#got the shittiest news possible. its so fucking over

[final-milf-ratchet]

The rodimags gods failed me.....

[chasedeys]

Hi do you have a favorite moment between Joe and Ja’Marr ?? Also how would you describe their relationship I’m new to this fandom and they are just so close and adorable

hi there!! thank you sm for coming by and sending this ask bc now there's like 2k+ words under the cut 😭 i feel like i should apologize profusely for the unchecked word vomit oh my god

to start off, like would you believe me if i said i’ve been a fan of the bengals for like a month :')) started ts during the week leading up to the first regular season game when jamarrs contract literally gripped me with the drama of it all. so for all my word vomit below feel free to fact check me ahaha

you asked me for a favorite moment for joemarr and i start describing their entire life together i am so very sorry, but:

on the top of my head literally just two weeks ago. this 63 yarder jamarr and joe made that led to an mildly feral celly where they just. didn’t know how to act right and got made fun of for not doing a cool celly?? this insane anon ask i sent before i caved and made a sideblog was actually just my word vomit over it 😭. And also last weeks celly, a whole lot softer and more tender with jamarr skipping then walking straight towards joe who held his arms out for him? thats crazyyyy he was expected! he was welcomed!! he was loved!!! the way one of the fired up coach just let joemarr have their intimate little moment before slapping jamarrs shoulders in joy is also crazy to me 😵‍💫 and just this screenshot of that celly where they’re just wrapped around each other right in front of their sidelines. the fuck. watched that shit sick to my stomachhhh i had enoughhhh.

this edit with the compilation of their post-tds pinky shakes oh my goddd. just every time they do pinky shakes!! who does that!!!! the softest possible way they can make a handshake (since college my god) in a status quo where you make the most elaborate handshakes to look cool and spread joy and burn up adrenaline but these two chose to do a quick twist of their pinky fingers (the symbolism of it alllll how dare theyy) and pressing knuckles together for however long they want to. the roty award where they did their pinky shake is one of my favorites huhu

the lakers date…..the way i had no idea sam and dj reader were with them on this date until i see a full vid of lebron meeting them 😭 and the lore goes crazyyy for this whole thing bc apparently joe was having the shittiest week in arizona and jamarr made an obscure ig story that he arrived in az before deleting it (like whyyyy would he do that) and then boom. they’re in the lakers game in lsu/lakers colors. and jamarr did that arms around shoulder thing that blows my mind because what the fuck is wrong with him why would he do that in front of lebron james and anthony davis and like national tv idk. joe also clapped (??? for whatever reason this fucking dork my godd) his hands right in front of jamarrs face when jamarr was being introduced to the stadium.

THE WEIRD CLOTHES PAIRING THING IS INSANE TO ME TOO. they do it in such subtle ways that you just think its a coincidence and you're delusional and it probably is but!! but??? they went to the game wearing yellow and purple (color coordinating lakers colors!! if i were on a date i would also do that cringy shit!!) that is also coincidentally lsu colors! another theory is they each chose to wear lakers colors without the other knowing of which this is just another case of soulmatism. the matching shoes during week 3! the sort of matching color schemes for their away game airport fits! last week both wearing rick owens apparently idk?? no idea if they've done this before this season btw i just got here lol. this is reaching ofc but very fun to think of!

jamarr being batshit crazy with his words abt joe. 'he's like a god to me' 'trying playing without my favorite quarterback' 'i told him dont scare me like that again. he knows how to slide he's just hard headed' 'im here for the future, for him. i want you to be here for the future' (this was abt joe playing through an injury :)) etc etc. something about 'just keep winning as many championships together' or like 'me and him come as package' or something fairy tale ish like that idk man he's crazy i could make something up only to be bamboozled because he has in fact said shit like it before. and like his refusal to consider anyone but joe for the no. 1 qb hhh. somebody needs to put him in an mri and study his brain when shown a picture of joe burrow bc like?? the way jake had to prove himself before jamarr even followed him on ig is ??? pls be normal jamarr i beg of u (he's perfect the way he is).

while jamarrs insane with his words, joes insane with his actions!! the lsu sec championship ball he gave to jamarr. that little look like ‘hey you want it? okay its rightfully yours' mkayy crazy ass!!! jamarrs lsu championship game worn jersey joe asked for and worn for their first game back in nola. just what the fuck went through joes mind that led to this. their dads (both named jimmy both close since lsu too, cute!) were asked about their fav joe game day fit they said the jamarrs lsu jersey 😃! in laws approving your partner of choice etc. this is jimmy chases interview regarding joemarr too btw haha. anyway back to joe being insane—the demented way joe runs to jamarr and hops around him and slams his helmet to his when jamarr makes plays. and like again this is speculation as in no citation sorry but jamarrs reason for going to cincy is definitely in part because of joe?? joe being the one to text him pack your bags you’re going to cincy is crazyyy. firmly believe joe talked him up and asked for him! when they last parted before joe went to cincy did they make a pact that they would play in a team together again? did jamarr reach out when joes 2020 season ending injurys news reached him? did he watch him go down that first time?

also during their lsu days they interviewed the wr core and they were asked abt who joe likes best (stupid ass question in my opinion btw. why would they ask that), it was so....sooooo......like jamarr was so shy and unsure!! he's like 'is it..me?' and terrace going 'he does like throwing to jamarr most' and then jamarr bursting into embarrassed laughter like okay??? okay 😭😭 fine okay be cute or whatever. in my mind back then jamarr was a whole lot more unsure of his presence in joes life because hes super young, his qb is literally 3 years older, its their first year playing together etc but i think being joe being upfront on asking jamarr to play with him in cincy (again speculation on my part no idea if this is true ha) just cements the little gremlin in his head that believes he has to be crazy about joe

their 2021 preseason jamarrs drops were apparently disgusting enough for people to shit on his entire life idk and crucify the bengals for drafting another wr but joe was so firm on his belief in jamarr! that's devotion babyyyy his clap back in the first post game presser was very much what were u saying abt the loml coded love that for them

last feb probowl dramaaa rumors of jamarr moving to houston bc he chirped at cj stroud that he knew cj wanted to play with him or smtg so he had to post this very emotional very sincere tweet and speak abt it in an interview 😭😭 just head empty no thoughts mouth racing! joe probably teased the ever living shit out of him 'so you’re moving to houston without telling me :( i had to find out through twitter :(('

just teasing each other in numerous occasions over each others speed??? that mic'ed up moment when joe teased jamarr over being slow! yelling out his name so many times just to say that he was a little slow and jamarr shooting back instantly with an incredulous ‘be serious. be serious.’ vs jamarr nagging joe over being slow ass hell during his 20 (?) yard rushing attempt and joe defending himself in the whiniest voice i have ever heard from him saying he had to wait for ted to block before him (ted then going what did i do? ted I’m sorry you had to be dragged into their weird mating dance banter) and also this gem of a jamarr tweet (x)

speaking of jamarrs twitter, 17yo him’s curiouscat answers that insanely aligns with joe is nothing short of crazy. they have not met or heard of each other then i don't think. but according to it he likes them older, smart, doesn't mind if they're taller, but he doesn't fw long distance so he flew his ass to ohio 😮‍💨. (also whooo be sending these asks high schoolers dear lordd 😭). the soulmatism between them is kinda crazy like joe being well over 3yrs his senior yet still they had a moment chance to play together during jamarrs freshie/sopho (?) year in college because joe chooses to transfer to lsu, and coach o taking a chance on him despite not playing for how many long, winning a championship (!!) together for that one year that they could play together, and saying fuck that only one year bullshit before flying jamarrs ass right to cincy so they could play 4 and counting more years together.

jamarr talking abt where it apparently clicked for joe and jamarr that joe can throw to jamarr and jamarr would be right there to catch it haha. like he didn't give a shit if people thought it was joes big life changing moment hes just insisting that that was when he and joe really clicked!

literally my favorite mic'ed up moment between them. the teasing! the nagging! 'you see the big blue thing' 'don't do me that' 'that's the endzone' then the laugh!!!! ‘he’s gonna get mad at me when i tell him this shit' then gesturing joe over like hes a cat my god jamarr 'you couldnt overthrow me?' a very affronted 'my guy you were wide open' aughuhghuhhguu joy love laughter etc. (side note can't help myself sorry pretty sure the reason joe teased him about the endzone is bc jamarr could’ve gone for it but got tackled bc he was kinda slow to start sprinting and when he did he just sat there legs out shoulders dropped looking disappointed but cute as all hell i love him sm)

sooo many other moments because theyve literally been in each others lives for over five years!!!! recently joe saying jamarr playing is fun to watch 😵‍💫, jamarr saying numerous times that joes a tough mfer but also hard-headed and how he's also hard-headed but at least he listens (my guy....reflect again), that article of jamarr knocking on doors for a house near joe that he denied i think but he also said that he kept his stuff in joes house before he got his own, that jamarr gq shoot where he went insane and lied (or did he?) about buying joe clothes that just led to the ridiculous clothes saga that is still unsolved to this day and that tb and tee very obviously teased him over and somehow the socmed team clowned him on too 😭

etc etc stop me please

AND ANYWAYSSS MOVING ON:

how i would describe their relationship is ride or die with incredibly similar way of living by which i mean they live and breathe a sport they’re so talented in and they play to win and beat themselves up for doing bad in but also with the awkwardness of knowing they’re two vastly different people with different ways of seeing things and handling things but also even with that steadfast difference of being they also believe in each other in a truly outrageous way that it translates to them saying and being insane about each other (hence the list above) with little to no shame. (i hope this makes sense because im not reading all that over again wow)

like they’re so complicated to me!! by all means i don’t actually know these two or what they’re really like, but surface level they’re so different! their temperament is literally 180, joes cool and steady persona, incapable of being ruffled, closed off, moments of silliness he brings out only in certain situations, smart little quips he gives out at times like he can’t help himself vs exuberant open extroverted blustering to hide his shyness runs his mouth always down to fight jamarr chase. they couldn’t be more different! so how can they read each other so well? how can they run routes and plays with minute changes whilst running from men trying to take them down between one heartbeat to the next? how is it that jamarr is so down bad for this man that he can just say the shit he does about him? how much trust does joe have in this man that he shuts down every bad shit anybody tries to tell him or coax him to say? something about /always/ choosing the other despite everything is always a thing that attracts me to a ship.

also after that infamous kc game shove, i definitely think they had a very tough heart to heart where jamarr maybe spills his full feelings over the contract and how he hasn’t been getting the ball to actually make big plays and how his worth as a wr1 is being brought to question and joe probably spills on his own feelings on how jamarr held out so long and had last minute (?) changes of playing that week one ramps up joes own anxiety and hang ups like i definitely feel like he had some unchecked anxiety over playing with his wrist that first game that jamarr probably said something incredibly insane yet uplifting about in response. the next game its like they mended some unseen frayed stitch of their connection! first drive banger of a 41 yarder td for jamarr, two tuddys for the game in fact lol!! joe gets him his deep ball, then the insane way joe rushed at him after his 63 yarder in the next game, its like that first touchdown against minnesota again. i just wish the very best for them, to keep making these insane passes and insane runs they've been making since lsu.

anyway i feel like a lot of my rambling is for jamarr sorry 😭 he’s like a drug to me such an interesting person i base my thoughts around him. I feel obliged to say i wrote my first ever fic and its them lmao and i link this just as a fair warning to everyone that i very obviously write and ramble in the tags like im in love with jamarr, definitely with some bias, and I’m learning how not to be ashamed of that !

also nobody asked but scrolling through the hell that is my photo gallery i just have to share my favorite tee photo which is coincidentally the mock photoshoot the bengals socmed team made them do to clown jamarrs gq shoot ahaha

hearts ❤️ thank u for reading all the way through :"))

[andmaybegayer]

Last Monday of the Week 2023-03-20

Spinning around and doing very little

Listening: Completely missed the new 100 gecs album because I was travelling over the weekend. I'll get to that. In the meantime I've had the closing track from The Will to Live by Titus Andronicus stuck in my head, that's 69 Stones.

The will to live can be an awful curse Upon an Earth that's just a lot of dirt Whenever it is that you're getting hurt That's just the will to live doing its work

The Will to Live is probably the second best Titus Andronicus album, and a solid return to form for the band, it's the album that's the most like The Monitor imo. It's literally got a song called "We're Coming Back"

There's a live performance of this that isn't that good as your first encounter, very "end of a long show" live performance that's no doubt great in person, but just. When did Patrick Stickles start looking like that. The man is absolutely fucking shredded, it's kind of concerning.

yeah. I am looking.

Reading: Someone put up this article on the intricacies of tofu in China and I'm now even more upset about the utter dearth of good tofu options in stores around here. Every time I want to make a tofu thing it's basically impossible to find anything other than the softest shittiest silken tofu that is useless for anything structural and now I learn that they have shit like alkaline tofu? So mad.

Watching: Travellers, when I get a chance. It's fine, decent sci-fi really, but I'm not paying attention to TV shows the way I would like to for reasons.

Chef Wang Gang is an extremely good professional Chinese chef who runs a good YouTube channel if you're interested in Chinese food. Most of his stuff is kind of impractical to make without a very wok-centric kitchen but you can make some of it work.

Far more interesting to me is that he runs a line of prepared food canteen style things and is trying to bring out a commercial store shelf food line, and he does occasional tours of his factory. It's really cool to see the inside of a modern high-end food factory, it's a fascinating mix of laboratory and kitchen. All these videos have good English subtitles.

You can see them doing things like trialing expiry dates and best before dates for the packaged food options, the full cold chain for frozen ingredients, and the complexities of the packaging process, which is so neat. You've got all this equipment for mass-producing food but also a complete scientific kitchen for designing those recipes. Industrial environments are so cool.

Playing: Picking idly at things here and there. Too busy most nights for competitive Valorant with my usual squad.

Making: Plenty of quilt sewing, the decision to go away to see family over the weekend means that's still not quite done. About ⅕ left to go.

Tools and Equipment: You may think that butterfly knives are mostly showy bullshit, and you'd be right, but they're also remarkably effective if you need a knife you can open and close safely with only one hand. Arguably they're as good as Axis-lock knives for that, once you have the basic open down they're perfectly safe and very controllable. I mostly use mine as a prying and scraping tool because I blunted it for training and never bothered to sharpen it again, but it's very useful for those tasks.

[i-love-dopamine]

"you better explain fast." she spat. she hasn't seen her dad in what... sixeen years? alots changed sense then. clearly he hasnt, though. why does he look just like i remember him? not even a wrinkle or a grey?

"so uh, i might have maybe been taken to a fantasy world?" he stumbled around his words, like they were unfamiliar. he had a hint of an accent, too.

"uh huh, yeah, sure. get out of me and pabbys house." she ordered. does he really think he can disappear for sixteen years, and then just pop up out of the blue with the worlds shittiest lie and a carton of milk?

"wh- but ka-"

"dont call me that. thats not my name anymore." she cut him off, trying to cut this as short as possible, maybe call the police too.

"but, thats your name"

"no, its not. im not your little boy. my name is sandra. now get the fuck out of the house before i call the police"

"sandra?" he said, rolling the word around in his mouth like a piece of food with a yet to be determined flavour.

"yeah. not get-" suddenly, she was cut off by the door opening.

"sandra? you home?" a voice rang through the house, and an older man, maybe late forties, walks into the kitchen. greyed hair long and tied back in a ponytail, he goes to put down a brown paper bag of groceries, and stops dead in his tracks.

"is- who- holy shit-" the new addition to the conversation clumbles out the words, trying to make sense of the scene hes just walked into. his husband, whos supposedly been dead for sixteen years, is standing in his kitchen, looking not a day over thirty-five.

"holy- love! how long have i been gone?" sandras supposedly dead dad steps forward, going out to grab the other mans hand, as if hes not sure hes really there.

"Juels? Is that really you? I cant believe your alive..."

"yeah, well, i cant believe you're an old man" Juels laughs a bit at his own joke, earning a warm chuckle from the other

"yeah, well, sixteen years will to that to you"

"six- sixteen? Ive been gone sixteen years?"

"wait, how the fuck are you even here? what happened?"

"you're not gonna believe me... i kinda got scammed by a fairy?"

"a fairy. really, juels. you disappear for sixteen years without so much as a warning and thats what i get? A childrens story?"

"no- theo, id never lie to you"

"oh? then spit it out. ill think about believing you."

"we were out of milk so i went to the store to get some and then i got hit by a bus and a fairy said they'd promise to bring me back if i won a game of chess against them and-" juels spoke, mouth moving a mile a minute,

"slow down, juels."

at this point, sandra was awestrucken. she really thought pabby would be as mad at dad as she was, but she should've known better. pabbys always been a big softy, after all.

juels took a deep breath before continuing,

"so i agreed to play chess with the fairy, but it turned out that it was actually throwing me and about three hundred people all into one square on a giant board and we were the pieces. eventually the boxes all opened and we had to kill or be killed and only one half of the board was going home. i happened to get home, for you guys i swear its only been a week, how has it been sixteen years?"

/ oki done. i might make more about this if anyone wants but i think this is a pretty good snippet :)

You cannot believe your eyes. "…D-Dad?!" The man who vanished from your life sixteen years ago, the man who just spontaneously popped into existence in your kitchen clutching, of all things a large crate of milk and a glowing sword, stares at you nervously. "OK, first of all, I can explain…

[pookiethebloodsucker]

Venting

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

okay fuck it i can't find it so time to summarize it in the shittiest way possible

winnie the pooh gets locked in the pizzaplex cuz why the fuck not shut up you guys get your crossovers lemme have mine-

so winnie the pooh gets locked in the pizzaplex and moon ends up finding him cuz he's a security guard slash naptime attendant and pooh's a stuffed animal what did you think was gonna happen but

anyway basically moon's all virusy and shit and he's gonna rip pooh to pieces but pooh being pooh asks him if he's the real moon and how he got down from the sky and how come he didn't see him that one time he went up and got stuck in the clouds and he likes his hat and how come he's in this place anyways its past christopher robin's bedtime and he should be at home in the hundred acre woods sleeping and the moon should be in the sky watching over everyone and moon is just sitting there half virus and half 'what in the wee willy wonka is goin on' so

he tells pooh that he's in the pizzaplex to watch over children and put them to sleep and adds that pooh needs to be put in the lost and found like all the other little toys and pooh goes says he's been there before once when he chased after a ballmoon-it's a bit like moon, he says, but it was red and it floats-he's seen one hasn't he?--but lost and found didn't look like this last time and what's a pizza, he's only had honey before-which reminds him that he hasn't seen his honeypot and he inquires about if he can get any at this new lost and found, and is piglet there because if piglet's there he wouldn't want him to be lost alone and moon tells him he doesn't know who piglet is and he doesn't know about a honeypot but they can stop by one of the food joints to check for some and pooh says alright he'll come along for piglet (and honey), but how on earth can food have joints if it doesn't have bones (he doesn't really know what joints are but christopher robin told them that joints pop when he pushes his hands together and he's never seen his honey do something like that before) and moon sighs and takes him along deeper into the pizzaplex and

oh shit did i just make an au

wait hold on where's that one post where i rambled about winnie the pooh getting locked down in the pizzaplex

where is it i need the wholesome tags

[keilemlucent]

lavender latte: iii

(T (for now!))

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

chapter 1   ||   chapter 2   ||   chapter 4

word count: 4.2k

a cheeky drink and some mutual sabotage. 

warnings: oh no, they say s*x, fluff, pining, the usual, and a wittle angst on the side, reader smokes cigs bc its a salem trademarked fic thing

enjoy folks ;^) the whole of this piece is gonna be about? ten chapters. so. hold on tight!!!

beta read by @keiqos, heart EYES

||||||||||||||||||||||||

“Let that sit for a second or you’ll burn yourself—”

“Don’t need to tell me twice, angel. I know the drill.” Hawks replied with a wink.

You weren’t ever going to get tired of that.

You really expected Hawks to disappear out of your life. You really, truly expected him to run off for good. How many bigger, better, and more important things did he have to do? Even if you managed to speak to him and regard him like any other customer (or, perhaps acquaintance, and more recently, friend — ), your mind swam with insecurities that only seemed to get worse over time.

You were waiting for the metaphorical thread to snap.

You waited for the day Hawks simply would stop texting you flirty bullshit on a somewhat regular basis.

But, holy fuck, the dude didn’t.

 You couldn’t think of why. You weren’t complaining about the attention, but you also were terrified of getting too used to it. Hawks was a part... bird (?) right? He was flighty by nature.

Despite this, Hawks continued to not only text you but also stopped by the shop fairly frequently for his special, quirk-fueled beverage fix. Politely, he’d text you the day before he planned to make an appearance to check and see if you were working, and then show up the next day like it was nothing. 

He usually wouldn’t stay for long; the hero was ungodly busy and always on the move. But, he always took the time to flirt and get a full description of his drink before dashing out to save the world once more. 

Most days he visited were his ‘hero work’ days. He’d appear in his costume, done up and dashing for a sip and a quick talk before disappearing once more into the skies. Every once in a while, Hawks had an ‘office’ day where he’d be confined to his agency to catch up on his insane backlog of paperwork. On these occasions, Hawks would talk (stall) at the tea shop for as long as possible. You talked and joked with him as long as he would let you. Sure, it put you behind on work, but no one at the shop was going to tell you off for fraternizing with the number two hero (whose repeated presence was drawing more customers anyways). You both reveled in each other's attention, drinking in the other’s slowly softening smiles and quick wit. 

 On this day, Keigo’s wings were the shittiest they had been in a while. Plucked and almost barren with how much he’d been working lately. Total exhaustion seemed like it was constantly on the horizon, tugging as his eyelids and weighing down his chest each morning.

It was easier to get out of bed when he got to think about seeing you.

Sure, your drinks were a perk. Very much so. He was getting so used to the artisan beverages you crafted that the taste of his normal canned coffee was starting to bother him. 

But, what his real thrill in visiting the tea shop was that he got to see you, and that made his heart pound. 

He sat across from you, looking down into your newest drink. It swirled between dark and milky, a heady, rich aroma billowing up with the steam it produced. He had requested something ‘surprising, new, and horribly caffeinated’ as deep fatigue was the worst villain he’d likely see that day. You had just nodded, cheekily starting to prepare his drink with a bounce in your step, pupils going wide. 

“I feel like you’re gonna start running out of ideas one of these days,” Keigo laughed, adjusting himself on his stool, gloves and jacket removed. He almost looked like a normal patron.

 You grinned to yourself, idly cleaning around you as you often did, “I dunno, I’ve got a lot.”

Hawks raised an eyebrow, “Tell me about them.”

“Nope, top-secret,” You shook your head, digging into your apron to flash him the small notepad you carried on you.

Scrawled in nasty handwriting, you carried your many ‘feeling’ ideas around with you. Different concepts and abstractions all scribbled down, a nice long list to look back on whenever Hawks would make his appearances and his own vague requests. Your backlog of ideas made it easy to find something more than suitable to make for him.

When Hawks saw your notepad his eyes widened, tilting his head and a devious smirk coming to his lips.

Your expression fell, and you stuffed the papers back into your pocket, hiding your hot face by idly cleaning some more. 

You left yourself very open for teasing, it seemed.

(Not that you or Keigo minded.)

“You keep a little list of all of your ideas! I’m beyond flattered,” Hawks ran a hand through his hair, flashing a cocky smile for you. 

“I have to stay prepared, can’t be disappointing my celebrity sugar daddy,” You winked as Hawks’s eyes went wide, half-hearing a choke get caught in his throat. (You loved it when you were able to get him visibly flustered. What a treat.) You nodded down to the drink, “Should be good to try now.” 

 Keigo really liked spending time with you. He knew it was always fleeting and short and consistently he wanted to find reasons to stay with you at the tea shop counter for longer and longer. Your quips and chides continued to get quicker and more clever and he was having an increasingly difficult time keeping his cool around you. Most of the time he smoothed himself easily, not showing a trace other than that which he neurologically couldn’t control. 

But sometimes, you were bold enough and ballsy enough to get him to gag on his literal words and he was positive that you were the only person to ever have him break composure in such a way. 

He covered his weakened poise by sipping the new drink, mindfully letting the taste wash over his tongue.

Increasingly, you’d been changing up the so-called ‘vibe’ of your beverages. It seemed like each time Keigo dropped in, you had something new and vibrant to show him. 

This drink was particularly different.

The taste was rich, dark, and smooth, rolling into the back of his throat and down his spine. It coated his insides with a warm, low heat. Peeking through were sweet, light accents, warm but almost... teasing?

His dick twitched.

 Hawks’s mouth dropped open, any and all professional veneers dropped as you just beamed so fucking smugly at him. 

“What do you think?” You leaned a bit forward, bouncing on your toes with excitement.

“Is... Is this supposed to taste like sex?” Hawks asked, taking another mouthful to confirm. Based on the way his eyes briefly shut and some of the tension rolled from his shoulders, he thoroughly confirmed it.

“Technically, it’s crafted based on like... a late-night rendezvous. I left it fairly up to interpretation beyond that. The rest is on you.” You shrugged, still bouncing as Hawks took another chug.

“What the fuck, (Y/N),” Pleasant shock colored his features, but clear amusement stretched across his lips as he continued to drink. 

“You wanted something surprising and horribly caffeinated. That’s a dark chocolate mocha with two extra shots, our in-house raspberry and rhubarb syrup, a bit of white chocolate syrup, and a few of my add-ins as well. It’s pretty different from what I’ve made you before,” You blinked at him, stomach twisting as his expression remained unguarded. “I... I probably should’ve asked before giving you a drink that definitely could’ve been taken as sex. That’s my bad. I can remake you something else if you’d like?”

 Keigo shook himself from his stupor, shaking his head and quickly regaining his composure. He took another sip to emphasize his words, “No, nope. It’s okay. Definitely okay. The drink is really good. I’m just now wondering something.”

“And, what’s that?” You asked, reaching behind the counter to grab your own iced beverage.

“Can your quirk be used to manifest bad feelings and concepts, just like good ones?” Keigo asked. Normally, he’d add more nuance, but he was getting impatient and sloppy around you. He’d have to keep that in check.

Especially with the way your shoulders drew up and tensed. You turned a bit away from him, any and all potential for eye contact torn away.

He hit a nerve.

“The type of abstract feeling doesn’t matter, I can emulate it,” You replied, pulling at your nails. Keigo had long picked up that it was one of your habits when your anxiety spiked. 

He dropped it, but didn’t forget. There were public files on quirks. Maybe he’d look into it. Maybe. It felt a bit invasive, but considering plenty of that data was freely accessible, it hardly was an invasion of privacy, right? 

(Except for the fact that it obviously made you very uncomfortable to discuss the more unsavory potentials of your quirk.) 

(He just wouldn’t tell you.)  

Keigo switched topics, easily rolling away from the topic, “Any particular... event that inspired this one?” 

You pressed your hands into the counter, leaning over it to glare at him, “Are you referring to something with that comment, Hawks?”

He shuddered when you said his name, but you don’t notice. 

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,” Keigo shrugged easily, going for another sip.

 The drink was inspired by the several day cinematic, wine-bender you went on a week or two prior. An entire weekend with just you, your cats, three entire bottles of wine, and a backlog of movies to catch up on. You tried to consume lots of different types of media, but what had been catching your eye lately had been anything with gushy romance for fairly obvious reasons.

(There was an embarrassing amount of ideas for drinks that were a bit too romantic to properly indulge with your quirk. You’d never tested the limits of how certain feelings could manifest, and you weren’t quite ready to face the reality where you could make people nut from caffeinated milk.)

“It is good though, the drink,” Hawks smacked his lips together as if it would make his coming analysis more credible. “It definitely does taste like sex, but more so complicated. Darker.”

“Deeper.” You smiled. “Your palette is getting more refined. I’m proud.”

“Are you saying it was bad to begin with?” Hawks pouted, flashing you falsely weepy eyes and a puffed out lip.

You rolled your eyes, “Yes, you yourself have admitted this. You drink canned coffee still, so I can’t even call your taste good.”

Hawks gasped, putting a hand to his chest, “I’m hurt, truly wounded.”

“I’m sure you are, tailfeathers.”

“I really thought I had reliably moved up to ‘birdboy’, angel.”

You snorted, covering your mouth with your hand, “Just goes to show how quickly the tables turn, tailfeathers.”

Hawks’s pager suddenly chimed, a familiar sign. He took a quick look at it and sighed, moving to re-robe. You were surprised by the speed at which he did so, and the way he became tense so quickly. 

It made you realize that he was always tense.

(Unless he was talking to you.)

“I thought today was an office day?” You asked, a bit of a disappointment clouding your voice.

Hawks just gave a small smile, fully plastering back on his heroic facade, “Duty calls. Lots happening lately.”

He flicked his visor back over his eyes, slid you your normalized wad of cash, and whisked himself out the door, immediately taking to the skies from the streets.

He’s in a bit of a hurry.

He... didn’t even say goodbye. 

Wonder what’s happening?

 Truthfully, Keigo was a bit startled by the notice on his pager. The whole reason he’d started patrolling the particular neighborhood the tea shop was in was because there was word of a villain syndicate working nearby. It hardly seemed right for the neighborhood, but Keigo knew that villains hid anywhere. Whatever they were planning was still relatively shrouded, but it was clear that it needed to be treated delicately. That particular neighborhood was rife with pedestrians, businesses, and homes and any sort of villainous activity had the possibility of reaping a heavy amount of collateral damage. Keigo and the Commission had been on their guards about it, but things had been steadily becoming more intense over the past few weeks. 

Plopping himself on a rooftop, Keigo took up residence to stake out his newest lead, watching figures and silhouettes in a nearby office building.

 ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

 Funnily enough, the rest of your week went horribly. Just downright shitty. You figured at some point, things would let up, brighten, but they didn’t. Each day brought some new, personal calamity. 

The first was a trip to the emergency vet with one of your cats after she swallowed a hair tie. An expensive vet bill later, she was perfectly healthy, but you remained wracked with anxiety. 

Another day, the owner of the tea shop paid a visit to chew you out for your newest tea blends not fulfilling his picky seasonal requests. You were relieved it had nothing to do with how Hawks monopolized your time. Still, getting yelled at easily within earshot of both coworkers and customers made your insides twists. 

The final small disaster was when a particularly asshole-ish customer chucked a hot drink all over you and your cute white sweater. One of the younger openers had been dealing with a difficult patron and an incorrect order, nothing out of the ordinary. When you tried to step in and de-escalate the situation, the man ripped the lid from his cup and splashed you with the burning liquid. You held back any sounds of pain even as your skin stung like hell when you offered to remake his drink.

One of your managers luckily allowed you to go home early. Thank god.

By the end of your shitty week, you fell into your apartment and just cried. White sweater stained and day feeling fairly ruined, you let yourself have a good, solid sobbing session to just release how terrible things had been. 

It would pass, you knew. But it sucked at the moment.

It also didn’t help that Hawks had been particularly absent after running out the last time he came around. He’d still managed to shoot you a funny text or two, but mostly, it was silence from him. You rationalized it by reminding yourself of how quickly he flew off at the end of his last visit, hero business forever more pertinent than you and the shop.

You reminded yourself to keep yourself grounded in Hawks obvious impermanence, even if you were starting to get used to (and really like) having the hero around. 

You decided that your Friday evening would be good. You treated yourself to a hot shower, noting with a hiss the pink scalded skin that covered your chest from your collar bones to just below your breasts. You threw on a facemask and uncorked a bottle of wine you had been saving for a rainy day. 

You clicked on one of your favorite shows, an older cartoon that brought you consistent comfort in times like those. Curled up with a knit throw blanket and your healthy cats, it did help soothe the burns, mental and physical.

That is until you got a bit too drunk on red wine and it turned into sad drunk.  

So, you made your way to the roof.

You weren’t fucked up beyond belief, despite the fact that you were towing an open bottle of red in one hand and a pack of cigarettes in the left. The cold would sober you up, along with the nicotine. You hoped it would force you out of your head. 

Upon throwing open the door to your apartment complex’s rooftop, you were made very aware of its wintertime disuse. The gardens that grew during the summer were snowcovered. The chairs and tables for lounging were in a similar state. You didn’t mind. 

The view was still nice. 

You set down your bottle and zipped up your coat. Quickly, you brushed off the flurries from a rickety lawn chair and plopped yourself down. You threw on some music from your phone, playing some sweet, old songs that made your chest ache when you needed it to.

The city stretched in front of you, beyond the rooftop. You didn’t live in a particularly wealthy district, but there was no shortage of dazzling neon and bright street lights dotting the ground below. You watched how the rest of the city stretched far beyond your little pocket, still gleaming with multi-hued lighting and dazzling in the wash of the crescent moon.

You took a swig, fishing for your self-dubbed ‘sad cigarettes’ and lit up. With your exhale, you watched as smoke lazily swirled away, carried by the soft winter wind. If you were any less drunk, you’d be freezing.

A shadow, winged, fell across the snow. 

“You know, I get nervous when I see pretty girls on rooftops with bottles in their hands,” You jumped at the voice, whipping your head to the source.

Hawks stood, scarlet wings fanned outwards, on the lip of the rooftop. 

Your eyes widened.

You took another sip.

He gave an affectionate laugh, jumping down into the area where you were seated.

 Keigo had just been out on his normal, nightly patrol. The leak had been correct and he’d been stealthily tracking the villains while completing the rest of his hero duties. He was able to laugh off his exhaustion, but it was starting to eat him. Several cans of coffee a day was hardly doing it for him. He hid his sleepiness and aches well, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t difficult. All the same, his typical roles had to be fulfilled. 

He was surprised to see you, all alone on a rooftop with a lit cigarette between your fingers. Keigo let himself be surprised before noting that ‘ yes, you definitely probably live in this apartment building and you’re just outside to smoke’, but the sudden jolt of panic he felt was crushingly unbearable. 

Mostly because it was personally protective and not heroically instinctual and he couldn’t start acknowledging that aspect of his feelings for you. Not yet. 

Keigo walked towards you, asking, watching you blink blearily at him “You doing alright?” 

Eyes downcast, you shrugged, “We all feel shitty sometimes. Just depends on how you cope, ‘ya know?”

“And how do you cope, (Y/N)?” Keigo asked, pausing before brushing off a chair. “Mind if I join you for a bit? I could use a second to rest my wings.”

You nodded, almost offering him the bottle, but quickly pulling it back to your chest before taking another inhale. Offering a pro hero alcohol while he was pretty obviously working seemed like a bad move, even in your tipsy state. 

“Most of the time, I watch nice stuff and distract myself, like most people, ya’ know?” You exhaled as you smoked, relishing the nicotine buzz. “Sometimes, though, I just feel extra shitty and need to extra cope.”

Hawks hummed in agreement, sitting back in the chair. His wings were folded up and over its back, the longest feathers trailing in the small snowdrift behind him.

“Do you get cold, being in the sky all the time?” You asked, eyes going cloudy as you stared up at the lights of the city and higher into the sky. 

“Most of the time,” Hawks chuckled, throwing his arms behind his head, “I’ve told you this, angel. It was one of our first conversations.”

Your eyes widened at the realization, mouth open with a hearty laugh.

 It made Keigo’s eyes water a little. He blamed it on the wind. 

 “I’m silly, I can’t believe I forgot,” You nestled back into your chair, tracing the lines between constellations. “It’s the whole reason you came to the teashop in the first place.” 

Your voice resonated, focus foggy. Somewhere else, old memories played in your mind, recounting your first few meetings with Hawks.

A warm, small smile stretched across your face as you traced the stars. 

 Keigo watched, enraptured. You were cute, especially like this. All bundled up in your winter coat, half-zipped. There was a lot less stress in your shoulders than he normally saw at the shop, especially as your thoughts were so far away.

He wanted nothing more than to commit the contours and shadows of your face in the white moonlight to memory, never forgotten in the blissful cold. 

 You interrupted his thoughts so beautifully.

 “Thanks for talking to me.” You took a sip from your bottle just after speaking, half-drowning your words, but Keigo caught each one. “I appreciate you.” 

“P-pardon?” Keigo couldn’t tell if you caught his stutter, but even if you did, you didn’t show it. The comment felt like a jab to his jaw, half-knocking the wind of him and turning him into a filthy masochist. He’d take any whiplash if it meant you saying such kindnesses to him. 

How could you just say shit like that?

What exactly did you mean by that?

Why did your attention make his legs tremble?

You turned your attention from the night sky to Hawks, something like uncertainty bubbling in your chest, “I appreciate you, ya’ know? Coming by the tea shop still, teasing each other and shit, you humoring me—”

Hawks interrupted you, feathers tensing at his back.

“I’m not humoring you.” Hawks deadpanned, staring at you oddly seriously. The yolks of his eyes seemed even more intense in the neon and night light. 

“You’re... not?” 

There was utter disbelief in your voice, accented by the way your jaw was half-opened.

Hawks shook his head, standing in emphasis, feathers fluttering as he did, “ No, angel. Not at all. I visit because...”

I like you.

“Because I like your drinks.”

  Because you make me feel good in a way I’ve never felt.

“You’re fun to talk to, too. Added perk.”

  Because I want to hear your voice when I breathe and when I die. 

“I enjoy it, you know? You're fun.”

 Some feeling in your chest, something full of hope, crushed itself and compacted to the point of pain. You sniffled at his admission, blaming it on the cold. In a fucked up, sad way, part of you was so relieved. 

He likes the shop. He likes your drinks. 

He’s around because he wants to be. 

But not because you’re special to him. 

 His words reminded you of your insignificance in Hawks’s life. No matter how much you craved his attention and words, and more recently found yourself staring at the plumpness of his lips and the curve of his cupids bow and daydreaming about how much you wanted to lean over the tea shop's counter and kiss the constant, teasing smile off his face—

But.

You don’t matter that much to him.

Sure, he likes you, but he’ll never feel the same way about you. 

 You made the decision then to make the most out of Hawk’s affections and sweet words. You’d take what you could get, even if it was fleeting and probably  eventually heartbreaking. It seemed smart, to refuse to get your hopes up for someone so unattainable.

 You let out a shaking sigh, “Thank you, Hawks. I appreciate you coming around. You really light up my day.”

 Keigo saw the fall of your face and bottled himself up. Shoved down everything. Fuck his feeling, fuck how he felt about you, this was all fucking terrifying. It was getting to be too much and he had to try and control himself.

Just like he’d been taught so well.

He was just so happy to be around you. He could squash his feelings, even if they were fairly obviously somewhat mutual. God knows that he didn’t know how to handle anything like that.

On the gods, his pager beeped.

 “Duty calls?” You said, standing up yourself and brushing off the stray snowflakes. 

“Seems so.” Hawks sighed, nodding, “Thanks for letting me rest here. It was good to see you, (Y/N). I’ll see you soon, okay?”

You waved goodbye as Hawks disappeared as quickly as he came, launching himself from the roof with the heavy sound of wing beats. 

Soaring away, Keigo risked a final look at you. He swore he saw tears in your eyes.

He forcibly repressed his feelings, reminding himself that your company, words, and quirk-made beverages were more than enough. The flutter in his chest when he thought of you wouldn’t rest, but he could learn to ignore it. 

 On the roof of your apartment, you felt fatigue in your bones and wetness on your cheeks. You ignored both in favor of smoking another cigarette, soft, melancholy music being your only constant, reliable companion. 

You reminded yourself that he, Hawks, was a temporary fixture, more flighty than most and liked you just enough and for surface-level reasons. You could take that. You’d do anything to be around him more, even if it never amounted to anything. 

You, just as Keigo did, pressed down any larger feelings.

 (The thing about feelings, though, that neither of you was very good at remembering, was that they don’t go away. Sure, you can let them go, but that takes time or a practiced mind!)

(When you take feelings, big, aching, soaking feelings and shove them down into the deepest parts of you, they just tend to make you bleed. The ‘hidden’ feelings color your blood as it spills, even if you don’t notice when it falls and its change in hue.)

(One can only hope that both Keigo and you listened instead of lied.)

 Both of your hearts ached, and neither of you fully understood why.

[theonewiththefanfics]

Because Hearts Get Broken - I Know That You’re Scared (Part 2/3)

Continuation of ‘Because Hearts Get Broken’ - see my masterlist for it :)

Synopsis: She’s trying to move on. He’s still hoping for a chance

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: angsty, bruh, but with a sprinkle of fluff and a hopeful (??) ending

Warnings: swearing, emotionally distant mindset... can’t think of anything else, really. 

Word count: 3656

Heartbreak isn’t loud. Y/N doesn’t even know if it had a sound what it would be like. Like glass shattering against the ground? Or maybe like a book being ripped and shredded apart, memories of time spent together ruined. Or maybe it'd like the crackle of a fire, as it slowly but surely crept up and turned everything into charred remains before it became nothing but ash and was carried away by the winds.

        No one in her family talked about feelings. If they did all they received back was ‘suck it up. That’s life’. After that, it was time to move on. So, when she got together with probably the most open-hearted person in the world, it was almost laughable.

        Y/N had always been the friend others went for advice, relationship or not, but she herself never asked for one, simply because she didn’t wanna bother anyone. Not that she thought the others were bothers. It’s just having grown up in a household where emotions were basically suppressed, opening up was quite impossible. 

       Then came Harry. Perfect, impossible, loving, sweet, kind, ridiculously open Harry. God, she just wanted to punch him because no one should be that nice. 

        January 2nd, 2020 he’d called her up, having gotten Y/N’s number from Sarah (after ages of pleading, because as much as Sarah sometimes couldn’t handle drunk Y/N, she’d defend and protect her until the very last breath), and they set up a coffee date.

        Slowly but surely, they spent more and more time together and seeing as her job had her based in LA for a while, visiting Harry was no problem. Then the pandemic hit, and on March 18th the whole stay-at-home order was issued in California. 

        Y/N was in a panic. She was meant to leave LA in ten days, and the hotel her company was paying for had been paid until the 28th. With all flights getting rapidly cancelled, she was scrambling to get one, but even her firm was unable to get her a seat. That’s when Harry had called up, his tone a worried, urgent mess as to if Y/N was alright and what her plans were.

        Of course, him being him, he immediately offered her a place to stay.

        “We don’t even need to stay in the same room, there’s like five other guest rooms you can take up,” he tried to joke, and ease her tension.

        “Fuck, Harry, just rub it in how rich you are.” Y/N cackled, and when she heard him laugh in the background, her heart did that stupid fluttery thing she’d grown so used to. 

        It took a little persuasion from Harry’s side, and reassurance at least seven more times, that Y/N wouldn’t be intruding on his space, and he was more than happy to spend the quarantine with someone else, instead of being alone, and that in no way her taking over a room or two would limit him and his own artistic endeavours. So, apprehensively Y/N packed her suitcases, grabbed an uber, wearing a mask the whole time, and drove to Harry’s place.  

When Y/N saw the gated community and the palace he was living in, the inside of her cheek was practically bitten in half. They’d barely been together for three months, and now she was basically moving in with him, but given how it was either live with Harry in a fucking mansion or walk across the country to New York, she took the first option. 

        As much as Harry loved on her, pretty much shagging her brains out every possible second, and loving on her until her cheeks hurt from smiling, the anxiety about the whole situation never left.

Harry was worried about his mom and sister, Y/N was scared of what was happening in New York. So, when the state boarders opened, immediately, although reluctantly, she flew back to her apartment and her dying plants, but never forgetting to FaceTime with Harry. But they couldn't stay away long from one another.

        Which is why they decided, given how she was able to work from home now, and Harry could do so as well, they’d fly over to one another every two weeks, quarantine together for the next two weeks, and then fly to the other place. Her boss actually loved the idea that Y/N was so willing to go back and forth between the two cities, so all her flights were written off as business expenses, not to mention when she said she wouldn’t need a hotel, he was more than thrilled to let her be in LA whenever she wanted, as long as her work got done.

        It seemed funny to her now, that before Y/N couldn’t wait to get back to the sunny state of Cali. Now when she had to fly over (which was just a couple of times since the breakup), going through JFK security made her sweat, and landing was a vomit-inducing action. And the last time she’d gotten back to the home-base state, she’d actually thrown up, Harry’s last words ringing in her ears.

        It’d been three weeks since Sarah’s New Year party, and three weeks since she’d spoken to him although he still kept calling. Every morning she’d wake up to a couple of notifications of missed calls, and each time she’d listen to the messages; it was all the same – I miss your voice. And every time she’d listen to it, her thoughts were exactly the same. You could say it was almost pathetic as to how many times she’d listened to his albums, just to hear him sing. Almost like he used to do right before she fell asleep.

        But Y/N had no one else but herself to blame for it. She’d been the one to call it quits, she’d been the one who walked out of his apartment, and the one who decided she wouldn’t fight. 

        Now, she was sat by her small magazine table, documents spread out in front of her as if a tornado had rolled through, while an apple and cinnamon candle spread its delicious scent through the air. 

        Y/N would only admit it once because, well, the proof was all over the apartment, but she was very lazy when it came to taking away the Christmas décor. It made her feel warm and comfy. And it reminded her of Harry. How when she’d woken up after their first date, already in the new year, he still had colourful fairy lights strung across the curtain rods, giving everything a soft, cosy glow. 

        He’d also been the one who convinced her that a real Christmas tree was so much better than a plastic one. 

        “Yes, it’s a hassle,” he’d said through slurred words as they’d slinked away from the partying crowd after the countdown was done, and each of them had taken three shots of vodka. “But it’s so worth it. Smells like a fucking forest in your room. Like proper Christmas!”

        And although she’d spent this holiday season alone, Harry had been right. Just like he’d been right about Y/N.

        She tapped her pen against the glass surface and readjusted her position on the floor.

        “This is the periodic table, noble gases stable, halogens and alkali react aggressively,” Y/N hummed as she highlighted the incorrect parts of the paper in front of her. “Each period will see new outer shells, while electrons are added moving to the right.”

        Just as she was about to start off the second verse, her doorbell rang, and her stomach gurgled in response.

        “Ugh,” she groaned to herself. “Pasta come to fuckin’ mama.”

        But when she opened the door, she wasn’t greeted by the Uber Eats delivery man.

        “Harry.”

        Y/N was taken aback. She didn’t expect him to visit her, especially not so soon and especially to fly out to New York (as much as he was most likely there to do other stuff as well, her gut told her he was there for her). 

Sure, she hoped that one day they could be friends, if not acquaintances, he was too important of a person for her to lose completely from her life, but that was looking like five years into the future.

        “I bring gifts.” He raised his hand where her boxes of food hung in a paper bag. “Can I?”

        “Uh, yeah, of course!” She shook her head to clear it from the shock and allowed Harry to enter into the warmth of her apartment and escape from the cold January air.

        “I was on my way up when the delivery man came in, and I recognised by the boxes it was yours.” The smirk on Harry’s face was something Y/N loved to see, but usually, she liked to also wipe it away. Preferably with her own lips. 

        She let out a small scoff, not waiting to see if he followed inside, as she scurried to the adjacent kitchen and grabbed two plates, while he opened up the white cardboard containers and allowed the delicious smell of spaghetti Bolognese as well as a carbonara waft into the air. Y/N had wanted to eat the latter at some point during the night when the munchies hit, but she supposed Harry was probably hungry as well. “Maybe there’s someone else here, who likes Italian.”

        “Probably, but only you would order from the shittiest Italian restaurant just because they have pesto and parmesan bread.”

        “Hey!” She slapped his arm. “They’re not shit. They provide me with everything I need – calories, carbs and bread.”

        “What more does a person need?”

        “Exactly!”

        Both of them let out small chuckles and then settled down on her couch to dig into the meal. They ate in silence, and despite Y/N’s initial shock, it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, they were sitting pretty much shoulder to shoulder, as she watched Harry re-read the spread-out articles on the table and use her marker to tick some stuff that could use re-wording. He had a knack for words, after all.

        “I uh…” He wiped his mouth with one of the napkins provided by the diner before clasping his fingers together and looking at the woman sitting next to him, as she slowly set her empty plate on the small cupboard beside the sofa. “I was hoping we could talk.”

        Y/N hung her head. She should’ve known he wasn’t here to just check-in and have some dinner. “We already did. Twice might I add. What makes you think this time the ending will be different?”

        “Third times the charm?” Harry let out a little laugh, and she rolled her eyes. “Look, I didn’t wanna leave everything the way I did. I – I said some pretty shit things.”

        Y/N fiddled with her thumb. ‘I had,’ Harry’s words echoed in her head. ‘Only she didn’t trust that I loved her the same.’ “Nothing that was untrue though.”

        “See, that’s where I think both of us are wrong.”

        That was not what Y/N thought this conversation would be whatsoever.

        “I – “ He cleared his throat. “I know I said I didn’t think you trusted me that I loved you enough. I think you know I did – do.”

        If Y/N still had any food in her mouth she would’ve choked on it, as she bit back the rising lump in her throat, but instead of interrupting him, she let Harry continue. “And honestly, it’s not your fault that it fell apart, ‘s my fault too. I pushed you to do something, you didn’t want to, weren’t comfortable with, when you told me not to… just because I wanted to feel important, ‘nd because I wanted to get a role in your life you weren’t ready for yet. And I’m sorry for doing that. I should’ve never forced you.”

        “Harry…” Y/N was at a complete loss. “I – I don’t really know what to say.”

        He took her left hand in his and clasped it, finally able to properly say what'd been eating away at him. “During the New Year party, I didn’t go about it the right way. I was just – I was just still so hurt, and I wanted you to hurt the same because… it didn’t seem like you cared at all, which I know you did… I know you loved me, and…” He took in a deep breath. “I hope that you still do. At least enough to give us another chance. We can take it at your pace,” he instantly added, knowing how she’d react, expecting the sigh and the almost tired and resigned ‘Harry’ that escaped her lips. But he’d say everything on his mind. “You can take how long you need to feel like you can trust me with what’s bothering you.”

        “Harry,” she repeated, but it didn’t seem like he was about to stop.

        “But I think we can do it, and we can do it right this time. We know where we stand, we won't make the same mistakes.”

        Y/N’s hand came to rest against his cheek, and he practically melted, engulfing her palm with his as to not let her touch leave his skin for even a second. “Are you even listening to yourself?”

        “Look, I know, you’re scared, and the thing is, so am I. I don’t want it to end like that or end. Period. But I do want to try again.”

        And if nothing but to humour him Y/N asked, “And if it does end the same way?”

        “It won’t.” He was so sure of it, she had to laugh.

        “Harry, the big difference between us is – you like to talk about your feelings. You like to go through them and stuff. I don’t. I feel… icky when I even think about talking to someone of what I feel. We’re just too opposite.”

        “Opposites attract.”

        “No,” she pointed a finger at him, stifling her laughter, though Harry seemed not to be hiding his smile. “Do not use science against me.”

        He raised his hands as if in surrender. “I’m not, I’m just supporting my point with facts. Scientific facts, that you can’t argue against.”

        “I mean…” Y/N shrugged her shoulders. “I dunno… Maybe it was a good thing we ended it when we did. It was ten months – almost ten – amazing months, but… can you imagine if we’d gone so far as to think about moving in together, and then it fell apart? That would’ve been a whole different kind of a mess.”

        “Do you love me?”

        Y/N sighed, resting her cheek against the couch while she smoothed away his brown locks from his face. “Of course, I do. Don’t think there will be a time in my life I don’t.”

        “Then that’s all I need.”

         “Is that really enough for you?”

        “Yes.”

        And there was no lie in that single word. Did he want for Y/N to feel comfortable enough with him that she talked about whatever concerned her, however small? Of course. But he also wanted her to be comfortable enough to be herself. If that meant her keeping things to herself, and trusting Harry to support her decisions, it’d be enough.

        Her Y/E/C eyes hadn’t left his green ones, and they only widened as he leaned forwards and pressed his forehead to hers.

        “Haz…”

        Fuck, how he’d missed her calling him that. It wasn’t an exclusive nickname by any means, but when it came from Y/N’s mouth, it was the sweetest sound in the universe.

        He was her Haz when he broke a plate, he was her Haz when she threw her head back as pleasure exploded through her body, he was her Haz when he took her hand in his to quell her anxiety, and he was her Haz when he gave her tissues as they watched a movie, and she couldn’t help but cry each time a dog or cat died (or a dragon, but he was a sobbing mess as well because ‘Dragonheart’ messed with them both).

        His lips were so close, and just as they skimmed over her own, Y/N’s phone rang making her physically spring back, eyes like saucers.

        “S – Sorry,” she stammered, scrambling to find the annoying device between the cushions. It was Sarah’s name that lit up her screen.

        “Hey, what’s up?” Y/N started, voice trembling and shaky. God, when had she suddenly gone so out of breath? And why was her head so dizzy, as if she’d just gotten off a rollercoaster?

        “Yeah, he’s here,” she replied, eyeing Harry. “Yeah, just a sec,” and Y/N handed him her phone with a quiet ‘why’s your phone always dead?’

        ‘Didn’t know it died’, he said, but that was untrue. He’d turned it off so this sort of a situation wouldn’t happen; so a call or text wouldn’t interrupt him at the most critical moment. He had to give the universe a proper talk once he was done.

        “ ‘Ello?” 

        Seconds of silence passed, and Y/N didn’t like how weird it was, so she took the empty plates and put them in the sink to soak.

        “Now?”

        She could see the frustration rise in Harry as his forehead creased, and he let a hand rake through his hair. “Fuck’s sake… yeah, I’ll be there in ten. ‘S alright,” he sighed. “Not your fault Sarah. Tell Jeff not to worry, and that I’m not dead.”

        With that, he pressed the red button and ended the call, drumming his fingers against the screen. God, he really didn’t want to leave. Not now. Not after he’d been so close.

        “Uh, work?” Y/N asked, arms crossed in front of her as if she was protecting herself from the answer. 

        “Yeah, sorry. I uh a meeting from tomorrow got rescheduled for tonight, like right now because there was some sort of an emergency from the label’s side."

        “ ‘S alright, I get it. Showbiz never stops.” Y/N motioned to the door. “I’ll walk you out.”

        There were a couple of times in his life Harry wanted to give himself a beating. Once when he was six and Gemma had told on him after he’d broken a favourite vase of their mothers, he decided to get revenge and destroy her favourite plushie. He’d never forget the tears Gem had cried, and how absolutely heartbroken she’d sounded. He vowed although he was the little brother, to never ever let anyone hurt her like that, and if someone did, they’d meet their maker sooner rather than later.

        The second time was when he was still a teenager, One Direction on the rise, and it had gotten to his head just a little bit more than it should’ve. He’d gotten really messed up at a party (which Harry shouldn’t have even been at). The disappointment on his mother’s face as she scolded him through FaceTime was gut-wrenching enough to make him promise to always know the limit.

        And Harry guessed this was the third time.

        He could’ve said no to the meeting. Jeff was there and so was Sarah and Mitch. The three of them could handle it for him. It’s not like he would mind much whatever they came up with if it had given him the time to settle things with Y/N. 

        “It was great to see you, Harry.” She brought him out from the thoughts as she unlocked the door and opened it for him, bringing her jumper sleeves over her palms to hide from the cold outside air. “Really. I – I missed you, and honestly, I’m glad we got to talk. I uh well, take care. And say hi to Sarah from me please.”

        “I – “ he took hold of Y/N’s wrist before she could turn away. “I’m holding a small concert in a week. Here in uh in New York. It’s for charity… I want you to come.”

        “I umm… I’ll have to check if I’m free, but yeah. I will. Thank you.”

        “ ‘S no problem… Sarah missed you like crazy now that you’re not in LA as often… ‘n yeah. Anyway. I’ll put your name on the guest list, so just bring some ID, and they’ll let you backstage.”

        “Okay,” she whispered and gave him a small, genuine smile. “Thank you. I’ll really try to come.”

        “Yeah.”

        And he was going to go without doing anything else. Harry truly was. But as he released her wrist, going to the stairs, he gave Y/N one last glance back, and it was like his feet had a mind of their own, as they carried him back to where she stood by the still open door, grabbed her by the waist and pressed his lips to hers. 

        He expected Y/N to push him away, but to his very huge delight, she didn’t. Instead, her fingers wove through his hair and her legs almost on instinct rose so he could take her by the thighs, wrap them around his middle and press her against the doorway. 

        The groan that Harry swallowed from Y/N only ignited the fire that’d been burning ever since he met her, but it wasn’t the destructive kind, like the ones that leave nothing but charcoal behind. It was warm. Safe. Like the light of a fairy light. Like the embrace of home.

        “Come to the show,” he muttered against Y/N’s lips, as they broke apart, and he set her down on the ground, not letting go until he was sure she was steady on her feet. “I’ll wait for you.”

        With that, he left because if he didn’t, he’d make sure Y/N would be unable to walk for a week.

        And Y/N watched him retreat while her brain fought with her heart.

        What was it he’d sung in ‘Golden’, as he’d twirled her in the sea of bodies and glitter a little bit more than a year ago? ‘Loving is the antidote?’ 

        Maybe love was the antidote to her fear.

        She closed the door.

        And smiled.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15​ @breezykpop​ @girlboss99​ @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist​ @alliyjane​ @sirtommyholland​

A/N: I’ve been listening to ‘Fine Line’, ‘The Periodic Table Song’, ‘Welcome to the Christmas Parade’ (Welcome to the Black Parade mix with All I Want For Christmas) and ‘Rasputin’ Boney M remix exclusively... I feel like a complete crackhead... :D

Decided to tag also those who wanted a part 2 but didn’t necessarily ask to be tagged :)

P.S. I guess there will be a part 3???

P.S.S. if you wanna be added to a tag list drop me a message :)

[arvandus]

Touch (pt 3)

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: 18+ only please!  Drug abuse/withdrawal, adult language/themes, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, fluff, pining, slow burn, eventual emotional SMUT. *please pay attention to the chapter tags as these warnings will apply at different times*

Synopsis: When you first joined the LOV to lend your healing quirk, Dabi  terrified you.  Not interested in attachments, he wanted to keep it  that way.  That is, until he needs your help. (Slow burn, soft Dabi).

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters.

Recommended Chapter Song:

Dizzy by MISSIO

Part 1   Part 2

Artwork credit to @hellowon31​ on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)

Part 3 - Resistance

The next day, Dabi woke up feeling like a complete wreck of a person.  A mockery of a human being, made of faulty parts stitched together haphazardly by a cruel universe.  He was angry. Furious.  Wasn’t your quirk supposed to last longer than this?  His head pounded.  The sun peeking through the crack in his curtains was an assault. Sweat covered his exposed pale flesh and yet he felt cold, clammy hands shaking.  Dabi laid back on his bed to cocoon himself into his blankets when he realized…his back was still painless.

Your quirk was still working.

Dabi’s bleary eyes caught sight of his empty pill bottles on his nightstand, and realization dawned on him. Withdrawal.

It started sooner than he had hoped.  He would have refilled his stock by now, but his usual seller went missing, most likely picked up by the feds.  Dabi had already reached out to Giran to find a new source, but the old man hadn’t returned his text messages.  So, Dabi spent some of his time the day before following connections within the villain network.  His search came up with nothing; what he could find wasn’t strong enough to justify the expense or the sellers were obviously trying to swindle him with a diluted product. Long story short, he felt like shit and had no quick fix for it.

He wanted to crawl out of his skin.  Fuck. Everything.

The memory of your cool touch on his skin came forefront to his aching head and he wondered if your quirk would be useful for his withdrawal symptoms…

Dabi pushed the thought out of his head.  He wasn’t going to let that be an option.  It was a slippery slope leading to a dependency that he simply couldn’t afford and definitely did not want.  He was already on edge from yesterday’s conversation. His sympathetic thoughts, no matter how brief, made him see a man he didn’t recognize, and the thoughts plagued him ever since.  He had never considered himself a soft guy.  It wasn’t that he didn’t have feelings.  Things could still bother him if he let them.  But he had learned very early on that what he felt didn’t matter. Perhaps it was the gradual silencing of his conscience, small pieces of him chipped away like stone worn down over years of crashing waves.  Only rarely, every once in a while, did the waters of his vengeance and bitter hatred recede enough to allow sunlight to touch his burnt heart.  And in that moment, he saw you, a fragile boat approaching rocky, dangerous shores.

He frowned.  As long as you did your job, what should it matter? You chose this life just like everyone else did.  It wasn’t his responsibility to protect you from it.

As if his heavy thoughts summoned you, your familiar knock rang through his door.  He cursed under his breath.  During his misery, Dabi had forgotten that you were going to visit him this morning.  He had planned to be gone before you came looking for him, a silent show of defiance to your mothering.  But instead he here was, stuck, feeling the shittiest he felt in a long time.  Maybe if he just ignored you…

You knocked on the door again, your pounding louder, incessant.  You were so fucking stubborn.  He glowered at the wooden barrier angrily, the intolerant noise sending a ringing like a tuning fork into the depths of his brain.  He contemplated setting the door on fire just to make a point. He held his restraint by hair, only vaguely aware that doing so would make him feel even worse, if such a thing was even possible.  Plus, you were the only person here with a lick of sense for medical care – he was ninety percent positive you had some sort of medical background.

“What?” he growled as he sat up begrudgingly, unwilling to let you see him so weak.  Nausea permeated him from his sudden motion.

On the other side of the door, you stared at the wood in confusion.  The sound of Dabi’s voice shocked you – low, scratchy, slurred… menacing.

You almost wanted to concede to the unspoken request, but your determination to treat him held tight to your will.  “It’s me.” You replied, hoping your voice didn’t sound as small as it felt.

A pregnant pause greeted you before he finally spoke. “Come in.” It sounded like an order.  Or was it a surrender?  Could it even be both?  How did this man always seem to have two versions of himself running simultaneously?

You came into the room and closed the door behind you with a quiet ‘click.’ You were met with a dark stuffiness, the air unusually warm and infused with the stink of sweat. The curtains were drawn closed, light straining to seep out along the edges of the fabric.  A thin slit of light stretched across Dabi’s bed where he sat, his back facing you.  He looked like a fallen angel, a broken soul.  His shoulders were hunched, drawn tight like a bow string, struggling not to fold in on himself and break.

His bravado was gone, his casual presence muted in the deafening silence.  He wasn’t even trying to pretend this time.  His distress was palpable.  You felt shame being here, your presence intrusive.  You weren’t supposed to see him like this.  So why did he let you in?

A mild panic filled you. Did he hurt himself again since you last saw him?  Or was this your fault?  Did your quirk wear off already?

“What’s wrong?” you asked. He didn’t respond.  You stepped forward cautiously.  “Dabi…?”

Your voice grated on his conscience – words of concern, a tone meant to soothe. He didn’t want your compassion.  He wanted you to be cold and indifferent, a mechanic repairing a broken part.  Or maybe even have you be as crazy as the others, waxing poetic about bloodlust and freedom.  That was a language he understood, that he could navigate with ease.  Not this benevolence.  Not this normalcy.  Why were you so different?

“You’re annoying.” He growled just loud enough for you to hear.

You halted your approach and your back stiffened.  “What?”

“Stop acting like you fucking care.”  The words spilled out of his mouth without a concern as to their damage.  He knew you cared, even if it was on a basic level, which was why he desperately, accusatorily denied it.

Everything bothered him. His head.  His body.  The stink of this room… you seeing him like this.  Why did that bother him?

You pressed your lips together, your jaw taut.  The tension in the room became as palpable as the stifling air.  What could you possibly say? That you did care?  Well, did you? You cared enough to be here, at least. You had a responsibility to treat him, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said he hadn’t been on your mind more than usual the past couple of days.  Of course, he’d never know that…. But were you friends by any stretch of the definition? No.  Definitely not. So, if he wanted to be a jerk and suffer with his pride, then you’d let him.

“If you want me to leave, just say so.” You replied coolly.  “I’m just here to do my job.”

Your answer satisfied him, cold and to the point, a counterbalance to your overwhelmingly gentle nature.  It provided him the emotional distance he needed, a cloak he donned willingly to shelter himself from your prying eyes.  And through his mental fog, he realized in mild amusement that it was the second time you called his bluff, grinding in your heels to deflect his verbal strikes. You weren’t easily bullied; at least, not as easily as he’d originally thought.

“Whatever.” He grumbled. “Let’s just get this over with, I got shit to do.”

You clenched and unclenched your hands around your bag.  You were grateful Dabi caved, your conscience breathing a sigh of relief.  You’d make it quick, to address what you needed to and leave him to sort himself out in solitude, like you knew he wanted.  You began to approach him, quiet steady steps around his bed so you could get a closer look at him. If he was going to let you treat him, you might as well try to make the most of your limited time and see if you could figure out what was wrong.

As soon as you could see his face, you realized he was holding something in his hand. An empty pill bottle.  His eyes stared at it like it held the answers to the universe while also cursing its existence.

Suddenly, everything clicked.  The agitation.  The pain. The misplaced anger… Of course.

You closed the distance between you until you were standing in front of him.  Without saying anything, you quietly took the bottle from his hand, which, surprisingly, he let you.  You read the name and the dosage.  It was a strong one.

“Dabi,” you said quietly, hoping you didn’t sound patronizing, “How long has it been since you’ve had your medication?”

There it was.  That kindness again.  You brought it forth so effortlessly, as if he didn’t just insult you a moment ago. Somewhere, behind his defenses, the itch of guilt settled itself into his mind like an unwelcome guest.

He was quiet for a moment as he stared at the bottle in your hand, his eyes either unable or unwilling to meet yours.  “Two days.” He replied, his voice scratchy.

You quickly did the math in your head.  He had mentioned that his pain meds ran out when he first asked for your help, but you had thought nothing of it at the time, assuming he had ways of fixing his problem.  You should have known.  You should have checked with him.  Drug withdrawal was no joke.

“When are you getting more?” you asked.

“Not sure, doll.  My supplier has gone AWOL and I haven’t found a backup.” He put his head between his hands and rubbed at his temples.  You watched him with quiet concern.  At first you wanted to use your quirk to try to help him, your hand starting to reach out to his wild raven hair instinctually. You faltered.  Would your quirk even work with this?  This wasn’t a cut or a burn or a broken rib… this was a chemical imbalance in his brain.  What if you hurt him or messed him up somehow?  Slowly you lowered your hand.  He needed his drugs.  

“How many of these did you take a day?” you asked as you looked at the bottle again.

He answered.  Your eyes bulged slightly.  How was this man not stumbling around when you first met him? He must have built up a tolerance over years of use.  Besides, quirkology affected everyone’s body a little differently.  Still, it definitely explained his bored expression and overall body language – this guy was constantly high.

“Don’t look so surprised, doll.” He stared up at you with shining bloodshot eyes.  His forehead was beaded in sweat, his skin so ghostly pale that only the rise and fall of his shallow chest indicated he was a breathing, living human.

You watched him, taking in his current state.  If he did finally get a hold of new meds on his own, would he be able to show restraint? Logically, you knew that he was experienced with this – it obviously wasn’t his first rodeo.  But still, a part of you couldn’t help but worry.

“You could really hurt yourself with these.” You replied softly.

“I know my limits.” He stated firmly, annoyance starting to seep in.

“That’s what everyone says, until they don’t.”

His brow furrowed, dark eyebrows pulled together like closing gates.  “Look, doll.  If you’re gonna lecture me, then you really can leave.  I don’t need your help with this.  I got by just fine before you came along.”

You wanted to snap back at him, to defend what seemed common sense to you, but you held back.  Poking the bear would help no one.

You kneeled down next to him and opened your bag, rummaging through your things.  “I’m not trying to lecture you.  I’m trying to help you.”  You found what you were looking for and pulled it out.  Nervousness filled you – you hoped he didn’t ask too many questions.

Dabi eyed the bottle of medication in your hand in hunger.

“It’s not as strong as what you’re used to,” you explained, “but it will take the edge off.”

“What kind of doctor are you, aiding a drug addict?” he teased.

A pang of guilt shot through you, but you steeled yourself against it.  “If you’re going to be taking pain meds, then I’d rather have it be something reliable and safe that I can monitor instead of something you find on the street through dubious means.”

“Oh yeah?  Like all of your little supplies don’t come from shady sources.  You can’t exactly get this stuff from anywhere.  Those are prescription only.” Dabi nodded at the bottle clutched so tightly in your hand, that he couldn’t see the label on it.  He couldn’t help but wonder… was it your name on that white sticker?  Or someone else’s?  What other items did you have in that bag of yours?

You lifted your chin pridefully.  “I have an inside source.  Trust me, the stuff I get is the real deal.  And that’s all you need to know about that.”

Dabi grinned as you gave him two of the pills from the bottle.  “Well, look at you, doll.  What a criminal.  You could get in serious trouble for this, sweetheart.”

“Oh, I think we’re well past that by now…” you replied with a grin, which earned you a chuckle.

Dabi popped the pills into his mouth and swallowed them dry.  Your smile faded slightly as you felt the urge to say one more important thing to him.

You stared at his hands in front of you, long fingers intertwined together and suspended in the air as his elbows rested on his knees.  “Look, Dabi…” you started.  Your eyes traced the metal rings holding his skin together.  “I can’t imagine the kind of pain you’re constantly in.  I understand why you take drugs. I think anyone would.  That’s why I’m helping you.  Not having pain meds isn’t really an option for you.”

“So, does that mean you’re gonna let me have that bottle?” his eyes stared at the bottle still clutched in your hand.

You held the bottle to your chest protectively, a part of you afraid he’d try to snatch it from you. Withdrawal made people do desperate things.  He raised an amused eyebrow at your defensive action, a small smirk upturning the corner of his mouth.

Your body felt warm and you broke eye contact.  “Not yet.” You replied.  “I want to make sure you’re okay with it.  It’s different from what you were taking before.  It might feel weaker than what you were taking or might have different side effects for you.  I don’t want you to overdo it.”

“And what makes you such an expert?” Dabi pried, his bloodshot eyes narrowing as his head tilted.

You put the pills back into your bag as you looked away from him.  “I have a medical background, so I know a lot more than you might think.”

Dabi grinned, despite his headache, the skin pulling tight enough along his rings to send an ache of pain along his jaw.  He was right. Not that it was that hard to figure out, but he liked that you answered him honestly.

“You don’t trust me, doll?” Dabi’s teasing tone made you look up at him to find his fiery eyes piercing yours.  That familiar spark of life, dangerous and wild, was starting to return to his drawn features.  Oddly enough, you found it comforting even if it did send your pulse racing like a scared rabbit.

Meanwhile, he was amused at your caution.  Little did you know how many drugs he’d tried over the years, how many times he came close to ‘overdoing it,’ as he learned what his body could and couldn’t handle. Sure, he needed his drugs to keep the pain at bay… but he also needed to carry out his mission.  He refused to let himself devolve into a zombie when he still had unfinished business.

You rolled your eyes at him.  “I just want to make sure you transition to this new pain medication okay.  Switching drugs can be a messy business.  If I decided to trust you and something went wrong, well…” your words faltered, unable to finish your statement.  It almost surprised you how much the thought of something horrible happening to Dabi bothered you… especially if it was caused by your own negligence.

“Aw, doll, you’re making me blush.” Dabi grinned.  “You better not try to take advantage of me. I’m under the influence.”

You raised an amused eyebrow at him.  “Really? Who’s taking advantage of who here? Someone just got free drugs.”

“Trust me, sweetheart – you’ll know when I’m taking advantage of you.”

A proper comeback couldn’t find its way to your lips while your mind was so distracted by suggestive thoughts.

He continued on unfazed, as if his previous words meant nothing to him.  “So, how are we gonna do this then?”

You cleared your throat and wet your parched lips with your tongue.  Dabi watched the gesture intently, but you didn’t notice as you avoided eye contact.  “We’ll start with what I gave you. When it wears off and you feel like you need more, you come find me.  If you have any issues or feel anything weird, you come find me.  I don’t care what time it is.  If it’s 3 in the morning, you come find me.”

A devilish grin spread across Dabi’s features as his head got a rather detailed less-than-pure mental picture of a late-night visit.  He knew that wasn’t what you meant, but he enjoyed where his imagination took him, nonetheless.  He eyed you for the first time since you came into his room, allowing himself to take in your appearance from head to toe, his eyes lingering where he wanted them to, without a care as to if you noticed.  He might not be willing to touch, but he was definitely willing to look. Life was too short to not appreciate the finer things in life, and at this moment the finer thing was you.

You shifted nervously under his penetrating gaze, your pulse quickening under your skin like a raging river. You weren’t quite sure what he was thinking, but the light of his eyes made you feel exposed.  You resisted the urge to wrap your arms around yourself protectively, your self-consciousness fighting to get the better of you.

Your forced yourself to continue, looking away abashedly.  “I’m still coming to take care of your bandages, so I’ll be checking up on you again tonight.  Do we have a deal?”

Dabi was quiet for a moment as he stared at your determined face.  Finally, he smiled.  “Yeah, doll. We got a deal.”

“Good.  Now let me check those bandages.”

He stood up and you instinctively took a step back as his presence filled yours within the tight space between his bed and the wall where you stood. The scent of him filled your nose and you resisted the urge to inhale.  You liked it and you couldn’t explain why.  He turned his back to you and removed his sweat-soaked shirt.  You waited to see if he would move to the more open space of his room, but he didn’t, and you stood awkwardly before deciding to just change his bandages where he was.  Maybe he had a headache and moving was a little too much for him.  It’d take about thirty minutes for the pills you gave him to really get into his system and start working, and you’d be long gone by then.

You changed his bandages quickly and efficiently as well as added a little boost with your quirk to make sure his back was pain-free until you returned to check on him later in the evening.  He seemed to have enough on his plate to deal with without having your quirk wear off.

He was silently grateful you changed his bandages in silence as he waited for the pills you gave him to kick in. He was familiar with them, of course – they weren’t the best for what he needed, but you were right when you said they’d take the edge off.  Still, he didn’t want to use up your supply.  He didn’t know if that was your only bottle, and at the rate that he typically popped pills, you’d be out within a few days.  He’d reach out to Giran again to get a hold of his own.

Once you were done, you packed up your items to leave.  But before you did, you reached into your bag and pulled out a bottle of water and handed it to him.

“Hydrate.  Please.” You said.  “You took those pills and they might make you nauseous on an empty stomach.  Besides, your body needs more than coffee, energy drinks, and alcohol.”

Dabi grinned.  “Have you been watching me, doll?  You’re not stalking me, are ya?”

“I watch all of my patients.” You replied with a critical eye.  “Nice try, though.”

“You got any ramen in that bag?” Dabi teased as he opened the water bottle and took a swig.

“No, but I got a granola bar.  You want it?” you replied casually. You pulled out said item and waved it in Dabi’s face.

Dabi’s lip turned up in disgust.  “That shit’ll get stuck in my rings.  And it’s disgusting.”

“It’s healthy.” You replied with an extra wave for added emphasis.

“You’re like a walking drug store.”  Dabi commented as he watched you put the offending food away.

“I feel like a damn mom with all this stuff, but you’d be surprised how often it comes in handy.” You replied.  “Alright, well I’m gonna go and let you rest.  Do you have my number?”

You said it so casually, that Dabi had to stare at you to process your words for a moment.  He didn’t easily fluster, but he also didn’t ever have pretty girls offering their number to him, his scars always scaring them off.  It was such a personal gesture and completely alien to him.

“What for?” he finally replied.

“In case you need me for anything.  Like if the drugs wear off, or your bandage comes loose or something. We might not always be in the same place at the same time and I’d hate for you to not be able to reach me if something’s wrong.”

The tension in Dabi’s chest eased slightly.  Of course, it had to do with his health.  He noticed that about you – when it came to business, you cut straight to the chase.

He wanted your number.  But as soon as he realized it wasn’t for health reasons, he immediately shot it down, his iron wall crashing down.  “I’ll be fine.”

You stared at him and shrugged.  “Suit yourself.  Just trying to be efficient.  If you change your mind, you can reach out to one of the others.  I think you’re the only one who doesn’t have it.”  You walked to the door and turned back to him.  “Like I said, I’ll be back tonight, probably at around 9pm.  You’d better be here, or you won’t get your pills.” Mischief danced in your eyes and Dabi realized you were teasing him. He grinned.

“You think you can manipulate me?” he challenged.

“We’ll see…” you replied casually and left his room.

After you were gone, he stood there for a moment staring at the water bottle in his hand before he realized he had a dumb fucking smile on his face. He threw the water bottle in his trashcan.

You were a goddamn pain in his ass.  And he was a damn idiot, getting flustered over a pretty face being kind to him. What was this, fucking middle school? Like he’d never been around a girl before?  You were here to treat him.  As soon as his wounds were healed up and he got his own drugs, things would go back to normal.

It had to go back to normal.

__________________________________________________________

Part 4

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[shibarirobot]

Aizawa fic - CH 5 - Entrapment

 18+ ONLY! SFW (for now)

Shouta Aizawa x Villian!OC/Reader(?)

CH1

CH4

Okay this chapter kinda fucked me up. I got very emo while writing this lmfaoooo, but again sooooooo sorry that I’m so inconsistent, I care about this story and I want it to actually be good before I post ((also I have the shittiest laptop on the face of the planet so I can barely use it)) more like I just dont have the patience to deal with it XD, mais oui! le chapter is done! Please enjoy! x

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The chair I’m strapped to is stiff and uncomfortable at my back. I haven't been able to move for awhile and it’s driving me fucking insane. My back aches, my thighs are sore, I can literally feel my pelvic bone, not to even mention the cracked rib still throbbing and I’ve started to remember the broken nose I gave myself. It’s hard enough to keep my head on straight, I can’t really seem to focus on the questions I’m being asked, let alone my answers. I’ve been here for hours, maybe days. I have no clue. I have absolutely no fucking clue. This dumbass, Detective Aiko just comes and goes, sometimes followed by a short man with a clipboard and glasses. He just asks a few questions and leaves, I’ve lost track of how many times he’s entered and left as quickly as he comes. This time he comes in dragging another metal chair and flips it around on the other side of the table, sitting on it backwards, like he thinks he’s fucking cool or something. He’s large, I’ll give him that. His thighs swallow up the chair easily and I’m surprised he can actually sit on the thing.

I look at him with my tired eyes. We’ve been at this too long, I’m so fucking tired and I can hardly hold his eye contact. My lips are so unbearably chapped they feel like they might split open at any moment, they might have actually, I can taste iron. I’m parched. My mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. I’m about to crack, I can feel it. “Water.” My voice is tiny at this point, crackly from the dehydration. “I need water.” My eyes start to sag and I press forward slightly, straining against the straps on my torso, skin raw beneath them after so much of my writhing.

Detective Aiko blinks at me from across the table and reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He easily taps one forward and plucks it from the box between his lips. I can tell it’s a practiced movement, he does it without thinking. His habit has become muscle memory. He shoves the pack into his pocket again and retrieves a zippo lighter. If I was more conscious I probably would have rolled my eyes, if it didn’t feel like they might fall out of my head if I did. Of course he has a zippo, ugh. It’s like he learned how to be a cop from watching cheesy cop movies. He flicks it open and closed in a split second and the cigarette is lit. He takes a deep breath, sucking down the entire thing, inhaling so deeply that his chest puffs and swells almost double. He holds that breath for a long moment, releasing it slowly. I expect the smell of burnt tobacco, but there is none. The smoke pours from his nostrils in thick swirls, but it dissipates quickly, without a single trace that it had once been there.

I can see his eyes go glassy from the nicotine high, his shrouded eyes have barely left me. He stares at me like I’m a caged panther; cunning, dangerous, volatile. All things I might have been if I could possibly think straight. “You’ll get your water after you cooperate.” He shifts in the chair slightly, flicking the used cigarette butt to the side. It falls to the ground unceremoniously and I can only imagine how often he flings those things haphazardly and how many thousands he has personally littered into our environment. I’m instantly seething again. A moment ago, I had no capacity for anything really, and now I’m filled head to toe with rage towards this stupid fucking cop. This man withholding my fucking water, my fucking life source.

The thought that he’s actually killing me passes and I pull at the cuffs around my wrists. “Fucking water.” The chains scrape across the table and I can feel the blood on my mouth, my lips have definitely cracked in multiple spots, blood pooling between my teeth. “I fucking need water!” Now I’m just shaking the chains, trying to make enough noise to get him to give in, annoy him into submission. “Water!” His eyebrow twitches, he seemingly has a very short tolerance for my behavior now, no longer amused by my sass and antics.

He quickly rises from the chair and kicks it to the side, it goes clattering against the wall and loudly falls to the ground, tipped on its side. The sudden jolt silences me and the room is tense with the lack of sound. “Who do you work for?!” He yells at me, full chested. The same question Eraser Head asked me in the alley. Where my allegiances lie. There’s another moment of silence before I bust into intense, manic laughter. They still really think I work for someone?

My throat threatens to give out on me, but I can’t control the laughter. “Me, motherfucker!” I shout back, only not as full, my voice is dying quickly, my laughter soon falling with it, replaced by a hacking cough that I’m pretty sure just shredded the dry skin inside my very dry throat. That doesn’t really seem to satisfy him though. He just grunts and picks the chair back up, setting it upright, but not sitting down in it like before. He just stands there, so tall and trying to be intimidating.

He crosses his arms over his chest and scoffs at me just once. “So we’re gonna keep playing this game, huh?” He pulls out another cigarette and huffs it down just as quickly as the first, barely even savoring the drag. His eyes close and he shrugs. “I guess you don’t want that water.” He quickly strides out of the room, leaving me alone and tortured. I can’t move, my body is giving out, I can’t speak because of my hoarse, abused throat, I can’t do anything at all, but sit here. My mind flashes back to when I felt this way before, tied to a dining chair in front of my drunk birther. My eyes start to water and I am amazed that I even have the moisture left in my body to cry. The parallels are too similar and I can feel myself reverting back, the whimpering that’s beginning in the back of my throat. A couple tears start to fall and I’m slowly slipping into that mindset when I hear the door open again.

I try my best to harden my face, trying to mask the depravity that I had just been wallowing in, refusing to make eye contact with Detective Aiko as he rounds the table again and sits in that chair. He sets something on the table and I’m surprised when I look up, to see Eraser Head sitting in that chair across from me instead. There’s a water bottle on the table and I honestly have nothing to say. I’m overwhelmed by this change of events and the tears come faster now, silently streaming down my face. I feel so vulnerable and this man that I have only prodded and teased is the one here to help me. It’s like the universe is laughing at me, it feels like a trick, but one I’m knowingly and willingly letting myself fall into. I suck in a deep breath, hoping he won’t say anything about my tears. “They haven’t cleaned you up at all, have they?” His voice is low, but he honestly sounds concerned. I lamely shake my head, unable to tell him that I’ve been sitting strapped to this chair since the moment he left. He grunts shortly then stands, slowly grabbing the water bottle and cracking the lid open.

My tears lessen as I watch him, he’s looking at me like I’m a wounded animal and deep down I can’t blame him. All I’ve done since meeting him is lash out and hurt him. In spite of all that he reaches out to me slowly, the cold water bottle in one hand, the other gingerly gripping the side of my neck and tilting my head back. I look at him hesitantly. I’m just supposed to let him pour water into my mouth? That feels too weird, and intimate, and needy, but I can’t really pour the water into my own mouth, so I part my lips for him. He gently presses the rim of the water bottle onto my bottom lip, easing the cold, fresh water onto my sandpaper tongue. His fingertips graze the skin on my neck as the pad of his thumb softly wipes away my tears. It’s so gentle and intimate that I can’t help but cry harder. I’ve never felt such a sincere caress and it’s like my heart is breaking into a million pieces, astounded by the tenderness that I haven’t allowed myself to even realize I was missing. The silent resentment falling away for a moment and letting something new replace it. Adoration? Sympathy? Genuine gratitude?

I take in this new feeling hesitantly as I try to gulp down the water as quickly as he’s pouring it into my mouth. I relish in the feeling of the cool liquid on my tongue and into the back of my throat, soothing the burning I had endured for so long. The tears continue to fall even after the water bottle is empty and I realize his hand is still gently stroking my cheek in an attempt to calm my tears. He tosses the empty water bottle aside and peers down at me. I stare back up at him, my eyes starting to puff up from the tears I had just shed, cloudy with the residual moisture on my lashes. He’s even more beautiful now than ever before, caring for me so tenderly, and I think I understand now. I love him. I must love him. The way I was drawn to him before, it all makes sense. I’ve never felt anything like this before, no one has ever given me even a sliver of a second thought, but here he is. This man I don’t even know caring for a tortured criminal that’s done nothing, but awful things. It must be love. It must be... something at least.

I realize the moment’s been too long and I turn my gaze away, squeezing my eyes shut. I can’t help but feel embarrassed. Here he is helping me, giving me the water I so desperately needed and I can’t even choke out a ‘thank you’. Should I? Would he want me to? His hand falls away and I hear him start to shuffle to the door. Dammit. I’m breathing heavy, trying to catch my breath from the way I gulped down water like a dying horse. “I’m going to get a first aid kit.” I almost don’t hear him, but my eyes snap open. He’s coming back? To help me even more? Eraser Head is… going to tend my wounds… that I got fighting… HIM. This is all so bizarre and my head spins a little, but I can’t help the trace of a grin that tugs on my lips and the slight twinge of heat in my cheek.

I hear that knock on the door again, but before it opens I mumble out a small, drained. “Thank you.” My throat is still destroyed, but it’s enough that I hope he heard me. I guess I’ll never know if he did or even cared because the door opens and closes with no acknowledgment that I had said anything. Once again, I am left by myself, in this too bright room, strapped to a metal chair. As I sit here, it’s hard not to fall back into my miserable thoughts. Self loathing and what if’s come easily. What if that really was a trick? What if he’s never coming back? What if I just imagined the whole thing? What if he’s disgusted by me and just taking pity? I internally cringe at myself. That one is probably closest to the truth. He thinks of me like a charity case, someone who can’t help themselves. He’s a hero after all, that good ole savior complex will always rear it’s big, nasty head at some point. He’s helping me to make himself feel better, not to make me feel better. I sneer at myself. I almost fell into his trap, but no. I’m better than that. I was almost that dumb cunt I used to be, trusting people, needing others help. Fuck no. I promised myself I would never be that person again. I’m better now.

But then the indignation fades and all I’m left with is the reality of the situation. I do need his help. I’m broken and bleeding, strapped to a chair in an interrogation room. I start to cry again. It’s not a heavy cry, just one that makes you realize so much in such a short period of time. I cry as I realize I do need help. I need more help now than I’ve ever needed before. I’ve probably needed help this entire time and refused to see it, refused to ask for it. Asking for help never seemed like an option, it seemed like a burden. Yet, Eraser Head isn’t even offering me help, he’s giving it. Willingly. Of his own accord.

I continue to struggle with my thoughts on the situation far longer than I would deem necessary before I admit to myself it doesn’t matter because he’s simply not coming back. It’s been too long for him to have actually been going to get a first aid kit. He’s gone forever now. Poof. Might as well stop thinking about him. I can’t though. Can’t stop thinking about his perfect face, the way he touched my neck, the tenor of his voice, the scruff on his chin, the scar under his eye, the heat of his body behind mine. It all sends a thrill through me, but more than that, just a deep sense of longing. I yearn for him. I just want him to come back to me, I don’t care if he has the first aid kit he left for or not. I just want him to be present with me because everything just hurts less when he’s here. The open wounds mean nothing when he’s here. He’s the only reason any of my pain has ever been eased. I need him. I love him.

I start to allow fresh tears to fall, but my eyes are already welded shut from the fat tears I had shed earlier, too heavy to open and crusted over with dried tears because I still can’t wipe my eyes. The new ones gently come and allow me to crack open my eyes just slightly. I’m honestly on the brink of exhaustion, but my body has miraculously found a way to push forward. I’m taking a deep breath, trying to re-center myself. Get a grip on reality. Stretch my fingers and toes, get some feeling back in my aching body, crack my neck as best as I can. It’s not much, but it helps. I’m the only one that can do anything for me now. I start trying to survey the room to a closer extent than I had before, but honestly it’s still the same, too bright, all white room. I guess I can see a vent in the top right corner, but it’s too small for me to even think about escaping from. Not to mention, I can’t see a camera, so it must be in the corner behind me, watching, recording my every move. I grumble. There’s also the two way mirror, that I assume has had at least three people on the other side of it at all times. I’m completely under thumb.

I sigh, there’s not much I can do in this situation, and this dumb collar is still canceling my quirk. I’m chained up and defenseless. Fucking great. The door scrapes open again and I startled to see Eraser Head quickly invade the room, that wild look in his eyes again. The tips of his hair are flicking back and forth angrily, but not like it was before when he was erasing my quirk, more like… he’s just worked up. He’s breathing deeply, standing up straight and crossing his arms, a full 180 from his calm, gentle demeanor he had earlier. He’s actually quite intimidating like this and I start to shrink into myself, not knowing why his mood has changed. I didn’t do anything. He looks to the door and reaches out to flick his wrist in a ‘get the fuck over here’ motion. Detective Aiko comes into the room and unlocks my cuffs, releasing my arms from the table. He seems reluctant and I’m insanely confused by this sudden turn of events. My eyes are wide and I look to Eraser Head again, confusion evident on my twisted up face. “I’m taking you to the hospital. The collar will stay on and I will cuff you down when we get there.” He says it all so blankly and I’m even more confused that I was before he answered.

Detective Aiko doesn’t look up, he just grumbles out a gruff, ‘bad fucking idea’ before moving onto the straps at my torso, allowing me to pull away from the chair just a little bit. I struggle to force my muscles to keep myself upright, wanting to slump over and crumple to the floor. He undoes the one at my lap and I barely feel it because my entire bottom half has gone numb at this point. He lowers down further and unlocks the cuffs at my ankles, fully freeing me from the chair. I’m immediately elated to be liberated once again, getting overzealous and springing from the chair. Blood rushes to my head and my numb legs remind me how bad of an idea that is because I tip forward, falling into the metal table, the wind knocked from my lungs. I let out a wheeze and feel strong hands pull me back up onto my feet from my shoulders.

Eraser Head wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me flush to his hip to support my weight. I can feel his hero muscles swell as he pulls me off the table, shifting so we can shuffle towards the door. I’m still dazed and weak, trying to work with his movements instead of against them, but my legs can barely hold myself up and he ends up dragging me along with him more than anything else. My head is right next to his shoulder, tucked tight to his body and I press myself closer, nuzzling my cheek onto his collarbone. He feels so good against me. I’m so woozy, I feel like I’m dreaming. This all could be a mirage, I am dehydrated as hell. But it feels so real and so good that I just submit to it immediately. I press even further, trying to get up to his neck. Trying to be closer. The moment crashes around me in an instant as cuffs fall around my wrists. Damn. It’s Detective Aiko standing behind me, cuffing my wrists together and ruining the moment I was just having with Eraser. I glare up at him and he just ignores me, squeezing the cuffs tighter, too tight. I yelp, but he just looks over to Eraser Head like, ‘Really?’. Eraser grunts and holds his hand out for the key, he still has that wild look in his eye and I realize now that it’s pointed at Detective Aiko. HE’s in the doghouse, not me. Well, I am still arrested, but it doesn’t really feel like it when Eraser Head is personally escorting me to the ER, cuffs or no cuffs. Detective Aiko drops the key into his outstretched hand with an eyeroll.

Eraser Head spins me around, so I’m facing forward. My head is still dizzy, but my legs are starting to get some feeling back and I’m able to stand on my own now, even if I am a bit wobbly. He pulls me close to him again, gripping my bicep with one hand and supporting my weight with a hand on my hip. He’s taller than I remember him being. Glancing over my shoulder, I have to look up at him. His jaw is set, clenched with the anger he’s trying to hold back, silently seething. He’s still eyeing Detective Aiko with a menacing nature, I know his quirk is eye related, but it seems he also has a natural affinity for staring anyways. I watch him tuck the key into his front pocket, then grip my arm again, his hands are so large. I gulp, now realizing my ass is basically pressed up to his hip. He’s still taller than me, it's more like his thigh, but that doesn’t change the fact that my ass is on this man. My mind goes crazy as he holds me there, having some kind of stare down with Aiko. Neither of them has moved, but after a moment the detective shifts back with a grumble. Eraser Head grunts and guides me forward, supporting me as we exit the interrogation room.

Eyes follow us as Eraser Head leads me out of the room and down the hall. The receptionist at the front desk gasps when she sees me walking (semi) free. I can tell they all know who I am. I can tell they’re all scared of me. I don't need my quirk for that. I take advantage of the tense scene before me and grin, lurching forward at the woman sitting at the desk. Eraser Head is still gripping me firmly, so I don’t make it very far before he yanks me back to his body, but I do make it far enough to scare that bitch gawking at me. She screams and drops the phone receiver in her hand, stumbling backwards. I didn’t really expect such a dramatic reaction, did she really think I was gonna rip her head off or something? I’m fucking handcuffed… and doesn’t she fucking work at the police station? She should be used to this by now, why is she so fucking scared? Dramatic bitch.

Eraser Head pushes me forward, obviously still riled up from previous events. I stumble forward a bit, but his grip on me is so firm I couldn’t fall if I wanted to. We continue walking through the waiting lobby, until we reach two large glass doors. Outside the doors, it’s day time, probably late afternoon by the look of the sunlight. I take a deep breath, ready to take a step out those doors, ready to leave this awful fucking place, full of these awful fucking people. Eraser presses the handicap button and the door swinging open, the air is warm as we step out and it’s a little joy in this shitty situation that I bask in for a moment. When we step onto the sidewalk, I look up at Eraser Head. This protective stance, the hand on my hip, if I just ignore the handcuffs it’s like we’re a couple on a stroll. I smile up at him, thinking about how sweet he looks with his hair catching the late afternoon light. It’s golden hour and it settles on him nicely, highlighting his stark features. His eyes flick down to me and an expression of genuine surprise passes his face for a split second. He looks away quickly, a blush coating his cheeks, but his face returns to its stoic default.

We continue like this for a moment until we come up on his vehicle. I’m not sure what I expected, but a small wave of sadness washes over me as he opens the rear door, shoving me into the backseat. I didn’t really think he would put me in the front with him, but this feels so… impersonal. I guess that’s what we are. Impersonal. I mean, I don’t even know his last name. I slouch into the black leather of the car and pout to myself, feeling defeated. Eraser Head buckles me into the seat, leaning over me with his whole, big body. Heat floods my stomach and suddenly I’m feeling something… else. I huff, breathing in his scent, I can still smell the bergamot on him, but the other scent on him still eludes me. It’s sweet and musky, almost earthy. He pulls away before I can breathe in again, shutting the door on me, boxing me into this car alone again. He’s in the driver’s seat about 4 seconds later, but the silence of being alone again still stands out to me. I shake my head, and try to focus on the sounds of the car as he roars the engine to life and pulls out of the parking lot.

Thank you for reading! :)

I love reading yall’s comments so please leave a note for me! (see that double entendre hehe im so smart) 

but seriously, thanks for the love and the followers especially for only one fic

(also I hope u all can tell how much I fucking despise the cops for this chapter)

[boys-from-santacarla]

Note; I deeply apologize seeing as this is going to end up being long. Onto the information; My name is Ghost(mainly go by this one), Acid, Killer(more of a nickname), or Gore(more of a nickname). I go by he/they/xe/its, and I'm a dude, MLM and poly so it really doesn't matter much who it is. Born March 31st, being an Aries I'm a very loud and energetic person. I'm also very impulsive and get myself into deep shit, even if I don't realize I'm doin' it. I get overly loud when the topic is about something I enjoy or is into, if I try flirting on purpose it's ass but when I do it without realizing I get called a huge flirt. Big music and art geek, I have sketchbooks upon sketchbooks filled just sitting around in my room. I listen to a lot of rock like Queen, Guns N Roses, Red Hot Chilli Peppers, ACDC, Nickelback, KISS, Slipknot, KoRn, and on and on. Although I listen to every genre of music minus country(although there are few songs I can deal with). Big tattoo/piercing person, if you have one visible I will point it out and geek out about it. Although literally don't ask me to name a few songs unless I've been rambling on about it because I have the shittiest memory. I dye my hair so often it's surprising my hair is still healthy. I have literally bleached my hair, dyed it red and let that fade for a week, then dyed it blue and have been touching up the blue ever since then. If it wasn't due to money problems and the fact it's hard to borrow in my town my hair would probably have my hair a different color every two weeks. I ramble quite a bit and have the shittiest focus and memory, so you may have to pull me to the side and tell me to calm down. Would definitely compliment on the boys looks, specially their outfits. I'm a coffee and monster addict at this point, you'll see one or the other in my hand, and the occasional water bottle because I try to keep myself health. My love language is through touch and insulting people. Ex, "I fucking love you dumbass" or flipping you off playfully as a way of saying "i love you bitch". Smoking doesn't bother me, grew up around it my entire life. I love riding on motorcycles, no matter the weather, is it cold asf, nice idgaf, is it raining, shit lets go. I have a bad(good in some people's eyes) of using petnames/nicknames for everyone. Everyone has a wholesome petname from me and then I'll call them a whore or some shit. I cuss too much for my own good, I literally don't have a filter in my entire body. I will impulsively say shit, sometimes that's a good thing and sometimes it's a bad thing. Due to my anxiety I try to stay away from large crowds, but if I'm in them (aka on the boardwalk) I will have music blaring in my ears and my ears glued into my current sketchbook. Although I currently don't have them, I'm going to add them anyways because I'm going to end up getting them when I have the money to go to a piercer or to get a kit. I want a shit ton of piercings. Such as snake bites(lip piercing), tongue, septum, all of the piercings finished on my ears, and bridge. I've stated once I'm a big tattoo geek, so I want a quite a bit of those. I'm definitely a big "oh let's do it myself" person, and I have tried giving myself a septum piercing. (it would've worked if it wasn't for the fact I did it too low to be able to flip it up to hide it) I love the adrenaline of fights, it doesn't matter if I win or loose, although I do prefer if I win. I literally get the most random urge to fight someone for the hell of it. Probably has something to do with impulsive thoughts and shit, but oh well. I'm a big respect person, I live by the motto "you respect me, I'll respect you". I have blackouts sometimes due to rage and anxiety, so I try to keep myself from having them. I have a bad habit of rambling and saying sorry too much. I tend to repeatedly say sorry whilst rambling as I tend to get overly excited and loud when I ramble. I'm a very talkive person if I know and trust you. If you're around me and you don't get your ear talked off or messed with, you're probably not liked or

you need to leave. It's one easy way you'll be able to tell if I get along with you or not. I kinda have a whatever/punk/alt style, a lot of time I just grab something decent and throw it on. Although you'll always see me wearing a belt and my platform shoes. I'm 5'0, so my obsession with platforms grew because of my need to be tall. I wear a lot of baggy clothing, I'm definitely more of a comfort over style person.

Ok, my dude, I'll definitely pair you with...

Marko and Paul

Oh, man, you three are gonna be some threesome (and not necessarily in the sexual way lol)

Just imagine THE MESS

The boys think you're adorable when you get into the romantic mood and try to flirt but end up saying bad pick-up lines, so they'll laugh, but will twirl their hair as whoerish as possible and follow the game. Or they would get on with their manly act and fight to see who will flirt back better.

Now, the chatting will be so goddamn long! You three will go on 4 hour-long conversations that'll get from a "look at this new t-shirt I got" to "so that's why Ronald Reagan was an alien". The worst part is left to the spectators like David or Dwayne since none of you three will be the sane individual and shut y'all up.

The blondes like your drawing, and ask you to draw them or random stuff and people CONSTANTLY, so you'll have many opportunities to improve your skills and try with different models. When they happen to find some of your sketchbooks, they try to impress you or simply give a small present by drawing you or something you like, or at least make the attempt since some of the "fine pieces" as they call them, they give you are like children's school projects.

And, man, about the hair, are you blessed to have the glam diva Paul by your side to give advice and constructive criticism to your hair. He will help you choose the color and will give it style from time to time if you accept. The process to dye it will be so much fun, and so chaotic; experimenting with the pigments ends up with wounds caused from the bleach and the currently used wardrobe disposed later.

A thing they love about you is that you can stand up for yourself if needed, but they rather you not to, because they know you handle yourself and the others well, maybe too well for your good. Paul tries to take care of you as much as he can so there is no need for you to possibly get hurt. It was enough trying to control Marko so he didn't get involved in some stupid street fight every night at the boardwalk to now have to worry daily about you too. Marko shares the passion for the adrenaline of this and will think it is hot as hell, but he protects you as much as Paul, maybe a bit softer than him about it tho, but if you're in the middle of a fight and it starts to get worse than expected, he dead ass will force you to back off. He'll finish the business himself, sweetheart.

As for your love language, don't worry, these dorks will accept you playful pushes with joy, and they'll give you some of them too. But if you accidentally flip and fall some meters before hitting ground, you know the rule: laugh first, help second.

Oh, and you better get prepared for the bullying. You're the smallest in the group, so that leads to a constant attack as a hobbit. Marko joins the quip, but I mean, he'll get humiliated along. Let's just say Paul gives you two a hard time about it. With all the love of course.

They love to get out with you and the others and go to the boardwalk, but they try to take you out on days it is not that crowded, or in hours where a small amount of souls are having a stroll. But, if you happen to go out on a crowded night, they will keep you focused on having a good time, but just mention your getting uncomfortable and you'll be back at the cave in less than a minute.

Paul and Marko really love your style, they think it looks badass and try to match tough outfits with you from time to time. Giving you cool shirts and leather jackets with some patches on them that they think are awesome. Don't ask why some of the clothes have strange-colored stains on them tho.

They go with you to get you ears or nose pierced from the moment you three decided doing it diy style was a bad idea cuz y'all ended up with a bleeding nose and an ear infection the first time of trying it, and because there's no voice of reason in the threesome, Star and Dwayne had to give you kids a very long lecture of not doing those things by yourself.

[dappersheep]

Food Fantasy: An Analysis on what killed a Golden Goose (1/3)

So first things first, disclaimers! I do not claim nor pretend to know every nook and cranny, ins and outs of the history of FooFan's conception, existence and uncertain future. I do not own the game nor its characters, only the opinions and thoughts stated hereon out.

This was born to vent out my frustrations with how a game like this was abused poorly by its own developer and publisher instead of being nurtured to become its full potential that could have overshadowed and remained better than the likes of Tencent's Tales of Food --I could dream, but it honestly had the potential to be.

Out of respect for the main tag, I personally will not be tagging this post and the following two with the main tag. If you want to tag it yourself with it, that's your choice. Only followers of my blog will see this.

This analysis is divided into three parts: Funtoy, Elex, and the Community. It starts under the cut. Well let's get started.

Funtoy

Ah yes, the creator. The developer. You'd think that with their sudden rise to fame during their global launch, they'd have used the massive profits they earned within the first quarter of 2018 to improve certain things about the game and then trickled it down as quickly as possible towards Global, right? Yeah, I thought so too.

After playing the game since launch, I've seen and experienced way too many things that just hammer in the fact that this is one of the most unfair gacha I've played in years. Some reasons being the following:

(Note: These are experiences ONLY on Global's version, it may also apply to CN being the original server)

⦁ The game's gacha model is aimed towards maximum predation on its players. F2p are forced to either spend some money (and thus tempt them to keep spending after getting a taste of it), or risk not even getting a good ascension of the unit to be useful at all. Paying for the event packs also doesn't guarantee that you would be able to secure a spot in the ranks. In fact, if you can't comprehend how the battle mechanics work, you could even de-rank. Fun way to burn that 800$, huh? At least you have the skin from rebates.

⦁ A little less known thing and probably theoretical at worst, the long joked about spaghetti coding of the game along with an outdated spine technology for the sprites could very well be the reason why a 2D game like this experiences the shittiest lags. Also how easy it is to hack this game with the right know-how.

⦁ Speaking of bad gameplay mechanics, did you know you could spend over fifty Mirrors and not get that final enhancement from +9 to +10 simply because there's absolutely no tangible safety net before +10?

⦁ If you're F2P, this game is terrible in giving you resources to stockpile. Because Funtoy certainly doesn't have a lot of weekly/monthly or even friendly events wherein you can get resources without spending another kind of resource. The Hawthorne event's rewards are lackluster at best, Bingo is severely limited in what it gives, and Recall also doesn't give much for a big event that only happens (supposedly) every 6 months. Did I also mention that daily resource rewards also kinda suck compared to how much you burn in just one event?

⦁ Monthly subs are a scam. Yes, you heard that right. My point of comparison here is Arknights. A monthly in AK allows you to have enough to 10-pull after 30 days, on top of a bit of stamina to help you. In FooFan? You have two monthly subs that do different things and even then, you won't have enough to 10-pull by the end of 30 days, nor is the stamina you get enough to even stockpile and ease the pressure of your need to save for the Gates or that stamina event that suddenly popped up.

⦁ A conga line of 'Must procure this unit at a high ascension to do well in the following events!'. You missed the first Pizza event? Missed the first Turkey event? God forbid, you weren't able to 5* your Beer on his debut? Well sorry, that 5* Black Tea of yours isn't gonna do squat to give you good damage. No, your 2* B-52 also isn't going to do much of anything with his lackluster damage capabilities. If you want a chance to get those event URs again, you have to wait for their pool with laughably limited pulls... and a bloated price to even pull.

⦁ The events starting after the first iteration of Turkey event get even more paywalled. As far as I remember, by the time Minestrone rolled around, an F2P with ample crystal resources can only get 2* at best. 3* and above are paywalled.

⦁ The game has incompetent balancing. The devs themselves likely have little experience in gameplay design and balancing, especially for a game with a growing roster of characters . A prime example of them launching a character not knowing it would pretty much unbalance the game? Look no further than Beer. The guy had to have a couple of nerfs done to him because he was just too meta. You know what's sadder? Before the 'switch' to Brave meta, almost all meta units was built to benefit off the Beer meta.

⦁ Artifacts. Do I even have to explain how the introduction of such a game feature so early into the lifespan of this game essentially fucked over the balance even more? Not to mention, all the more reason you'd be crying with the Gates of Trials demanding so much out of your stamina and crystal resources. F2Ps are again, the ones that suffer in this part. What's their reason? Profit, of course.

⦁ The nerf of resto chests. This was the primary source for people who were saving up stamina for the Gates... until Funtoy decided they were being too generous to their playerbase and dropped the stamina probability rate to 1% or less.

⦁ Terrible UI layout and design. Come on, be honest now, you've lost several thousand of your hard earned crystals buying screws in the fishing shop because you didn't notice that shiny warning in small text and a green button with the crystal image slapped on it, didn't you?

⦁ Look at all these SRs! All of them! Wow, they even outnumber the Rs by at least 80! What's that? There's more URs now too compared to Rs and Ms combined? That can't be real. But seriously, you'd think Funtoy could make some of these SRs into Rs and add them to the perm pool/shard fusion so people aren't stuck pulling Macaron or Dorayaki every time. They could have also populated the Team Up rewards with SRs instead of Rs. But you know... that won't bring them profit. Haha... haha.... Oh and I haven't even told you about the SP class...!

⦁ Lore. Yes, I'm sure by now you're aware that the in-game lore is different from the ones in the non-SP Food Soul bios, in the SP Food Soul bios that sort of ties in with the New World story (that global will never be getting btw). At this point, Funtoy handwaves the confusion away by saying, 'they're all different timelines'. Yes yes, an easy and cliche move to explain how shitty the writing direction went after a while. I don't know what happened, all I know is that lore got weird(er) when they introduced SP Rice.

⦁ They. Keep. Adding. More. Characters! They fail to see that a lot of their earlier players have imprinted on the first few waves of Food Souls and they sadly also fail to properly give some of them more story expansion... or skins. At the moment, they're shelling out so many JP-centric Food Souls because... as I see it? They're pandering to the last bastion of whales they have.

⦁ Merchandise. And I mean a variety of merchandise that isn't using the same official art every time. Like they couldn't afford to commission a couple of artists one or two times to make unique merchandise that would sell. They started too late on that train, and they even made it too hard for anyone not in CN or JP to even procure what already exists. Not to mention, they keep using the same 'popular' set of characters for their merchandise and never really expanding out to making merch for other characters.

These are all the things I can list off at the top of my head why Funtoy as a developer sucks ass. They could sweeten their words all they want, it won't change the fact that they've certainly made way too many bad decisions and found out about it too late, and now they're desperate to keep Food Fantasy alive to keep their profits coming in to make whatever that cat girl game they have and that supposedly 'side-game' FF2 they announced.

There may have been problems out of their control that I or you do not see, but one thing is for sure, they were blinded by greed for the money they were raking in on all their servers at the start, and never actually bothered to invest in more manpower in the right places to improve the game, both gameplay-wise and worldbuilding wise. It's actually saddening that this game could have been so much more with several QoLs and a more fleshed out lore, perhaps even spacing out the number of new units they keep introducing while going back to giving their old units more attention.

That's it for Funtoy. We're moving onto Elex in the next part and boy is that also a trip.

[jonbernthalslut]

some destiel and general spn headcanons for ya

dean listens to katy perry. one day he’s got teenage dream blasting in the kitchen while he’s cooking and he’s singing ‘put your hands on me in my skin tight jeans’ and cas just taps his shoulder and goes. ‘dean. you don’t wear skinny jeans.’

they don’t talk about crowley. not any of them. he was confusing and murderous and a little evil and for some reason they considered him family for a long time. they don’t talk about how he died for them but there’s a note in a drawer somewhere that just says ‘goodbye boys’ with a little heart

cas and deans wedding rings are simple. deans just a silver band and castiels a simple black one

claire and jack argue over who gets to be the flower girl

dean says he likes black coffee and forces himself to drink it most of the time out of necessity but cas and sam know he likes a lot of cream and sugar and cas makes it for him every morning

it takes longer this time for castiel to get out of the empty. almost an entire year to the day (and no there’s no stupid fucking rusty nail) but the only way he gets out this time is bargaining. he plays the only chip he’s got left, mortality. castiel goes home human. when the deal is struck the empty only says oke thing before sending him back. ‘you are never to return to this place’

cas gets an anti possession tattoo

jack is still god so they don’t see him as much but he comes home for birthdays and holidays and sometimes just when he misses his dads and uncle

when castiel comes back it resembles the last time a lot. he calls dean from the closest pay phone to the bunker after hitch hiking his way there and dean goes alone this time.

dean just puts his hands on castiels face and just soaks him in for a second. this time he doesn’t question that it’s him he just knows. he knows is his angel. ‘dean,’ castiel starts and dean just smiles and shushes him. ‘i love you too.’ is all dean says and he really always that he would be the one to kiss cas first but he was wrong. because his love being returned was the only thing cas needed and dean is being pulled in and kissed.

they stop hunting. they help train some new recruits and they come when claire or jody calls them but they stop.

sam wears a man bun when he works out don’t let him lie to u he does it

jack slips a few months before he becomes god and calls dean dad and dean just freezes for a second. it’s just them in the kitchen and jack has a bowl of cereal but he’s too tired to get the milk so he goes ‘dad can you give me the milk?’ and dean freezes for a second and gets the milk and pours it and kisses his hair. ‘thank you’ ‘anytime kiddo’

cas likes to steal deans t shirts. like. it’s all he wears when he gets back and dean even buys him new ones and cas jus goes ‘i like yours better’

when sam sees castiel and dean walk into the bunker after cas comes back he doesn’t even notice they’re holding hands. well. he does but it just seems so natural he doesn’t blink twice and just pulls cas into a hug ‘good to have you back man’

claire likes to come over with kaia and alex and jody sometimes and have big slumber parties with her weird kind of dads

castiel watches crime shows and literally always figures out who the killer is before the cops do and dean finds it so funny

castiel has scars on his back where his wings wouldve joined his vessel and they hurt like a bitch so dean just rubs aspercreme on them and gives him ibuprofen and cuddles with him till he feels better

the trench coat is really just a beloved memory hanging in castiels closet

when cas first came back they didn’t share a room immediately instead castiel moves in across the hall but he finds its reallt hard to sleep alone so he just ventured to deans room and hears him snoring aand just gets in bed

dean calls castiel angel, darling, baby, babe and a million other pet names

castiel trting to prank sam on april fools is like. literally so dumb he draws the shittiest possible clown on a napkin and gives it to sam in an envelope and sam jumps anyways and dean DIES laughing

cas watched broke back mountain

cas brings in any and every stray animal he can possibly find and he doesn’t even mean to find them they just come up to him

rowena sends weird little gifts on the boys birthdays and literally who does she know their birthdays

she sends a letter on the anniversary of crowleys death. it says ‘thank you for taking care of my ferguson. he loved you boys and you gave him the family i never could. much love my boys. stay safe.’ with a little heart

castiel heads the john winchester hate squad

eileen and sam get married and they have this big sweet white wedding and move into this big house and have two kids and absolutely don’t name any of them dean

one day jody is on a case and a vampire kills the parents of this little baby girl and she just. cant fathom putting this poor girl into the foster system so she reports the baby dead and drives to the bunker

dean opens the door with sleep ruffled hair and sleep pants with one leg hiked up because it’s three in the goddamn morning and why does jody have a baby

dean doesn’t want to at first. he never saw himself as a dad but jack changed that. thing is he doesn’t know what to do with a baby. but cas gives him that look he gives him when he finds a stray and now they have five cats and three dogs so he knows how this will go

they name her charlie and buy about a million parenting books that only cas reads and spoil her rotten

[scarecoen]

Trigger warning ⚠️ domestic violence.

I've typed this story a million times so I'm just going to summarize as much as I can.

A few days ago I was assaulted by my partner's family members. And as I've mentioned, I've typed this a million times and I'm honestly just exhausted thinking about it, but we could use some help.

My partner has always had a transphobic family. (I don't have anyone but my dad, who's in no position to help anyone.)

Her mom used her disability against her and manipulated her into giving her MOST of her checks. She's abused the system and my girlfriend.

When I met Jackie, she was with a terrible biggot. Jackie had came out, and her mother conspired with an abusive long distance ex, to fly her here, to stage an "intervention" and stop my partner from transitioning.

It worked. For years.

I met Jackie here on tumblr, we became good, SECRET friends because she wasn't allowed to talk to anyone.

I told Jackie openly about my views regarding gender and how I myself, was not cis.

Eventually she told her partner about us playing games together, which she responded to by harassing me.

Jackie ended up spilling the beans to me, about her mom, about the ex, everything. I realized that she had been extremely isolated and controlled her whole life.

So I intervened.

I got the two of them to separate, which wasn't smooth because Jackie was scared. She had been with her abuser for 9 years at this point. She's never known anything else.

The ex moved back to her state, and I started seeing Jackie, although she was stuck at her mom's... who was trying to play innocent at this time.

Eventually, I kinda just came and picked her up, she stayed the night, she didn't want to go back home. And I can't blame her. The house wasn't only disgusting, her family microagressed her all the time and they would tell her to pretty much stay in a dark room all day.

Ofc I didn't bring her back.

During early quarantine, we had a lot of self reflection and she started distancing herself from her mother, coming around to holding her accountable for her horrible actions.

Her mom messaged her things like "Why won't you talk to me? It's like you're trying to punish us!" Ect, just every fucking manipulative thing she could say, without ever apologizing.

Unfortunately the place we were staying fell through when my best friend's ex husband decided he wants a divorce and decided to throw in some transphobic hatespeach towards me.

We were all looking for somewhere to go.

I'm sure you know where this is going but listen, she told us EVERYTHING we wanted to hear. She told us she's not hateful now, told us she would go to trans support groups, pride, said she's realized how much she loves Jackie and it's time to accept her- and look- we had NO WHERE TO GO. We have 2 cats and at the time, a car that has no a/c or functional locks. AND I have a chronic autoimmune condition that I recently started taking chemo meds for. (Methotrexate.)

I'm too sick to be on the street, and survive. I had to think about me, Jackie, Zoe, and Boops.

And Jackie wanted to go..

I told her we'd be cautious and try to get out asap.

Well, looking for places right when the housing market crashed really fucked us up. That- and because I had only just finally got approved for disability, means I was set back in life- and had no credit to my name. No credit= no place to live.

I had almost built enough, but things went down hill very quickly with her family. Which leads us to right now:

After weeks of microagressions, giving us breakthrough covid cases, yelling at us to clean other's messes, and forcing us and our cats to isolate in our room, many broken promises, and straight up transphobic hatespeach (because she promised to get vaccinated but then said nvm as soon as we moved in and she went on vacation and got covid and gave it to us, which nearly killed me--) she said not getting the vaccine "IS A CHOICE, JUST LIKE YOU BEING TRANS AND TAKING *gestures to my testosterone* THOSE DRUGS."

We just were avoiding each other while I desperately try to gather resources for us to get out, NOW.

Of course, that wasn't good enough, so when her step father messaged her in all caps about our cats having to stay in our room and "I WON'T FUCKING TELL YOU AGAIN" my partner had a breakdown..

Her mom had let her step dad talk to her like this her whole life, basically.

Out of desperation, we went to her sister for help, maybe hoping she'd give us a place to stay for two weeks while we sign off on the lease for our new apartment.

She pretended to want to help and even said... something fucking weird? She made the comment that I'm a good person and I'm so much like her own boyfriend, that it's "scary"...

A few hours later she came to the house. She talked nicely to us, to gain access to our bedroom.

Then she attacked me.

I called the police right before, and was on the phone with dispatch when she lunged at me because she was aggressively trying to MAKE Jackie go into a separate room WITHOUT ME and Jackie was saying no, BEGGING her to STOP.

I wasn't going to let her take Jackie into that room. She looked fucking crazy.

All of the family came into our room, her two sisters, her mom, and her cousin- When they heard yelling.

It was actually me telling her mom that she's a terrible mother, that triggered her sister to try and attack me- although I knew she was planning on trying to from the moment she came into our room.

And that was after her mom was screaming in my face that if I have something to say, say it now.

Dispatch heard everything and sent emt as well...

But the police stayed outside, talking to them for a WHILE before even asking for us.

Her cousin is the only one that would have stood up for me, saying her sister never should have tried to hit me. But he was in the room with Jackie, giving her support...

I faced the cops alone.

He already had "that look."

He shined a light into my eye, letting the family stay on the porch, throwing insults and just letting it happen. He asked me where I'm hurt, and before I could even show him the scratches on my arm, he said "how do I know YOU didn't put those there?"

I wanted to fucking die in that moment.

This is a conservative city.

No one has equality stickers here. No one flies gay flags. People here that are lgbt- they LEAVE.

This is EXACTLY WHY.

I said "well is there any reason I should tell you anything when, clearly, you're already bias?"

I looked at the emts. I looked at his partner. I looked at all the lights and people coming out of their houses-

And behind me was her family.

Her sister that assaulted me, was laughing about having work in the morning.

All of them were looking at me, with hate in their eyes.

He tried to feed me bullshit about "well if I'm taking someone to jail, there has to be proof."

He dismissed everything I attempted to say, until I just stared at the ground and he decided he did his job here.

I told him my whole fucking body hurts because I had 4 people fucking toss my 100lbs ass all over the fucking room, which was a mess that he refused to look at.

He said "I don't see bruises."

I SPAT "BRUISES TAKE TIME?"

He retorted IMMEDIATELY- "YOU'RE NOT EVEN RED."

I asked what about the dispatcher- she seemed concerned- to which he said "you see, sometimes when people call us- they scream and be dramatic- for a quicker response."

I asked what we could do while the two weeks go by for our new place, and he fucking said "I DONT KNOW. BARRICADE YOURSELF IN YOUR ROOM OR SOMETHING."

Needless to say, we are now safe, in a hotel and I've gotten in touch with a few lgbt organizations that are attempting to help us get justice.

Unfortunately because it's a holiday weekend, all we can do is wait right now.

Our first order of business is getting a protection order, so that we can retrieve the rest of our things without her sister trying to attack us again. (I say us because she kept jumping towards Jackie, like she was threatening to hit her.)

I've been so gaslit and victim blamed that I was too scared to go to the er, even though this all happened in the midst of a flare, possibly including my liver health.

There's so much more to this story, as I'm sure other trans people can relate.. unfortunately.

The emts reluctantly offered to take me to the er, but I was like "and leave my partner here with them?" And he just fucking shrugged dude.

I hate this city.

I want out so bad but unfortunately I've committed to a year, but at least it'll be *our* apartment.

We could NOT stay there for two more weeks. Her step dad is a violent offender that has attempted to murder a homeless prostitute over some fucking pocket change- and he has a GUN in the house.

This hotel might run us into a hole, despite it being the cheapest, shittiest hotel in town, it's still going to be about 700$ for ONE week.

To ADD INSULT TO INJURY, SOMEONE ATTEMPTED TO STEAL MY VEHICLE WHILE WE'VE BEEN STAYING HERE.

I'm feeling incredibly paranoid and unsafe, but I'm on anxiety meds now at least and its SORTA helping us cope (My partner and I have the same Dr and she gave her permission to have some.)

The organization BRAVO is trying to help us with a hotel voucher, but because of all the natural disasters, it's hard to find room in charity for people like us, which is fair enough. We aren't immediately on the street, and for that I'm incredibly thankful.

However, if you or anyone you know wish to help you can donate to venmo: kittyzibby. Or you could just signal boost this.

If you can't help, I understand. And IF YOU'RE STRUGGLING FINANCIALLY, don't worry about it, for real.

Right now I'm just scared we'll go into debt before getting the apartment settled in.

I will update on things once our case moves along more, and we were already considering turning to OF sexwork before all of this, so if there could be support that way, maybe we'll get that going once we get moved in. That way, I feel good about providing a service in return.

Thank you so much for sticking with us during all of this. And really- we're doing much better today. We've given each other pep talks, but we are still determined to start our lives together.

Her family was merely trying to scare me away from her, but I got my girl's name tatted on me for a reason.

I know I'm not the bad person here.

Every time Jackie is feeling more gender euphoric, and showing me her changes, and seeing her get more confident, the more I know that what I'm doing with and for her, is right.

I love her so much. And I will never abandon her, like they tried to get me to do.

Jackie is taking a break from some socials, but she's given me permission to talk about what's been happening.

She needs justice too.

I will update as much as I can, but seriously, I think we both just have a fire under our asses now.

Mentally, we're stronger than ever.

Thank you for reading. My heart really goes out to the rest of the queer community that have experienced or are going through similar things.

It's really made me realize why we need to stick together and fight this bigotry bullshit! 🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈

[prouvaireafterdark]

Caught in the Moment

Five times Michael Sanders’ dad almost walked in on him with Alex and one time he did.

Special shoutouts to @foramomentonly and @powderseal for giving me the inspiration for a few of these scenes!

Also on AO3!

***

1.

Michael is digging through his tool box when he hears a familiar voice behind him say, “Hey, Sanders. Wanna take a look under my hood?”

He turns around to see Alex Manes standing before him in all his emo glory: a black band t-shirt tight across his chest, immaculate black denim skinny jeans hugging his thighs, and a messenger bag stuck with pins slung across his shoulder. His eyes are lined in black, like always, and he’s got a beautiful smile on his face, one of those rare ones that are becoming more common by the day. Michael would like to think he’s got something to do with that.

Michael is so disarmed by that smile, he forgets to fall into their easy flirtatious banter, and Alex notices, the twist of his lips turning a little smug.

“Oh, come on, no comeback?” Alex asks as he takes a few steps toward him until they’re standing face to face in front of the car Michael is working on. “This is supposed to be the part where you say something like ‘Why, that engine not purring like she should be?’ and then I say—“

Michael laughs and pulls him closer by the strap of his messenger bag to interrupt him with a light kiss on the lips. Alex melts into it, dragging out the kiss a little longer.

“Mm,” Alex hums, eyes still closed when they break apart. “That works too.”

Alex’s eyes flutter open and Michael smiles, a soft and giddy rush of affection swelling inside him. He leans in again to steal another kiss before he asks, “Not that I’m not very happy to see you, but what are you doing here? I thought you were busy writing music all day.”

“Not all day,” Alex says, sliding his hands between Michael’s open flannel and the ratty t-shirt he’s wearing to wrap around his waist. “Someone rear ended Greg yesterday so he had to come here to get an estimate. Thought I’d tag along and see if my favorite mechanic wants to take me for a drive later.”

“Mm, you know what?” Michael hums, desire and anticipation making his stomach swoop. “I think he does.”

“Good,” Alex smiles, eyes flicking down to Michael’s lips. “Til then, you got a minute?”

Michael swallows and nods. “I think I can pencil you in,” he murmurs before he takes Alex by the hand and leads him around to the other side of the car, out of view of anyone who could walk by.

Even under normal circumstances, Michael wouldn’t be looking to get caught kissing his boyfriend on the job, but given that his dad doesn’t even know about him and Alex, well—it’s better if they’re discreet.

He crowds Alex against the passenger side door and pulls him in for another kiss. The slow press of Alex’s lips against his own is pure heaven, drawing Michael into the moment so deep he nearly forgets he’s kissing Alex at work, in broad daylight, where anyone—including his father—could come looking for him.

Just as Michael’s starting to feel a little bold, the tip of his tongue flicking out to taste Alex’s bottom lip, Michael hears footsteps coming their way. Alex must hear them too because he gasps against Michael’s lips and shoves gently at his chest with both hands.

Michael spins around and starts rifling through the open toolbox again, trying to look busy. It’s another minute before the footsteps stop.

“Thought I might find you here,” he hears his dad say. Michael looks over his shoulder to answer him, but it’s not Michael he’s talking to. “Estimate’s all taken care of, your brother’s looking for you.”

“Guess that’s my cue then,” Alex says, pushing off from where he’d been leaning against the side of the car with an air of forced nonchalance. “See you around, Sanders.”

Michael nods, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and watches Alex leave until Sanders asks, “What are you looking for?”

“What?” Michael asks, his cheeks flushing with heat.

Sanders nods at the open toolbox.

“Oh,” he says intelligently. “Uh, the set of hex keys.”

Sanders raises a weathered eyebrow and looks pointedly at the wall behind the toolbox where a set of L-shaped hex keys hang off a nail, right in front of Michael’s fucking face.

“Ah,” he says, flushing deeper as he plucks them off the nail. “Thanks.”

Sanders grunts, but doesn’t say anything else as he reaches into his back pocket and takes out his money clip. Michael watches him thumb through the cash and take out twenty dollars.

“Why don’t you run by the Crashdown and get some lunch?” he asks, holding out the money for Michael.

“I’ve still gotta finish fixing this up,“ Michael points to the car he’s been working on.

“It’ll keep,” Sanders counters.

“Okay,” Michael shrugs, taking the money Sanders offers. “You want anything?”

“For your head to be screwed on right when you get back, but I’ll settle for a burger and fries.”

Michael laughs and shakes his head, pocketing the money. “You got it.”

2.

“It’s really not that big a deal,” Michael says, watching Alex mix brownie batter with a pensive expression on his face. He’s perched on his kitchen counter next to where Alex is standing, his legs kicking lazily at the cabinets below.

“What?” Alex asks, looking up at him. There’s a smudge of cocoa powder on the tip of his nose and Michael has to swallow the urge to lean down and lick it off.

“The party tonight. It’s really not that big a deal,” Michael repeats himself.

“I know,” Alex says, voice about an octave higher than usual, and then goes back to staring at the bowl in his hands.

“Do you?” Michael asks, unconvinced. “Because you’ve been mixing that batter for almost ten minutes. I’m very impressed by your upper body strength, but I think you’ve got all the lumps by now.”

“Fuck,” Alex sighs heavily and sets the bowl back on the counter. “I’m gonna have to start again.”

“What?” Michael asks, bewildered. “Alex, no, come on.”

He reaches out for Alex’s arm and pulls him closer until he’s standing between Michael’s legs. Michael runs his hands up to his shoulders, caging Alex in a little so he can focus on him and not the fucking brownies, but Alex won’t quite meet his gaze.

“Would you look at me please?” Michael asks, moving his right hand up to Alex’s cheek.

Reluctantly, Alex turns to him, a vulnerable look in his eyes. It worries Michael a little, makes him want to wrap Alex up in a blanket and hold him tight.

“It’s just a party,” Michael says softly, stroking his thumb along Alex’s cheekbone. “Why are you freaking out?”

“I’m not freaking out,” Alex denies.

Michael raises an eyebrow at him. Alex sighs in defeat.

“Okay, maybe I’m freaking out a little,” he admits.

“Can you tell me why?” Michael asks again. “I don’t like seeing you like this.”

“It’s Max and Isobel’s party,” Alex answers, like that explains everything.

“And?” Michael asks, not connecting the dots. “I know you’ve never really hung out hung out, but it’s not like you’ve never met them before.”

“Yeah, but I haven’t met them as your boyfriend before,” Alex replies. Hearing Alex call himself his boyfriend makes Michael’s heart feel like it’s about to burst in his chest, but he shoves down that feeling to listen to the rest of what Alex has to say. “It feels important. I don’t want to screw it up.”

“How could you possibly screw it up?” Michael asks skeptically. When Alex doesn’t answer him right away, Michael says, “See? You can’t even think of anything. Relax, they’re gonna love you.”

“You don’t know that,” Alex complains.

“Yes, I do,” Michael insists. “You wanna know how?”

“How?” Alex sighs, looking up at him with a guarded expression.

Michael grabs Alex’s hands and raises them up toward his face.

“Because I love you,” he says, pressing a kiss to Alex’s knuckles. They’ve said those words before, but it’s new enough that they still make Alex fucking melt, the change in his body language immediate. Michael loves to see it. “And that’s really all that fucking matters to them.”

Alex moves further into Michael’s space, pulling his hands gently out of Michael’s grip to wrap his arms around his waist and rest his forehead against his neck.

“I love you too,” he says, heartfelt and honest. It makes Michael’s heart soar.

Michael holds him tighter and cards his fingers through his silky dark hair, content to just hold him for the moment, but all too soon, Michael hears a key unlocking the front door. He sighs and manages to drop a kiss on the crown of Alex’s head before he pulls away and steps back over to the brownie batter, putting some distance between them before Michael’s dad gets the door open.

3.

Michael’s house has the shittiest insulation known to man—it’s hot as hell in the summer and cold as ice in the winter. Michael’s been complaining about it for years now, but he has to admit that sometimes it has its advantages. Like how it gives him the perfect excuse to share a blanket with Alex on a chilly autumn night while they sit on the couch and watch the best basic cable has to offer, just close enough for him to touch if he really wants.

And oh does he want—Alex came over tonight looking soft and cuddly in a dark green knit sweater and all Michael’s been thinking about since he arrived is how badly he wants to just shove Alex back against the couch cushions and crawl into his lap.

Thing is, he can’t. His dad is in the house, working on some paperwork in his bedroom, so they’re stuck sitting a platonic distance apart.

That doesn’t stop the thoughts running through Michael’s head, or the temptation buzzing under his skin to do something about them. He swears he can feel the heat coming off of Alex’s body next to him and it’s driving him crazy.

He’s resigned to suffer in silence until Alex shifts beside him, drawing his legs up to sit cross-legged on the couch. Michael can see the spread of his thighs through the shape they make under the blanket and it gives him an idea.

Before he can talk himself out of it, Michael makes a move.

Without a word, he moves his hand from his own lap and rests it gently on Alex’s lower thigh under the blanket. Alex’s muscle twitches under his palm, and out of the corner of his eye Michael can see him glance his way. Michael just keeps staring straight ahead, his gaze fixed on the action movie playing on the television.

He keeps the touch casual at first, his thumb rubbing softly against the denim of Alex’s jeans, but once Alex starts to relax, that’s when Michael lets his hand inch further up his leg. He bites his lip so he doesn’t smile when he hears Alex’s sudden inhale as his fingers slip down to curl possessively against his inner thigh.

“Michael,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “Don’t be a tease.”

Michael responds by sliding his hand right between Alex’s legs and turning to look at him, smile finally breaking through his unaffected mask as he takes in Alex’s wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

“Who said anything about teasing?” he asks, cupping Alex’s cock, already half-hard for him.

Alex’s gaze goes hungry as Michael starts to rub him through the fabric of his jeans and he feels him swell against his palm even more. Alex touches Michael’s arm over the blanket and leans toward him, eyes on Michael’s mouth, and, fuck, Michael wants to kiss him so badly, but he knows once he starts he won’t be able to stop.

He swerves at the last second, lips connecting with Alex’s cheek and then his earlobe before he whispers, “Eyes on the screen, baby. I’ll give you what you need.”

Michael can hear Alex’s throat click as he swallows and reluctantly turns to look at the television. Michael rewards him with a kiss on the cheek.

The noise blaring through their old television covers the sound of Alex’s zipper as Michael gently tugs it down. He reaches inside his jeans to get a hand on his cock, hot and hard in his grip. He pulls it out of Alex’s underwear and runs his thumb over the slit, smearing the pre-come leaking from it around the head.

Michael removes his hand from Alex’s cock for a second—much to Alex’s dismay if the small sound of protest he makes is anything to go by—to lick his palm before he brings it back under the blanket. He wraps his hand firmly around Alex’s dick and jerks him off as discreetly as he can in slow, deliberate strokes. Alex squirms under his touch, a soft moan slipping from his mouth. Michael tightens his grip on Alex’s shaft in a warning, but all that does is make him whine a little louder.

“Shh,” Michael whispers, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to the side of Alex’s face, his lips warm against his heated skin. His tongue snakes out to lick the shell of Alex’s ear as he resumes his stroking, and he can’t help but smile as he hears Alex let out a shuddering breath.

Michael knows he should lean back into his own space and maintain the illusion of innocence, but he’s lured in by those sweet little sounds Alex makes in spite of himself, desperate to drink in every last one.

Alex leans further back into the couch, his eyes slipping closed as Michael peppers his neck with wet, open-mouthed kisses as quietly as he can manage.

“M-Michael,” Alex hisses suddenly, and Michael knows he’s close.

Before he can convince himself it’s a bad idea, Michael dives under the blanket and takes Alex’s cock into his mouth. Alex’s response is almost immediate, his hand disappearing under the blanket to fist Michael’s curls as his hips twitch with the urge to force his cock deeper into Michael’s mouth.

Michael only has to suck on him for another few seconds before Alex is whimpering low in his throat and coming in thick, hot pulses across Michael’s tongue. Michael swallows down everything he has to give, not spilling a drop.

He feels air on his face and looks up to see Alex looking down at him, his dick still in Michael’s mouth. Michael lets the tip of it press into the side of his cheek, making the skin bulge with the shape of him, and Michael’s own cock throbs just thinking about the picture he must make right now.

Alex seems similarly affected as he reaches up to feel his cock through Michael’s cheek with the tips of his fingers. He presses down on it, and tightens his grip on Michael’s curls as he fucks his softening cock a little deeper into Michael’s mouth, just to watch him take it. Michael relishes the slide of it across his tongue, drunk on the way his body makes space for him as the tip of Alex’s cock teases the back of his throat.

Michael hums happily as he pulls off of him, pressing a kiss to the head before he sits up.

Alex is pulling him into a kiss by the fingers he’s still got trapped in Michael’s curls when his dad’s cheesy ACDC ringtone sounds off down the hall. They spring apart, hearts hammering in their chests as they draw the blanket up to their chins and settle deeper into the couch.

His dad’s bedroom door down the hall creaks open a minute later. Sanders walks into the living room with his leather jacket in hand and heads straight toward the hook by the front door to grab his car keys.

“Where you going?” Michael asks, the taste of Alex still heavy on his tongue.

“Arturo needs a tow,” he answers, sliding his leather jacket on. “I’ll be back in about an hour.”

Without another word, Sanders slips out the front door.

They sit perfectly still until they hear his truck start and drive away, but the second they’re sure he’s gone, Alex is scrambling into Michael’s lap, dragging him in for a deep, heady kiss.

“That was so hot,” he murmurs against Michael’s lips, “and so fucking stupid. Can’t believe you went down on me on your fucking couch while your dad was home, what the fuck, Michael?”

“This is a nice blanket,” Michael defends himself, fingers tightening on Alex’s hips. “Couldn’t have you making a mess all over it.”

In answer, Alex bites down hard on Michael’s bottom lip.

“I’ll show you a mess,” he pants as he reaches for Michael’s belt.

4.

“You really take me to all the nicest places,” Alex quips as Michael manhandles him into his lap where he’s sitting in the drivers seat of a shiny red sports car in the parking lot of his dad’s auto shop.

Michael laughs as he shuts the door behind him and reclines the seat as far back as it’ll go. Alex follows him down, his hands coming to rest on the seat behind Michael’s head.

“You don’t recognize the car, do you,” Michael says, settling his hands on Alex’s thighs.

“Should I?” Alex asks.

Michael’s answering smile clearly says that he should.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Alex sighs, tilting his head to the side. “Whose car is it?”

Michael points behind Alex at the rearview mirror—well, more specifically, at the douche-y set of fuzzy black and white mirror dice hanging from it.

“No fucking way,” Alex deadpans when he turns his head to see it.

“Happy Four Months, baby,” Michael says in a cheery voice.

“You want to fuck me in Kyle Valenti’s car?” he asks, looking down at him with wonder and disbelief on his face.

“I want to fuck you in Kyle Valenti’s car,” Michael confirms, drinking in Alex’s reaction with a wicked smile.

When Michael noticed it sitting in the lot this morning—red, shiny, and shaped like a penis—awaiting some bodywork after what appears to have been a minor accident, it just felt like destiny. He’d immediately sent Alex a text to tell him they had plans and wanted him ready when he picked him up for their date tonight.

Alex stares at him for a long few seconds, shaking his head with a delighted laugh.

“I love you,” he says, and pulls him into a rough kiss. Michael returns it eagerly, his palms sliding up the back of Alex’s shirt as he pulls him down so they’re lying chest to chest.

“So is that a yes?” Michael leans away to ask once Alex lets him up for air.

“It’s a fuck yes,” Alex answers, grinding his hips forward into Michael’s lap.

They trade biting kisses that make Michael’s lips tingle until they’re both too hard and desperate to ignore the need thrumming through them any longer.

Michael tosses his jacket and shirt into the passengers seat before helping Alex with his jeans and underwear—it’s a bit of a struggle, but with a little teamwork they make it happen. Michael shimmies his own jeans down his thighs until his bare ass is on the driver’s seat. Alex perches on top of him, thighs spread wide as the seat will allow as Michael reaches into his jacket pocket for the lube and condoms he brought with him.

He squeezes some onto his fingers and presses against Alex’s hole, finding him already wet and open. It’s not a revelation—Alex sent him the hottest fucking picture he’s ever seen of his fingers in his own ass about an hour ago when Michael was on his way to pick him up—but feeling him loose and ready for him sends a spike of heat through him all the same.

Michael slips two fingers inside him, the soft, slippery heat of his hole making his cock pulse in anticipation. Alex groans when he slides another finger inside him almost immediately, the prep he’s already had making the stretch easy.

“Don’t need it,” Alex huffs, reaching between his legs to grab Michael’s wrist.

“I know,” Michael says, watching the way Alex bites his lip as he spreads his fingers inside him with ravenous eyes. “I just like touching you here.”

Michael curls his fingers against Alex’s prostate and Alex keens, his hips twitching where he holds them suspended over Michael’s lap. A shining pearl of pre-come drips from Alex’s cock and Michael catches it on his finger before he brings it to his mouth for a taste.

“Please, Michael,” Alex whines, fucking himself down on Michael’s fingers. “I already edged myself getting ready for you earlier, I need you in me now.”

Michael takes pity on him and withdraws from his body. Alex rolls a condom on him with shaking fingers before Michael slicks his own cock and holds it steady for him to sink down on. Alex moans at the sudden fullness, his blunt fingernails digging into Michael’s chest.

“Yeah?” Michael asks, taking in the blissed out expression on Alex’s face. “You like that dick?”

“Yeah,” Alex nods, eyes slipping closed as he starts to roll his hips. “fuck, yeah, I do.”

“Feels good in you, huh?” Michael keeps running his mouth as Alex speeds up, soft whimpers leaving his mouth with every slide of his cock inside him. “This what you needed?”

Alex opens his mouth to answer, but his response turns into a moan as Michael reaches between them to get a hand around Alex’s cock so he can fuck his fist as he rides him. Alex rocks his hips in short, fast thrusts that have Michael’s cock rubbing right where he needs it.

All Michael knows is the scorching, wet heat of Alex’s hole tight around him, his soft, needy gasps filling the air between them. It’s enough to make his head spin, and the fact that he has Alex bouncing on his cock here, in Kyle Valenti’s most prized possession, only makes it hotter.

Michael tugs him forward so they’re breathing the same air again, one hand in Alex’s soft dark hair to guide him into a kiss. His other arm stays secure around Alex’s lower back, holding tight as his hips buck up into him. Alex gasps against his lips, and grinds his hips harder into his lap.

Michael plants his feet against the floor and shoves his hips up off the seat, driving his cock into Alex as deep as it’ll go. Alex gasps again, breaking the kiss, and Michael does it again, and again, and again, until Alex is a whimpering mess above him, collapsing against his chest. Alex buries his face in Michael’s neck, moaning weakly in his ear as Michael keeps fucking up into him, spearing him open on his cock.

“Want you to remember this,” Michael pants, in the middle of sucking a bruise high on Alex’s neck. “When he peels out of the school parking lot like a fucking tool, want you to remember that he’s sitting right where I made you come.”

A shudder runs through Alex at the words, his hole fluttering around his cock. Michael bites down on his shoulder to keep from shouting as he comes into the condom, and the second his teeth sink into Alex’s skin he feels him jerk in his grip, spurting hot against his bare stomach.

The car is filled with the sound of labored breathing as they both come down, Michael running his clean hand up and down Alex’s back.

“I don’t know how I’m ever not supposed to think about this,” Alex muses moments later, and Michael laughs, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck.

The sudden sound of metal clashing against metal startles them both.

“What was that?” Alex whispers as he freezes in Michael’s arms.

Michael looks out the back window to see his dad throwing scrap metal onto a heap all the way across the yard. Panic strikes through him immediately, but he takes in the distance between them and knows, logically, that there’s no way he could see or hear them from where he is right now, especially with Valenti’s tinted windows.

“It’s my dad,” he answers, panic making way for frustration. All he wanted was to spend his night celebrating being with Alex for four whole months by defiling his high school bully’s car—was some privacy too much to hope for? “Fuck, why the fuck is he always around?”

“Shh,” Alex shushes him, and then whispers, “Maybe doing this at his place of employment wasn’t the best idea.”

“False,” Michael replies. “This was an excellent idea, just—stay still,” he insists, drawing his arms tighter around Alex’s back after he starts shifting nervously in his lap. “He can’t see us from over there so let’s not give him a reason to come any closer.”

Alex stops moving, but his body stays tense as they wait out Michael’s dad. Michael makes himself comfortable and nuzzles his face into Alex’s neck.

“You think he’s gone?” Alex whispers when they haven’t heard anything for a few minutes.

“I don’t know, lemme check,” he answers, pushing up to peek out the window.

The coast, as far as he can tell, is clear.

“Okay, he’s gone,” Michael announces.

“Thank god,” Alex sighs, the tension releasing from his frame. He quickly pulls away from Michael’s arms to sit up and reach for his shirt where he abandoned it on the passenger seat.

Michael can’t help but feel a pang of hurt at how fast Alex puts some distance between them, but given the close call they just had he can’t say he blames him either.

“Hey, you okay?” Michael asks, concern edging into his voice.

“Yeah,” Alex says, and he smiles so Michael knows he means it. “I just really wanna get my clothes on.”

“Fair,” Michael agrees.

Alex opens the door and climbs out to get the rest of his clothes on. Michael tugs his jeans back up his hips and puts the seat where it’s supposed to be. He pulls his own shirt and jacket on before he exits the car, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it as he watches Alex finish getting dressed.

When Alex is fully clothed, Michael reaches for him and the way Alex happily leans against him has that tight feeling in Michael’s chest releasing.

“Thank you,” Alex murmurs into his collar. “I had a lot of fun tonight.”

“Good,” Michael smiles, pleased he was able to make tonight special for him. “Me too, in case that wasn’t obvious.”

“Just, um…” Alex starts, shifting back to look up at him. “Next time you want to fuck me in a car, let’s make it yours, okay? Preferably somewhere far, far away from your dad.”

Michael laughs and leans in to drop a quick kiss against his lips. “Yeah, I think I can make that happen.”

5.

Michael moans, his head thrown back against his pillow. He looks down the length of his chest to watch Alex’s head bobbing between his thighs, his mouth warm and so fucking wet around his cock.

“Alex,” he whimpers, fingers slipping under the collar of Alex’s band t-shirt as he lightly grips the back of his neck.

Alex looks up at him as he takes him deeper, hazel irises all but swallowed up by his pupils, cheeks flushed, his bangs damp with sweat. The soft, slick sounds he’s making as he sucks his cock are obscene and Michael’s head is swimming with it, liquid heat rushing beneath his skin. Michael bites his bottom lip nearly hard enough to draw blood, but he can’t stop the hurt little whimpers from leaving his mouth.

“Alex,” he says again, a little more urgently, fingers flexing at the back of his neck. His orgasm is so close he can taste it and even just the thought of coming down Alex’s throat is enough to get him there.

He feels it tightening in his gut, he’s seconds from the finish line, but then he hears it—the front door opening and closing heavily against its frame. Michael glances frantically at the clock on his nightstand, finding the time much later than he thought.

“Michael?” he hears his dad call from somewhere down the hall. “You home?”

“Shit,” Michael curses, shoving at Alex’s shoulders.

Alex releases him immediately, sitting up and running the back of his hand across his mouth, a panicked look in his eye. Michael quickly pulls his jeans back up his thighs and starts looking for his shirt.

“You said your dad wasn’t coming home until six,” Alex hisses throwing it at him after he finds it shoved between the bed and the wall.

Michael points at the clock on his nightstand that reads 6:17 as he tugs his shirt over his head.

“Oh, shit,” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” Michael sighs harshly, his heart racing for all the wrong reasons.

He shoves a pillow over his lap and grabs his Calc textbook where it lay abandoned on the floor after they gave up their study session approximately thirty minutes after Alex had the truly brilliant idea to use a reward system based on sexual favors for all his right answers.

Alex scrambles to do the same, bracing his back against the wall at the other end of the bed and drawing his knees up to his chest with his notebook.

“Michael?” he hears his dad call again.

“In here!” he calls, flipping to a random page. The door to his bedroom opens just as he says, “Right, so, what is a function?”

His old man leans against the door frame, taking in the scene in front of him. His room’s a bit of a mess, but that’s not new—Michael just hopes his lips don’t look as kiss-bitten as they feel.

“Hey, Dad,” Michael says preemptively, “what’s up?”

“Hi, Mr. Sanders,” Alex waves from behind his notebook.

“Alex,” Sanders greets him with a nod before he gives Michael a pointed look. “Thought you were supposed to be getting dinner started.”

“Oh, right,” Michael says. “Sorry, we just got caught up with math, lost track of time. We’ve got a big test tomorrow.”

Sanders’ eye looks down at the book he’s holding and then back up to Michael’s face.

“Well, sorry to break up your study group, but we’ve got dinner to handle and then I need your help with something,” Sanders says.

“But—“ Michael protests, looking at Alex.

“It’s okay, I should get going soon anyway,” Alex cuts him off.

When Michael doesn’t say anything, Sanders shrugs.

“Dinner’ll be ready in an hour,” he announces before he turns around and walks down the hall toward the kitchen, leaving Michael’s bedroom door wide open.

Michael lets out a frustrated huff and gets up to close it, pressing his back against the wood once the door finally clicks shut.

“Oh my god,” Alex whispers, running his fingers through his hair. “That was too close.”

“Tell me about it,” Michael says pitifully, digging the heel of his palm against his erection, which miraculously hasn’t flagged much at all.

Alex gives him a sympathetic look before he gets up off his bed and walks over to him. Michael’s eyes slip closed as Alex presses a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, his hands settling on Michael’s hips. “Poor baby,” he coos, and in anyone else’s mouth it would be condescending as hell, but it somehow just makes Michael harder.

“Alex,” Michael begs, sliding his hand down the front of his jeans to wrap around his dick, still wet with Alex’s saliva. “Please don’t leave me like this.”

Alex looks down between their bodies to watch his hand, his own fingers tightening on Michael’s hips. Emboldened, Michael takes his cock out and starts to stroke it.

“Please,” he asks again, thumb swiping through the pre-come welling up at the tip.

Michael swallows a disappointed whine when Alex shakes his head as their eyes meet once again.

“I’m not sucking your dick with your dad in the next room. We’ve already had a few close calls and I am not tempting fate,” he explains, but then he’s leaning in to whisper in his ear with a voice low and smooth like honey, “but if you drive me home now, I’ll see what I can do on the way.”

Heat spikes through Michael as he feels his knees grow weak, cock so hard it aches.

“You’re gonna fucking kill me, Manes,” he groans softly.

“Little deaths only,” Alex jokes, and Michael can’t believe he’s fallen in love with such a goddamn nerd.

+1

“Michael.”

“What?” Michael asks, shifting his side further against the back of his couch as he admires Alex’s profile.

“What are you doing?” Alex asks without looking up from his book. Michael can’t help but notice he hasn’t turned a page in a while.

“Nothin’,” Michael answers innocently.

Alex takes a deep breath before he says, “We’re supposed to be doing our homework.”

“I know,” Michael says. It’s why they’re here, in Michael’s living room instead of his bedroom. Alex insisted it would help them avoid temptation so they could finish their work, but Michael’s sure he doesn’t need to remind him that this couch historically hasn’t exactly been a sex-free zone. Michael certainly hasn’t forgotten. “I already finished mine.”

“Okay, well, I haven’t finished mine and you’re distracting me,” Alex complains.

“I’m not even doing anything!” Michael argues, and, really, he thinks he deserves a medal for the restraint he’s shown so far. With his mind no longer occupied by his physics homework, he’s dying to move across the couch and kiss Alex’s neck.

“You keep staring at me,” Alex says, finally meeting his gaze. Michael sees heat there behind the annoyance and a slow, satisfied grin spreads across his face.

“And that’s distracting you?” he asks, letting his hand fall from where it was supporting his head to extend along the back of the couch, far enough that he can brush his fingertips along Alex’s shoulder.

“If you don’t stop, I’m gonna have to do something about it,” Alex says, and the tone of his voice has Michael’s belly warming with desire and anticipation.

“Oh yeah?” Michael asks, his eyes flicking down to Alex’s mouth. “What am I in for?”

Alex pounces on him then, tossing his book aside to dig his fingers into Michael’s sensitive sides, right where he’s most ticklish, and Michael yelps in surprise.

“Ah! No, no, no, stop! Alex!” Michael shrieks and giggles as he tries to squirm away from him.

They roll off the couch in their struggle, Michael winding up on top. He uses the opportunity to grab Alex’s wrists and pin his arms down on the carpet by his head.

“There,” Michael announces triumphantly. “I win.”

“If this is what losing feels like,” Alex pants, shifting his hips beneath him, “I’m happy to do it more often.”

They stare at each other, chests still heaving from their laughter and exertion. Michael isn’t sure who moves first, but the next thing he knows Alex’s lips are on his.

Michael teases Alex’s bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, and Alex makes a soft noise against his mouth, giving him an opening to deepen the kiss. Michael’s whole world narrows to the warm press of Alex’s mouth on his, the gentle struggle he puts up against the hold Michael has on his wrists in his desire to touch him.

Michael’s so lost in the feel of him that he doesn’t even notice the front door has opened until he hears his father’s gruff voice.

“Gentlemen,” he greets them as he steps inside the house.

Alex freezes like ice beneath him, but Michael springs away from him like he’s been burned, stumbling backward onto his ass in the process. His face feels like it’s on fire, his heart hammering and sinking in his chest all at once.

Sanders raises an eyebrow at him, something like a smile playing at his lips as he hangs his keys up on the hook by the door. It’s not the reaction Michael expects, but when his brain catches up with him he decides to roll with it.

“Uh, hi, Dad,” Michael starts hesitantly. “How… was work?”

Sanders grunts noncommittally as he steps further into the house, closing the door behind him. “Fine,” he answers, kicking his boots off by the door. “Did you get the chicken marinating like I asked?”

“No,” Michael cringes. “I forgot.”

Sanders sighs like that was the answer he expected, but he’s still a little disappointed about it. Instead of giving him shit for it, he shrugs and says, “Shouldn’t make too much difference anyway.” Then, he glances to where Alex is sitting on the floor, still looking a little shell-shocked, and asks, “Should be plenty if you want to stick around for dinner, Alex.”

It takes a second for Alex to realize Sanders spoke to him.

“Oh,” Alex says, surprise clear on his face. “Um, I don’t know if…” he starts, looking to Michael for some kind of direction, but he’s as lost as Alex is. When Michael thought of all the ways his dad might react if this moment ever came, he’d never considered this.

Sanders looks between the two of them and makes a noise that sounds like a laugh before he says, “Give a holler when you figure it out,” and disappears into the kitchen.

Alone again, Michael crosses the carpet to sit closer to Alex.

“Did my dad just walk in on me with my tongue down your throat and then ask if you want to stay for dinner?” he asks, some small part of him wondering if he’d actually just hallucinated the whole thing. It’s so different from the worst-case scenario he’d constructed in his head, he almost can’t accept it as reality.

“I think… he did, yeah,” Alex says, his expression unreadable.

“What are you thinking?” Michael asks, reaching for his hand. Alex takes it, threading their fingers together as he pulls it into his lap.

“Honestly?” he says after a moment. “That I should go, but… I don’t really want to leave.”

“Then don’t leave,” Michael says. At Alex’s hesitation, Michael adds, “Look, I’ll—I’ll go talk to him. Make sure it’s really okay.”

“Okay,” Alex sighs, bracing himself for the other shoe to drop.

When Michael enters the kitchen with slow, hesitant steps, he finds his dad bent over at the waist as he reaches into the refrigerator. He pulls out a package of chicken breasts and drops it on the counter next to his cutting board before he starts looking for a knife.

He looks so normal, so unaffected by what just happened. It’s encouraging as much as it is unsettling. Michael can’t help but wonder if it’s an act.

“Are you mad?” Michael asks suddenly, giving voice to the fear in his head.

Sanders looks up at him, his one eye squinting in confusion.

“Do I look mad?” he asks.

“Well… no,” Michael says, studying his face. Michael’s sure as hell seen him angry before and this isn’t it. Before he can stop himself he asks, “Why aren’t you?”

“Why should I be?” he asks, reaching into a drawer for a knife. He slices the plastic on the package of chicken with it.

“I don’t know,” Michael shrugs. “Alex always thought you would be if you found out.”

He doesn’t add that he’s thought it too, that he’s wondered if he’d discover one day that the love he’s found here under Sanders’ roof really does have a condition.

Sanders’ answering laugh is jarring, pulling him back into the present.

“I may have been born at night, son, but it wasn’t last night,” he tells him. “You think I don’t know what goes on in my own house?”

Michael flushes at that. “You never said anything.”

“Figured you’d talk to me when you were ready,” Sanders explains, as if this secret he and Alex have been holding on to is just no big deal.

And maybe it is no big deal in the grand scheme of things, but it’s also the biggest thing Michael has ever felt, and as relieved as he is that Sanders isn’t angry with him he just doesn’t get how he can be so nonplussed about it.

When Michael doesn’t say anything, Sanders puts the knife down on the counter and turns to really look at him.

“Look, kid,” Sanders sighs, sensing Michael’s train of thought, “does he make you happy?”

Michael blinks at him. “Yeah.”

“Does he treat you right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Are you being safe?”

“Dad,” he says, flushing hotter.

“Then what is there to be angry about?” Sanders asks, like it’s really that simple.

Michael is struck with the sudden urge to cry. He doesn’t, but it’s a close thing.

“Now,” Sanders says, turning back to his chicken, “am I making dinner for two or for three?”

In the end, Michael doesn’t even need to think about it.

“Three.”

[hunflowers]

Mythology (II)

Word Count: 6.5k

Requested? Not exactly, but you always can here :)

A/N: Thank you all for being so patient! I’ve decided I’m going to extend the series into another part so I split up this chapter a little bit so it wouldn’t be too long, and so I wouldn’t have to cram so much into one chapter. There’s more Harry in this one so I hope you enjoy! Also, if you like what you read (or if you didn’t) send me some feedback, it really helps me out :) *nose boops*

tag list: @thicksniall @meetmeinfleetwood @afire-hes @pradaxstyles @c-h-e-r-r-y-y @gotmyhandonmyheart @burberryharold @harrymoncheri

Waking up in a foreign bed the next day, solidified this new reality for Calista.

One trait about her is that she finds it very difficult to sleep in a bed that isn’t her own, so it was actually a miracle she could fall asleep so easily the night before. Because she bounced around a lot as a child from home to home, not having one single bed to call her own was a reason for her exhausting insomnia. More proof that her move away from the states had been good on her, is that her illness had lessened its severity when she finally could call a place home. Most of the times when it occurs nowadays is when she’s over stressed about something. Yet, the previous night had been one of her most peaceful slumbers.

Her and Trinity had stayed in the cafeteria for a while after their encounter with Wren, the thin ice they had been walking on dissipating into a more comfortable area where they didn’t feel this unbearable tension surrounding them. Niall and Harry had helped with this easy atmosphere, all of them informing Calista the best they could before she would talk to Mr. Cirillo the next day.

Harry didn’t stick around too long though, hopping around between tables and people before disappearing completely for the night. Something about him was so intriguing, and even if she had only spoken to him for a maximum of twenty minutes, Calista could say she had the tiniest crush on him. It was ridiculous to think such a thing, because she obviously hardly knows him, but there was something about him.

Maybe because he genuinely seemed interested in her, something not a lot of males, or people in general, do.

When she first came to Cambridge there was one boy who liked her, resulting in a relationship of almost a year, but of course he turned out to be a bit of a dickhead, that mainly cared for himself and disregarded her in so many ways. But, Harry didn’t seem like the type; He actually seemed genuine. Of course she doesn’t want to get her hopes too high up, but that doesn’t stop the physical attraction she has towards him.

She was directed to go to Mr. Cirillo’s office early that morning, of course getting lost on the way there, shamefully asking two different people for directions. She should’ve been given some sort of map to guide her because this place was nothing short of humongous.

When she finally came across the plaque that read Headmaster Cirillo, she took a deep breath and knocked softly on the door, a response immediately voicing on the other side of the door. Pushing the white wood open, she poked her head in and saw Mr. Cirillo at his desk. He removed his one lens glasses from his face, a soft smile on his lips as he gestured to the seat across from him, encouraging her to sit on the patent leather

“Good morning, Calista. Please, have a seat,” the older man… cyclops greets her, hands clasped together on the desk in an authoritative manner. “Sleep well?” 

“Yes, thank you,” she answered, for some reason completely nervous. It was sort of like when she would be called to the principal’s office when she was younger because she would miss classes or the one time she got into a fight and broke the girl’s nose. In her defense, the girl started it, and she doesn’t even really remember where the strength came from to actually break the girl’s nose.

Something now tells her it has to do with her ancestry. If that’s even possible. But, at this rate, anything is possible as she sits across from a cyclops, and is a demigod herself.

“Good, well, then I’ll get started. I know you’re wondering why it took so long for you to… know about everything and I’m here to answer any questions you have to the best of my abilities. I’d rather you ask me anything and we’ll go on from there.”

Calista nodded along, sweat in her palms developing, causing her to casually sit her thighs down on top of her hands. So many questions sprinted through her mind, her not knowing which to ask first. “I mean… I don't know, why did it take so long? I spoke to people last night and they’ve all been here for years and I guess I just want to know why I wasn’t told sooner.”

Mr. Cirillo nodded his head, “That was per your mother’s request. She was adamant on you not risking your life being a part of this society of ours.”

“But why? It hardly seems fair that I’m being kept in the dark,” she scoffed back, leaning back against the black leather, her hands coming up to grip the arms of the chair.

“I agree. But, in her defense, your mother had very good reasoning to make the decision she did. Our life, this existence of ours, is a complete mystery to the outside world,” he stood up, walking over to the grand window behind him. “People have been trying for years upon years to dig up the truth. There’s no telling what kind of acts will be made against us if they ever find us, so over the years, we’ve been preparing for any sort of war that could affect us.”

Walking over to one of the many filing cabinets that lined one wall of the office, he opened one of the drawers that seemed to be labeled Athena, skimming through the multiple manila folders before pulling a specific one out, closing the metal cabinet shut behind him. He sat back down in his own chair, keeping the folder closed on the desk before he continued his explanations. “We’ve had multiple threats over the years, claiming our secret would be revealed to the world. If the world were to ever find out, we could be executed and wiped off the face of the earth, or maybe held captive for the enjoyment of ignorant people. It would leave the gods no choice but to wreak havoc on the planet.

“One night before you were born, there was a threat against us, and your half-brother, Mikael, was sent to settle the situation. Unfortunately that night he was killed, and your mother took it very personally as any mother would. Just a couple weeks later you were born, and she didn’t want another child of hers to live their life with risk or in secrecy. She wanted you to have a so-called normal upbringing,” he finished, opening the folder that had been kept shut, turning it to face her direction. A small picture of a smiling young man was clipped to the corner of a page, the name Mikael printed on the tab.

Calista felt a sudden wave of sadness flush through her at the mention of a half-brother, seeing his smiling face that she never got the chance to greet. As she looked over the few papers in this folder briefly, she learned that her brother used to be of high status here, ranked as General Combatant along with his multiple skills and achievements. She swallowed as she never imagined herself achieving such superiority amongst everyone here, especially with her late start.

She only grew more frustrated as she hastily closed the folder, placing it back down on the table. “A normal upbringing? Do you know the kind of life I’ve lived? It was anything but normal. I’m sure I would’ve had a better chance at normal here, then anywhere else,” she rolled her eyes, her jaw clenching as tears threatened her waterline.

Normal is all she wanted. A normal family, with normal friends, and a normal life. Instead she’s practically been to Hell and back, and the scars imprinted in her brain and on her skin is the evidence of that. She understands her mother’s decision, because it must be hard losing a child and running the risk of losing another, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck. Calista has been dealt the shittiest cards, and knowing she was cheated out of a better hand twists her heart and constricts her lungs.

Standing again from his chair, Mr. Cirillo walks over to the door of his office, opening it and looking back to the depressive demigod, “Let’s go for a walk.” Calista says nothing as she follows him, eyes focused to her shoes as her mind swirls with countless thoughts of never being good enough. When she looked up to look at the multiple paintings and portraits lining the walls, her stomach sank further as she saw what could’ve been her life.

She could be grateful for knowing now rather than never, but since she found out now when her life was getting better, it only hurt her more. If she found out before, she would’ve seen it as a saving grace, but now it only seemed like a burden.

They made their way outside to the courtyard, the building guarding the blooming flowers and small ponds filled with various fish. A few others were scattered around, sitting at benches or small tables and talking amongst themselves, not paying any attention to Calista and Mr. Cirillo. 

Their walk was at a slow pace, silence surrounding them except for the smaller chatter from the other people, the beauty of the sun beaming down on the spacious greenery engulfing their minds. She understands why he wanted to take a walk, because breathing in fresh air helped cool her mind just long enough for her to regain her somewhat stable composure. 

“I know your life was hard,” he began again, looking down at the Calista, his hands tucking into the pockets of his slacks. “And I deeply apologize for everything you’ve been put through, I wish there was something I could’ve done.”

Calista licked her chapped lips, pursing them as she came up with something to say back, because in all honesty an apology means nothing coming from him. The real apology she wants is from Athena, or even her fucking father. “Why now? Why not follow her rules and keep me away?”

“Well, there was another threat against our livelihood. An insider that has anonymously threatened to tell anyone and everyone willing to listen. When I told the gods, your mother, Athena, advised it was time to… She said you’d be a great leader like your brother once was,” he smiled softly, eyeing her reaction as she looked at the olive tree, sitting in the center of the courtyard.

“I’m not a leader,” she responded softly, taking her gaze off of the plant and back down to the laces of her boots. “From what I saw, Mikael was an honorable person, and I’m far from that.”

“And from what I’ve gathered, is that despite the horrible schools you went to and the awful people you’ve met along the way, you were still one of the highest in your class and was awarded a full ride scholarship to Cambridge. Even with setbacks, you pushed through with determination. I’d say that’s pretty honorable,” he quipped back, sitting down on the bench that was beneath the giant tree.

All she really felt at this point was confusion. She wants to be able to call this place her home, and maybe even call these people her family, but they’ve been doing fine for years without her, she just doesn’t understand why all of a sudden it was necessary to tell her. Getting an A on a test was a whole different game compared to being a leader in a war. Aside from breaking a girl’s nose, she had no ability to fight or any sort of strategy at all to be able to hold her own. Her being involved felt more of a burden to everyone else, and she’d probably get herself killed almost immediately.

“I just don’t see how I’m of any use. I don’t have experience like Trinity or Wren, or anybody here. I’ll probably end up running around like a headless chicken.”

He laughed at the small joke, raising his hand up to squeeze her shoulder. “Like I said, with determination you’ll push through.”

The reminder of Trinity telling her to surpass Wren from last night came to mind, a little ounce of this determination sparking through her, but it was quickly diminished as she thought of the actual process of conquering that. She wants to be the underdog like in all of those movies she’s watched that beats the bully in the end, but those are movies, and as much as this doesn’t feel like real life, it is and that’s not how everything works. She can try, but that doesn’t mean she’ll be successful and if she’s not successful she’s afraid she’ll be a disappointment and then that disappointment feeds into her anxiety of never being wanted by anyone and it’s this constant cycle in her beaten and bruised brain.

On the other hand, she can’t just tell Mr. Cirillo no, because then she’ll probably end up disappointing him and sending herself into a subcycle of unwarranted thoughts. She wishes everything right now had a clean cut answer as to what she should do, but she’s stuck in her thoughts, feeling as if she’s being pulled down by rapid quicksand, not giving herself enough time to mull over everything properly.

Looking up through the leaves of the olive tree, admiring the sun that peaked through the greenery above her, coating her face in a dull glow, Calista said one last thing to Mr. Cirillo before they would go on their separate ways as she would take time to think about everything alone.

“Do I ever get to meet her?”

Mr. Cirillo sighed, a look of solemn etching across his features. That was her answer alone, but she still acknowledged the words that tumbled out of his mouth. “It’s a rarity that they make an appearance.”

Calista nodded, getting up off the bench and ready to make her way back inside and hopefully find the way back to her room. Mr. Cirillo reached for her wrist, holding her in her place for one more moment, “But she’s always looking after you, Calista.”

And with that, she walked away, holding back her tears until she collapsed on the sheets of her bed.

❊ ❊

Hours had passed since her meeting with Mr. Cirillo, and she had made no progress towards processing everything that’s been relayed to her. She tried falling asleep to dull the headache beating through her skull, to give herself a moment to breathe before she would fully understand everything at hand. 

Trinity had offered her support, but Calista felt it was better to be alone at this time, just so she would have no distractions and so she could wallow in her own thoughts. And while at first being alone seemed to help, after a while, she was in need to vent and discuss all of the problems soaring through her head to her best friend.

Thing is, her problem just lies in the fact that everything had been kept secret from her for so long. Who’s to say this all would’ve been revealed to her if there hadn’t been this apparent threat? Would her best friend have continued to lie to her for the rest of their lives? 

Why should she maybe put her life at risk for people that she hardly even knows?

Everything just relates back to her anxiety over never being good enough for anyone, which would prove why she’s lived such an awful life considering she wasn’t good enough to be her rightful title of demigod. She understands it was done to protect her wellbeing, she just wishes that’s the way her brain would take it. Instead, she’s thinking the worst because that’s how she was raised; Expecting the worst.

When Trin finally came back to the room, she could tell something was off with Calista as she saw her friend in the same curled up position on her bed since she left. “Lis, everything okay?”

First there was no response or any sort of movement, then she heard the small whimpers leaving the girl’s lips, and immediately she was crawling into her bed, cradling her to her chest, doing her best to help ease her pain.

“I just wish I could shut my brain off for one minute,” she cried, clutching onto her friend’s hand that had wrapped around her front.

“What’s going on inside that head of yours?” Trin murmured, pushing the loose curls from her friend's face and behind her ear. 

Calista calmed herself for a moment, rolling over to face Trin, eyes red and cheeks blotchy as she sniffled, bottom lip quivering slightly. “I-I want to see the good in this, but all I can think a-about is how I wasn’t good enough from the start and how I’m not good enough now.”

“What’re you talking about? What did you talk about with Mr. Cirillo?”

Calista relayed everything she was told to Trinity, even delving into the topics that are her insecurities just so her friend can understand a little more about what’s going on inside this head of hers. She had a chance at a family, and friends, and people who related to her, but that was stripped away from her. She has a life she never knew existed and she has no guide book to understand how to go about it all, not to mention it’s a life that isn’t exactly supposed to exist at all. 

Is she meant to live up to her past brother’s legacy? If she doesn't, is she just going to be forgotten about? 

If her mother is always looking after her, how could she let her daughter go through everything she has? 

So many questions that no one has an answer to, and it’s so exhausting.

Trinity didn’t interrupt once, letting her best friend vent to her as she sat patiently. She was once where Calista was, but of course she doesn’t know how she’d exactly take it all in if she had found out so much later in life. As an adolescent, it was so cool finding out her heritage, knowing she was meant for better than just her stuck up dad and stepmom. And she knows how Calista is with trusting people and their intentions, that’s why it took her awhile to warm up to her. So she completely understands her worries about everything too good to be true considering her past.

Being here, though, at Mythology, is where she belongs. And Trinity will do her very best to try and convince her so. When they first met, and Calista told her that she was studying the classics, she knew it was fate and that her role here as Athena’s daughter is meant to be.

And one way to help guide her friend is through the bonfire this night. The annual bonfire before the announcements of the Leaderships. Trinity is convinced the bonfire will help persuade Calista into staying here, because once she spends one night with all of these people that come to be family, she won’t ever want to leave again.

Or, so she wishes.

❊ ❊

“I’m not so sure about this, Trin.”

There was a lot of convincing in order to get Calista to leave their room for the bonfire. After Trin sat and listened to her, she felt a little better getting everything off of her chest that’s been setting up camp. Though, Calista could feel their friendship going down a more comfortable path toward recovery as she expressed her concerns.

She’s not exactly warmed up to everything yet, but the more she vents and talks to Trin who went through a not exact but similar process with being thrown into this new lifestyle, Calista can feel herself wanting to get to know this part of her life a little more.

She’s still struggling with trusting all of these people, but that’s where the bonfire comes in and why Trin believes it’ll help her. As an observant best friend, she saw the way Calista was talking to Harry and even Niall, as if they were her friends she had known for years. Granted she has known Niall for some time, but not in the way she’s known Trin. And Harry she’s known for all of twenty minutes, yet she was laughing and smiling as if she knew him since they were children.

If the bonfire can bring out more of that, then Calista will surely want to stay and be around at least for a little while longer.

Though, for Calista it felt a little like the first day of school as she scrounged through her suitcase to find something suitable to wear. It wasn’t the hottest night yet it wasn’t exactly cold, so really that left her at square one. And Trin wasn’t any help as she sat on her phone waiting for her friend to make a decision. But, Calista just followed suit with her and put on a sweatshirt and shorts along with a pair of her worn down sneakers. It also didn’t help that her ruthless curly hair was like a nest sitting on her scalp. Her best bet was a semi decent ponytail that at least kept her hair out of her face.

Trinity finally looked up from her phone, “It’s gonna be fun. It’s basically tradition, and you can’t skip tradition.”

“It’s not exactly my tradition though, so maybe I’ll just pass.”

With a roll of her eyes, Trinity stood up from her bed and grabbed onto her friend’s wrist and led her out of their room. “Well, let’s make it your tradition then.”

They both eventually wound up outside and in the large field that expanded for acres of land, the moon glistening over them as they walked further until they reached multiple people laughing and dancing and talking as a fairly big fire sat between them all.

Immediately, Calista’s eyes were drawn to the force that is Harry as a guitar sat on his lip as he sang some song, joking around with the people around him. Niall was over with them too, and once he spotted them, he ran over to hug the both of them before encouraging them to join the little circle of people.

“Everyone, this is Calista,” Niall introduced as he sat back in his previous seat. Unsurprising, there was a single seat open next to him that was clearly meant for Trin, which she so graciously sat in, leaving Calista to stand alone, full of awkwardness.

The few people greeted her with a wave, insistent she sit down with them. A little reluctantly, she sat between two people she had yet to meet, but would come to know their names are Sarah and Mitch.

Even though she was in a circle of people that all seemed to be like good people, it was one of those moments she felt so alone. She’s never really known how to bond with new people because she hardly ever purposely tries to talk to them, and now seems like a good time to break out of her bubble a little, but she’s afraid of the pending rejection from the lot.

They all seem really nice, yet her brain craved the worst of people so she doesn’t have to get hurt later on.

Looking around at everyone else that was outside of this little circle, it was hard not to notice Damien and Wren at the center of everyone else’s attention, doing whatever the hell it is that they’re doing. When Wren had turned her head slightly and made eye contact with Calista, she smirked in her usual cynical manner, which Calista just scoffed at, turning back around to the group with her.

When turning back around, she made direct eye contact with Harry, who was listening to whatever Niall was talking about, yet didn’t seem like he was paying attention as he kept his attention on Calista. She felt her cheeks heat up and most likely redden under his gaze before she broke the contact and looked to her hands.

Getting up from her spot abruptly, she announced she was getting any kind of drink that was over in the coolers, offering to anyone who wanted but they all declined. Though when she walked over to the red and blue coolers, one labeled water and the other labeled alcohol, she felt a presence following her.

And then Harry stood next to her, sans guitar now.

“Still adjusting?” He asked, reaching into the water cooler and pulling out a fresh and cool bottle, one for him and one for her since he saw her reaching for one.

Cal nodded, softly laughing at the question. “That’s an understatement.”

There was a sudden silence over them, neither of them talking for a brief moment but listening to the chatter of everyone else, or the crackle of the bonfire, or the hum of music that was floating into the night sky. When she finally gained the courage to look up and meet his eyes, she saw him already looking at her, entranced by her shy personality yet strong attitude. “I didn’t know until I was seventeen. M’mum kept it from me. Said it was for my own good or summat, but I was pissed. Felt like m’whole life was a lie. Gets easier though, trust me.”

She was taken aback at the sudden confession, her lips parting slightly as she looked at him with slight confusion. Out of everything that could’ve come out of his mouth, she really wasn’t expecting that, because it also felt like he somehow knew what was going on inside of her mind.

“How long till it starts getting easier?” she questions, taking a sip of her water, appreciating it’s cool texture sliding down her throat.

He nods, sitting down on a chair that was outside of the little group from before, an open seat next to him that she’s meant to sit on. “We all handle shit differently so m’not sure, but sometimes even now I have to take a step back and think about everything and I’ve been here for six years.”

Before Calista has a chance to ask him something else, a different voice butts in. The look on Harry’s face as he saw who was approaching them only solidified that she knew who it was.

“Aw, have we got a pair of little lovebirds already?”

Calista didn’t bother to look to her right as Wren stood tall and proud, looming over the two of them like a cloud, ready to rain down on them. The fire lit up her face in such a way that looking up at her made her seem nearly demonic, and if she wasn’t already in a bad mood, she would’ve laughed at the irony. 

A faux smile stretched across her thin lips as she stood with her arms crossed, drink in her hand as she looked between the demigods. “Can’t even let the poor girl settle in for a day before you’re trying to jump her bones.”

“Fuck right off, Wren,” Harry sneered back, getting up from his seat to tower over the shorter girl.

This is when Damien decided to step up, placing himself between his girlfriend and his enemy, glaring at Harry with his dark eyes, jaw clenched so hard his teeth were probably close to shattering. Calista was a little nervous as the air around them grew tense, though luckily it didn’t seem like anyone else was paying attention to this little quarrel. Harry didn’t seem fazed in the slightest by the beefcake in front of him, an indifferent facial expression locked on his features.

“What?” Harry asks, tilting his head slightly, “She’s just jealous m’not talking to her.”

Damien goes to shove Harry instantly, but just as fast, Harry deflects his aggression and instead is able to push Damien back, causing him to trip over the leg of a chair behind him. Calista rolls her lips together to avoid bursting out into a fit of laughter, completely in awe of how Harry turned the situation around.

Guess Trinity and Niall were right when they said Damien sucks ass.

Wren didn’t even seem surprised at the turn of events. “Jealous? Oh, please, don’t think so highly of yourself.”

Calista looked over to Trin and saw how she was standing up, looking curious as to what was going on with the four. They made eye contact and spoke without any words, both of them concluding they had no idea what was going on.

“I just came over to wish her luck in Leaderships. Hope she doesn’t get herself killed and all that,” she conceded, her hands coming up in defense. Though, her confession wielded a taunting undertone that was clear as day to Calista, because all her life she’s dealt with people and their fake spouts of truth just so they seemed like the good guys.

This urged Calista to scoff, “Bullshit.”

Wren’s head snapped towards the new girl, eyes squinting a little as she skimmed over her sitting stature. “Excuse me?”

Throughout the course of this whole day, Calista had been wary about her place here, and whether or not she wanted to stick around or call it a day and go back to her normal. The idea of these Leaderships was practically nauseating to think about, and she wasn’t even sure if she wanted to take part in them. But hearing this girl talk about them, pushes her to stay and just kick her ass into next year. She’s not all that confident that she’ll be able to do so, but like Mr. Cirillo said, the determination will push her through.

“What’re you wishing me luck for? Wishing me luck insinuates me coming out on top, and we all know you want to keep your status, so I call bullshit,” she shrugs in response, unscrewing the cap to her bottle and taking another sip. From the distance, Calista could hear Trin cheer her on.

“Thanks though. Although, I think he,” she points to Damien who is only just now getting up from the floor, “needs your luck more than I do.” Wren stared in shock and anger, fists clenching and unclenching as her one eye twitched before she eventually huffed and stormed off, leaving Damien to catch up to her.

Calista waved goodbye, letting out a breath of air she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in. There’s something about Wren that brings out this confidence in her, that if she wasn’t such a bitch, she’d want to thank her. Again, aside from that one girl’s nose she broke, she never really stood up for herself or for others.

So, maybe this whole Greek life was actually going to do some good for her in the end.

❊ ❊

Another night, another extremely restful sleep.

Though, another day, another rendition of unwarranted anxiety.

Sleeping through one more night, Calista had come to the decision that she was going to stay. After everything that had happened with Wren at the bonfire, the night went a lot more peaceful, and Cal understood what Trinity meant when she said the bonfire was going to help. 

Getting to know these people and hearing all of these stories of their arrival into this life, and the stories since they’ve been here, helped ease a lot of the tension stirring around in her brain. It sparked an interest to make her own memories and the hope that maybe these people aren’t so bad like her thoughts are trying to make her believe.

After she had woken up, Calista headed to Mr. Cirillo’s office again to announce the news, stating that she’ll regret leaving more than staying and hating it.

Plus, how bad could it actually be?

Well, the answer to that is actually pretty bad.

Not exactly in a bad way, but she never would’ve expected all the exhausting effort she was going to have to put in.

After her second talk with Mr. Cirillo, Calista was ushered to the main hall where everyone was gathering for the official announcement of the Leaderships. Walking into the room, she could see these charts full of names, and at a quick glance she saw Wren’s name in the very first spot on the female side, and Harry’s on the male. It wasn’t much of a shock to see her own name all the way at the bottom considering she’s new and all, but it made her all the more hell-bent on sliding up to the top.

Everyone seemed eager to get back into the work of things, all of them super hyped that they were back. Being here was mostly a summer occurrence, so because they weren’t here all year round, to everyone it was super exciting to be back with the people they care for, doing the things they love.

All of the elders stood at the front of the room, going over the discourse about this threat of maybe an inside source. Everyone seems slightly peeved at the fact they don’t know who the rat is, looking around warily at one another. Some even had the audacity to look at Calista with disdain, as if her being the traitor makes any sense at all considering she just found out about this place two days ago.

When it was all over, Cal was whisked away by Trin, accompanied by Niall of course, as they took her outside and to some secluded part of the forest that expanded into an open area, away from everyone else. The sun gleamed through the leaves of the trees surrounding them, coating them in a golden mask of fresh air. There’s also a little pond just a little down further, which Niall says helps him out when he’s out here for various hours, day after day. 

There were targets lined up against trees that had been chipped away from what she can assume was constant arrows being stuck inside of it. There were a few racks of different weaponry that stood tall beside the targets that were covered under a tarp to keep them out of harm's way of the weather.

The nerves were itching up Calista’s spine as she looked at the daunting swords and bow and arrows, and other types of metal she had no idea what to call. “I don’t even think I’ll be able to hold anything without dropping it like an idiot,” she grimaces, a wry smile on her face as she traces the intricate design etched into the handle of the first sword.

“It takes some getting used to, but you’ll get the hang of it,” Niall comforted, walking over to one of the vacant benches and tying up the laces to his shoes that had come undone. “Plus you’ve got the best of the best on y’side, it’ll be like a piece of cake.”

Calista scrunches her eyebrows in disagreement, a mental image of her cutting off her arm or even her head coming to mind as the sharp edges of the swords and knives glimmer in the sunlight. The least threatening of the various weapons was the bo staff that stood perched against the wood rack, its blunt ends that weren’t met in metal seeming to be the easiest to handle. Though, the spear that sat beside it caught her eye too, as she thought of her mother, and how the spear is known to be her weapon of choice, accompanied by a golden shield. 

Off in the distance was the sound of someone walking towards them, the sounds of the pavement crushing beneath their shoes. All three of them turned to the sound coming from the side, and were greeted by Harry’s face as he whistled his way into their line of vision.

His black t-shirt was rolled at the sleeves and a red bandanna was snugly tucked into his hair as it pushed back the few curls that tended to fall onto his forehead. His tan skin glowed as his tattoos sat contrast on his arms. Calista was envious of how he looked so good doing absolutely nothing, and if she didn’t have any better self-control, she’d probably be drooling right now.

“G’morning,” he smiles at them, hands on his hips as he stops in front of the three. But, he then turns his attention undividedly onto Calista, a little glimmer of amusement sparking across his eyes as he asks, “Ready for some fun?”

“I highly doubt it’s gonna be fun,” she drones back, bending over to wrap her hair up into the best bun she could manage.

When she stood back up tall, doing a few final adjustments to her hair, she realized Trin and Niall were walking back in the original direction they had come from, leaving behind her and Harry. She was beyond confused, calling out to them and wondering where they were off to, only to receive back a curt response of, “Harry works better alone, so we’re gonna head back,” and then they were gone. 

Now, Calista doesn’t know Harry all that well, and now she’s scared he’s here to murder her, deep in the woods where no one would be able to hear her scream. He’s got plenty of methods to do so right beside them, and she’d be lying if she said her heart rate didn’t pick up a little bit. And she’s a little confused as to why she wasn’t told this in the first place.

“Are you wondering if I’m going to murder you?”

Calista pursed her lips, shaking her head slowly, “Pfft, what? No.”

“I don’t usually work with anyone. I like to stay in my own headspace away from everyone so I can stay focused,” he elaborated to their friend’s previous statement before they walked away completely.

“So… why’re you here with me then?” She retorts, arms crossing over her chest in more of a nervous manner than a confident one. The small thought that he wanted to be there because of her crossed her mind briefly, but a louder, more dominant notion danced all over that, screaming in her face that no one would ever do anything just to be near her. Especially not him. 

He cocks his head to the side, eyes squinting slightly as he analyzes the features of her face, his own arms crossing together as a smirk worms up the side of his face. Calista felt small under his gaze, fearing he was reading her thoughts like an open book like he did the night before.

Little did she know, he is there for her. He’s so infatuated with the thought of getting to know the ins and outs of her, needing to know what exactly makes her, her. It boggles his mind how she seems so reserved, keeping to herself as she fights the thoughts running around her head, yet can turn around and become a strong willed woman the moment someone like Wren comes storming around. 

Harry likes to train by himself, finding it easier to concentrate and better himself when he doesn’t have eyes watching him and analyzing every one of his moves. Plus, he likes the thrill of surprising everyone when he learns a few new tricks to tuck up his sleeves when Duels come around. But, he’s willing to work with Calista, to bend a few of his rules if it means she’ll break down a few of her walls. 

“There’s a first for everything, Darling.”