drugs. If ya really wanna know. Changed his business model. Wants us t’be his bitches. He’s a power-hungry bastard, that one. I didn’t wanna cave, but then Jamie—and Frank—”

With an animalistic growl that resembles a string of curses, he wipes the small table before him clean. The contents shatter on the ground, scattering millions of pieces of glass around the basement floor. You flinch.

The echo of his shout remains stuck to the walls. One of the shards scratches your forearm—not nearly enough to draw blood—before hitting the ground. The force causes the bottle to implode, and the crystal glasses break beyond repair the second they hit the ground.

You want to tell him that Michael doesn’t owe him anything. You want to tell Jimmy that none of this is Michael’s fault, but you have enough empathy to know when to speak and when to just be silent.

Grief is an unpredictable monster.

Jimmy takes a deep breath, then turns back around to face you. “I dunno what I can tell ya, but this family isn’t safe for someone like you,” he says. It sounds as though he actually cares, but you see right through him this time. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you answer, trying to pick your words with an incredible amount of care; don’t raise your voice, don’t shout at him, just tell him what’s on your mind in a way that is respectful and he might not lash out at you. “But Michael is fresh out of prison, trying to find himself a place in this world. I understand why he said that he can’t help you execute whatever revenge you have planned for whoever did this to your son. And I understand that this business you’re in is dangerous for every party involved, but that doesn’t deter me.”

Across the room, he meets your eyes. 

“I knew what I was getting myself into from the start,” you emphasize. “Michael promised me I’d be safe, and I trust him with my life, but now your family put my sister in danger, and we have to find a way to put an end to this mess because I refuse to let your little family dispute ruin my life. Michael can’t help me as he promised when he can’t manage to separate himself from you. Finding that file proved to me that he may have said that he’s done, but he isn’t, so I might as well accept that I’m not getting out of this either.”

He exhales, wiping his sticky hands on his trousers. “I underestimated ya,” he says. “But I suppose that’s what happens when your father’s a bastard.”

You shrug. “I just can’t run when you’re my only hope.”

Jimmy chuckles. “If we’re your only hope, I feel bad for ya.”

“Believe me, I feel plenty bad for myself already, but if I’d waited and told Michael about my plans, he wouldn’t have let me come here, and I still wouldn’t be much smarter than I was this morning.”

“Would you do somethin’ for us then? If we helped ya?” he asks. 

One hand washes the other, right?

The words for an answer get taken out of your mouth by the sound of the front door slamming shut. 

“Where is she?” Michael’s voice breaks through the ceiling. 

Your eyes widen. You have heard him feral before—when he was holding the gun to Frank’s head and threatened him, his voice lowering, barely above a whisper but every word as forceful as the next. His silent anger is the most dangerous form. It did something to you to see the man you love so livid because he saw your life at stake. 

You weren’t scared of him, you couldn’t possibly be, but the thought alone spikes the adrenaline in your veins, and your mind screams for you to run. It is the kind of effect he wants to have on people when he is angry; it is the type of effect he has on everyone because one looks at his fuming self and anyone would want to cower in the corner and cry. And maybe it makes your thighs clench just a little because no amount of fury could take away from how attractive this man is. But that is not the first thought that crosses your mind now.

The stairs creak with every heavy step Michael takes into the basement, and you hold your breath. Fuck. 

Jimmy stares at the mess on the floor, then back at you. You wonder if he’s scared that he might be the next in front of Michael’s gun. He surely didn’t hesitate when it came to Frank. Who knows if he would draw the line at his brother, but from what you have gathered from their relationship, there is a chance he won’t. 

“Jimmy,” is the first word on his lips when he makes it downstairs. His eyes are wide, pupils blown, and his fists clench at his sides. The cuddly teddy bear you said goodbye to this morning has disappeared completely under an iron veil. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” Michael sneers. 

Your first instinct is to step between him and his brother. Only then does he seem to take a look at you. You meet his brown eyes, your palms extended to press against his chest. 

“Easy,” you murmur. You don’t see the need to snap at him. 

He takes you in, his clothes hugging your curves just right, and in an instant, his large hands are cupping your face. “You alright?” he asks, and the fury is gone for a moment as he checks you for injuries. As though he truly believes that his brother would hurt you. 

You nod. “I’m fine, I promise. I—”

Michael cuts you off. He pulls you to his side, almost behind himself, glaring at Jimmy. “Why’s she here with ya, huh?” Again, his demeanor changes. “She didn’t do anythin’! Frank put her life in danger, and you still treat her like a fuckin’ intruder?”

“Hold up, Michael. No,” Jimmy says. His shoulders broaden as he takes a step forward. “I didn’t–”

“Yes, ya fuckin’ did,” Michael interrupts him. “If you hurt or threatened her in any way, I swear to God—”

“No!” you raise your voice slightly, only enough to catch his attention. His head whips toward you. “He didn’t ask me here,” you confess. “I came here to talk to him, not the other way around. Jimmy…he didn’t do anything. I’m okay, baby. Please.”

His eyebrows furrow, trying to make sense of your words, and he slumps. He turns to you, his hand on your bicep, and he asks, breathlessly, “You what?”

The emotions in his eyes are a whirlwind that burns through the guilt in your stomach. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I had to.”

“Had to what?”

“Come here. Frank came over, and he gave me the pictures he was planning to use to blackmail me, telling me about how he told his men to back off, but—”

Michael snatches them from Jimmy’s hands, his knuckles white with how hard he is gripping them. 

“I was going crazy,” you say. “I called Scotland Yard, but Inspector Jones put me on his no-call list, so I thought I would write him an email. I was going to use your laptop, but you…you must’ve forgot to close one of the folders, and I accidentally started scrolling, and—”

“Jesus!” He shakes his head. “And you went t’ Jimmy about that?”

“I didn’t have a choice, okay? You said you didn’t want to get involved in anything illegal again, for Anna’s sake, but you lied to me. I don’t blame you. I know I’m not getting out of this, and I don’t want to because you mean the world to me, so I thought I could talk to Jimmy and we could find a compromise. After Frank…I didn’t think there was time to be rational about this. I’m sorry, Michael. I know you told me to sit tight, but I had to.”

“Five hours,” he growls. “You couldn’t wait five hours?”

Jimmy pipes up. “She was curious about Eamon,” he says. “I gave her the answers she was lookin’ for because you wouldn’t.”

Michael’s grip on your arm tightens, and it stings. You try to free yourself, but he won’t let you. 

“Whatever you two discussed,” he snarls, “It’s off the table.”

You glare at him. “What?” 

His fingers dig into your sensitive flesh. “Off the table, pet. You’re not gettin’ involved with this family.”

“What do you mean, I’m not getting involved with this family? I already am!”

“The fuck you are.” He drags you toward the door. 

“Michael,” you choke out, “you’re hurting me.”

You have never seen him like this, and you never would have thought he would grab you like this. 

He loosens his grip, but it’s still not enough to free you from his grasp. “I’m sorry,” his voice is barely above a whisper. 

You scoff. He may be sorry for hurting you, which you know was unintentional because he often underestimates his power, but he isn’t sorry for treating you like a child because he is still pulling you toward the stairs. 

“Michael,” Jimmy stops him. “Maybe we could talk ‘bout this?”

“No. You can get fucked!”

“Jesus,” you snap at him. 

“Home,” Michael tells you. “Now.”

His house isn’t even home to you, but you don’t have a choice. And as you make your way next door again, a feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. A feeling that makes you sick. 

Are you actually scared of him? Meeting his eyes once the door is closed behind you though, you can’t stop imagining your father in front of you, and it makes your heart race up to your throat.

Michael raises his hand to his forehead, the other resting on his hip. “Fuck!” He doesn’t say it to you. He would never. 

He is trying to get rid of his anger to have a normal conversation—to talk this through because he doesn’t understand why you would put yourself at risk like that—but your brain doesn’t function the way it did this morning. To you, he is cursing at nothing but you.  

You see his hand out of the corner of your eye, and you flinch. Your entire body recoils, and the air changes. He seems to realize what he did almost instantly. You hug your arms around yourself, avoiding his eyes, hoping you won’t cry, but the tears are treacherous as they start to pave their way forward. It burns.

“I—I’m sorry,” he says, and his voice is soft again. His hand is gone, but oh, you can’t open yourself up to him again. “My love, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think.” He takes a step forward. 

He didn’t, and he still isn’t thinking, it seems. You take a step back. He is suffocating you. 

“I’m not angry,” he tries again. “I just wanna understand…”

You swallow thickly. “I explained it to you,” the words flow out in a monotone line. 

“Why Jimmy? Why?”

“If I’d asked you, would you have told me the truth?” You meet his eyes, and it hits him like a strike of lightning. “If I’d asked you about the folder, about what the fuck is going on, would you have answered or would you have tried to keep me out of it?” you ask again. 

Michael gnaws at his bottom lip. “I told ya we’d find a way. We’d make a plan,” he says.

He is diverting. He can’t give you the answer you asked of him, and somehow that breaks your heart. It drills a sharp knife through your ribs, causing you to bleed out in front of him. 

“There is no other way,” you argue.

“There is always another way.”

“Not in this case, there isn't.”

“I cannot have you doing dirty work for my family. Fuckin’ Christ!” The whisper turns into a desperate plea, “Why can’t you see that?”

You wipe your cheeks with a furious index finger. “Maybe you should have thought about that before you fucked me.”

“Sorry?” He is taken aback by your tone of voice.

“You made me fall in love with you, knowing that being with you would put me in danger,” you cry. “I’ve always been okay with it, but you have to stop coddling me like I’m a child. I’m a grown woman. I can make my own decisions.”

“This isn’t fair,” he says. “I’m just tryin’ to keep ya safe.“

“But I’m not the only one who matters.”

“You’re the only one who matters to me!”

The silence that washes over you is charged to the maximum. Michael’s words echo in your mind. 

“I know you love your sister,” he murmurs, “but you promised not to make any rash decisions.”

“I know,” you reply coolly.

“You should’ve waited. You should’ve talked t’me.” Michael shakes his head.

You sniffle. You can’t look at him. “So you own me now, huh?” 

“No, that’s not—”

“You say you want to protect me, to keep me safe, but has it ever crossed your mind, even for a second, that I don’t want to be saved?”

His chest heaves with the breath he inhales. His hands remain on his hips. He fiddles with the fabric of his sweater—he always does it when he’s nervous, or when he’s fuming. You watch his body language and read it like an open book, but there is a distance between you. You thought maybe he would be a little pissed, but this behavior is worse. It tears your soul apart, piece by piece.

Again, he inhales, and he exhales again. “You’re reckless,” he states. Somehow though, he makes it sound like an accusation. 

“So what?” you retort.

“So what? Are you even listening to yerself?”

“Don’t snap at me.”

“I’m not—” he clenches his jaw. “Trust me, if I snapped at ya, it would sound a lot different. I’m just tryin’ to figure you out ‘cause I can’t fuckin’ read ya right now.”

You offer a sarcastic hum. You don’t have to think far to find the words. They are right there on the tip of your tongue. “Maya’s living with a monster who would raise hell if he found out the truth. The same monster who tortured me. The same monster who murdered my sister. Now, I feel like I’m being followed everywhere I go,” you say. “The family of the man I love would rather see me fall than accept me. I can’t go back to London. I can’t go home. I can’t…I can’t even go back to work.”

You sniffle again. “Brewing coffee used to be my life. I was working toward being something more. Someone more. I was writing, I was being creative, and I was somewhat happy. I had a plan, you understand?” With every word out of your mouth, your voice rises to new volumes. “I had a plan to get my revenge eventually and move on, but now...now my life is whatever this shit is, and I hate it. Okay? I hate it.”

You’re not angry; you’re broken, but saying it out loud won’t move mountains, and when the last word passes your lips, still nothing has changed. It won’t change. You can pray, you can beg, and you can scream at the sky in hopes that someone—anyone—will hear you, but it is a losing game. Life is a losing game.

Michael whimpers in the back of his throat. “Don’t,” he begs.

“I hate—” You stare up at the ceiling. The tears taste salty on your tongue. 

“Stop it.”

“I hate it here, Mikey.”

God, he knows that you only call him that when you feel like you have reached a dead end, but this time, he can’t save you; he, himself, has reached a dead end that he can’t escape from, and the ocean between you is far too broad to cross. You sob, and he wants to sob with you. 

“I hate what my life has become,” you cry softly. Your soft cries are the most painful to listen to. “And I hate that loving you hurts so fucking much I can’t breathe.”

This conversation feels oddly familiar. As if you have had it before. As if it is a daily occurrence as your demons fight against each other for dominance.

“I wish I could change that,” Michael whispers back to you. He is so far away, yet you still hear him perfectly.

You shudder. “Make me hate you, you mean?”

“No, not that. Although yes, sometimes.”

“I wish I could hate you sometimes, too,” the admission rolls off your tongue like a bullet from a gun. 

He nods. His eyes never leave your fragile frame, barely holding on by a thread. “I wish I could take it all away from ya,” he says. “The fear, the pain... And I wish it were easier to protect those you love. But I dunno how. And I dunno how t’be…better.”

A better man, he wanted to say. Better for you, better for Anna, and better for anyone else. Michael feels unworthy of your love. He had hope; for a few days, he had hope, but hope never lasts long with him. It always dies because everything he touches eventually withers like a fragile flower. He doesn’t say it though. He doesn’t know how.

You sniffle, shaking your head. “You don’t have to be better. I just need you to understand,” you say.

“I do,” Michael insists. “I do understand.”

“I’m glad you do, but I don’t. I need a chance at ruining the life of the man who caused so much damage I don’t even know what has become of me. I want to ruin his life the same way he ruined mine. I want to put him away for the rest of his miserable life so maybe my mother can get the help she refused to get when I last gave her the chance, and provide my sister with a normal life. That’s what I need.”

But what you need and can have are two different pairs of shoes. 

After a deep breath that lasts several seconds and allows the silence to stretch into a pregnant pause, you find your words again to continue. “The file I have on Ellie’s death is circumstantial, we both know that,” you say. “It won’t be enough. We won’t be enough—” Your voice cracks. “A security detail or killing my father won’t fix this. You telling me you love me won’t fix this. And saying ‘we will figure this out’ while you keep a folder on your family’s dealings that might as well also impact me now that Frank has painted a target on my back from me won’t fix this.”

He says your name in a way that sends an unwelcome shiver down your spine. 

“I just couldn’t wait!” It is unlike you to yell, but you have reached your limit. 

Again, Michael curses, running a hand over his face and through his beard.

You lean back against the wall, defeated beyond relief. “What do you want from me, Michael?” you plead. “Because I feel like no matter what I do, it’s never enough.” 

“C’mon,” he breathes, “I never said that.”

“No, but it certainly feels that way.”

“I don’t want to lose ya, alright? That’s all I’ve got.” He sounds like a broken record. “I…I just found out that I probably have no chance at gettin’ Anna back, even after all I did, and I can’t…I just can’t…” 

The urge to reach out and take him into your arms is overwhelming. Tears glisten in his eyes now, and his body is quivering with agony. He’s holding back. He’s trying not to show you just how scared and in pain he truly is, but he can’t hide the truth from you.

On any other day, you would have crossed the room and hugged him with the promise of never letting him go, but can’t bring yourself up to get any closer because he is not the only one close to falling apart.

“I’m so sorry,” you gasp out.

“I can’t lose you too,” Michael whispers. “If I get involved again with my family—if I choose to fight—that’s another story. I am who I am, and I can’t change that, but yer not; you’re everything to me. And I won’t put the goodness of yer heart at risk. I can’t—”

You silence him with your hand. “I am not Anna.”

“I know, but—”

“I am not Anna,” you repeat. “I can’t replace her. I won’t replace her. I am not a consolation prize, and I am not yours to command.”

Your steps are heavy as you reach for your bag. “No,” he grunts. He reaches for your arm again, but you elude him.

“Don’t touch me.”

You’re not even sure if this can be called fighting. You were arguing until you weren’t. It’s a quiet storm, but it causes the most damage.

The door is calling for you. You can’t stay here. You feel like you’re drowning—like he is taking all the air out of your lungs. You can’t stand here and argue and fight, and you definitely can’t stay and be quiet with him. That hurts a lot more than being yelled at. Silent anger kills, and you’re not sure if you can come back from this. 

How did you get here? When he left this morning, he kissed you. Now, there seem to be a million worlds standing between you, and you can’t find common ground. You’re floating in space, and Michael can’t haul you back, but perhaps that is not the problem. The problem is that you don’t want to be hauled back. 

His hand finds your waist, and he pulls you against him. “You’re not leaving,” he says. The gruff sound of his voice used to be your favorite.

“Let me go,” you murmur.

Michael shakes his head. You suck in a sharp breath when he presses his forehead to yours. He smells of whiskey and rum. Did he have a drink on his way here? Did he drown his sorrows in liquor and God knows what else? You don’t want to think about how miserable he is. You don’t want to think about what could happen. You just don’t want to think at all. 

“Please,” he begs. “Talk t’me.”

For a moment, you bask in the feeling of his skin against yours, but when it starts to hurt, you have to pull back. “I have nothing left to say.”

The arrow hits him straight through the heart. 

“I’m sleeping in my bed tonight.” You throw your bag over your shoulder, and you turn away so he won’t see you cry. “We’re no good for each other right now.”

He scoffs. It is a bitter sound that laces the air like a toxin. “We’ve never been good for each other.” 

You ignore the sting his words leave behind. “Then maybe it’s a good thing I’m leaving,” you say.

The sound of the wall breaking under the weight of his fist is the last thing you hear before you step out into the cold evening air.

Your cheeks are wet with tears, but you don’t look back. You get into your car; you don’t even take another look at the house. You turn on the engine, and you pull out of the parking lot.

Michael’s house and the rest of the Kinsellas disappear behind you, your sobs echoing in the small space of your car. You might have to do this on your own, after all, and with that comes the realization that you might have just lost the love of your life, too. 

The question is just, was it worth it?

Tagging: (let me know if you want to be tagged, too!) @bellaxgiornata @mattmurdocksscars @ms-murdockswift @your-not-invisible-to-me @shouldbestudying41 @glowstick-lesbian @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker @norestfortheshelbywicked @1988-fiend @loveroftoomanyfandoms @mattkinsella @schneeflocky @harperdoodle @ravenclaw617 @lunaticgurly @mattmurdocksstarlight

[chroniclesofajewishteen]

How my Jewish identity came to be:

I always thought my eye shape was a little weird.

I have a very large crease on the upper lid. I thought oh, that's kinda like east asian eyes. But my eyes look different.

I saw that there was a lot of under-eye puffyness. I thought oh, people use cucumbers to get rid of that. I must be tired. But it was mid-day. The puffyness never went away.

My friends have pretty wide eyes. I thought oh, that's strange. But my mom always told me that society likes big wide-eyed white women. But does that mean society doesn't like me? Does that mean I'm not white?

I had always been told I was white. Well, my mom always told me. My dad shrugged and said "It's complicated. But people will see you as white." I didn't understand why. I knew at some level that being Jewish was an ethnicity, that Jews are from Israel, and that Israel is in the Middle East, but when people saw me they thought I was white. Because I have pale skin and blue eyes.

I have blue eyes because my Dad has blue eyes. His Irish Dad has blue eyes. But my dad's Mom is Jewish. She speaks some Yiddish, and never puts up Christmas decorations, but I had no reason to think that was strange. I knew she gave us presents, even though she doesn't celebrate Christmas like my goy friends do.

We celebrate Christmas because both of my Jewish grandmothers get FOMO during the season. They didn't want to miss out. So when they were kids they would get a little present and say they celebrated it. When they married goyim they had a tree. Now my direct family has a tree.

My mom was told she was ethnically Jewish, but that all religion is dumb and the Quakers were probably onto something with all the acceptance and peace...etc. My dad was told "You are Jewish. Society will either see you as a rich white man or a sneaky brown man. You do not get to choose. The minute you say your grandfather was a man named Murray Goldstein, they will know. You do not get to choose, because society has chosen your race already and the left and the right will never agree on who is right." He never told me exactly this, but it was implied.

On certain tests and forms, they ask you for your race. It always said the same thing: Asian, Black, Native American, White, Mixed, and sometimes they said Pacific Islander. What did I put? My parents put white, but I always knew on some level that wasn't the full truth. I would write "Ashkenazi Jewish" at the bottom and let them decide.

Then October 7th happened. People on the streets said, "Go back to Poland". I was never Polish. My family lived in Ukraine. Did they want me to go back to Ukraine? There is a war there! I would not be safe. I don't have any relatives in Ukraine. My family left at the start of the 20th century. Who would I go to? Where would I go?

When October 7th happened, I thought the world would stand for Israel. I knew it was the Jewish homeland, and I had already been researching Birthright trips a few months before. On my favorite TV show, Black-ish the main character, Dre Johnson said "Jewish kids get to go to Israel, why can't my kid say the N-word?" in that horribly out-of-context quote, I knew it was my homeland. Why did these people say it wasn't?

My younger sister had a babysitter who was Palestinian. Let's call her Fatima. I didn't know that was an ethnicity until I met her. Her mom was a politician there. All Fatima was doing was saying "Get my mom out of Gaza. It's not safe for her." She knew I was Jewish, and she was always nice and supportive. I still follow her on Duolingo.

Fatima had a friend who was also one of my sister's babysitters. I'm going to call her Charlotte. Charlotte was a white British woman. She heavily supported the Pro-Palestine cause. She marched in protests and boycotted businesses. She was a goy, and we both knew that. Fatima never protested and was always happy to buy from Starbucks and other Zionist businesses. Charlotte would always listen to me explain B'nai Mitzvahs, but it was clear I was the only Jewish person she knew.

I don't say these things to say that Palestinians can't support the cause, I'm saying this because Fatima didn't, and her white friend did. The fact that Fatima was brown and trying to finish her PhD definitely played into it.

I read Chaim Potok's The Chosen. Its end plot was about the creation of the modern state of Israel. In the end, the characters agreed that after the Holocaust, we deserve to call the land of our ancestors our own. My family agreed with that.

At the time I was really into Pinterest. More specifically, Tumblr screenshots on Pinterest (definitely influenced my decision to come here). After a while, I got more pins on my dash saying "All Zionists are evil. Come to the good side!" That definitely sounded like a cult, so I looked more into it. I saw a lot of people saying "Zionism is killing Palestinians", but I also saw people saying "The official Jewish definition of Zionism is the belief that Israel should exist. 80% of Jews want Israel to exist." The comments were either "Thank you! This is what I have been saying for months!" or "fuck you zionist rat you are killing Palestinians." I looked into it on more trustworthy websites. They usually agreed that it just meant wanting Israel to exist. They also said that Khanisim is the belief that Palestinians must die for Israel to exist. I didn't like that idea. In my Pinterest bio, I put yellow ribbons to support the hostages. I started getting hate messages.

I am here now, and from my bio and previous posts, you can assume my stance on the situation. This post started with me complaining about my eyes and to give you an epilogue, it was today I realized they were Jewish eyes. I love them and would never change them for the world.

If you have any questions regarding this post or me in general you can privately message me. I am a minor though, so don't be creepy. Have a good day!

Also: my other blog is @jewishbiancadiangelo. It's mostly Percy Jackson stuff.

[be-side-my-self]

Watching Season 4 of Only Murders In The Building. (E9)

Rewatch of ONLY Murders In The Building to prepare for season 4:

<Part I> // <Part II> // <Part III> // <Part IIII> // <Part V> // <Part VI> // <Part VII> // <Part VIII>

<S4 E1> // <S4 E2> // <S4 E3> // S4 E4 // <S4 E5> // <S4 E6> // <S4 E7> // <S4 E8>

This is no rewatch but my new posts can also easily be blocked because I'll continue to use #OMITBRewatch as a tag. I'll also tag #OMITBS4. While quoting, I use M, O, C for the main characters.

Beware spoilers! (watching on wednesday)

S4 E9

Let's see... who killed Sazz?

Who tried to kill Glen?

I feel like when someone says "He is going to ge the death of me!" it is more figuratively than literally.

Getting a job offer after being hit by a car... the american dream.

Okay... the nurse is irish too?

Going back because how big is the chance to have an irish nurse as an irish patient in america? I genuily asking.

Also I would have banned Charles and Oliver too...

A witchy board.... it's weegee board, Oliver! (in before I know it's Ouija)

That looks like really good beer... I want to try it because I like beer even though I'm no fan of pils. I'll survive though. I am a peasant though.

C: "You know, I've been thinking. You're getting married in a few days, and what if I took you out and bought you a non-beer drink to, uh, celebrate?" O: "Charles, are you offering to throw me a bachelor party?" C: *inhales* O: "I don't care what people say. You're not an ice prince."

Oliver, do you really want the kind of party that Charles would throw as you bachelor party?

I feel like i've seen the bartender before... gotta check out the actor... maybe not?

Only Sazz, Glen and the director knew what happened... is the director Dudenoff?

RON HOWARD?!

Love Olivers reaction... I paused and he is like >:0, while Charles is mildly surprised and Mabel looks like she has no idea who that is (tbf I mostly know him from The Simpsons). Anyway I guess Oliver does not like Ron.

LMAO I WAS SO WRONG XDD

O: "Finally, a celebrity this season!"

aww in the theme song we now see Howard walk his cat and dog.

nice how they hide the protegés face.

O: "Ron-Ron and I are close personal friends."

When Oliver says it like that I will now assume that Ron dislikes/hates Oliver.

Or does not remember him.

Why are we hearing about Ron Howard's nipples?

... what a mess... also yeah invite Tom Hanks to the Bachelor party

W - hiskey A - List Celebrities N - aughty S - ecret

C: "Got it. H-E-L-P."

Of course Mabel asks Bev.

Okay, let's take notes of the drink receipe because that starts out promising and with that I mean disgusting. 1 can (0.5 l) of Red Bull original (barf) 2 BiFi or mini salami ??? In a mixer and mixing it until it's a nice... barfy colour. I was expecting some kind of alcohol...

Oh Bev hates Ron?

Crew Member: "Everyone, we need all 'Escape from Planet Kongo' NDAs signed before entering." That explains the title... and autobiographic???

... I love that they are all overestimating their importance.

That security guard is really nice.

lmao

great casting scene.

GLEN IS AWAKE!!

With an irish nurse.

"Couple old men and their caretaker?"

You learn everything about a person while sharing off-menue soup.

Uh-Oh...

No! Don't cut off the oxygen to Glens brain!

Also what is up with American hospitals (in TV shows)? Everyone can just walk in an kill people, huh?

oh god... yes please discuss this while the whole set is watching you... what kind of lovers squarrel is this? Besties at it.

omg... it's aliens.... Kongonians are aliens. Certainly autobiographic.

Why does the nurse sound like she knew Glen since forever? Did they? Did she know him before?

Someone give Mabel a broom so she can go "There, there."

"Breaking news. Nicky 'The Neck' Caccimelio, the Dry Cleaning King of Brooklyn, has been reported missing. Though he has ties to the Caputo crime family, officials say they do not suspect foul play at this time." <- Putting this here for later reference.

... so... uhm... is this about the Irish vs. the Italian Mafia?

HOOOOOOO!!! wait a second! In that flashback scene the director assistant is the same as the one with Ron Ron? That would explain why he recognised Charles as Brazzos! He knew Sazz!!

.... right because it was a Ron Howard movie xD Forgot about it again because I watched that part yesterday.

Besties are at it again... and with "at it" I mean being angry at each other.

Awww Oliver is the emergency contact for Charles :']

They really are besties.

BESTIES ARE BEST MAN FOR EACH OTHER! and get colonoscopies together.

Of course ... lmao holy shit!

That was not a Dialog Marshall... it's a Monolouge

Important: that super light, long hair of the stuntperson.

RIP Ron Howards eyebrows.

I bet there is something important in that crate of beer.

Of course there is...

It's the correct sole on those shoes. ... Ron-Ron is the murderer!!!!1

Rex Bailey ....

Add a Beard and some glasses... don't tell me it's Howard... don't don't

OH... okay...

lol okay.

Uh Oh...

Also wow, Sazz wanted to talk with Charles about the movie but as in, she wrote a script. That is why she wanted to talk about the plot holes. To get the script right!

Wow. Oh gosh, Mabel is hardcore. She is in a room with a double-murderer and does not give a shit.

That is the reason for Sazz to be killed... bUT

we still don't know how to fill the plot-holes. Who wrote the notes?! Is there even a big bad in the background? .... is it Uma? j/k It's probably Howard.

[adayinthelifeofyn]

Valentine - (Kieran Duffy x Reader)

Type Of Story: Fluff/Lyric Fic

Song: Valentine by Laufey

I've rejected affection

For years and years

Now I have it, and damn it

It's kind of weird

(Y/N) had a hard life having to learn to steal and distrust from a very young age. The years hardened their heart until it was nothing but stone becoming harsh and deadly in order to survive the harsh lands of the Midwestern. 

It surprised no one when they eventually joined a gang in their 20’s. They seemed to fit right into the rest of the misfits that was the Van der Linde Gang yet there was one person that caught their eye…..and it seems they have caught his too.

He tells me I'm pretty

Don't know how to respond

I tell him that he's pretty too

Can I say that? Don't have a clue

When those words left his mouth (Y/N) was stunned for a moment.

“You're very pretty.” the gang's whipping boy had said to them one day. No one had ever called them pretty yet the camp's prisoner, Kieran Duffy, had said it as if it was pure fact. 

“You're just saying that to butter me up for something.” they had said back not believing he actually meant his words.

He looked like a kicked puppy when he heard that making (Y/N) for once feel a bit of guilt for their words.

“I don't mean any disrespect…..I think you're the prettiest person i've ever seen….” he said in a quiet tone now before he was called off to do something else. What he said stuck with (Y/N)....more than they would like to admit. 

With every passing moment

I surprise myself

I'm scared of flies

I'm scared of guys

Someone please help

'Cause I think I've fallen

In love this time

I blinked and suddenly, I had a Valentine

From that moment on (Y/N) couldn't help but keep a close eye on Kieran. From that they realized he wasn't a bad guy.

He was sweet and mean well enough. They started to hang around him more. Talking and quickly becoming protective of the Irish man. Something that didn't just surprise everyone in camp including Kieran but themselves as will. 

Slowly they noticed their heart start to beat faster when he was around…..

What the hell was happening to them?

What if he's the last one I kiss?

What if he's the only one I'll ever miss?

Maybe I should run, I'm only 21

I don't even know who I want to become

I've lost all control of my heartbeat now

Got caught in a romance with him somehow

I still feel a shock through every bone

When I hear an "I love you"

'Cause now I've got someone to lose

It was almost a year to the day now.

And they know it was now….or they would chicken out again. 

Tonight was the night they were going to tell Kieran how they felt for him. Just as they had taken a deep breath and went to leave their tent to go talk to Kieran they had run into him just as he was about to call out to them from outside their tent.

Before they could get any words out and with his face like a fire he cut in saying as quickly as he could how deeply he was smitten with them.

From their smile to being able to beat up someone twice their size he said he loved everything about them and more. 

And once he was done…he quickly turned to leave as if to avoid whatever their answer was. Only for them to grab his arm and pull him back. 

Say their grace and seal it with a kiss.

The first one to ever like me back

I'm seconds away from a heart attack

How the hell did I fall in love this time?

And honestly, I can't believe I get to call you mine

I blinked and suddenly, I had a Valentine

[whentommymetalfie]

Hi! I love your works and reread them regularly for comfort 🥹. After reading your Luca/Alfie/Tommy fic I wondered what your take is on the relationship between Luca and Alfie. Are they a happy threesome or are Luca and Alfie just in it for Tommy?

Nothing greater to hear than this ❤️ I'm so happy they bring yo comfort. And thank you for your question and for giving me an excuse to ramble (this answer turned out incredibly long, bear with me). So, thoughts, which apparently I had many of:

Luca sees Tommy for the first time, and it's like being hit by a freight train. He's never wanted someone more in his life. And on his end, Tommy can't deny there's a spark. In this scenario, I'm imagining that Tommy and Alfie have had this sort of flirtatious, will-they-won't they-thing going on. Plenty of tension and times in Alfie's office when something's nearly happened, but not quite. But Alfie definitely feels that he's got the bigger claim on Tommy (who belongs to no-one, thank you very much. Which is a lie he can tell himself all he likes). So when Luca comes into the picture, it starts off more as sharing. Every other night with each of them. But perhaps one evening when they're all three in the same place, and there's been some alcohol involved, they somehow end up in bed together. (Whose idea was it? That is up for discussion) And, as it turns out, it's beyond satisfying for all parties involved. Tommy doesn't make it out of bed the next day but that's a price he gladly pays, which says a lot. And after that, it happens more often than not.

At first, Alfie and Luca just begrudgingly accept each other, both reasoning along the lines of fine, he can 'live with it, it's just sex, not like has to spend eons of time with this strange man/fucking wop.' It's a price they're willing to pay for Tommy's satisfaction.

Tommy rolls his eyes at their bickering.

The thing is, slowly, this 'arrangement' evolves to something more than just sex (because Luca is a hopeless romantic, deep down. Which happens to be true for Alfie as well, even if he'd deny it under threat of death). And Tommy is not only completely hooked on the sex, but on all the attention and care during and afterwards (but that's not something he'll admit out loud). So it becomes a regular thing, meetings ending up in various hotel rooms -fancy ones, because Luca and Alfie compete in many things, the fanciness of hotel rooms just being one of them.

Then, at some point, Alfie ups the ante by suggesting they meet at his house -nothing like the advantage of home-court- and is quite surprised when Luca accepts (joke's on him, Luca would accept anything if it involves Tommy). All three deny this is a big step towards... well, something.

They still only barely accept each other, Alfie and Luca. Fine, Alfie will admit that Luca is not entirely repulsive. He can accept sharing a bed with him. And fine, Luca is man enough to admit that Alfie's got a certain rugged attractiveness about him, entirely different from Tommy's, but it's... acceptable.

And then, the 'meetings' start spilling over into the next day. Alfie gets up in the morning to make breakfast, for Tommy obviously, but fine, since Luca is there as well, he can have a cup of tea. And some toast, because the bread's just there, isn't it?

And then Luca, when he buys Tommy flowers, or a work by some poet he knows he likes, picks up a book for Alfie, since he was at the bookstore anyway and doesn't Alfie like that absolutely dreadful Irish author? The book just ends up coming with him on its own accord.

And they do find common ground in the fact that they both care for Tommy, and admittedly don't just want to fuck him. Both want to keep him safe, want him to be happy. And both think he's entirely terrible at taking care of himself, so it's up to them to do it for him.

Perhaps one morning, Alfie wakes up after Luca, which is unusual. And before Tommy, even more unusual. After lounging around in bed for a bit, nose buried in Tommy's hair, listening to his steady breathing and watching those long, dark eyelashes flutter ever so slightly, he gets up, gets dressed and goes downstairs. Surprised to find Luca in his kitchen, cooking breakfast, with a pot of tea already on the table, along with the paper. And Alfie also finds that the sight is... not entirely unpleasant. Mutters something incoherent and goes to pour himself a cup of tea, slumping down on one of the chairs by the kitchen table. Hiding behind the paper. Luca sets down a portion of perfectly scrambled eggs and toast before him. Seats himself across from him by the table, long legs stretched in front of him. Without a second thought puts one of his bare feet up to rest on Alfie's knee. Alfie puts a hand around his ankle. Mutters something again. Perhaps about Tommy still being asleep. Looked so precious he didn't want to wake him up, and besides, he could use the rest. Luca hums in agreement.

And neither of them want to admit that this, whatever this is, definitely goes beyond 'begrudging acceptance'

(I also have this half-formed little idea of something happening to Tommy, landing him In hospital where they need to perform an emergency surgery. Alfie finds out about it and gets there first. Luca comes rushing an hour later, unusually disheveled and with a wild look in his eyes. The fact that Alfie is oddly quiet only scares him further, and as they sit there waiting for any news about Tommy, Luca moves a tiny bit closer until their arms brush. And Alfie might run a finger lightly across his knuckles... Many thoughts are had...)

[fountainpenguin]

"She played the fiddle in an Irish band, but she fell in love with an Englishman... Kissed her on the neck and then I took her by the hand-" (x)

New Fairly OddParents 'fic update today!

Reedfilter Rules - Chapter 4

"Swimming With Sharks"

📖 Read on FFN (T) || Read on AO3 (M; 🔒)

🗄️ Reedfilter Rules AU

✨ More Fairly OddParents 'fics

"I'm very busy, you know. I can't stay for long. Can I touch you again? And then I'm off." "It's wrong. Our Fairies match. We're soul-crossers if we do." "That just tempts me more. Don't tell me you haven't wondered how they drive each other mad."

In which the Anti-Cosmo searches for his missing son, the Anti-Wanda doesn't make sandwiches, and Thirty-Seven finally meets the High Count for dinner theater.

ft. 2017 art of A.C. and A.W. because I'm sick and that's what I had on hand

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

.: Reedfilter Rules :.

Such music tries to tell us that The air is yearning to contain Whatever consonance of passion Happens to be the current fashion Of disembodied pain

- Excerpt from The Grey Among the Green, John Fuller, 1988

Swimming With Sharks

Spring of the Lightly Trodden Stones

~20 minutes after Chapter 3

Graydale - Outskirts of Pixie World - Morning

====

She hears his voice just north of the worst of times; it drifts in from the front counter to where she's working in the back: "Will you ask Tas-pri d'vixil if she'll speak with me after her shift?"

"Blitz you," says the girl at the counter, who probably didn't even look up. She's a teen; she's always like this with everyone. At this point, Vixil's the only one willing to lend her a job… and she did, of course, because she was that kind of girl once upon a time. She smothers her laughter as Eskel's voice tips up in confusion.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You want to drag us into a war with the Pixies, right? Well, get your sandwiches somewhere else."

"I want to avoid another war," he says, so bewildered now that Vixil does laugh, "and I'm not here for a sandwich. I need to see Vixil."

"What, are you gonna blitz her on the food prep surfaces or something?"

"No? I need her help, woman; I suggest you mind your tongue."

"Are you threatening me?"

That's enough. Vixil wipes her hands dry on a towel and heads out front to greet him. "Aw, hey, High Count! Really been missing you lately. You should come around more often; I could make your favorite sandwiches half-price. Not for free. That'd be cutting you down a lot." And to the girl, who's floating there looking salty, her hair cascading down just one side of her head, she adds, "You can take your break, hon. I'll help him; we can't keep the boss waiting."

One frumpy look later, she'd gone and they're alone. "So what's up?" Vixil asks. She glances across the empty sandwich shop. They only have three tables. It's not lunch yet… "Is this private Count business? You can step in the back. It's just me today. Good to see ya."

"Yeah… Hey." Eskel says it real casual, swaying just a little on his heels so one arm flops. He swings it high to scratch behind his neck, following her to the back room. She shuts the door tight. "It's, uh… Well, it's been quite a while, hasn't it? How've you been? … You look good. Is the jacket new?"

How has she been? Vixil purses her lips, tapping nails against her thigh. "I've been keepin' busy. We had some holiday events at the shop." Her ex came a'lurking a couple times this week, but Eskel won't wanna hear that. She don't wanna tell him, either- It ain't none of his business. It could be, if he came around and tried to be her friend (or even just be social). It'd be a start. Why don't he come? Maybe he just forgot she cared. Vixil leans one hip and elbow on the counter, stretching out her legs just enough to put her back end out there without him calling her fast. She is, he knows, but they're playing pretend. "You ain't lookin' bad yourself. Shed the suspend-ies like a rattlesnake, huh? Or do they go all the way up underneath?"

Eskel's eyes flick to her rear, lingering a few beats longer than they probably should (If he really were polite). But he draws his focus to her face again before he speaks, which is close enough to looking at her the whole time. Technically, he was looking at her. "They're… present. My mother thinks I'm less likely to tumble into trouble if I dress in buckles and modern flair."

"Well, are ya?"

"You know who I am," he softly says. With his head tilted forward, his green eyes look ghostly peeking out beneath his night-blue hair. Yeah, that's the color of trees when they're lit with lightning that's not yet struck. Vixil's arms prickle up. Oh. She plays it cool though, gliding one hand along the counter. It's just whatever, y'know… that he's here. He never visits enough. She moves her elbow back, prepared to turn away, only for Eskel's hand to close over her knuckles like a mousetrap. He catches her eyes in those flytraps of his. Really, traps is the best way to describe him. You better learn this fast if you think you can steal him away.

"Hey."

He doesn't move the hand away. "I still think of that night, if I'm honest… How electric the air tasted in those moments before you'd so much as laid hand on me."

"I remember you din't brush your teeth and ya tasted like cheese and jam."

Eskel's grimace dances in the corners of those shiny-lit eyes. "Yes, well… Perhaps I was a mite hasty to follow on your heels like a drooling hound to bed, but don't pretend you didn't enjoy it. When I kissed you past the point of sentient thought, you groaned hard enough to snuff every candle in the room."

"Mm… Yeah, I did. You were pretty good at that. Whatcha want? Why'd you come?"

His face slides back into practiced professionalism; he clears his throat in his hand. Vixil watches that, barely trying with her own. She pulls her fingers through her ponytail and lets the rest fall where it may. "Ah, yes… I'm afraid I do have a motive for showing up unannounced after all these years. Have you seen our son? He didn't make it to school."

Oh. He's only here because he's looking for Eskel-ju. Vixil flits her thoughts towards Pixie World, caressing it the way she's always wanted to, but rarely gets to try. She was in disguise the first time Eskel ever crossed her path. It was at the greenhouse. She's quite certain her pixie disguise turned out less flawed than his; she studied those whose culture she sought to infiltrate before she took the plunge. Pixies are not nearly as crisp, clumsy, and charming as he.

📖 Read on FFN (T) || Read on AO3 (M; 🔒)

[thelaurenshippen]

this month's mixtape is Desperate Hollow! I write notes to all of my playlists and this month, I also wrote a ton about the process of working on this story, so if y'all are interested in that too, I'm happy to post that writing here! just let me know. but for now, music and rivals-to-friend-to-enemies-to-lovers feelings.

here are the basics that you need to know: Tex Bullock (a name he chose at 11) joined the notorious Barlowe Boys after he was orphaned at 8 years old, with Barlowe taking him under his wing. Sawyer Watson was similarly orphaned years later and fell in with the gang when he and Tex were both 14. they did not like each other at first. but fast forward thirteen years and they've become the best of friends, with feelings beyond friendship buried in both their hearts, when a confrontation with Barlowe leads to Sawyer shooting Tex in the chest and leaving him for dead. 

fast forward again, seven years this time, and Sawyer has been living in a dead-end town (Desperate Hollow, of course) when who should roll into town, horseless and clearly running from something, but Tex. 

that is, more or less, everything you need to know that happens in the first few chapters. okay, let's get into it: 

1. "Bottom of the River" - Delta Rae

This playlist was started so long ago, in 2019, and since then I've honed so much about the story, even though I haven't touched this playlist. As a result, a lot of the songs are seeking a vibe that I hadn't quite clicked into - this is definitely a vibe song. It sounds to me like dragging yourself across dusty plains, hoping that salvation will come find you soon, either in the sight of civilization or in death. Essentially: where Tex begins.

2. "Born This Way" - Bear and a Banjo

Though both Sawyer and Tex have their own playlists (which I'll be sharing over the next two months) as well as several different ship mixes, there are certain songs that are more one or the other on this playlist. Sawyer's life before joining the Barlowe Boys was fairly peaceful - as a Black man living in Montana, he didn't exactly have it easy, but he had parents who loved each other and loved him. That sense of family is something he never quite gets back with the gang.

What happened to my freedom, separated my family/Bringing me to the foreign place/Now I'm focused on surviving in the midst of evil/Don't think it's ever gonna be the same

Fun fact! This song is actually from a fiction podcast about a fictional musical collaboration. 

3. "Devil's Backbone" - The Civil Wars

Meanwhile, Tex was raised by a criminal father, his mother having died when he was eighteen months old. So when Barlowe found him and showed him the kind of affection and guidance his father never did, it was easy for Tex to fall into line on the criminality side. Sawyer is a lot more moral than Tex in a lot of ways - he's never killed anyone, whereas Tex has earned himself a pretty fearsome reputation. Sawyer doesn't always approve of what Tex does but...that doesn't mean he doesn't have a weakness for him all the same. 

Don't care if he's guilty, don't care if he's not/He's good and he's bad and he's all that I've got

Also, Sawyer was raised in the church whereas Tex's dad was probably? Irish Catholic but I don't think he ever talked about God with Tex. Neither one of them is very religious anymore, but I love the line Oh Lord, oh Lord, what do I do?/I've fallen for someone who's nothing like you

4. "Tell That Devil" - Jill Andrews

I found this song because it's the theme for  Wynonna Earp, a delightful supernatural Western with lots of queerness. 

I gave you all I got to give/I know that ain't no way to live/so I told that devil to take you back - so much of the conflict between Tex and Sawyer is about loyalty, to each other and to Barlowe. I think this could work in multiple ways--either one of them saying it to Barlowe, or Sawyer saying it to Tex. 

5. "I'm a Wanted Man" - Royal Deluxe

This is a Tex song - both how the world sees him and the way he sees himself. 

I would kill again to keep from doing time is more or less a plot point, and you should never ever trust my kind is a central conflict within him. 

If you asked me to change/I don't know if I can/I'll always be who I am

Royal Deluxe is all over these playlists - they make "outlaw rock" which in my view, is essentially cowboy-outlaw roleplaying fanfic. I'm so glad it exists. 

6. "I'm Bad" - The Last Vegas

More of a vibe song, but I do think this is a little bit how Tex sees himself sometimes. He doesn't relish violence, doesn't actually really want to be an outlaw, but it's pretty much all he's ever known -- this is my note from 2019 or whenever I first wrote the notes and I don't have much to add to it (other than to say I'm not sure Tex doesn't relish violence. It's complicated. I did tell you the story got darker). Hindsight being 20/20, if I were to remake these playlists now, this would go on the Barlowe playlist. But this and the Tex and Sawyer playlists have been so baked for so long, I can't conceive of any other song placement. 

7. "Raise Hell" - Brandi Carlile 

If Tex has an anthem this is it. For some reason, I didn't end up putting it on his personal playlist, because I think it fits the ~vibes~ better.

I've been down with a broken heart/Since the day I learned to speak/The devil gave me a crooked start/When he gave me crooked feet - This is sort of the companion to "Born This Way". Tex's father took a lot more shape since I wrote this initial note, but it applies even more now. Tex was never going to walk straight (dual meaning intended). 

I dug a hole inside my heart/To put you in your grave/At this point it was you or me/And mama didn't raise no slave/You took my face in both your hands/And looked me in the eye/And I went down with such a force/That in your grave I lie - I was coy with my notes on these lyrics previously, but it does work on multiple levels - Tex and Sawyer both have to bury each other in their hearts after that deadly confrontation and, for seven years, Sawyer thinks he put Tex in his actual grave. Which, from his perspective, might as well be his own grave for as much as he wants to exist in a world without Tex. Anyway, yeah, graves are a thing in the book. 

8. "Dangerous" - Royal Deluxe

Mostly a vibes song - I like to think of this as a theme song of sorts, for when Sawyer and Tex were in their early twenties, perfect partners, taking the West by storm and becoming figures of legend. 

9. "Blood on My Name" - The Brothers Bright

As I said, Sawyer is the less violent of the two, doesn't like being an outlaw at all really but that doesn't mean he isn't deadly. Tex wears his anger like a well-worn coat, but Sawyer's rage is buried deep.

Yes, Sawyer's rage is buried deep, but it's also different from Tex's - it's a simplification, but Tex spends most of his life angry at himself, Sawyer spends that time angry at the world. After Sawyer shoots Tex, those positions switch. Tex is the one who has blood all over his reputation, his name, but Sawyer's one kill (so he thinks) haunts him in a way killing never bothered Tex. 

There's a reckoning a-coming/And it burns beyond the grave/With lead inside my belly/'Cause my soul has lost its way/Oh, Lazarus, how did your debts get paid? - brain goes brrrrr at this re: Sawyer, but I've got to save some thoughts for the actual book. 

10. "Gun in My Hand" - Dorothy

Why did love put a gun in my hand...Why did love put a knife in my heart - I mean, that really says it all.

All the talk of redemption, revenge, opening up scars...delicious. 

Was it for the thrill of pushin' my hope to the edge - if I think about this too long I'll spontaneously combust. 

11. "Desperado" - Rihanna*

Okay, okay, okay - this is the keystone song of both this playlist and their relationship. I love it. It's modern and cool but has that old West swag and, okay, look, this might be a stretch, but "Desperado" sort of sounds like "Desperate Hollow" said with a drawl and GAH. I love this song.

I'm not tryna go against you/Actually, I'm going withcha/Gotta get up out of here and/You ain't leaving me behind/I know you won't, 'cause we share common interests/You need me, there ain't no leaving me behind - the premise of this story initially really hinged on one fact: that Tex and Sawyer needed each other to get out of Desperate Hollow.

There ain't nothing here for me anymore/But I don't wanna be alone - I have so much to say about this lyric but I don't think I can without writing an essay that gives away the whole book, so I'll shut up.

If you want we could runaways/running from any sight of love - again, if I speak--

12. "Heaven and Back" - Emily West

I don't know, I just wanted to end this playlist on a kinda romantic song! this is one of those songs that just feels like them and I can't describe why.

A big reason this song is on the playlist is that, back in 2019, I was building a pitch for a big studio that ended up going nowhere, but the exec I was working with sent me this song at the same moment I was putting the final touches on this playlist and it just clicked in my brain. 

I want you to be my man/I want you to be more than a friend/I dare you to break our plans

[itsbansheebitch]

Gen Zer's (2005) Predictions for Gen Alpha (They aren't Doomed)

I have some cousins that are Gen Alpha and they're turning out well. I really think all the "they're so doomed" messaging is from a loud minority, mostly on tiktok. I disagree, so I plan to make predictions for the vague & soupy (time) generation of Gen Alpha.

This list will focus on American Gen Alpha since there WILL be a stark contrast, especially regarding school shootings.

Average to EXTREME skill with tech depending on the kids (hope STEM is ready to welcome a new wave of newcomers)

Difficulties with history knowledge due to rewritten history books, (Please be kind while they learn, they don't know the full scope of what's going on yet)

Desensitized to violence (Due to usual kid stuff, school shootings being treated as normal, and an increase in hate crimes)

A new passion for social justice (I don't mean to be a "but I have black friends" kind of person, but believe it or not, having friends in minority groups and realizing they're in danger makes you want to fist fight whoever is at fault)

TONS of memes about the "Alpha" phrasing, which trust me, will get old QUICKLY. (A bigger stretch is saying the term for a shitty Gen Alpha kid will be Omega/Beta instead of Boomer)

Unusually violent jokes & memes

Extremely dark humor

A long list of child neglect lawsuits

An increase in accents homogeneity due to watching YouTubers at a young age (I'm not joking, this has happened to me and I only started watching YT in 2nd Grade. I have the weirdest Irish, British, and midwestern, but not the state I currently live in, accents on only CERTAIN words and phrases. There definitely will be studies on this.)

A new wave of kids fighting gerymandering

Brand New Shiny Raw LinesTM from the KiddosTM that they'll probably use to roast lawmakers until they start decomosing on the spot

Kids who are NOT afraid to fight you

New unseen levels of compassion

This is a stretch, but somehow they'll manage to bring back the avocado toast jokes, either as a banter thing or as a new "Boomer" type thing.

KiddosTM will probably joke about how Millennials ruined every industry from fabric softener to identity theft to robberies. This will be (hopefully) fully joking manner and used in a [Post kiddosTM disagree with] [Reply: Well, you ruined the fabric softener industry, so you don't have a leg to stand on] type format.

Will either share you their Social Security Number or will be a brick wall online. No in between.

A increase in reading (specifically fanfiction & audio books, but will NOT be void of physical copies) but a decrease in literacy & media literacy. We are already seeing this happening.

A "you didn't fix this/you fucked it up" attitude towards older people. This isn't necessarily negative since it means they won't take ANY shit from lawmakers and will probably not have as many hangups regarding rioting.

An absolute HATRED for family channels. I waiting for these kids to break the van life kids out in a bizarre scheme of epic proportions lmao

The most indecipherable controversies you've ever seen in your life. I'm thinking at least 5 levels of knowledge and joining a subreddit will be needed to even have an idea of what's happening.

(Hopefully) a new level of understanding when it comes to accountability, people changing, and knowing what you should expect from a person when they get cancelled.

Brand new political cartoons (now made for the internet)

A new passion for the environment and recognizing one's place in it.

A new level of hatred for colonialism and mass killings

Probably at least one assassination lmao (they'll be the barista from the tiktok about the barista killing CEOs with metal straws as darts)

A polarizing divide between anti-capitalism and ancap ideas that we haven't seen since 2008 (and not as publicly in 2008, so get ready for your shit to get rocked).

Some of the best and worst takes that humanity has ever bore witness to.

New acceptance (even better than now) regarding hair (dyes and styles), tattoos, piercings, etc.

A major crackdown on systematic issues (criticism when they're young, major law & education changes when they're older)

That's all for now. REMEMBER! Do NOT treat these kids like you were treated (LOOKING AT YOU, Ms. AVOCADO TOAST and Ms. DOWNFALL OF HUMANITY GAY-MER).

Side Note: People are always surprised when I tell them I was born in 2005 and have already graduated high school (no, I did not skip grades, I was actually very young for my grade) so I'm going to apologize ahead of time for turning all the Millennials reading this into dust. Sorry, ya'll.