#he was alright like five years ago or i was just dumber

[acharlescoleman]

I didn't know so many people liked Whiplash so much that it's getting a 10-year anniversary re-release in theaters next weekend. I'm just like really, that movie? I'm that way with other movies too, especially other stuff I watched in my late teens through about mid-30's or so? Where I remember reading pans, talking to people who didn't like a movie and then like 10/20 years go by and people are like "oh, that's a classic." I'm just like what?

But then I have to remember that, everyone has different taste and more importantly as I continue getting older, one must be open to the idea of nostalgia glasses just widening the classics library.

Also, there could worse movies that get re-release, I'm like 85% certain that I mostly liked Whiplash, like uhhh, just glancing at the America movies of 2014 wiki page, here are a few movies that I really didn't like from that year:

Interstellar

Dumb and Dumber To

Inherent Vice (thankfully I did NOT see this in a theater)

And here are a few I liked:

They came together (which I saw again a couple months ago and am tempted to see again at the downtown LA Alamo, they're showing it AGAIN, yay!)

the Grand Budapest Hotel

Obvious Child

Love is Strange

the Guest

the Skeleton Twins

Selma

also x 3, I remember thinking Cap America Winter Soldier was just okay, I think some of that was a pre-bias going into it where film critics AND movie friends I knew were like saying the movie was like a 70's thriller and to me it wasn't. Just because the movie had some mild intrigue and Robert Redford was in it doesn't make it a throwback 70's thriller. Like ugh, that irked and still irks me today lol but I liked it fine enough!

John Wick 1 and Guardians 1 are just okay too. I feel like the John Wick movies work better in YouTube clips of the two I've seen. I think both movies ended with him on the run, I'm not sure. I know Guardians had a totally intentionally hokey ending to it and my cold heart just shrugged lol but I did enjoy 3 quite a bit. Didn't care for 2 either.

Dawn of the Apes was alright, I know I really liked Boyhood a lot back then. I saw Dawn in theaters but pretty sure not Boyhood. I mostly remember the ending kind of being a non-traditional ending, bits and pieces of the rest. That's one I can't imagine wanting to ever see again. Maybe if I had been ten years younger or so, that'd be my Linklater hang out movie.

Looking back at the wiki page, I just realized that my dad had spent nearly a decade trying to get me to see Jersey Boys but I kept putting it off. He really liked it A LOT. I was/am just a rebellious prick and kept avoiding it because I had/have the cliched version in my head already. It's weird because I like the songs but yeah, at some point in honor of his memory I should finally see it. (I didn't know it was a 2014 movie, time flies. yeesh).

Leads me to point out other 2014 movies I'd check out:

God's Pocket, A Most Wanted Man, Expendables 3, Gone Girl, Birdman, Nightcrawler, Laggies, Foxcatcher, Top Five, Big Eyes, Into the Woods, and I haven't seen any of the Night at the Museum movies and they're probably okay.

[marvelyningreen]

Gone Fishin’

Father’s Day 2/2

Peter Maximoff & Erik Lehnsherr

-🎣-

Even Peter could barely believe how long he’d sat still – like, actually sat still without zipping off to get something else done while he waited – in the garden behind the school. Sure, it’d only been about twenty minutes, but that was an eternity for him.

Oh, looked like the waiting was over. Peter caught sight of Erik walking down the back stairs. Perfect.

“Hey!” he called out.

As Erik glanced in his direction, Peter decided to be polite and walk over to him and a normal pace.

“Not going on that mission with the others?” Peter asked.

“Several world powers would rather prefer that I didn’t,” Erik said dryly, “So, no. I remain in retirement.”

Peter grinned. “Great! That means you’ve got the morning free, then, right?”

A suspicious look crossed Erik’s face.

“I suppose I do,” he said, and it almost sounded like a question.

“Well, come on! We’re burning daylight here.”

Peter grabbed Erik’s arm with one hand, bracing his neck with the other.

“Peter, I don’t-”

He took off without giving Erik a chance to finish his thought. This was only sorta kidnapping, considering this guy was one of the most powerful mutants on the planet. If he absolutely wanted to leave, Peter would take him back to the school before he could, who knows, yank out all the iron in his bloodstream or something.

Peter came to a halt where he’d left the gear earlier that morning. Thankfully, it was all still there. He wasn’t sure somebody would want to steal a bunch of borrowed old fishing gear, but dumber things had happened. He slowed back down to normal speed, making sure Erik didn’t faceplant before releasing his hold.

“- know what you’re getting at,” Erik finished, just a little dazed. “Where on earth are we?”

The little lake was a few miles outside of town, just below a dam. When he was running errands one day, Peter heard a couple of older locals discussing it as a good fishing spot. It was secluded enough – just a little access road leading to a small boat launch, without even a fishing dock. Peter kinda figured that, for as much time as Erik spent at the Xavier mansion years ago, he’d probably never been down this way.

“I heard it’s a good spot for fishing,” Peter said. “And it’s boring to go alone, so…”

“Fishing,” Erik repeated flatly.

“Yeah.” Peter paused. “Unless… you’ve got something else going on?”

He held Erik’s gaze for a second, certain he was going to demand to be taken back to the school rather than be forced into a trivial outing.

But Erik just sighed. “Alright, then. What do you fish for?”

“Me? Validation, mostly.” Peter laughed, then broke off, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Right, sorry. The professor said I should stop using self-deprecating humor as a defense mechanism.”

“That… certainly sounds like something Charles would say.”

Welp, that couldn’t have gone worse if he’d tried. Peter busied himself with checking over the fishing poles, and took a second shot at answering Erik’s question.

“Bass, I think,” he said. “At least, that’s what people say. I’ve never actually caught anything. I get bored after five minutes, y’know?”

He grinned, handing Erik one of the poles. Erik took it with an expression of complete exasperation.

“Why on earth did you drag me all the way out here if you don’t catch any fish?” he asked, massaging his forehead.

“Wha-? What kind of a question is that? Fishing is fun! That’s the sort of thing that people do on… on days like today, right?” Nearly blew it again right there. Peter turned away. “Where did I leave those worms?”

“You didn’t bring any,” Erik said flatly.

“I… oh.”

Shit. At a loss, Peter stood motionless for a second, staring down at the now-useless assortment of fishing gear. He’d made a mess of things, like usual. Well, nothing else for it now. He straightened up, turning back to face Erik with a smile.

“That’s fine!” he said cheerily. “I’ll just run back and-”

“Peter, wait,” said Erik, grabbing his arm as he went to turn away again. “I know.”

Erik released his arm and regarded him in silence. Panic was setting in. Was this the plan? Peter couldn’t remember how he’d wanted this conversation to go. He shifted his weight, rubbing at the back of his neck in a desperate attempt to appear casual.

“You, uh… You know?” he floundered. “What, exactly, is it? That you know?”

“I know that you’re my son.”

Peter’s stomach dropped. Erik was hard to read to start with, and Peter couldn’t begin to figure out what he was thinking. Every chaotic conflicted feeling Peter had had since he was a kid washed over him at once, and sent him reeling inwardly.

“You, uh… Huh.” Peter’s mouth felt as dry as chalk. “I didn’t think you… did.”

“Of course I know,” said Erik. “How could I not? Do you think I can look at you and not see your mother in your face?”

Peter suddenly found it very hard to meet Erik’s gaze.

Ever since he’d put two and two together himself, Peter had worried that he reminded his mom too much of Erik, that even looking at him would bring up painful memories for her. So hearing that Erik saw something of his mom in him, too… It made him happy, honestly – but it was hard to know how Erik meant it.

“I kinda figured, uh…” Peter frowned for a moment, struggling to find the right words. “When I was a kid, at least, I kinda figured that you knew about me, and you just didn’t want anything to do with me because I was always such a screw-up. But I wanted you to care, I guess.”

With a flick of his wrist, Peter sent the stone sailing across the water. It didn’t skip even once, just hit the water with a dull plunk and sank to the bottom. Wow. What appropriate imagery.

“But then Cairo happened,” he went on, “And when they told me everything that’d happened to you, I just… I knew it was the wrong time. With everything you’d lost, I couldn’t. I’m sorry for bringing it up. I’m making a mess out of this, I know. It’s just… maybe there won’t ever be a right time. I didn’t want to wait too long and be too late, y’know?”

A breeze, barely cooler than the hot June sun, skated across the lake. Ever since Peter hit his late twenties, it’d gotten so much easier to match the pace of the rest of the world without getting impatient. Not now, though. The seconds he waited for Erik to reply passed at an agonizing crawl.

“You’re right, you know.”

Peter’s gaze snapped back to Erik as he finally spoke. Erik watched him for a second more, smiling sadly.

“I wouldn’t have been ready to hear it then,” Erik went on. “I want to thank you – for giving me time to grieve.”

“If you need more time, that’s okay,” Peter said hurriedly. “I’m not trying to pressure you or anything, I just-”

Erik shook his head. “I think I’ve made you wait long enough. You’re already a better man than I’ve ever been, Peter. Please understand that I don’t say this lightly. Your unflinching courage, the hope you bring to those around you – these are things to be proud of.”

Peter looked away again, falling back on his usual self-deprecation.

“I don’t… I mean-” He broke off suddenly as he felt Erik grip his shoulder.

“I know that I’ve hardly been a father to you, and for that, I am sorry. But I’d be proud to call you my son, Peter.”

Dammit, he didn’t think he was gonna get choked up over this. But whenever he’d thought through how this conversation would play out, it always seemed to end in rejection or indifference. That Erik might actually, honestly be proud of him was something Peter had never really considered.

Peter sped up for just a second – just long enough to wipe at his eyes without Erik seeing – and then cleared his throat to steady his voice before answering.

“I’d like that,” he said. “If, y’know, if you’re okay with it.”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean.” Erik smiled, releasing his shoulder and taking a step back. “Now, run off and get us some worms. It sounds like you’ve got more fishing experience than I do, so you’ll have to teach me.”

With a grin, Peter sped off. Part of him still kinda expected to find the shoreline empty when he got back, but no – Erik was still there waiting for him.

Him and his dad having their first ever fishing trip. Huh. Peter couldn’t think of a better way to spend Fathers Day.

[wordsinwinters]

Then Again, Part 26 (Peter Parker x Reader)

Masterlist (with AO3 links)

Total word count: 50,293

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25,

Summary: After an intense argument and a forced-to-share-the-bed situation during their junior year decathlon trip, Peter and the Reader examine their faults and failings. As they attempt to fix their mistakes and improve their friendship, that friendship quickly begins to evolve into something else.

Slow burn fic in which all characters are included and their dynamics explored; multiple character POVs.

Betas: @girl-tips-from-satan and @fanboyswhereare-you

A/N: This isn’t my favorite chapter, but it’s been sitting in my drafts for over a year and I figured if I don’t post it now, I’ll never move on to the next. Additionally, as always, I live for feedback. 😉

Without further ado,

Then Again Part 26:

(Words: 2,825)

The bus ride will probably get boring soon, or at least as long as the girls stay asleep, but even as quiet as it is, it’s almost a perfect morning. Being early (around 6:00, I think?), there’s barely any light except street lamps and car lights, but some of the clouds on the right have caught a pretty bluish purple tinge. It reminds me of that Rainbow Fish book Aunt May used to read to me as a kid. To make it better, the morning air is chilly enough that the driver turned the heaters on low so it’s wrapped-in-a-blanket-while-it-snows warm in here. Although that also might be why, apart from general dirt and old gum, the strongest smell on the bus is salty grease— since the nearest heater is under the seat Flash spilled french fries and chicken nuggets in yesterday. It could be worse, though. I mean, it’s not necessarily a bad smell and the traffic isn’t horrible. It’s not the best, but it could definitely be louder and a lot slower. The field of flowing red tail lights ahead of us is oddly comforting, like a snail-slow pasture of mechanical color. 

All in all, it’s a pretty cozy start for a dreaded five hour bus ride. It’s giving me quiet time to think. So that’s where I’m at. Or should be. I got some stuff organized in my head last night even if I keep getting distracted now. Well, it was more like a couple hours ago, since I wasn’t able to get to sleep for so long after we said goodnight. But anyway, I’m trying to focus. It’s just hard, even with both of them sleeping.

From my and Ned’s spot behind them, watching the girls’ heads gently shake and bump against each other as the bus shudders through potholes is kind of calming. They seem so peaceful from this angle, like two people who’ve never pranked me and Ned to the point we were nearly suspended, or kept us awake and annoyed by asking paradoxical hypothetical questions because they know how Ned and I will argue for days if we don’t agree on an answer, or anything else like that. It’s like finding two mischievous cats sleeping, curled up on a chair. It’s easier to appreciate them when they aren’t causing chaos. But it’s not that hard to appreciate them when they are anyway.

Though Ned and I won’t admit it when they’re fully awake, seeing their heads smack into the seat in front of them each time the bus lurched to a halt at stoplights (during the first ten minutes after they’d fallen asleep) was funnier than it should’ve been. Even knowing then that we wouldn’t mention it later didn’t stop us from exchanging silent laughs when they leaned back up, muttering unintelligible complaints before settling their heads back onto one another. For the last couple stoplights before the highway, at least, we decided to be better friends. We both stood up with one leg on the floor and one knee on our own seat so we could easily hold their foreheads back each time it happened. Again, I wouldn’t admit this out loud, even to Ned, but it’s a little bit funny that Ned was a split second slower than me, so while I kept catching MJ’s head before the stop, he half-smacked Y/N’s forehead, like a really-close-to-the-floor basketball dribble, and made a wincing face each time. A lot of times. But it did stop her from colliding with the seat, and she didn’t wake up or complain. 

As nice as it is with them and almost everyone else sleeping through the dark, quiet first hour of the bus trek back to New York, I am excited for her and MJ to wake up. Whenever that is. I’ve missed them. 

But anyway, I really need to focus. God. I’m not doing a great job of that this morning. Apparently. So I’m focusing now. It’s like Ned said. I need to be honest with myself. 

Okay. 

Alright. 

No distractions. 

I’m going to set myself straight now, before we get back, so I can make a game plan and be more decisive and make less mistakes. Fewer? Yeah, fewer mistakes. She’s told me that half a dozen times this since she read that grammar book last summer. But that’s not important.

If I’m being honest... I think I’ve avoided the real possibility that things could work out between us because it felt too risky. And I make some dumb, impulsive choices. So that’s saying a lot. If she said no, what’s the worst that could happen? May and Ned have been asking me that for months, and it’s been so frustrating. The answer should be obvious. The worst thing wouldn’t be the rejection, it’d be if it made her uncomfortable and she broke off our friendship. Or, even if she stuck around, if our friendship changed and I had to watch her get more and more distant, knowing it was my fault and nothing would ever go back to normal. 

Those were the worst — and, I thought, most probable — possibilities. For months I’ve been certain that if anything changed, everything would, and it’d all go to shit. So I kept dodging it. And dodging her before the trip. But, then, things did change this weekend. Things are changing. We fought, and it was super shitty and awful and a total nightmare fiasco, but we made up. And she seemed almost as relieved as me when we did. Now we even have this pact about spending more time together. I know it’s officially only in the name of friendship, but something’s… different. I feel it, and I think she does too. And it doesn’t seem bad. That’s the craziest part. I mean, she even kissed me last night. On the cheek, but still. “Keep it.” Maybe May’s not ridiculous: she really might feel the same way. 

I’ve been texting her this morning, actually. Aunt May. I had to admit that I’m happy she forced me to do the forehead kiss thing last night. As annoyed as I was that she and Ned ganged up on me like that, I can’t dispute the results. She kissed me! Kind of. (To be fair, she did hit my mouth a little bit even if it was an accident.) At first it made me wonder if she heard any of Ned’s shout-comments before I could turn the t.v. up to cover what he was saying. But I doubt it. Even if she felt the same way, I know her too well to think she wouldn’t freak out more and enough that it’d be noticable. Yeah, no, I’d definitely have been able to tell if she’d heard him saying things like, “Nobody’s saying you have to tell her that you googled the probability of high school sweethearts getting married that time she saved your ass on that Bronte essay, but yeah, Aunt May’s right! Just ask her to come over and either talk to her or do the hair/forehead thing!” Anyway, May’s on board with her coming over a lot this week and next week and giving us some space. So are Ned and MJ. Ned said they agreed on giving us two weeks (starting tomorrow) without them hanging out after school. And who knows, if the dance goes really well, maybe it’ll be normal for us to hang out, just us, without the whole group. Because… well, I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself. 

I’ll admit, they’re the best friends I could ever have. All three of them. 

And it’s nice to have them all here now, Ned to my left and the girls in front of us. It’s even nicer to be outside of class or the city or crazy study sessions and have had a short breather from all that (despite the shitshow before we smoothed things over and could enjoy it). To be somewhere chill together. Yesterday and today probably feel even better because the last few days, or even weeks… no— months, if I’m being honest— have had me in a kind of less than happy place. But that’s over now. We’re all here and things are finally good. I just wish the girls would wake up, especially since Ned’s back on his phone. Again. 

Yesterday, everybody hung out for most of the afternoon, but being in the whole decathlon group isn’t the same as just being the four of us. Or two. 

Speaking of two— Ned being away during this next week or two is going to make everything so… unfiltered. New. Without his interference and being able to talk to him as often as normal, it’ll mostly just be her and me. Nobody to distract attention or blame stuff on or help me out when I’m doing something dumb (which is often). Like, for example, last night when I maybe let my excitement get the better of me and I might’ve jumped on the bed and thrown a pillow that accidentally broke the lamp on the nightstand. While I don’t really think writing that “Bill Mr. Harrington” note with the school’s address was Ned’s best idea, it helped me not care too much, enough that I didn’t do something dumber like actually tell Mr. Harrington. It might come back to bite us, though. Still, he was genuinely helpful this morning when Flash showed up too. 

While we were hanging out in the girls’ room waiting for them to finish packing, there was a knock on the door. I figured it was Mr. Harrington about to yell at me and Ned for the broken lamp, so I motioned to Ned to shut up and move closer to the head of the bed we were already sitting on where, courtesy of the wall between the bedroom and bathroom, he wouldn’t be able to see us as long as he stayed by the doorway. MJ gave us an odd glance before she got up to answer it. Her annoyed, “What are you doing here?” didn’t immediately disqualify Mr. Harrington, but the sound of Flash’s voice saying, “I, uh, brought you guys some muffins,” made me tense at the first syllable.

“The free muffins they give us for breakfast?”

MJ’s dripping sarcasm nearly made me laugh even though I couldn’t see her, but Y/N turning from her suitcase and walking over to join them killed it still in my throat. 

“Nope,” he said. “They’re fancy muffins from a bakery a few miles away.”

I wanted to roll my eyes out of my skull.

She may not like him, but that doesn’t mean I was wrong about him being into her. What a dumb way to impress someone. “Fancy muffins.”

“Expensive?” MJ asked. Even without seeing her face, I could tell she was giving him the squint death stare. It’s scary to have to respond to that face if you don’t know what the right answer is.

“Yes, especially with the delivery fee,” he said, sounding prepared for the question, “but they’re from a small local place, not a chain, which I figured you guys would appreciate. Actually, I think you’d like the woman who owns it, she was super grouchy and hard to convince.”

“Convince?”

“They don’t normally deliver at 5 in the morning.”

“Oh, so you thought you could just—”

“What kind did you get?” 

That’s one of the things I like about Y/N. She knows how to manage tempers and when to jump in; she has Flash and MJ down to a science. In that moment, though, I wanted MJ to fire her most confrontational questions at him with no mercy.

“Well, they’re all apology muffins—” I heard MJ scoff. Exactly. She gets it. “But I got blueberry, chocolate, obviously, coffee, cranberry orange, maple, I think that one has chicken in it or something, and banana nut.”

Ned and I turned towards each other with silent smirks at the last one. It’s a dumb joke, but under normal circumstances we’d never resist—

“Cool. Since you’ve brought so many, you can come in.”

Sometimes MJ drives me up the wall. This was one of those times. 

I mentally took back my agreement with her scoff.

The three of them came into the room, and for a couple seconds, Flash didn’t see us. The girls were closer to the window than they were to the wall and the bed Ned and I were sitting on, and he didn’t look behind him. Until MJ pointed us out directly.

“You can give them some too,” she said, her expression bordering on smug. “Apology muffins, right?”

Flash froze for a second. I straightened my back. Neither Ned or I said anything.

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded. “Of course.”

Surprisingly, he shook his shoulders like a bug just buzzed by his head and walked over, opening a giant rectangle of a box up to us. 

“Take however many you guys want.”

I stared at him, not moving. Nobody flinched. Then I realized he was tapping the side of the box with his thumb. Not in an asshole come on, hurry up way, but in an anxious way. Just as I started to reach toward the box, Y/N asked:

“Why’d you get so many of the coffee ones?”

Flash looked away at just the right second. 

Did I technically cave first by reaching into the box? Yes. But did anyone see? No.

Although, I guess he technically caved by offering us the muffins in the first place. Ha. All the same, I took a blueberry one. 

“They’re my dad’s favorite. I wanted to surprise him, you know? But I can’t even get a hold of.... Um, are your guys’ parents going to pick you up when we get there, or are you actually staying for school?”

“Staying.”

“All of you?” 

He looked around to ask all of us, even me and Ned. We all nodded. When he looked at me, though, his eyes twitched. It’s a face I’ve gotten a lot before. He realized he said parents. 

“You said these are orange cranberry?” Ned asked, pointing. 

Flash nodded. 

“They’re solid, though the banana nut ones are probably the best.”

As I said, under normal circumstances, like if one of the girls had said it, I would’ve laughed right then, but I’m not used to laughing around Flash. Ned, who usually follows that same rule, shook his head and grinned, if a little bit... nervously?

“Hell no!” he said, pretending to be mildly outraged. “I’m not eating banana-bust-a-nut muffins.”

A second surprise: Flash tilted his head and paused, clearly as stunned to be told a joke by Ned as the rest of us were to witness it— and laughed. So did everyone else. It was only for a few seconds, like literally three quick seconds, but for the first time for as long as I can remember, all of us were laughing with Flash. It stopped almost as soon as it started. 

Tension crept back in soon so he left pretty quickly after that with an awkward, “See you guys in a few.” Thank god. 

The girls finished tidying their room and going over the homework that’s due today (which we did last week since we knew we’d never get it done on the trip), before forcing me and Ned into the hallway so Mr. Harrington wouldn’t need to check our room for us and potentially find the broken lamp. 

And then, pretty soon, we ended up on the warm bus, loaded in with everyone else. It seemed like everybody but Ned and I were too quiet and sleepy and squinty to be able to talk much before dozing off or staring blankly out the window or scrolling social media on their phones, the latter two options leading to the first in most cases. At this point, I think Ned, Flash, and I are the only ones still awake. 

I’m going to work at tolerating him. As long as he doesn’t cross any lines with anybody from now on, I won’t bait him either. (Admittedly, I’ve been guilty of that, especially recently.) I mean, his comment about his dad was hard to miss. And even when he said it, it wasn’t a shock. Everyone in our grade at some point has had to listen to Flash’s rambling excuses for his parents ignoring or forgetting to show up for school events. Maybe being a dick is just hereditary for him. Or a family tradition. 

I don’t remember how I got so off track. Where was I before? Oh yeah. Risk. Possibilities. The almost-worst case scenario that turned out not so bad. It’s been a messy weekend with plenty of re-evaluating, but the point is simple: I think I’ve got to give a few new things a try, and I’m excited to have a chance over the next couple weeks.

Next update: God only knows.

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[bakugous-bbygirl]

~Social media boyfriend~

Bakugou Katsuki x F!Reader

There needs to be more quarantine stories. Like come onnn we’re all stuck together anyway. That’s why I’m doing the public justice of giving us more fan fiction that’s current to the times. Please enjoy!

Warning: swearing. That’s it really.

Being stuck at home was really getting to everyone and it was pretty clear. From almost finishing your second year to having to do your third year at home. You didn’t even want to know how your hero course was gonna go. But now everyone is online all the time posting things they never would have if they got to go outside more.

You of course followed almost all your classmates on social media. Mostly twitter and Instagram, everything else was a little too much. You had your fair share of classmate followers so your posts were mostly pictures of everyone hanging out or weird selfies you took while half awake.

After reading one too many fanfics you opened Twitter to see a certain profile you liked scrolling through.

You have no clue why Bakugou had followed you one day but you figured it’s the poilte thing to follow back. After scrolling for an hour though you had pretty much summed up all of his account into a few words

Self centered music guy.

A lot of his tweets were just pictures of himself flexing in his mirror or screenshots of whatever his playlist consisted of with aggressive captions telling people to fuck off or listen to the song. Those pictures of his arms though. Ahh those hit differently.

You had a crush on the blonde since you started your first year however you didn’t think it shift into you calling him your online boyfriend and making constant tweets about him.

Nothing super obvious just the simple like “why can’t he love me back” or “when he learns I’m real it’s a wrap.” And on Instagram if it’s a cute photo of yourself your caption would consist of something like: “once my online boyfriend learns I’m desperate maybe we could cuddle” you know nothing weird or anything.

After scrolling through his twitter you found a old tweet that actually made you laugh. Like it was something actually funny. You figured kiri got ahold of his phone and posted it before Bakugou blew him up. It was a picture of Bakugou on his floor fixing his Grenade bracers with the tweet “he looks so cute all focused!”

You accidentally tapped the like button and didn’t even realize how weird that would’ve looked as you swiped out of the app. You went to your messages to text Mina since she always kept you busy durning these lonely days. “Hey crackhead you up yet? It’s almost 3 in the afternoon”

she replied pretty quick asking how you were and if you wanted her to FaceTime you. And who were you to turn down a chance to talk to your best friend?

After answering the call mina’s goofy pink face appeared on your screen while it looked like she was laying on her couch. “Hello!!” “Hey Mina.” You couldn’t help at smile how bubbly she is while talking to you. You figured her extroverted personality was put through the ringer being forced to stay at home. “Soooo how have you been? I see your keeping your social media pretty up to date with your creepy obsession with your online boyfriend?” You hold up your middle finger as you see her laugh “it’s not creepy. It’s the same as liking a famous person. You guys just don’t get to know who he is.” “Ooooo so he’s famous? That makes it totally normal.” You rubbed at your neck moving the phone from your face so she can’t see the Blush. “Well, kinda, not really, sorta..” you then noticed your phone vibrating that you got a new notification. “Oh hold up, I wanna check this.” “Oh no just ignore me as I try to find out who it is you love so much. I would really like to know someday” you waved her off with your hand going to your home screen, “you will one day. Hush up now.” You scrolled to the top of your screen to see your notifications and saw it was from twitter and it was someone wanted to message you, you played it off as Mina or one of your friends wanted to mess with you about a tweet you made early in the day or something. “What’s the point of messaging me when we’re on the phone?” You went back to the call to see Mina tilting her head like a bird “what do you mean? I didn’t message you?” “Oh, I figured it was you sending me something stupid on twitter. Lemme see who it is then.”

You opened twitter while half way listening to whatever story Mina felt like telling at that moment and noticed the message was actually Bakugou saying “what the fuck” “Oh it’s just Bakugou. Weird he normally doesn’t send me anything” you opened the message just as Mina said “maybe it’s him telling you what you tweeted was dumb or pointless? That’s normally what he does to me.” You laughed and saw he had sent a screenshot of a notification he got from you like a tweet from legit a year ago. You almost died. “Ahhhhhhh shit I gotta go minathanksforcallingbye!” And flat out hung up in her face. You couldn’t believe you were dumb enough to like the tweet. Why didn’t you notice? God you were stupid.

And what’s even worse you already opened the message and he could see you already read it so In a panick you just typed out some half ass reply acting as if you were confused “what? I didn’t do anything to you” you then texted Mina explaining how weird he probably thinks you are. “sooo Bakugou is mystery your online boyfriend and you got caught totally creepin?” You face turned red as you replied “I never said he was my crush!” “you posted on Instagram yesterday that sometimes you scroll through his account and read his old tweets. Get busted y/n.” You threw you phone away from you on the table and layed Your head into your pillows.

You were so caught. Almost all your tweets and posts from the last few months were you thirsting over this boy and showing how lonely you are durning this quarantine. You wouldn’t be so embarrassed if it was someone you were closer too, Like kirishima or denki. The fact Bakugou barely spoke with you durning your time in classes made it feel even weirder. How could you be so dumb to forget your one rule of being a simp. No liking old posts or tweets. Just saving the photo depending on what it is. That rule just got tossed out the window as you pushed your face tighter into the pillow. No way was he gotta think your cute or whatever after this.

The sound of your phone going off got your attention and you reached for it slightly hoping it was Mina with a way to get you out of this. However it was the dreaded online boyfriend messaging you again. “Don’t play dumber than you are dumbass. The fuck is with you liking my old tweets” You really didn’t have the best response so you came up with the best you could. “Mina had my phone. Sorry she was being weird.”

That was so dumb. You both knew good and well that no one was allowed to be around each other since this whole virus came out. Could this day get any worse? Yes. Yes it could shut up.

“Try again.” Was all he replied with but you could hear the smug in his voice. Like no way was he gonna not call you out for this. The only times he did speak to you was when he was being an ass and making fun of you. Or when he grabbed your hips and moved you out of his way. You always loved that because his hands trapped your figure so perfectly but decided it was better to keep that to yourself. You were fully ready to admit defeat. There were no more lies you could come up with on the spot. “alright look, I’m sorry if it’s weird. Honest mistake.” This was your last shot to keep your dignity after such a embarrassing day.

It actually took him a while to reply. You figured he was too busy to entertain your contuinus lies until you got a notification from Instagram saying Ground_Zer0 liked your post. You opened the app to see he liked the picture where your caption was you basically admitted you scrolled through his old tweets because he was your online boyfriend. Before your brain could kick you for posting that bold statement in the first place you got two more messages from him. He had screenshotted the picture and caption. “So gonna keep lying like I don’t follow your accounts” Yep. Mina was so right. You were busted. Nothing much was left to be said. You were caught simping on one of your classmates who was aiming to be the number one hero. Just great.

“You gonna reply or what dumbass” Here goes everything. No reason to keep your lies, nothing much to lose.

“Alright so yeah I’ve liked you for a while now, I don’t know what about you makes me like you so much but I always found you really cool. Your so passionate about wanting to do good it’s almost silly how mean you are to everyone. Your not all that ugly either so that helps or whatever.” You confidence found half way through texting him. Not like he could make fun of you to all your friends and school. He doesn’t seem like the guy. Right?

“Oh.” Oh. That’s all he has to say. What the shit. What type of reply is that! Here you are pouring your heart out and that’s all he says back! This was kinda worse than him laughing! You barely got a reaction at all! “So how long have you liked Me” you took a second to think of the least creepy answer, “I mean since the beginning of our second year, why?”

It wasn’t a whole lie. Like since you had liked him the beginning of last year too. Your heart was beating out of your chest. Your emotions were clearly a wreck. From anger to slight confusion and embarrassment. What if he used this against you for real? Like you could never live down how much you really thought about him and wanted to be around him. It was pretty clear since you layed eyes on him you really cared about him.

“Well, I’ve liked you longer so I guess it’s my job to ask your dumbass out”

“Wanna be my girlfriend you weird stalker?”

You legit couldn’t believe it. You rubbed at your eyes for a good five minutes. Was he being serious? Was it a joke? You couldn’t think straight your head was so fuzzy “OI DONT LEAVE ME ON READ DUMBASS!” “If this is a way to make fun of me it isn’t very funny Bakugou.”

It seriously wasn’t funny. You knew for a while he felt nothing back for you, he never liked any of your posts or made much of an effort to even talk to you when you guys did attend school. He was clearly better friends with Mina since she even got messages from him, even if they were insults you would’ve taken what you could get. No way were you setting yourself up any more to get laughed at.

At that moment you got a FaceTime call from a number you didn’t have saved. You had no clue who it was. Against your better judgement you answered figuring that telemarketers don’t make FaceTime calls. What you got was a grumpy looking Bakugou staring at his screen. You could feel his eyes staring through you. You wanted to throw your phone so far it wasn’t even a joke. “Bout time dumbass.” He was layed out on his bed with a black wife beater hanging loosely on his body. You could tell he hasn’t moved from the bed in a while since the sheets and blankets were slightly messed up. “Now tell me. You see anyone else in my fucking room?” You shook your head in a confused manner, what was that question for? “Okay then. So it’s clear this isn’t a fucking joke. I like your dumb ass. Now will you please be my real girlfriend?” You stared at his face for any sort of sign it was still a joke.

But all you got was Bakugou blushing. Wait blushing? Seriously. That’s screenshot worthy. “I..well..w-wait we can’t even see each other?” You heard him grunt as a smirk appeared on his lips “if that’s your way of saying yes ain’t no stupid virus keeping me from kissing you like I’ve wanted to forever now.” “N-no way! You’ll get in trouble! Or sick!” Your face filled with heat as his words flowed so confidently. Like he knew all this time this is everything he’s ever wanted to say to you. “Did you not hear me? No virus is keeping me from you or getting me sick. Just let me say your mine stupid! I won’t fucking ask again.” “Y-yeah! O-okay I’ll be your girlfriend!” Another smirk tugged at his lips. “Damn straight. Alright get ready I’ll be there soon.” After that he hung up.

“Wait what?! Don’t come! Hello? Ah shit.” You still couldn’t really believe that all this really happened. You just got a boyfriend. After accidentally liking his post. From a year ago. Wow. What luck! You opened Instagram to congratulate yourself by posting the screenshot you had snagged but saw that a certain someone had posted a screenshot of you looking all confused durning a FaceTime call.

The ass screenshotted you looking confused after he asked you if anyone else was in his room. You looked at the caption and it absolutely made you turn red

“Thanks for giving me her number pinky.”

P1nky commented “anytime! Get you some!”

You hate your friends. You do love them. But you seriously can’t stand them.

Thank you all for reading so much! Also thank you for the 100 followers! I appciate it a lot and it gives me more reason to keep writing!

[justkindaoverhereobsessing]

honey, i’m just trying to find my way to you

"Cute, but you had your chance."

When Tony realizes that he may have had an opportunity to date Ziva at some point during all the years they've known one other, he sets out to see if his chance is really gone after all. (set at the end of 10x4, "Lost at Sea")

↳ for @pro-bee​, because this fic was started months ago after I was inspired by this simple but thought-provoking post 

____________________

"Opened up my guitar case and all the songs were blue / I haunted all the alleys / Lord, I drifted down the valleys / Honey, I'm just trying to find my way to you."

— Gregory Alan Isakov, "Suitcase Full of Sparks"

____________________

"Ziva," Borin cuts in, interrupting Tony's awkward attempt to save face after Ziva outed the reality of he and McGee's 'hot Friday night dates'. "Drink?"

"Yes," Ziva agrees quickly, a smug smile rising to her lips as her teammates blink at her. "Thank you." She turns pointedly back to Tony and Mcgee. "Finally, someone has the decency to ask me to join them!"

She brushes past them both as Borin gives Gibbs a brief wave of goodbye, and she and her friend walk toward the elevator. Behind them, McGee and Tony are just starting to sort through that interaction.

"That's what this was about?" Tony realizes.

"She set us up because we didn't ask her out in the first place. How did we miss that?" McGee echoes.

Ziva rolls her eyes, and she and Borin snort and exchange looks when they hear Gibbs' response. "Better question is how are you gonna fix it?"

"Something tells me we're about to have company after all," Borin speculates wryly, and she's almost immediately proven right.

"Hold that door!" comes Tony's voice, right before the rest of him appears and blocks the progress of the closing car doors. "Oh, I'm in, I'm in." McGee follows right after.

Ziva raises her eyebrows at Borin. "They seem to think they are still invited to join us," she observes.

"We're not?" Tony asks, but he is soundly ignored.

"I think you're right," Borin agrees with Ziva as if no one has spoken. "What should we do? Do we let them come along?"

Ziva shrugs. "They were awfully rude, and they lied."

"That's true."

"Would it help if we say we're sorry?" McGee cuts in sheepishly.

"It certainly would not hurt," Ziva replies, finally acknowledging at least one of the men in the elevator.

"We are sorry. Really sorry," Tony says immediately, elbowing McGee. "Right, Elf Lord?"

McGee gives Tony a dirty look and massages his side. "Of course we are."

"They seem sincere enough to me… but it's up to you, Ziva," Borin offers, smirking.

"Hm… alright. They can come—but they are both on thin mice."

"Thin ice," McGee corrects. "Thanks, Ziva."

Ziva shakes her head in feigned exasperation and smiles. "McGee, just consider asking me out the next time you make 'Friday night date' plans again, yes?"

For some reason, that makes Tony look sharply at Ziva, giving her a look that she doesn't really understand. She meets his eye for a moment, raising her eyebrows in wordless query, but then McGee answers what she just said, interrupting the silent communication.

"You've got it," he promises.

Then the elevator reaches the ground floor, and the agents start to file out. No one notices that Tony hangs back for several long seconds, staying in place until the doors nearly close without him again. Only then does he rush after the other three, Gibbs' words repeating themselves loudly in his mind.

What are you gonna do to fix it?

If he had a chance, maybe he still does. Maybe it's time to have a little courage.

____________________

"Hey, Ziva."

Ziva turns to glance at Tony, her eyebrows raised. He grabs her arm for a second, holding her back while Borin and McGee walk on. "What did you mean when you said I had my chance?" he demands.

Ziva throws her head back and laughs, well used to matching Tony's teasing. "I am sure your imagination is up to answering that question for you."

"Come on, Ziva, be serious."

"Oh, I am. You have known me for how long now?"

"Um, I think it's been sev—"

"If you wanted a date," she interrupts, "you have had a long time to ask." With that, she breaks free from his grasp and starts to follow the others.

"Go on a date with me, then," Tony suggests loudly to Ziva's retreating back, surprising her and stopping her in her tracks. "It can't be too late. I think my chance is now."

Ziva turns around again to stare him down, analyzing his expression. "You cannot be serious."

"As a heart attack." Tony shrugs, and it seems very much so like he's joking this off as usual… but there's a strange vulnerability in his expression, like he fears rejection. He shouldn't, if he's just messing around.

Then again, Ziva had actually been teasing, too, but… "That is not a very romantic way to ask a woman out, Tony," she points out.

It becomes immediately clear that saying that was a mistake... because Tony's whole persona abruptly shifts, and he grins in a slightly unsettling way that makes Ziva nervous. "What do you want, then? Flowers? Chocolates? A song? Five people following me around with sombreros and trumpets and guitars?"

"I do not think a macaroni band would help your case."

"I think you mean a mariachi band, but… okay, noted. So, no to the band, and yes to everything else."

Ziva rolls her eyes. "Sure. That is exactly what I want," she agrees, sarcasm heavy in her tone... anything to stop this conversation. Then, deciding that discretion is the better part of valor, she marches forward without saying anything more.

"What was that about?" Borin asks her when she reaches where the others are walking.

"I will tell you later, when Stupid and Stupider are not around," Ziva answers, jerking her head at McGee and then at Tony, who has started jogging to catch up.

"Dumb and Dumber!" Tony corrects breathlessly as he falls in line with his friends.

"Yes, that, too."

"I should stop doing things that get me lumped in with Tony," McGee mutters to himself.

Continue reading on AO3 or ff.net...

[extremelyblackandwhite]

i wanna know what love is - 10

Pairing: rockstar! sebastian stan x writer!reader

Warnings: mentions of sex and swearing

A/N: aw we’ve reached 10 chapters already. i’m so happy to have shared this to far with you guys. i’m so glad and proud to write for all of you, hope you enjoy it xx

Last Chapter // Next Chapter

Sebastian thought his brain were playing tricks on him as his eyes laid on a very familiar face. Too familiar for him, almost stuck in time. The same long bob hairstyle with blonde highlights and an outfit that left nothing to his imagination. Not that he didn’t already know what was already under it, he’d seen it too many times. Melody. 

She noticed him starring and strutted to him, cornering him into a wall which he could not escape. Almost out of habit, he pushed a cigarette from his trousers and lighted it up, the smoke coming inside his lungs and right outside them. 

    - I see you still smoke when you’re nervous. - she spoke, almost like a siren pulling him in towards his demise. - Hadn’t seen you play sober for ages, reminded me of the good old times.

   - Not now, Melody. - he pushed her away from him, noticing all guys already had their drinks which meant Y/N should have already been back with Mary. However, none of them were to be seen which he found weird, at least for Mary. She would always stay backstage for ages and he couldn’t think of what they could possibly be doing right now. He approached Fred who was entertaining himself with a bottle of beer. - Fred, where’s Y/N and Mary?

  - Mary took Y/N back to the hotel, said she wasn’t feeling very well. - he shrugged, showing him the text Mary had sent him a few minutes ago. Sebastian decided that in that moment he’d better be off with her before he lost the courage to speak to her. 

  - Where are you going, Seb? - Melody went after him, pushing through his security and bandmates, grabbing him from the arm. He turned to face his ex-fianceé who still had a grip of steel. - Sebastian, I need to have a talk with you.

  - Not right now, I have better stuff to deal with. - he tried to walk away but she yanked him back. - Melody, I’m serious. 

  - I have nowhere to stay, Seb. I was fired, I’m broke, Drew dumped me and I have nowhere to be. - she held onto the lapel of his jacket, her best sad eyes on display and if Sebastian didn’t know better he’d pity her.

  - That’s none of my business. Get a job. - once again, he tried to reach the door but Melody did not stop. She grabbed him again, rushing over to his front, her hands on his shoulder. - Melody, I can give you money but I really need to go right now.

  - Let me stay with you, Seb. - she cupped his face much to his dismay. - Just for a bit then I’ll leave, I promise. 

Meanwhile, at the villa, Y/N was sat on Mary’s bed calling herself stupid for falling for Sebastian’s charms as he clearly had someone in his arm anyway. Mary came into the room holding two tea cups, extending one to her which Y/N gladly took. 

  - She always comes back. - Mary said, perking up Y/N’s curiosity. 

  - Do you know who she was?

  - Melody. She always comes back to him for a few months when she wants money. - Mary rolled her eyes. She always disliked her and, although Sebastian could never know, she had seen her cheat on him multiple times with multiple people, even almost once trying to bed Fred which made her hate Melody even more, she was a spineless woman. - She’s his weakness, trust me. 

  - I don’t wanna talk about Sebastian. - she said, taking a sip of tea while turning on Netflix to watch Gilmore Girls. She thought that watching Rori make terrible love decisions would make her fell better which was definitely working.

The band was giving Sebastian dirty looks as he invited Melody into the limo, specially Anthony who thought he was finally done with his bullshit. Sadly, no, she was sat next to him holding onto him like a baby. They reached the villa and the guys went away from them, joining their rooms. Meanwhile, Sebastian was keen on knowing if Y/N was alright and to finally talk with her. 

  - Where are you going, Seb? - Melody rushed after him, holding onto him making Sebastian stop in his tracks. She curled his hair on her fingers, a sly smile on her lips. - I thought we could go into your room, grab some whipped cream.

  - Alright, Melody. I don’t think you understand, you’ll stay here tonight, get your cheque and then leave my life. I don’t want to sleep with you.

  - Is it because you want to sleep with the reporter? - she crossed her arms, her eyes glued to his. 

  - Who I sleep with or not is none of your business. Now, please, pick a room and leave me alone.

  - I can’t believe it, Sebastian. - she walked over to the bar in the hallway, grabbing two glasses and pouring some scotch onto both. She took one into her hand, swirling the liquid. - Don’t tell me you like her. 

Sebastian was silent but he forgot that Melody had been for five years and she could see straight through him. From the way he looked when he couldn’t find her to how he hugged her from behind, burying his face in her hair. He either was trying really hard to get her in bed or he liked her, Melody did not know which but she was amused. She walked to him, holding a glass with scotch and extending her arm to him.

   - You get hotter with age, baby. - she grabbed his chin with her hot red painted nails, almost pouting at him. - But you also get dumber. Do you seriously think little miss sunshine is gonna go for you?

   - You don’t know me, Melody. - he pushed her hand off him, massaging the nail marks she’d left in her chin.

  - I know you too well, Sebastian. I know how you liked to be fucked and I know how you like to be loved and newsflash, babe, I’m the only one who knows how to. - she took a seat in the arm of one of the fancy chairs in the entry. - Does she know why you’re getting kicked out of the band?

  - She doesn’t need to know. - Sebastian’s jaw clenched, all of his features hardened at the mention of it. Just the memory of it made his heart fail, he definitely did not want her to know. - Melody, c’mon, what do you want?

  - I wanna be with you. - she placed the glass in the table, strutting over to him, taking his hand in hers. - Look, just give me a week and I’ll prove to you we can be just like every single couple.

  - Thank you but no. 

  - If you don’t I’ll tell Y/N why you’re being kicked from the band. I’m sure she’ll love to put that in her article.

[goldenraeofsun]

would you have me, would you want me?

Part I

Castiel wipes his sweaty hands on his slacks. 

He tugs at the tie strangling him, and runs a hand through his hair. He grimaces. So much for all the preparation he put into his appearance in front of the mirror twenty minutes ago.

He inhales a deep breath and steps inside his high school for the first time in ten years.

The fluorescent lighting doesn’t do the old halls any favors, and the entryway, at least, smells violently of lemon-scented cleaner. There have been a few pathetic attempts at livening up the stubbornly beige walls - colorful signs mark the way to the gym, like Castiel would ever forget even after ten years.

It’s strange to see the place so empty.

“Hello!” Becky, their alumni representative, waves him over to a table just inside the entryway. It’s completely cluttered with bits of paper and blank name tags. “Are you here for the reunion?”

Castiel coughs. “Yes.”

“So glad to have you here,” Becky says as Castiel drags his feet closer. “Name?”

“Castiel Novak?”

“Oh!” Becky says, her eyes widening. “I hardly recognized you without the books, and the coat, and the...” she gestures vaguely to her own face, which Castiel takes to mean the semi-permanent scowl he wore all throughout high school. Before Castiel can react, she ducks her head and drags her finger down a clipboard. “Alright, Castiel, I’ll mark you down as present. Fill out a name tag if you want, and here are your tickets for your two drinks. Would you like to enter the fundraising raffle? We’re hoping to send the volleyball team to nationals this year.”

Castiel quails under Becky’s doe eyes and forks over ten dollars for the raffle. He also writes out a name tag, since his classmates might have the same reaction as Becky.

Armed with his name tag and drinks tickets, he follows the signs to the gym.

* * *

Cas wipes his sweaty hands on his slacks.

He shouldn’t have agreed to this. He doesn’t go to parties. He is not a partier. The closest he’s ever come to one was after his brother’s graduation, but that was eleven years ago. Cas was seven.

Cas successfully avoided all high school parties for the past three and a half years, but apparently nothing lasts forever.

Biting his lip, he presses down hard on Tessa’s doorbell. 

The door opens, and Cas barely has enough time to school his face into a less terrified expression before Tessa appears. “You’re not the pizza man,” she says, frowning.

Cas blinks at her. “I... sorry?” He offers the wine Uncle Marv gifted his parents, the one Cas’s mother promised never to drink in a million years.

Tessa’s face brightens as she takes it from him. “Who invited you?”

“Dean - Dean Winchester,” Cas says, like there could be any other Dean that mattered at Edlund High.

Tessa opens the door wider, calling over her shoulder, “Dean!”

Cas steps inside without waiting for Dean to rescue him. Dean is probably too occupied to see him inside - or so Cas assumes. He’s never been to a party like this before, but even the senior year loner hears about the types of things Dean gets up to at events like these. 

Cas follows Tessa past a flight of roped-off stairs further into the house. The noise and the people hit him full force in a dimly lit living room. Music blasts from speakers connected to a massive entertainment center. The whole area is jam-packed with teenagers and smells strongly of beer and hormones. Cas scans the crowd, recognizing more faces than not, to his relief. 

“Kitchen’s that way,” Tessa says loudly, pointing to a door, bright light spilling from beyond. “If you want to get a drink, be my guest.” She shoulders past a group of girls from Cas’s homeroom and disappears from sight.

Cas heads for the kitchen. Maybe he can clear his head there and come up with a plan. Or maybe he can get drunk enough not to care about all the bad decisions that led him here.

* * *

Castiel turns at the sound of his name.

He spins around in place, searching the faces in the gym for one he recognizes.

“Cas, you made it!”

Castiel stumbles as Charlie’s arms wrap around him. “I didn’t think you’d come,” she says as she steps away, a broad grin stretching across her face.

“I live in the next school district over. I’m sure people traveled farther than that.”

“Yeah, but,” Charlie says awkwardly, “I know high school wasn’t the best time for you.”

Castiel’s mouth twitches. “Only the last few months of senior year. The rest went well enough.” He scans the gym before meeting Charlie’s knowing gaze. 

Charlie winks at him. It’s not like she couldn’t put the pieces together herself. Most of their points of conversation revolve around a shared high school experience, so naturally Dean comes up once or twice (or a dozen times) during their sporadic get togethers.

It was even nice, sometimes, since Charlie is the only person from his teenage years he sees anymore. 

“I know what you’re talking about,” Charlie says with a shudder. “I got bangs for senior year. Bangs.”

Castiel smiles weakly. “You could have made worse decisions.”

"If we’re going to talk about how dumb we were as teenagers, then I’m going to need another drink,” Charlie says as they make their way to the makeshift bar. “Don’t worry,” she says in an undertone, “He’s not here yet.”

“He’s coming?”

Charlie throws him a look. “Dude, he’s the newest hire in the English department. There’s no way he got out of attending his own reunion.”

Castiel absentmindedly nods along as he looks around. There’s a slideshow projecting onto a far wall, showing candid shots from ten years ago. About fifty people mill around the gym, chatting in little groups, nobody Castiel recognizes. More than a few people huddle over their own on their phones, ignoring everyone else.

He asks, “Is this typically what happens at these things?”

“How should I know?” Charlie says as they get in line. “This is my first reunion too.”

Castiel turns to her. “You didn’t go to our five year?”

Charlie wrinkles her nose. “I was kind of in hot water for hacking into NORAD so I laid low in Norway until everything died down.”

Castiel shakes his head. “Why would a tech consultant for Roman Enterprises hack into NORAD?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Charlie shoots back.

Castiel has no retort prepared, so he steps up to trade his ticket for a glass of cheap wine. “How is Dorothy doing?”

“She’s good. Away at a meteorology conference, but those’re the hazards of dating a nerd.” Charlie exhales a long-suffering sigh, watching with mild interest as the bartender pours out Castiel’s glass.

Castiel snorts. “I wouldn’t know.”

Charlie elbows him playfully in the side. “’Course you don’t. You always liked them dumber, didn’t you?”

“Dean wasn’t dumb.”

Charlie cackles as she hands over her own ticket to the bartender. “I didn’t say anyone’s name.”

* * *

Cas turns at the sound of his name. 

“Dean?” he answers.

Tessa’s kitchen is only slightly quieter than the living room, but not much. There are fewer people here, though, which leaves Cas some breathing room. 

Dean strides up to him, a red cup of something in his hand and a grin on his face. Party-goer Dean doesn’t look any different than Student Dean, clad in worn jeans and his favorite Led Zeppelin short sleeved shirt. “Hey, man. I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“Of course,” Cas says, clutching his own drink tightly. “You invited me.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean says, his gaze skittering away, “this isn’t your usual scene, though.”

“I can try new things.” Cas takes a sip of his punch and makes a face at the overwhelmingly sweet taste. “It is our senior year, so I thought it might be time.”

“Whatever, man,” Dean says with a laugh, “as long as it got you out of the library.”

Cas’s frown deepens. “What’s wrong with the library?”

“Nothing,” Dean says, eyes widening. He raises his free hand, palm out, in a gesture of no-harm. “It’s just not the sort of place you’d go for a good time, you know what I mean?”

Cas’s eyes narrow. “I’ve had plenty of good times in the library.”

Dean snorts a laugh. “Not the kind I was talking about, Cas.”

Cas hasn’t ever gotten blown in the book stacks of the library like some pornography had indicated was possible, but he won’t call his time spent there a total waste. He says, “If it hadn’t been for our enjoyable tutoring sessions in the library, I wouldn’t be here.”

Dean beams at him. “Yeah, I’m kind of sorry they’re over, but I guess our grades don’t matter any more.”

“What?” Cas blinks at him. “Our grades matter.”

“Dude, it’s April.”

“Colleges can still rescind acceptance letters.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Come on, you nerd,” he grabs Cas by the hand. “We can’t block the line to the booze or Tessa'll murder me.”

Cas lets himself get led back out into the living room, a bemused expression on his face. The music and the chatter of a dozen different conversations hit him like a palpable slap to the face.

“What do we do now?” Cas asks loudly, as he throws back the rest of his cup of punch. It is much more tolerable in larger, quicker doses.

Dean glances around before leaning closer so Cas could hear him. “Whatever you want.”

Cas shivers as Dean’s breath ghosts over his ear and down his neck.

“We got the dancers, the stoners, the wallflowers,” Dean points each out, “the horndogs...”

Cas tears his gaze away from Charlie and Gilda, entwined on the couch. “Where do you fall?”

“Me?” Dean asks, surprised. He holds up his drink, a smile playing around his lips. “It’s a little early to tell. This is only my third one. Speaking of,” he takes Cas’s drink and drains it, “We should get you another one. You’re barely caught up to me.”

Cas dumbly takes his cup back. If he refills this cup, his lips might touch the same surface Dean’s had. The ghost of a kiss.

It was a technique old Hollywood films used to indicate romantic attraction, since kissing on-screen was heavily restricted. Characters would share cigarettes, food, and drinks instead of touching, especially if the relationship was taboo and wouldn’t pass the censors.

Cas stares up at Dean, uncomprehending.

“Come on, man,” Dean says as he nudges Cas back towards the kitchen. “Before all the good booze is gone.”

* * *

Castiel chokes on his drink.

Charlie gives him a few hard whacks on the back, giggling under her breath. “I know Dean’s hot and all, but that doesn’t mean you have to do a spit take when you see him.”

“I was surprised,” Castiel says defensively as he desperately tries to regain his composure.

“Uh huh.” Charlie smirks, eyebrows waggling. “Want me to call him over? I don’t think he’s spotted us yet.”

Castiel swallows down the rising tide of panic in the back of his throat. For God’s sake, he’s nearly thirty years old. He can’t go to pieces over Dean Winchester, not again. 

It’s just been a while. He hasn’t had a boyfriend in several years. All his friends, Charlie included, are taken or aromantic, and lately Castiel’s been feeling like the odd bachelor out.

Dean probably isn’t all Castiel has been building up in his head. It’s been ten years, after all. Dean must have changed.

Castiel certainly has. He’s no longer the loner who filled his life with facts and grades instead of friends. Well, he still has school, but at least this time around he’s the one grading tests instead of being graded.

But it’s Dean. The one who got away - or ran away, in Dean’s case.

Charlie waves and calls Dean’s name, and, before Castiel can wrap his head around what’s happening, Dean is in front of them, in all his glory. Ten years older, but no less handsome. He still has those barely-there freckles splattered across his cheeks.

“So how’ve you been?” Dean asks Charlie.

“Can’t complain.” Charlie shakes her head. “I got a new haircut.”

“The bob suits you, Red,” Dean says, grinning as he reaches out to ruffle it.

Charlie dodges, one finger in his face in warning. “You touch it and you die, Handmaiden. It doesn’t look this natural naturally.”

“Fair,” Dean says, hands in the air.

Castiel watches them both, a sinking feeling in his gut. He’s been here before, watching from the sidelines as Dean joked and teased his friends. In the same room but also miles away.

He shouldn’t have expected any different.

Ten years, and nothing has changed.

But then Charlie punches Dean in the arm, throwing a significant look at Castiel, and Castiel’s mood sinks lower. He doesn’t need Charlie to make Dean pay attention to him; that wasn’t the point of coming here tonight.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says quietly.

Castiel clears his throat. “Hello, Dean.”

Onto Part II

[doodleimprovement]

Of Brothers and Moonjumpers - AHIT Victorian AU Fic

This one is long enough to be an actual one shot - be warned! 

----

Marcus Arelius can seem a bit dim from a distance. Always smiling, always pleasant. It seems like willful ignorance if you do not know him.

But if you do know him, you know of his cunning, his wit, his surprising slyness.

Vanessa was well aware of him and his mild disapproval of her, but played up his friendliness in such a way as to leave him with no room to speak.

It was the only way to keep his knowledge and questions about his brother quiet.

What the lady of the house did not count on, was the little servant girl.

While taking a leisurely walk in the courtyard of the manor, he spotted the little girl very eagerly pulling weeds from a neglected little corner.

His corner, he lamented - where he used to grow -

Oh lord he used to grow moonjumpers there!

“Little one, Little one stop!” Marcus shouted, causing the little girl to jump and turn. He spotted the dried moonjumper pinned to the ribbon in her hair  and he rushed over, getting onto one knee “You didn’t touch this while it was living, did you??”

“Wh-uh no!” The girl responded “It was a gift from Miss Delilah. She warned me ‘bout how bad they are”

He looked passed her and saw that whatever moonjumper’s he’d planted there had long since died - such a shame. His brother had taken such good care of them while he was away.

“Well, might I ask what you are doing to my garden?” He asked politely.

“This is your garden? There’s not a lot here” She tilted her head “Miss Cici told me to take out the weeds so it looks nice, and plants these peterpoppies” She pointed to the five lovely, large, hardy flower plants, with bright red petals and blue-green stems.

“Ah, Peterpoppies.” he looked at the flowers over “I do love these - perfect autumn flowers.. if being planted a bit late” He muttered “Do you need any help, little one?”

She furrowed her brow

“Who are you?”

“Oh, I'm sorry, how rude of me!” he got on both knees, dirtying his navy breeches. “I am Markus Arelius. What is your name?”

“Harriet Timms!” She grinned “Are you related to the lord?”

“Indeed I am! I’m his twin. I live in HoriHollow, a day's journey from here.

“Oh, wow, that’s a big city, right?”

Markus laughed a bit “I suppose it depends on your definition” he contemplated “Though HoriHollow is certainly bigger than Subcon”

“I’m from Marfa Town” She commented, turning around and getting back to pulling weeds. Markus began to assist her, grabbing at the more stubborn ones on her behalf

“Marfa town? That’s not too far from here”

“Yeah. I lived at Mother Rumbi’s” Harriet commented “But then they sent me here”

Ah yes, Markus knew of this type of thing.

“So you are like Morgan, then?”

“What?”

“Like Morgan. She was given to the manor by an orphanage close to the border known as “Alpengott””

Harriet’s brow furrowed “I … didn’t know that. Huh”

“She didn’t tell you?” Markus chuckled, grabbing another weed “She would not stop talking about it a few years ago.”

“Well I wasn’t here a few years ago” Harriet commented, grabbing at the trowel to dig a hole for one of the peterpoppies.

“Fair enough” Markus nodded, grabbing one of the flowers and loosening the dirt.

The two fell into a silent rhythm for a few minutes pulling weeds and planting the flowers together.

“Uh, Mister Lord Markus…?” Harriet looked up to him

The man chuckled at her addressing “You can simply call me Mister Markus, if you wish”

“Oh, okay!” She grinned at him- he couldn’t help but grin back. Oh, his brother would love this little servant girl.

“So uh, Mister Markus… Do you know where Lord Lukas went? Lady Vanessa said he was traveling the world but.. He’s been gone for a long time, right?”

“.. Yes, he has.. I was in HoriHollow when he left. The letter Vanessa sent to me told of him having a prophetic dream and leaving without so much as a goodbye even to her” he explained “It came shortly after a letter from him, proclaiming a party he wished to host to celebrate their 5 year wedding anniversary. He seemed so excited I …” The man drifted off, holding the last peterpoppy in his hand “... I genuinely do not understand why he didn’t come to HoriHollow first. Why he went straight to London and … left”

Harriet paused for a minute “... What does lord Lukas look like?” She asked “I’ve never seen any pictures of him…”

“Oh, I have one!” Markus reached into his jacket, pulling out a rather large pocket watch that fit firmly in his hand. He popped it open, and showed the little girl the picture.

“He was so suspicious of the photographer and the camera, but I got him to stay still for just one photo. This was taken a few months before he left”

Harriet nearly choked on her own words.

The man in the photo. With the not unkind expression and shorter hair and fuller face… It was Snatcher. It was the man in the basement

She struggled with how to vocalize this.

“... He as a dumb face” was all she could come up with, causing Markus to pause and then laughed out loud, boisterously, with a volume that seemed to echo into the sky.

“Well if he has a dumb face than so do I! Perhaps dumber even, with my missing eye and all that” he laughed, still as he spoke, trying to calm himself down.

“Oh uh, uhm” She tried to backtrack.

“What on earth are you two doing?”

The two of them looked over at the voice, where the Lady of the house stood stiffly.

“Ah, good afternoon Vanessa. I was just helping little Miss Timms here with the flowers. This was my corner, after all” Markus stood, a stiff smile on his face.

“Ah... “ Vanessa looked down at Harriet, and the girl stayed on her knees, not looking at the lady of the house “And what were you two talking about?”

“Oh, I was just showing them that photo I have of Lukas” He showed the photo “She’s never seen Lukas since he went … on his trip”

Vanessa leveled another glare at Harriet, which Markus caught this time around.

“Yes…. I do hope he sends a letter soon. I’ll be sure to write you the moment it comes… when it does” Vanessa returned his tight smile “Will you be joining me for dinner?”

“I shall, yes. Let me return to my room to change. Gardening is dirty work, after all” He responded.

“Ah yes…. I shall see you in the parlor then” The lady of the house turned on her heel and left the center garden, leaving Harriet and Markus alone again.

“.... Are you alright, little Harriet?” Markus looked down at her with a pensive expression.

Unable to maintain eye contact, Harriet nodded and went to collect the weeds into a basket for them to be fed to the cattle.

“‘M fine, mister Markus.. Lady Vanessa can be lil’ intimidating but it's okay”

“... If you are sure” he leveled back at her.

Harriet simply nodded and stood up “uh, Mister Markus, can I ask you something?”

“Indeed you may” he invited

“... Miss Cici told me that in order to run the manor, you have to uh, make a deal with the forest” She started nervously “... Do you know what Lady Vanessa gave up?”

Markus paused, taking a moment to think. He’d been contemplating that very question for years, but she didn’t seem very… different, from the woman he knew before his brother disappeared. Somewhat suspicious of the child’s question, he still answered honestly.

“... I do not, no.” he looked to the door where Vanessa left “Might I ask you a question?”

She finally looked up at him, her deep eyes knowing… something

“... Does my sister in-law ever talk of my brother? How do you know of him?”

Harriet’s brow furrowed, twisting her apron in one hand “Uh… Once or twice… I heard about him from the other people that work here. I uh.. Heard he likes Cici’s cinnamon bread?”

Markus let his shoulders relax a tad “That he did… He would often eat it in less than a dozen bites. Fascinated me, really”

Harriet snorted “Sounds right?”

“Oh? Have his food related exploits really been gossiped about so keenly?”

“Maybe” She grinned, her smile not even hiding that she knew something.

Harriet head back for the door

“Hey, Mister Markus?”

“Another question, little one?” He asked, walking towards her

“No but… I have a feeling that Lord Lukas will be coming home soon” She stated “I just… It feels like something I *know*” She affirmed, the determination on her face giving him a strange feeling in his chest.

Like he wanted to believe her.

“Well… Let’s hope that you’re correct, Little Harriet. I miss my brother very much”

She smiled back up at him “I hope I am too” she responded, before turning the corner with her basket in tow.

That little girl knew something, Markus was sure.

And yet… he still hoped that she was correct.

[cyberrat]

32nd Batch Of Fics: 8th Fill

McCree/Hanzo – cont B31F9 – negotiations; mentions of subdrop/domdrop – McCree gets his shit together while Hanzo stays forever in denial.

---

Hanzo has never had much time to just lounge and watch TV, and he finds that he does not particularly enjoy the pastime. It’s dreary and beneath his standing. He can feel himself getting dumber by every second he tries desperately to find something with just a little bit of class.

When his communicator buzzes he just glances over, then jolts upright when he sees that the message is from McCree.

His throat goes stupidly tight immediately. It’s been a couple weeks now without any contact to McCree and he’s spent more time than he likes to admit talking himself out of contacting him.

He reaches over, belly aching as he opens the message.

[Alright. Let’s talk]

Hanzo slowly folds his legs beneath himself until he is kneeling on his bed. He stares at the message, brows furrowed, trying to figure out whether this is a good sign or a bad sign. His fingers are hovering, brain jumbling around the question as to where McCree wants to meet when another message arrives.

[I got a few questions. You ever had a sub?]

Hanzo squints at the screen. He slowly lets go with one hand, rubs it over his thigh, then repeats the motion with the other hand. In his head, he can hear McCree’s deep, syrupy voice drawl the sentences, automatically slurring the ending of some words into a mess that had infuriated Hanzo immensely just half a year ago. By now he finds it comforting.

(Most people I bed are submissive towards me. I am not interested in anything else.)

[So you identify yourself as a Dom?]

(You are hinting at the BDSM lifestyle. I have not spent much thought on it.)

There’s almost five minutes of no answer in which Hanzo starts to feel progressively more… anxious. He is just searching up some BDSM sites, unsure where McCree is going with this line of questioning, when another message pops up at the top of his communicator and he clicks it before he consciously reads the preview.

[You’re a stupid piece of shit but I guess I got that coming. Could’ve asked, I suppose.]

Hanzo is almost distracted from the sudden, fierce flare of anger by how precise McCree’s diction is in writing. His nostrils flare and he tries to keep his temper in check, but he has to correct his spelling a few times because his thumbs move jerkily across the small, glowing keyboard.

(I can’t follow you. I don’t see the problematic. You are into the lifestyle, and I do not mind.)

[Shimada]

There’s a minute of pause where nothing happens, like McCree has to fight with himself or something. Hanzo quietly waits, slightly curled forward, staring at the screen until finally the next message pops up.

[You can’t just play with someone like this, whether I’m in the scene or not, and just fly by the seat of your pants]

He frowns, fingers drumming against the back of his communicator. It’s not a good idea to use it for this conversation, but the texts are better encrypted than if they used their phones.

(I’ve always played like this. Nobody ever complained.)

[Because you’ve always had one-night stands or some shit.]

[Damn, this is getting complicated.]

[Come to the roof. Bring coffee.]

Hanzo squints at the few lines. He hesitates but stands eventually, feeling like he had to… make something up to McCree for some reason, so he quietly follows the instructions along.

As McCree had said, he is on the rooftop; the lazy line of smoke crawling up from behind a structure giving him away. When Hanzo rounds it, he is sitting on a low stool he must have dragged up there, communicator still precariously balanced on his knee. He tugs it away when he sees Hanzo, and takes the coffee mug with a grunt of thanks.

As he takes a sip, his dark eyes stare at Hanzo in a way that Hanzo is not used to from this man. There’s something sharp in that gaze; not at all like the easy going drunk McCree usually likes to show people.

Hanzo crosses his arms in front of his chest, leans with his ass against the structure McCree has used as a protection from the wind, and looks to the side. When McCree starts speaking, he does not look at him.

“Alright, listen to me.” He shifts a little, and Hanzo can see from the corner of his eyes how he pulls his long legs from the low wall he had them propped on and sits forward, elbows on his spread knees. He, too, isn’t looking at Hanzo; at least this whole thing seems to be as uncomfortable for him as it is for Hanzo.

“I don’t care what you’ve done with other people before me. I don’t care whether they enjoyed it or not or whether they told you or not. I like the way you do this shit, which is why I wanted t’ play more often. I’ve never really had a steady Dom, so I never really realized that I-”

He pauses for a moment, staring at his hands that he has clasped tightly between his knees. Hanzo realizes that he has turned his head at some point and is now directly staring at Jesse after all; watching how the tall man has folded himself up so neatly while he tries to figure out how to say what he has to say.

“I enjoy how strict you are, an’ how you handle me, but… apparently I can’t deal with it on a regular basis. Gettin’ continuously told what a failure I am isn’t good for me in the long run.”

Hanzo tries to ignore how that makes his chest ache, or how difficult it becomes to breathe. He swallows hard.

“So you just want to break it off. You could have said that sooner. It would have spared me the trouble of… all of this,” he says with disdain, and McCree lifts his head to stare at him before he unfolds himself to stand at his towering height, suddenly close enough that Hanzo can smell him.

“No, you idiot! I just mean t’ say that I need ya to fuckin’ learn this whole shit an’ start with some fuckin’ aftercare!”

Hanzo tries not to recoil, but he can feel himself pulling back from McCree even so, biting the tip of his tongue so he won’t just bark out whatever hateful thing he can think of first.

“I don’t-”

“Understand? Damn, you’re dense sometimes.”

McCree pulls his hat off and drags his hand through his messy hair. He pins Hanzo to the spot with a stare that goes right through Hanzo like an electric current.

“I want you to learn, and become better, because I wanna play more, but this past month or so has been shit, an’ I don’t wanna have any of that anymore.”

Hanzo bristles at the insinuation that he is not the best at everything he does, and he can see in the twitch of McCree’s sensual wide mouth that he knew exactly he’d have him by the balls if he said that.

“I got some literature for ya. Grab the coffee and come to my rooms.”

[softspiderling]

of broken promises and heartbreak - part one | t.h.

Summary: It’s been six years since you and Tom broke up, six years since you’ve last seen each other. A lot has happened, Tom got insanely famous, making countless billion dollar movies, attending one red-carpet event after the other. But now he was attending one event, he wasn’t sure he was ready for. Your wedding. And he wasn’t attending as your groom.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Song I listened to while writing: Rescue Me by OneRepublic

Author’s Note: I have two other WIPs I have to finish writing and of course I started writing a new piece. #sorrynotsorry I am planning to do a second part, if you’re interested, pls let me know.

Warnings: some swearing, angst

Word Count: 3,4k

Masterlist

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR

Tom straightens his shirt as he stares in the mirror, a frown etched on his face. He can hear hushed conversations in the room next door and he knows that his brothers are waiting for him to come out of the room. Tom can’t believe that he is getting ready for rehearsal dinner of his ex-girlfriend. He figures it could be a bit odd for bystanders to know that you would invite your ex and his family to your wedding, but you’ve always been close with his family. It was something Tom always cherished, seeing you getting along with his parents and brothers so well while you were dating.

After the break-up on the other hand, it bothered him that you still had contact with his mum. It was selfish, he knew that now, but he always wanted his mum to be on his side, he was her son after all. He was pretty stupid. He always thought of you being the one that got away, even though he was the one who let you go.

The two of you were sitting on your couch; tears were pooling in your eyes while Tom’s were directed at anything but at you.

“I- where is this coming from?” you asked, fingers pulling on the threads of the ratty t shirt you were wearing. “I thought we were happy… I am happy, aren’t you?” your voice broke as you looked at the side of his head, while he was staring at the wall in front of him.

Framed photos were decorating the walls of your living room, pictures of your friends and family. Pictures of you and Tom smiling, hugging, kissing, being happy. Unlike now.

“I am not as happy as I used to be,” Tom said quietly and he exhaled softly. “I don’t think that I can give you what you need, Y/N.” He kept his eyes on the wall, until he caught sight of a picture from the two of your from your last vacation together; cheek to cheek, smiling brightly at the camera. He dropped his gaze to the floor, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stomach looking at you.

He used to promise to you to always be there, whether it be good or bad times. But recently it had been more bad than good times, and he wasn’t sure if it was still what he wanted. You were so young and when the two of you started dating, you were even younger, bright eyed, naïve that what you had could last for a life time.

He felt like no matter no much he tried, there was still something missing and there came the times when he’d rather spend a night out with Harrison and Jacob instead of watching a movie with you. A fear settled in his stomach, spreading throughout his body as time passed. The fear of missing out.

His friends had told him how lucky he was, to have found someone so perfect for him in his young years, while the rest of his friends were still looking for the one, alternating between different girls. Tom sometimes envied them of their freedom. Not that you were caging him in, but he always felt certain restraints when he went clubbing with his friends, nursing on his drink at the bar while the rest of the boys were grinding with different girls on the dance floor.

He was happy with you. Going furniture shopping for your apartment, picking out flowers for your friend’s birthday, he loved spending time with you. But the domesticity scared him.

“I only need you!” you assured him, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand. “That’s the problem!” Tom exclaimed, his voice rising. “I don’t want to be the lifeline you cling to, I need my space. We always do everything together. We’re still so young and I feel like were an old married couple already.”

“What?” you said confusedly, a hiccup escaping your lips. That was the one thing you and Tom always loved about your relationship, at least that was what you always thought.

The harmless bickering, the comfort you felt around each other as if you’ve been together forever.

“I am only 20, Y/N. I am supposed to be out there, living my life. Hell, I am flying out to New York next week to film Spider-Man.”

“And you know I am so happy for you, Tom. Why are you acting like I am holding you back? I am so confused, we’ve been dating for two years and suddenly you feel like you’re missing out on life?” you asked him, tucking your hair back. He was treating you like a child hanging onto him like he was your mother.

Tom clenched his jaw and raked his fingers through his hair as your words sunk in. Suddenly he felt stupid and exposed. He knew he was being unfair to you, projecting his insecurities onto you. But at that time, he felt like this was the right thing to do.

“I am sorry, Y/N. It’s over.” He said quietly as he got up, turning his back to you. You scoffed as new tears spilled over your cheek, but you stared at the ceiling.

“You know, you are going to regret this, right? I am not going to fight you on this, because I know you think you’re doing the right thing for both of us. You’ve had it all, Tom.”

His feet stilled, hand on the door knob. It wasn’t too late, he could still turn around and tell you that it was a mistake and that he would make it up to you, but he was too weak. Deep inside him, he knew that you were right about everything, but Tom somehow couldn’t find the strength to turn around.

“I am sorry.” He whispered once more before he opened the door and left.

It’s been six years since Tom has seen you, and in the six years, he realized two things. One: Breaking up with you was the dumbest thing he has ever done. Two: the happier you got, the more miserable he became. And now he’s getting ready for your rehearsal dinner, a day before your wedding. He really fucked up.

A knock on the door brings Tom back to reality.

“Hey mate, you ready?”

Harrison leans against the door frame of Tom’s hotel room, out of the three boys waiting in the common room next door, he was the one volunteering to talk to the fidgeting boy (man, really).

“This is really stupid,” Tom mumbles, fingering the end of his dark red tie.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea for me to come?”

Harrison sighs and pushes himself off the door frame.

“Tom, Y/N invited you.”

“She invited my family,” Tom points out. “I didn’t get a personal invitation like you did.”

“That’s because my family wasn’t invited. Tom, you two dated and she was really close with your family, why would you get a separate invitation from your family? The Holland family was invited, Not ‘Holland family minus Tom’,” Harrison states and the brown haired man sighs, rubbing his face with his hand.

“I am being dumb, right?” he asks his best friend and Harrison nods, slinging an arm around the shorter one. “Yeah, but no dumber than usual.”

“Piss off,” Tom snorts and shoves Harrison off of him, fixing his dress shirt.

“And Y/N told me she’s really excited to see you,” Harrison mentions off handedly and Tom’s heart almost jumps out of his chest.

“She told you what?” he presses out, his voice several octaves higher than five seconds ago.

Harrison rubs the back of his neck, wincing at the tone.

He was the one who introduced the two of you and after the break up, Harrison was caught in between two people, never wanting to pick a side, not wanting to hurt his best friend or you.

Though there was no contact between you and Tom, Harrison often functioned as the neutral middle man.

It happened all too often, that when Tom was hanging out with Harrison, that the latter would dick around on Instagram and stumble upon a story you posted, your voice booming out of the speakers of the phone before he could exit the app. The silence that followed wasn’t the most comfortable, to say the least.

“You know I talk to her, Tom,” Harrison says carefully and Tom stares at the blonde, his mouth agape before snapping it shut, bristling.

“Of course you are,” he mutters, his head full of questions. Why would you be excited to see him? How much have you changed? Did you still have any feelings for him? Tom clenches his fist and clears his head, before punching the wall next to the mirror, leaving it dented, the wallpaper ripped.

Harrison watches his friend quietly, placing his hand on his shoulder.

“Mate, maybe you should stay here,” he suggests and Tom shakes his head quickly. “NO! No, I- I should be happy for her. It’s my fault, this is just…”

“Hard, I know. But I am here for you,” Harrison promises. “Boys, the car is here,” Harry calls from the other room.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Tom mumbles to himself and grabs his jacket, before leaving the hotel room with the twins in tow, heading downstairs to the car that would take them to the venue of the rehearsal dinner.

oOo

“You ready babe? Guests are already coming through the door,” Levi says as you check your reflection in the mirror one last time.

“Yeah, just checking my make up again,” you hum, touching up on your lipstick, your lips widening in a smile when your fiancé wraps his arms around your waist.

“You look perfect,” he tells you and you giggle, closing the cap of your lipstick. “No need for charming, I already said yes,” you tease and Levi kisses you on the cheek before pulling away.

“Yeah yeah, one day when we’re old and grey, you’ll miss me charming you,” he sings, before lacing his hand with yours, tugging you out of the room to greet your guests.

“I’ll see you later, yeah,” Levi whispers and parts after giving you a soft kiss, leaving to greet his college friends. You watch him leave before you head over to your bridesmaids.

“Rehearsal dinners are so American,” Tina says, while Hannah hands you a glass of champagne. “Since when do you complain about an event that involves food?” you laugh, nipping on the champagne.

“I am not complaining, just pointing out,” Tina snorts and eyes the guests trickling in. “So, anyone interesting coming tonight?” Vica asks, stirring her martini.

“All of my guests are interesting, Vic,” you hum with a grin, swallowing the champagne, as the beverage burns your throat. You’ve never liked champagne, but you were pretty sure you aren’t going to survive the night without any drinks.

Hannah watches you suspiciously, her finger nails tapping against her glass. “Is Tom coming?”

Vica chokes on her martini, coughing. “Holy shit, you invited your ex?!”

You roll your eyes at her and empty the rest of the champagne into your mouth, before placing the glass on a tray. Considering that Vica was your best friend and maid of honor, she really had a knack for missing important details.

“Yeah, I told you that when I sent out the invites,” you sigh and shake out your fingers. “I still think it was a bad idea, I mean, your break up wasn’t exactly amicable,” Tina says and Hannah hums with a shrug of her shoulders. “So what? That was six years ago, they’re both adults.”

“Plus, now you can say that a famous movie star is attending your wedding, how cool is that?” Vica waggles with her eyebrows, making the other girls snort.

“You guys are the worst,” you declare, squeezing their hands. “I gotta go though, my god-aunt is here. I’ll see you guys around, yeah? Stay out of trouble,” you warn your girlfriends, heading over to the entrance of the venue.

oOo

Tom wipes his sweaty hands on his pants as he trails behind Harrison and his brothers into the venue, glancing around the halls.

During the ride to the venue, he had managed to keep his nerves at bay, but now that he was seconds away from seeing you again, he was also seconds away from combusting. He looks at the people standing by the entrance of venue, not recognizing any of the guests, exhaling slowly. He sees a dark haired guy in suit talking animatedly to a group of men and he wonders if that is the man you are going to marry tomorrow, before letting his eyes wander.

The moment Tom sees and recognizes you, he is pretty sure his heart skipped a beat. You haven’t seen him yet, so he let himself stare at you a bit. He admires the way your hair looks with the sun shining on it, your eyes sparkling with happiness, your lips painted with a delicate red, the color similar to the color of your dress.

Tom has always liked red on you, just as much as you liked red on him, which was probably the main reason why he had picked out the red colored tie.

Suddenly, your eyes find his and a flush creeps on his cheeks when he realizes that he’s been caught staring, while you look surprised, before your face melts into a happy one, though he can detect an unreadable tone. He used to be able to read you so easily, but after all this time, Tom can’t tell if you were happy to see him.

“- you know our garden, we’ve really struggled with finding a spot for the mango-.” “Would you excuse me, Tamara, I have to greet my other guests,” you say to your god-aunt with a smile, before walking over to Tom, exhaling softly. This is the first time meeting him since your break up.

Even though you’ve been trying to avoid his face as much as you could, it was kind of impossible considering he was a famous movie star. You even watched all of the marvel movies, despite the tugs on your heartstrings every time you saw his face on the screen, but you’ve always been a fan of his acting.

You bet he’s really thankful for his acting skills now, you figure it’s not easy attending the wedding of your ex-girlfriend.

“Y/N!” Harry calls out and a smile breaks out on your face as you hug Harry first and then Sam, sighing into the hugs.

“Hey guys, I am so glad you could make it,” you tell them and beam at Harrison, who wraps you in a tight hug.

“You look beautiful, Y/N,” Harrison says, before his voice drops into a whisper.

“He’s really nervous, love. Don’t let him fool you.”

You frown, giving Harrison a look as you pull away, before smiling awkwardly at Tom, tucking your hair behind your ear.

How were you supposed to greet your ex? A handshake? Hug?

Tom cleared his throat, before dazzling you with a wide smile, a smile, you’ve seen on too many red carpet photos.

“Y/N, hi. It’s really good to see you,” he says, hugging you before kissing your cheek, making you still in his arms.

“Uh, Tom, hi,” you say perplexed, your chest tightening. The greeting seemed so cold, even if he kissed your cheek.

“Thanks for inviting me, I hadn’t expected an invitation, to be honest,” Tom tells you and you laugh nervously. “Yeah, no, of course. I am surprised that you could attend, I am sure you’re missing out on some important event.”

“It’s your wedding, darlin’, I wouldn’t miss this for anything,” he assures you and you furrow your brows. That was such a weird thing to say.

“Right… Where are Paddy and your parents? I am pretty sure they RSVP’ed that the whole family was attending,” you mention.

“They’re flying in right now, but they will be at the wedding tomorrow. Don’t you worry, they’ve been looking forward to this,” Sam says and you smile at him, thankful for the interruption. The conversation with Tom was so uncomfortable, it never used to be like this with the two of you. You wondered if he had changed with all the fame.

“Oh, okay, I am glad. I haven’t seen them in ages,” you reply, jumping slightly when an arm snakes around your waist. You look up to see Levi smiling at the four boys and out of the corner of your eye, you could see Tom clenching his jaw.

“Hey babe.”

“Levi, this is Harry, Sam, Harrison and-“

“Tom, I presume?” Levi interrupts you and you frown, before schooling your face into a smile.

“Yeah, mate, nice to meet you,” Tom says, shaking Levi’s hand; their eyes never leaving the other’s.

You watched them, noticing the tension between them. The other three boys exchange looks before Harrison speaks up.

“So, what’s a guy gotta do to get a drink?” he asks and you exhale, gesturing to the bar.

“You can get drinks over there, I made sure they serve some proper English beer for you guys,” you laugh and Harrison claps his hands.

“Excellent.”

“Come on, babe, I want to introduce you to my friends,” Levi says and squeezes your side and you nod, smiling at the four English boys. “Have fun guys,” you tell them and with one last look at Tom, you and Levi leave to talk to other guests.

As soon as you leave, Harrison punches Tom in the shoulder.

“Ow! What the hell was that for!” Tom exclaims, rubbing his shoulders.

“’Darlin’, I wouldn’t miss this wedding for anything’?” Harrison mocks him, while Harry and Sam nod in agreement. “That was the most uncomfortable conversation I was ever a part of, bro. I thought you were nervous,” Harry asks and Tom scoffs.

“I am nervous, what are you talking about?”

“You acted like a dickhead,” Sam tells him and Tom’s face drops. “I didn’t do anything, I just greeted her like I would greet someone on the red carpet, you know, professional,” he argues and Harrison facepalmed, groaning.

“Mate, forget professional. There was a time that you wanted to be the one next to Y/N at a rehearsal dinner, this is not the time and place to act professional,” he says. “She was already so uncomfortable and adding that pissing contest with her fiancé? Mate, you gotta cool down.”

Tom scowls and turns his head to the bar.

“There was no contest, I already lost,” he says quietly. Harrison clasps Tom on the back, making eye contact with the twins. “Cheer up. Let’s get some of the beers Y/N mentioned and I promise it’ll be fine.”

oOo

Levi clinks a spoon against the champagne glass he’s been holding, calling for the attention of his guests.

“Everyone, I welcome you to Y/N and my rehearsal dinner. In a couple of minutes, the first course will be brought out and I hope you all enjoy yourselves, because I certainly do,” he grins and presses a kiss to your cheek.

The guests all cheer and clap, though you can see Tom nursing a beer at the table in the back.

His behavior really irritated you, even with Harrison’s warning. He didn’t act like the Tom you knew, the Tom you loved and cherished.

It was like he put up an act and you’ve never felt so estranged him like right now, even though this is the closest you’ve been to him since six years.

As the first course is brought out by the staff, you excuse yourself from your guests, pushing your chair back.

‘You okay?’ Vica mouths at you and you nod, giving her a small smile. You head out to the side entrance, to catch some fresh air, feeling overwhelmed and so hot.

You lean against the wall of the building, exhaling softly, closing your eyes. Even though it has been six years since the breakup, seeing Tom again really brought all sorts of feelings back, and you’ve never been able to deal with stressful situations, it’s needless to say that this is more than stressful for you.

“Y/N?” someone asks tentatively and you look up just to see the cause of the situation you’re currently in.

“Hey Tom,” you say softly, blinking in surprise as he steps closer to you.

“Can we talk?”

next >

[i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend]

The Games We Play ~ Steve Rogers x Reader

A/N: Hi my lovelies! Happy Saturday! This has been sitting in my drafts for a  while and I thought I’d share. Hope you enjoy. 

Summary: At one of Tony’s parties the team hopes some truth or dare will get you and Steve to admit your feelings. But will it work? 

Characters/Pairings: Wanda, Nat, Steve, Bucky, Sam, Thor (others mentioned) 

Rating: T 

Warnings: Language, Jealous!Steve, hints of Possessive!Steve

Word Count: 1085

“I can’t believe that you’re making me do this,” you huffed. “It’s like we’re not even friends.”

“You are so dramatic,” Wanda teased from inside your closet.

“You’d think we were sending you out to fight HYDRA alone, not bringing you to a party.”

“I’d rather fight HYDRA alone,” you grumbled as you crossed your arms over your chest and pouted somewhat petulantly.

“Well, you can do that some other night. Tonight you’re going to put on a pretty dress, come downstairs, have a few drinks, and maybe get a certain super soldier to pay attention to you in the process.” Nat laid it out for you and you knew it wasn’t worth arguing. “Well more attention that is.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Oh you don’t?” she asked innocently. “You mean you don’t remember the guy you make heart eyes at during every briefing?”

“And make coffee for in the morning, even though you hate being up before nine,” Wanda added on.

“And who you make sure never does reports alone. Even when you didn’t have a mission.”

“He’s tall. Gorgeous blue eyes.”

“Waist to shoulder ratio of a Dorito,” Nat muttered.

“Okay, okay. Maybe I know who you’re talking about, but nothing is going to happen. He doesn’t like me that way.”

“That’s not what Bucky and Sam say.”

“Or Tony and Thor.”

“Have you told the whole team about my stupid little crush?” you huffed.

“Actually we didn’t even bring it up. They started complaining about how Steve never shuts up about you.”    

Your eyes widened in surprise.

“He’s probably annoyed with me. That’s why.”

“Doubtful. Come on, put this on.”

Wanda held up a simple black skater dress that landed just above your knee and had a vertical slit ending at your solar plexus.  

“That was not in my closet an hour ago.”

“Consider it an early birthday present.”

They were up to something you could feel it. But the dress was your style and it was your first night off in months so you took it with a muttered thanks.

Wanda styled your hair up and wouldn’t let you wear a necklace. You found it odd, but didn’t question it. Natasha did your make up choosing to go for a natural look. You had to admit that you looked hot.

“There’s that smile. Alright let’s go,” Natasha grinned.

You slid on the bright blue strappy heels that matched your lingerie (no one else needed to know that) and stood up.

“Let’s get this over with,” you huffed, although there were trills of excitement shooting through you.

“That’s the spirit.”

 You first shot of tequila did a good job of loosening you up. At least until Steve walked in with Sam and Bucky.

“Does he have to be so hot all the time? Like tell me it gets better. I’ve only been here for three years, tell me at some point he looks less than perfect.”

“Okay, maybe we’re only giving you one drink tonight.”

You rolled your eyes at Nat, before sneaking another peek at Steve. The boys had stopped to chat with Thor and Brunhilde.

When Bucky caught your eye and smirked at you, you wanted to crawl into a hole. You knew he was about to point you out to Steve so you turned back to the bar and ordered another shot of tequila.

“They’re coming this way.”

“I think I’m going to go say hi to Tony.”

“Don’t you dare,” Nat warned, and Wanda fisted the back of your dress. You repressed the urge to glare at them.

“Good evening, ladies,” Sam grinned as the five of them approached. “Looking good.”

“Not too bad yourself.”

Steve couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.

“That’s a hell of a dress, doll,” Bucky smirked as he looked you up and down.

“Thanks, Buck. It was a present from Wanda.”

“I thought it was particularly flattering. Don’t you agree, Steve?” Wanda smiled up at him innocently as she gestured for you to spin.

You rolled your eyes but you obliged when Thor took your hand and led you around in a small circle.

“Yeah, it’s really something else.”

You missed the glare Steve sent Wanda’s way. You looked tempting in all the right ways and he knew that wasn’t by chance.

 “Steve, truth or dare?” Sam asked after signaling Thor to add more mead to Steve’s drink.

“Truth.”

“Shocker,” Bucky muttered, earning him an elbow in the ribs.

“What turns you on the most?”

“Oh I know this. There’s a little switch at the back of his neck,” Tony quipped.

“Pretty sure that’s you, shell head,” You sniped back and Steve shot you a grateful smile.

“Fess up, Steve. You’re still in the hot seat,” Sam reminded him. “What turns you on the most? And it has to be a physical thing. Not some cop out bullshit like her brain.”

“Hickeys. Really obvious hickeys,” Steve finally admitted, eyes sliding to you unbidden, drinking in the sight of your exposed neck.

You shivered when you felt his gaze. Your hairstyle suddenly made a bit more sense. You thought your accusation loudly in Wanda’s direction and she simply winked at you.

“Territorial much, punk?”

“You’re one to talk, jerk.”

Bucky glared and Steve turned smug. You filed that away for a good follow up question if you got the opportunity.  

 After that, the guys got into a dare war so you stopped paying attention. They always got dumber and more dangerous as the night went on.

You only tuned back in when Natasha was up. Hers were always amusing.

“I dare you to kiss the person in this room you’re the most curious about.”

“Curious about…”

“Sex, their stamp collection, whatever. No better way to get to know somebody than by kissing them, right?”

“Right you are.”

Before you knew it the blonde was on his feet and striding over to you and you were staring at him incredulously.

“Me?”

“You,” he grinned as he leaned in, but he hesitated just as your lips were about to meet. “Is this alright?”

You nodded and with that he kissed you. The kiss was short and sweet and really just curious. And when Thor pulled back you were surprised you didn’t follow after him. You couldn’t help yourself as your eyes darted to Steve, whose normally sky blue eyes were dark with annoyance, and maybe something else. They seemed to flash before he was on his feet making an excuse about paperwork.

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

A/N: Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed! Please don’t hate me lol  I might do a part 2 but no promises. 

xoxo

Naynay

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[snarkwriteswrasslin]

what ifs; adam page [one]

Notes:

This is my rewrite / alternate version of my fic Wild Side. Yeah, I’m gonna post and continue both on this blog. If I can just get myself unstuck / out of the hole I wrote myself into with Wild Side, that’d be fuckin gr9.. But for now, it’s time to put everything I have so far for What If’s on this blog, I think. Ya’ll.. I swear I plan to update this soon. I have plans. I just.. have to make my brain form the words/sentences. 

Summary:

Adam and Ivy went from childhood best friends, to a couple and then they were torn apart by life and it’s pesky obstacles. Those pesky obstacles have thrown them back together now, when it seems they need each other -and most importantly, their closure, the most. Will they rekindle their flame or will everything fizzle out and die before it’s given a proper chance to grow? And just how are they going to handle all the things currently going on in each other’s lives?

Warnings:

alcohol tw, mentions of stripping / exotic dance culture, angst... heavy angst to start with. slow burn. awkward situations and occasional flashbacks / memories. fluff eventually. not as of yet, but I promise you, we will get there.

Pairing:

Adam Hangman Page x OFC, Ivy Barlow.

Header made by me. Images from Google. Don’t steal it if you didn’t make it/write it.

“Ivy Barlow?” the words of the cardiologist echoed through a mostly silent waiting room as the cardiologist looked around, trying to locate the daughter of his patient.

Ivy’s head snapped up and she rubbed her eyes. The older man walked over and sat down and Ivy swallowed hard. Before he could even get anything out, Ivy felt her eyes starting to sting with unshed tears.

From beside her, her sister Constance was starting to sniffle, shushing her two children so that she and Ivy could hear what the doctor was about to say, both of them holding hands and sharing a scared look. Ivy was the one who asked first.

“Dad… He’s.. He’s okay, right?”

“Your father’s had a heart attack.”

“No.” Constance was about to lose it and start sobbing. Ivy looped her arm around her sister’s shoulder and pulled her against her side and wiped at her eyes, addressing the doctor again. “Is he okay? What’s… Is there anything you can do?”

“We’re preparing to do a stent as we speak, Ms. Barlow. The procedure might take a few hours, but after the fact, we’ll let you both know how it went.”

“A stent… That’s… That’s good, right? It has a fairly good chance of working?” Ivy questioned, starting to feel a little numb from the shock of it all. Not even 24 hours ago, her father had been fine, they’d been face - timing and she’d been laughing at him as he bitched about one of the cows from the Henderson farm up the road getting in with his herd and the chaos that ensued. She’d been offhandedly making plans to return to West Virginia to visit as soon as she got a break from work and wedding planning.

Just the thought of Ty and their argument before she broke it off and left had her annoyed all over again. And twice as sure that she’d made the right choice, the best choice.

Her family came first. If Ty didn’t understand that by now, Ty wasn’t ever going to understand it. His reaction to her postponing the wedding to return to West Virginia to care for her father and help him on the farm clearly showed her just how wrong she’d been about the man she’d been about to settle for.

Because she made no mistake about it. She’d had about 9 hours to stew on the whole thing and Ty was simply someone she settled for.

The cardiologist explained the procedure to her and her sister Constance and after he walked away, Constance took a shaky breath, glancing at Ivy. “Dad’s gonna be fine. It’s the farm I’m worried about, sis.”

“The farm?”

“Yeah, you know last year was rough… With those 3 cows getting trich right before time for market and then the tractor going tits up. Dad… He had to take out a few loans. Then he started getting sick.”

“Why didn’t he tell me?” Ivy asked as she met her sister’s gaze, taking a deep breath and digesting what her sister was telling her.

“Because.” Constance air quoted, “You were out there in Florida doin’ things with your life like you always planned. He didn’t want to disrupt that. Guess he felt like losin’ Mom was bad enough and he didn’t wanna make you feel like you had to come back here. We all know you were hell bent on leavin’ anyway, even before Mom uprooted me n’ you n’ Carly back then.”

Ivy’s mouth opened and closed and she gaped at her sister. Finally, she managed to get out the truth. “I never wanted to leave, actually. I just adjusted to what Mom put us through because she made it seem like that was the only option we had to ‘really live life’. It was not something I would’ve chosen, otherwise.”

“I… I didn’t know.” Constance muttered after a few seconds as she squeezed her younger sister’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

Ivy shrugged and brown eyes darted around the waiting room. “Where the hell is Carly? Typical, it’s home, it’s Daddy, so she’s not comin’ unless there’s a will to be read.”

“Ivy…” Constance took a deep breath but Ivy shook her head firmly. “We all need to be here. He needs us right now. She’s always been selfish like…”

“Like Mom?” Constance questioned, sighing and shaking her head. There may be years between their mother leaving and making them tag along for the ride and now, but she’d never really been able to bring herself to forgive her mother for it. And now, knowing that Ivy hadn’t wanted to leave either and that was the cause of strain between their mother and Ivy, it only made Constance that much more convinced that she was right to keep low contact with their mother. Let her live her dream life in that Miami mansion with the stupid pool boy man on the side and an even dumber plastic surgeon husband. Constance loved the life she had here.

“Exactly.” Ivy sank back into the hard plastic chair, sighing in exhaustion. The past few hours had been scary and frustrating and lonely for her. Her eyes settled on the television screen across the waiting room and when she saw him walking down the ramp and to the ring, she nearly spat out the lukewarm coffee she’d been nursing for an hour and a half now.

“Is that… No. That can’t be… Adam?” Ivy gaped and bit her lip, raising a hand to drag slowly through light brown hair. Constance gave a soft laugh and nodded. “It is, Ivy. He goes by Hangman now.”

“Momma! Hangman!” Ivy’s nephew Jake burst through, tugging at her sister’s sleeve and pointing at the tv.

“Hangman, huh?” Ivy was still gazing at the television set in awe, biting her lip as she took a deep breath or two.

All she could think about was the last conversation she had with him. The night before she wound up being dragged off to Florida to live with her mom.

OoO

“Aw, c’mon. It’ll be fun. Just you n’ me out there together. This is gonna be my ticket outta here, darlin.” Adam’s blue eyes locked on her own and she sighed, biting the inside of her cheek. She didn’t get it honestly, why did he just have to leave? Why did everybody want to take her out of the only home she’d ever really known and wanted to know? She already had her life mapped out… And up to five minutes ago when Adam sprang the news of trying out for some small time wrestling company, she’d thought that he was going to be a part of those plans.

“Adam, I… Nevermind.”

Adam eyed Ivy and took a deep breath. “What’s wrong, hon?” he leaned in, his thumb wiping away a tear that started to roll down her cheek.

“It’s just… I thought you were gonna take over your daddy’s farm… And I was gonna go to WVU with you in the fall and we were…” Ivy paused, taking the chocolate shake from his hands and taking a big sip just to mask her unease at saying too much, giving him too much power to hurt her. Because she knew that if she said it, it was out there and it couldn’t ever be taken back.

“ Darlin’… We can still do that, hell… I mean… I might not even get signed with this company. You know yourself I ain’t the best right now. But if I don’t try, I won’t ever know. ‘Sides..” Adam took a deep breath, fumbling around in his pocket for the locket he’d gotten her. It wasn’t much, but it was a placeholder until he could one day do better. “I’ve always thought it was gonna be you n’ me against the world, remember? It’s just a week. Then we’ll figure things out a lil better..” Adam coaxed.

Ivy gazed at him, taking a few deep breaths. Finally, a smile played at her lips and she gave a slow nod, turning so that he could slip the locket on her neck. “Okay, alright. Why you gotta play dirty, huh? You know I always cave right in when you give me that look, Adam.”

Adam’s nose nuzzled against the side of her neck and he chuckled, pulling her against him, resting his head against her shoulder as he muttered in a shaky whisper, “Love you, Ivy.”

“Love you too, Adam.”

OoO

Constance cleared her throat again and snapped her fingers in front of her sister’s face. “Are you okay, Ivy?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. It was just… weird. Seeing him again after all this time, even if it was just on television.”

“He comes home all the time.” Constance grinned to herself as she said it and watched her sister’s interest perk. Ivy tried to downplay it, but Constance could tell she’d gotten her attention.

“Oh yeah? Nice to know. Maybe he didn’t go off and let the fame go right to his head.” Ivy shrugged and took the pink crayon from Jenny, her niece and went to color in Ariel’s long flowing hair in the picture. But she couldn’t get it all out of her head, either. It was like seeing Adam Page on television a few minutes ago had opened Pandora’s Box for her and now, all those old what if’s were flaring up all over again.

What if she hadn’t just quietly gone with her mother that night? What if she’d fought and made it known that she didn’t intend on leaving the farm? What if she’d actually gotten to say goodbye? What if she’d tried to say goodbye and instead, she and Adam ran off that night together?

Maybe everything would be totally different right now. Maybe it wouldn’t. But at least I’d have a little closure, Ivy sighed as she thought about it and she shook her head, standing to make her way over to the little coffee pot by the nurses station.

–

The further away Adam Page got from the arena, the more solidified the thought became in his mind. He needed to get his head on straight. He needed to regroup and the only place he seemed to be able to do so was at his parents farm. The thought prompted him to pick up his cell phone and scroll through his contacts list, finding his father’s number and hitting call. While he waited on at least one of his parents to answer, he found himself stewing over the argument he’d had with Matt and Nick and Kenny before leaving.

They just weren’t listening, they didn’t care lately and that was beyond frustrating. They called themselves his friends and yet, they didn’t see that everything going on lately was starting to wear him more than a little thin. The more he pushed, the more they shoved. All he wanted to do was pull away for a while… Get some needed distance and be his own man again.

Why was that so damned hard for the three of them to understand?

His father picked up and he raised a brow when he heard the older man swearing and yelling to one of his hands on the farm. “It goes over there, damn it! You know Dalton has a place for everythin’, shit. Act like you got sense, kid.”

“Dad?”

“Hang on a sec, son.” Adam’s father took a sip of coffee and waved over his mother to take the phone. Adam’s mother took the phone from him and eyed her husband.

“It’s our son, woman!”

“Adam? What on Earth are you doin, sweetie? I just got through watchin the replay of last night?”

“I’m… I’m gonna come home a little bit, mom. Just need to think. What’s Dad doin’ on the Bar Low?”

“Ivy’s daddy had a heart attack earlier… So your daddy thought he’d come over and pitch in while Dalton was recoverin because their crop isn’t gonna harvest itself… Are you alright, son?”

Adam sighed and shook his head, found himself thinking bitterly that even knowing her dad was layin in a hospital probably wouldn’t be enough to drag Ivy home..

… because I sure as shit wasn’t enough to keep her around years ago… the thought came, even though by now, Adam knew the truth for the most part. He knew Ivy hadn’t really been given a choice in the matter, but he also felt the bitterness because she didn’t even give him a proper goodbye. She didn’t even try to fight it.

… you know she wasn’t a fighter back then, she just went along with whatever somebody asked of her, tried not to make waves… makin waves was always Connie and Carly’s thing… Adam’s mind veered off and he cleared his throat. “I’m on my way in. What all needs t’ get done?”

“Clever. My sweet clever boy.. You’re not dodgin the discussion we’re gon have. But we’ll figure all that when you get here. How far out are ya?” Adam’s mom smiled to herself as she turned to his father and nudged him. “He’s comin home for a little while!”

“What? It ain’t his downtime. He better not be quittin. Raised more n’ enough hell to go off and do that foolishness, he better not give it up. Ain’t everyday a man gets to accomplish his dream.” Adam’s father muttered, eyeing his wife who shrugged. Adam’s mom repeated her question and bit her lip, excitedly waiting on an answer.

“About 6 hours, give or take.” Adam answered after consulting his GPS. Kenny was flooding the other line with calls but Adam only rolled his eyes and let the calls keep going to voicemail. “Does Ivy? Does she know?” Adam finally bought himself to ask the question, not bothering to keep the annoyance out of his tone at the mention of her name. Adam’s mother sighed and answered calmly, “She’s movin back in, from the looks of it. Came in the mornin after it happened, your daddy was down there half the afternoon helpin her get her things in and do some repairs around the farm…”

She knew about the way things ended. And she knew it hurt her son. But she also knew there were more than two sides to a story and she felt like maybe it was high time they sat down and talked it out. Or yelled it out.

Because Adam hadn’t really been the same since.

And from what Constance let slip on occasion, neither had Ivy.

Closure was needed between the two.

Adam processed what his mother told him and grumbled quietly, taking a deep breath. Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure about his idea to go back to the farm for a few weeks and try to get his head on straight. How the hell was he supposed to do that with his biggest lingering what if right across the field? Knowing they lived in a small town and at some point, he’d inevitably have to run into her.

He was already dreading it.

“Adam?”

“I’m still here, Momma. Just thinkin.”

“Son, it’s been almost ten years. You’re every bit as stubborn as your daddy.” his mother sighed and Adam gave a dry laugh. “I ain’t the one who just up n’ left. Surprised she dragged herself back here. Heard she was doin’ real good down in Florida. Even landed herself a doctor n’ everything.”

“Accordin to what I overheard earlier, she broke it off with the guy. Apparently, he didn’t want her comin back here to do what she needed to do. And he refused t’ come with. She left him n’ came home.”

“Color me shocked.” Adam muttered dryly, letting it sink in. Talking himself right out of even remotely getting his hopes up on any form of closure.

He had more than enough to deal with right now.

Besides, Adam found himself thinking, bet she ain’t given me a second thought. It’s water under the bridge now and that’s where it needs t’ stay. In the past.

The GPS announced his turn and after a few more minutes of conversation, he hung up with his parents and went back to driving and thinking.

And he tried to keep himself from thinking about her being back, but he failed at it miserably and it annoyed the living hell out of him.

[hitandrunduorp-a]

Meeting

Matthew talked to Ezhno once in the past about Demon Hunters, and the other explained to him how many groups existed, and that he kept tabs on them. Even with knowing this, when the wolf asked Mattie to go check out a band that was on the edge of the forest, it surprised him...though it wasn’t the band that surprised him specifically.

“An Angel?” “Mhm...this group’s seemed to have had far too many close calls to just be a coincidence since this ‘Angel’ joined their ranks, and he’s now nearly one of the youngest captain’s, though not quite yet. There’s business on the other side of the forest, so could you take a look at them, and see if you can find out about this supposed ‘holy being’?”

So, equipped and armed just in case (after all, witches don’t have the best relations with hunters...), he set out, and soon he found the group. They weren’t exactly the quietest...

“Drew, you think this is safe?” “Course dude!” “But the people say-” “Yeah, yeah, the place is ‘cursed’ and that ‘demons roam all around!’ but like, I talked with Captain...this is, if anything, the safest place on earth from those little fucks,” Matthew watched from a safe distance, his presence hidden as he followed them. One of them was an ‘angel’...? The blond never met one himself, but he’s heard about them from Ezhno, and so far, none of the members acted in such a way...

“Far from home, aren’t you all?” Matthew’s hood was up, hiding his features as the group turned, shocked to have been snuck up on!

“Who the hell?!” “Forgive me for startling you; don’t tend to get visitors often,” The group looked amongst one another, spare one who was wearing a hat to hide his features as well, who seemed to be starring the hooded boy down. “‘Visit’? You don’t look at all like the Guardian who lives here,” “You’re right; he’s elsewhere at the moment, busy with ‘politics’, I suppose one could say,” “How did you find us?” One of the other’s seemed to demand, before raising a crossbow towards Matthew, causing him to cock his head “Well, you’re not exactly the definition of ‘subtle’, you know. This might be safe from demons, but there are still creatures around that can be quite dangerous,” “Well, we can take care of that,” One of the larger guys boasted, gaining a high five from a few of the members over his confidence. “You may want to rethink that,” “Huh?”

“The Guardian protects all who live here...and as much as he doesn’t care much on hunters like yourself, harm anyone in these woods, and you won’t make it out alive,” “That a threat, lil bastard?!” The same large guy snapped, while the smaller male with that hat tried snapping at the other to shut up, but Matthew had his own plans. Was it the best/safest thing he’s considered? No, but he’s done dumber.

“Ooh, hot-headed, are we~?” He teased, smirking, and that seemed to do the trick; bow raised, he took a shot, the arrow aimed right to the boy’s head...

But rather than impaling him, it hovered in front of his face, the group shocked as Matthew pucked the arrow from the air. “Interesting...actual Holy weapons...” He inspected carefully, having never actually seen such craftsmanship before; he’s never really looked at the various things Ezhno had, so he wasn’t sure if the other had these types of weaponry... “...maybe there’s merit to what he said...” “What the fuck?!” “Witch!” “How is someone like you living here?!” The group was an array of emotions; confusion, nervous, angry, but he ignored it, instead, his magic taking the arrow and aiming it carefully. 

Let's see... It quickly was shot, as if from a real bow towards the group, narrowly missing them, before they charged, determined to take down this threat.

______

Matthew wouldn’t deny it; they were quite the handful, but it was also evident they don’t fight witches often, or at the very least, trained witches. Matthew always was agile, so even as some came close to fight him, he was easily able to dodge their attacks, violet eyes looking the weapons over. He thought it was a one-off thing, but no; they all had angelic weapons, from swords to daggers, their crossbows, and bows, all of it. 

Matthew now, with his own blade drawn, was taking on the captain, or acting captain of the group, the supposed ‘angel’, and the more they fought, the more he discovered. From vines and roots tripping him, despite the trees themselves unsure as to why they did such a thing, to the other managing to avoid the worst of Matthew’s attacks...

Kicking him down, Mattie stopped, the group confused at the other’s sudden passive appearance once more. “So that’s what’s up, eh...?” He more mumbled to himself, the group obviously not having this supposed peace, and tried to rush the other again...but they were stopped short, as a loud growl erupted behind them, causing them to look, and see a giant wolf, emerald eyes staring the party down. “Ah, there you are!” Matthew smiled before walking over, ignoring the group to stand beside the other. “I take it all went well?” “As well as it can go with them; you know how centaurs can be,” “Yeah, they can be quite the stubborn bunch...” He sighed, before hearing Ezhno’s voice again, this time in his own mind alone.

And?

Well, as you said before; their weapons are angelic; all of them are armed with such things...

“What are you?!” the acting captain stepped forward, glaring at the wolf, blade in hand. “What sort of familiar are you!?” “...Familiar?” Ezhno wasn’t sure if he was amused by the other’s brash words or insulted...no, he was more insulted, and before the boy could blink, he was on him, a giant paw pinning him down, his hat flown off from the action. “Bold words to say to the one being that’s letting you even near my home,”

The boy stared, wide-eyed at the guardian, but seeing this...something didn’t sit right with Ezhno. Why did he look so familiar...? With a growl, he let the other go, moving back to Matthew’s side, who only sighed as he watched it all happen.

The group hurried to the other’s side, making sure he was alright as Matthew and Ezhno looked at one another, a silent conversation taking place...

You were saying earlier...?

Yeah, that boy you pinned, he’s the ‘angel’...but it’s no divine intervention, I can assure you...He’s a witch; whether he knows it or not is up for debate. It’s sorta like how when I first met you...emotions causing things around me to save me, or those I cared about...

Ezhno hummed a little at the news, before taking a step forward again, this time addressing the group properly, rather than threatening.

“What is your name, boy?” Ezhno stared the blond hunter down, Matthew moving a little to watch, and noticing the group’s reaction to seeing him properly. They look almost shocked...?

“...Andrew...” “Andrew...?” “No last name,” “Why is that?” “...because like hell I would take the name of the monster who killed my brother,” He spat, less at Ezhno, and more so at the world...something that seemed to amuse Ezhno. Not because of the anger, but because he now knew why the boy seemed so familiar...how long ago had it been since he heard words close to that...? Though hearing this all, an emerald eye looked over at his husband, and Matthew must have put it together as well, because he was wide-eyed now, and almost trembling.

“...Andie...?” Matthew’s voice was small, almost missed by the hunter, who looked at the witch, confused. “...do I know you?” His brows furrowed a little before a hand quickly went to his blade as the other walked closer, nervously. 

“All this time...I thought...” “Oookay, you’re weirding me out, bud,” “...ha...haha...” he was trying not to cry. It couldn’t be... It couldn’t be...right? “...14 years...and you haven’t changed, have you?” “Fourteen-” The other blinked, looking Matthew over finally before realization hit him.

“No....No, you...I was told you were...Mattie?!” Ezhno couldn’t help but smile as he watched the twins, hugging each other tightly, despite the rest of the group’s bewilderment. Fourteen years, the two thought the other dead...and finally, fourteen years, they finally find each other once again.

[tessxomarie]

Saving You - Part Seven

*TRIGGER WARNING: This scene discusses self harm as well as sexual assault. If you need to skip this part, please do so. Please remember if you or someone you know have suffered from sexual assault, there is a link for if you want to reach out: https://www.rainn.org/about-national-sexual-assault-telephone-hotline

Also, if you’d like to message me to talk – I am always here to talk and listen!*

Things go from bad to worse. I promise, things will all fall into place after this part...just have to go through some ugly stuff to get those rainbows.

The 4th of July, a wonderful day in our country. We all get to eat unhealthy foods, blow shit up, drink and party to celebrate our independence. I started this holiday by working a 12-hour night shift. Kendra was walking in as I was walking out, she wasn’t on the clock until Noon, but someone was a no show and that girl is always about making an extra dollar.

It’s now 7:45am, I eat a bagel and drink some chocolate milk because deep down, I’m still a five-year-old at heart.

“Hey, I may be out of here at 3 but if that’s the case I’m going home to nap and I’ll just meet you at the clubhouse later on. I’ll be there for the fireworks.” Kendra texts me right before I go to bed for the day.

“Sounds good, love.” I text back and then I fall asleep.

It’s now 4pm, I literally slept all day - I must have needed it.

I wake up to a bunch of texts, a dozen from Kenz as she was bored at work. She did get off early but now she’s taking her own nap.

Coco texted me asking what time I was going to be there, mentioning Letty was going to be hanging around today and wanted me to keep her company at some point. Lastly, Bishop texted me saying he’s excited to see me.

I manage to get myself out of bed, I look at my mirrored closet and I’m disgusted with my current appearance.

“Jesus, did I go to rave in my sleep?” I ask myself as I survey the bird’s nest on my head. I take a rinse off shower and opt for the dry shampoo look as this is a simple clubhouse party; I’m not impressing anyone tonight.

“Do I try to go all Miley for this holiday or do I try to be the good wholesome All-American Girl?” I ask myself as I stare at my closet pondering life.

After a half hour of sitting in my towel and browsing social media, I opt for a red and navy light weight flannel, white tank and a pair of jean shorts, converse to complete this casual look - “I’m patriotic AF.” I say as I pose in my mirror.

As I’m go to do my hair, I notice my Claddagh ring on my dresser - the sparkle of the emerald is catching my eye, “Okay Grams, I’ll wear the ring. 4th of July is special, I guess.” I say to myself as I slip my ring on. 

I put my hair in a weak side braid, gather my purse, phone and the pasta salad I volunteered to bring because doesn’t every 4th of July party involve some sort of pasta salad? - and then I make my way out the door. 

I pull up to the scrapyard, and Chucky is directing traffic.

“Nurse Aleeah! I’m so happy to see you! Plus, you’re not here for work, that must be a first.” He says to me as he opens my Jeep door.

“Hey Chucky, I think you’re right - this just might be the first time I’ve been here not on nurse duty.” I say to him as he helps grab my pasta bowl and hands it to me. In the distance I hear shouting of some sort, I look over by the fighting cage and my favorite victims are already going at it.

“I may have spoken too soon.” Chucky whispers.

I look at Chucky and quirk a look, “I’m going to take care of this right now.”

I strut right over to the Reyes brothers, pasta salad bowl in hand and all.

“Hey, Dumb and Dumber, can’t we get along for one fucking day?” I shout.

Both boys look away from me, “Oh I’m sorry, was I interrupting? Was I being rude?” I say with sass.

“It’s fine, Lee.” EZ says and shrugs his shoulders looking at his brother. “Yup, we’re fine Leah.” Angel spits back.

Angel takes a step and walks briskly past me, but I’m not in the mood for that today.

“Hey, douchebag.” I holler going after him, which causes him to spin around as quickly as he started walking.

“What?” He spits again.

“I don’t appreciate your attitude towards me these last few days. All I do is save you time and time again, Angel. Don’t treat me like some biker slut when I ask how you’re doing - I fucking stitch you whole again and again, I think I’ve earned a little bit of respect; especially if you tell others I’m the only one you trust.” I end with a whisper.

“Who told you that?” He asks with a nervous look.

“You’re wonderful girlfriend.” I say with another attitude, and just as those words leave my tongue, he turns back and heads towards the clubhouse.

EZ then comes up behind me, “What EZ?” I ask in a grouchy tone.

“He and Adelita are done, broken up or whatever. That’s what he and I were discussing over there. I asked him where he’s been lately, and that’s when he said he told her he was done, and he left her a few days ago.”

I stare at EZ and back towards the Clubhouse with my jaw dropped.

He dumped her...why?

Is she going to come after him?

So many thoughts race through my mind.

“I need to get this pasta inside.” I stutter and before EZ can even respond, I’m on autopilot to the clubhouse.

I’m greeted by Gilly and Riz, Riz takes my pasta bowl and puts it on the table with the other dishes.

It’s already getting busy up in here, a lot of families are hanging around inside and it seems as they are prepping to take most of the party outside in the yard. “Remind me again, why the hell is the clubhouse the hosting spot this year?” I ask Gilly.

“Well, last year we may or may not have sparked a little fire at Bishop’s place, so it was that night he declared next year’s party would be held at the clubhouse and here are.”

“Ahh, I see. Nothing says independence like having a party with outlaws.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, Leah.” Gilly jokes as he gives me a half hug.

“Aleeah!” I hear Bishop shout as he enters the room. “How are you, sweetheart?” He asks as he kisses my cheek.

“I’m good. Survived my night shift, slept all day, pasta salad was made and now I’m here.” I say with a smile.

“I’m glad you’re here and it’s not for medical reasons.” He says with a laugh.

“Shh, the night hasn’t even begun. There’s plenty of time for fuckery.” I say with a cautious smile.

I chat with a few of the guys for a few moments, I then see Angel emerge and our eyes lock.

The spark that was there, it’s gone now.  I so badly want to talk to him, but I don’t even know how to start a conversation with him without straight for a sassy comment.  

“Hey Bish, Oakland will be here in a little bit.” I hear Hank say from the bar.

I look over at Hank’s way and back at Bishop…Oakland...Erik...fuck fuck fuck.

“Oakland is coming?” I nervously question Bish.

“Oh yeah, some of them called asking what we were doing so I invited them down to join our big fiesta. It’s going to be great, right?” He says as he gives me another half hug.

I stand there frozen and I just nod my head.

Erik is coming. I just know it.

I reach for my phone and text Kendra. I know she’s still sleeping, but maybe I’ll get lucky. My nerves are now in high gear.

That is when Coco comes to my rescue for the time being. “Lee Lee!” He shouts as he comes in for a hug.

“Coco, how are you doing? Everything healing up alright?” I ask doing a once over.

“Yeah, I’m feeling good. Leg is a little sore, but I’m fine. Leticia is in the office, I had her finish up some filing shit – keeping her busy. She always enjoys chatting with you, so if you could go say hi to her, that would make me super happy.” Coco says with a small smile.

“Oh my gosh, of course Coco. I could use a distraction right now actually, so I’ll go visit her right now.” I say ready to head out the door but Coco holds me back, “Angel has been an asshole to everyone lately, don’t take it too personal, Lee. He broke it off with Adelita right after we got the clear to leave the clubhouse, I guess he’s taking it a little harder than he had planned.”

I wasn’t even referring to Angel, but the explanation does justify his attitude – it still isn’t acceptable.

“Thanks of the heads up.” I say with a small smile as I head out of the clubhouse and head to the office.

“Knock Knock.” I say as I slowly open the door to find Letty at the desk.

“Leah!” She says with excitement.

“How are you Letty?” I ask as she gets up and greets me with a hug.

“I’m alright, as you can see my dad is keeping me busy.” She tells me as she shows the piles of folders on the desk.

“He’s just keeping you safe.” I assure her.

“That’s what they keep telling me.” She says as she sits back down.

“So, how is everything going? I’ve heard EZ and Angel have kept you busy.” She says with a small giggle.

“Boys, nothing good comes from them.” I respond shaking my head. 

“I mean, some good things come from them.” Letty says with a wink.

“Jesus child, you’re not even legal to vote yet. Calm down.” I reprimand with a laugh.

Letty and I continue to catch up on life, she asks me a lot about the clinic and hospital.

I get lost in a daze and find myself snapping my ponytail on my wrist and then Letty snaps me out of it, “Leah are you alright?” She worriedly asks.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good.” I say with a flat face, still snapping my pony-tail.

“Can I ask you something?” Letty asks sharply, yet eagerly.

“Of course, shoot.”

“I don’t want to upset you or anything, I’m genuinely curious about this and that’s why I’m asking; why do you snap that pony tail holder so often? Is it like a therapy thing?”

I’m a bit taken a back by her words, only because I’ve never had anyone question the ponytail before.

“Huh, that is a good question, Letty. Umm, I guess there is no easy way to come out and say this so here it goes; I use to cut myself when I was around your age. I was one of those teens that used this as a stupid coping mechanism when my mom was too drugged out to give a damn, or when her drug dealer boyfriend would knock me around – the last time I cut myself was last year and that’s because I was hurt really bad. Before that, I think I was around 21 when I last cut myself. I snap the pony tail whenever I feel nervous or anxious, figured it’s safer to snap elastic than use a blade.” I say with some humor because I hate serious talks, they just never end well in my history.

Leticia just stares at my wrist and then up at me, “Fuck, Leah. I’m so sorry – I had no idea.”

“Oh no, don’t apologize. You asked, I wanted to give you a truthful answer.” I reply with a smile.

“So, the hair tie prevents you from making the choice to cut yourself?” She asks.

“Yeah, it does. In rare moments when I’m not wearing one, it’s not for long. Just remember this, if you see a naked wrist for more than an hour,– that usually means something horrible happened and I’m being an idiot.”  

I leave Letty to finish up the work Coco had left for her.

As I walk through the yard, I see a lot more people are here. Women, their kids, other friends of the club are all here for a big 4th of July bash.

I see a few of the boys on the grill, prepping for the big feast. Everyone is smiling, laughing, music is playing; it’s perfect, in a very dysfunctional biker way.

I make my way to the door of the clubhouse and that’s when I hear a roar of bikes.

Oakland is here.

I rush inside as if it’s my safe zone.

I see EZ and Gilly by the pool table, Angel is on the couch with a few whores hanging on him. I go by EZ, I know he’ll keep me safe.

My stomach is in knots, as I know Erik is here. I haven’t seen him, but I just know it. I don’t want him to walk in here, but I almost want him to so I can get this over with.

Jesus, I need Kendra.

As I watch the guys play pool, I reach in my pocket for my phone so I can text Kendra yet again.

“When will you be here? I need you.” I type out and press send.

“I just woke up, I’ll be there in a little.” Kenz replies.

I let out a sigh, wishing my best friend would just hurry her ass up.

“Everything alright, Lee?” EZ asks as he heard my sigh.

“Yeah, I just want Kenz to be here already.” I admit.

“I think she’ll be here in a little.” He says.

“Oh will she now? You know her schedule now?” I tease. EZ just flashes me a big smile.

“Hey guys, food is ready!” Riz comes in and announces. Most of the crowd inside heads outside, some remain inside and snack on what is remaining at the table.

I opt to stay inside because no Oakland guys have come inside yet.

I’m safe.

EZ is still in here.

I’m protected. 

I do not have to be afraid.

I pick at my pasta salad, the nerves are still there.

You know that feeling you get when you just know something is about to happen, you just want that moment to happen and get over with already? That’s me, right now.

Just let Erik walk in, let me see him and then I can make my exit, I think to myself.

I get up to throw away my plate and that is when the clubhouse door opens and my stomach drops.

He’s here.

I look to the door, and a handful of the Oakland guys have now entered.

I’m about to head back by the pool table, but I see EZ heading towards the door.

“I’m gonna be outside for a bit, Kendra is coming now.” He informs me and then as quickly as he informed me, he’s out the door.

A handful of MC friends are now inside, and Angel, He’s at the bar.

I figure this is my chance, I can go make nice with him and use him as my distraction to keep Erik away.

“Hey Angel.” I say as I shimmy between the bar chairs.

“What do you want?” He spits.

“Can’t I just say hi?” I ask.

“Come on, Leah. That’s never the case with us, we never just say ‘hi’”.

He has a point, but I don’t have the time for his logic right now.

“Okay, I umm…I just wanted to talk to you, I first wanted to say I’m sorry to hear about you and Adelita and to also apologize for going off on her the last time we were all in here.”

Angel looks at me, I’m looking at the ground nervously and I feel his gaze on me. I slowly look up, and he’s searching for words.

Just as he’s about to say something, an arm snakes around my waist.

Erik.

“Aleeah, mami. Is this where you have been hiding? Why you hiding baby? You should be out there partying with everyone else.”

“Erik, leave me alone.” I say as I remove his arm from my waist, but he then places his arm there again.

“That’s not so nice, baby. Why you gotta be so rude?” He asks as he rubs my cheek, and I backhand his arm.

“Ooo, still feisty I see.”

“Erik, you’re being rude. Can’t you see I’m talking to Angel?” I motion.

“Oh, we’re done talking.” Angel interjects.

“Angel wait, we need to finish talking. Please, I’m begging you.” I plead as Erik’s grip on my waist gets tighter.

“I love to hear you beg, Mami. Come on, let’s take this party to the next room.” Erik says low, but it’s loud enough for Angel to hear.

“It appears you have someone else wanting your attention, Leah. Have fun.” He says as he walks away and that is when all hope of mine is gone.

I look around the clubhouse and there is not one familiar face around, and now Erik has tightened his grip on my wrists.

“That’s better.” He whispers in my ear.

“Erik, no. Please, please stop whatever this is. I’m not interested.” I beg as I try to push him off of me.

“You know the more you say no, or the more you beg for me to stop, it just turns me on more, baby. Come on, let’s have some fun. I need to show you what you missed out at the last party.” He creepishly says as he runs his finger along my jaw.

I can feel tears forming in my eyes, “No, Erik. Please, stop. Let’s go outside.” I try to suggest.

It’s then when he grabs my face and whispers in my ear, “Nobody gets to see what I’m about to do to you. That’s a private matter, mami. C’mon, lets go.” He says as he now his hand over my mouth to keep me quiet.

I want to scream, but I’m frozen in fear.

He then guides me to one of the rooms down the hall, I drag my feet but he then pulls my hair.

“Let’s go slut, I need to remind you of a few things.” He says as he closes the door. I try to scream but he slaps my face before a sound escapes.

“Don’t be stupid, Leah. Don’t fight me, baby.” He tells me as me touches my face and traces my body with his slimey fingers that makes my body quiver in the worst way.

“Erik, no. please, stop.” I beg as the tears start rolling down my cheeks.

He laughs. He fucking laughs.

He’s holding my wrists so tight, I can’t move if I tried - I’m frozen.

I want to fight, I try to wiggle around him, I try to knee him, I try to hit him. That only results in more bitch slaps and hair pulls.

My poor effort to escape is fading, I almost wish he would just kill me instead, at least I wouldn’t have to relive this pain again.

I then hear a zipper unzip, and I feel his breath on the back of my neck.

It’s happening. Again. 

My worst nightmare is happening again, and I’m helpless. 

[welcometothepenumbra]

SECOND CITADEL – KNIGHT OF THE CROWN, LORD OF THE SWAMP (PART ONE)

SOUND: RAIN. TRAIN ARRIVES, CREAKS TO A STOP. DOOR CLANKS OPEN.

CONDUCTOR: Ah, good evening, Traveler. And welcome… to The Penumbra. Take your seat, please, take your seat.

MUSIC: STARTS.

SOUND: DOOR CLANKS SHUT.

The junction lies just ahead, Traveler. If you'll allow me just a moment.

SOUND: TRAIN WHISTLE.

(CHUCKLES) Well, next stop? The Second Citadel.

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING.

Sir Damien is the most accomplished knight in the Second Citadel – or tied for it, at any rate. In the name of keeping his monster-slaying record to the same height as his friend and rival Sir Angelo, Sir Damien has fought monsters while sick, comatose, and, as is the case tonight, with a broken leg.

But it won’t be the broken leg that gets in Sir Damien’s way this evening. There’s something very special about the monster slithering into the Citadel tonight. And it’s going to take more than strength to defeat him.

SOUND: TRAIN BRAKES. DOOR CLANKS OPEN, RAIN.

Our next stop: Knight of the Crown, Lord of the Swamp.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

MUSIC: STARTS.

VOICE 1: It was late at night, the first hour by the clock, my love, and the beast had me by the throat, its claws digging into my—

VOICE 2: I saw the scar, Damien. You showed me this morning.

VOICE 1 (DAMIEN): Oh, but surely I didn’t tell you this part, Rilla—

VOICE 2 (RILLA): Is this the one about the monster’s claws, which were “full of poison so thick you could see it in your veins?”

DAMIEN: Well… yes. A-alright, then, did I tell you that my—

RILLA: —leg was broken. You were in the infirmary.

DAMIEN: And the foul beast—!

RILLA: —had its tail wrapped around your shattered femur?

DAMIEN: Well, did I– you must not know– um…

RILLA: (LAUGHS)

DAMIEN: Wh– what is it? Is there something on my face? Have I done something foolish?

RILLA: You told me all about the bedtime basilisk this morning, Damien. Remember? I made you the antidote to its poison.

DAMIEN: Oh… Yes, I… suppose I did.

Well, I’m just… ecstatic! What luck, a monster trying to kill me in my sleep! And when Angelo nearly broke our tie with that soggy parrot in the caves!

RILLA: And that’d just be the end of the world, huh.

DAMIEN: It would.

RILLA: Look, Damien. I know you’re worried about your contest with Sir Angelo—

DAMIEN: Worried? I have no reason to be worried. I never think about it. Never.

RILLA: But going back to duty two days after breaking your leg seems just a little hasty to me.

DAMIEN: Oh, it’s only guard duty. The Queen’s private chambers practically guard themselves.

RILLA: Shouldn’t you be in bed?

DAMIEN: Oh, is that your concern!

MUSIC: ENDS.

(CHUCKLES) My duty has nothing to do with the wager Sir Angelo and I have, Rilla. No, no. You sound just like the Queen.

RILLA: God, I hope not.

SOUND: DISTANT FESTIVAL MUSIC.

DAMIEN: I was speaking to her just this afternoon. “Sir Damien!” she said. “What are you doing out of the infirmary? You’ve broken your leg into eight pieces!” “But ah, my Queen,” I said, “there you are wrong; I’ve only broken it into five pieces, three of which have nearly halfway healed, and what sort of a knight would I be if I let a little fall prevent me from my duty?”

RILLA: This is not reassuring.

DAMIEN: She commanded me back to the infirmary, and so I declared, “My Queen, I must speak my heart. Demons of sloth and idleness beset me. In that bed, I will be victim to the torments of a thousand monsters of the soul, corruptors which will surely place my heart within a pot and boil it until it beats no more! I must do my duty! I cannot lie still while those demons draw breath.”

RILLA: You were worried you’d be bored.

DAMIEN: Of course not.

…Ohhh, my Rilla, my Amaryllis, my forever-flower, I must speak my heart.

RILLA: (SIGHS) Okay.

DAMIEN: I’ve acted a terrible fiend just now. I have lied to you. Yes, I was worried I’d be bored. Yes, I was concerned about my competition with Sir Angelo.

RILLA: I know. It’s alright.

DAMIEN: I just think, sometimes, that I met him because our monster-slaying records were tied, and they have been for as long as we’ve been friends and rivals, and if either one of us were ever to break that record then would we– would we—

RILLA: Still be friends? With Sir Angelo? The Sir Angelo who heard you were in the infirmary and brought you a get-well tree?

DAMIEN: It was more of a bush, really, hardly two men tall!

RILLA: Damien. Stop. Breathe. Think.

(SIGHS) Come on, hold my hand. We’re going to look out over the Queen’s balcony.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

DAMIEN: But I’m only supposed to guard, not enter the—

SOUND: DOOR UNLATCHING.

Rilla!

SOUND: DISTANT CROWD CHATTER, MUSIC GROWS LOUDER.

RILLA: Nobody will notice. The Queen’s going to be out waving at crowds and kissing babies for hours. And you don’t want to miss the whole festival, do you?

DAMIEN: No, but… oh, alright.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

Saints above, it’s beautiful.

RILLA: It is, isn’t it? They really outdo themselves every year. I don’t like to admit it, but… I always look forward to the Festival of the Three. The flags, the fights, even those goofy-looking tents.

DAMIEN: It’s Saint Aaron’s Night tonight. You should go see some of the fights in the square.

RILLA: I don’t think so.

I think I’d rather be here. With you.

SOUND: KISS.

DAMIEN: Rilla… I must speak my heart.

RILLA: Shhh. I think you just did.

DAMIEN: When… when will we be married?

RILLA: (SIGHS) You know that, Damien. Soon.

DAMIEN: But… why not marry during the festival?

RILLA: You want to get married tonight?

DAMIEN: It wouldn’t have to be tonight! The festival lasts three nights! We have two full days to prepare!

RILLA: Damien…

DAMIEN: It would be perfect! The Festival of the Three is a ceremony of building. We could build our life together just as the Saints built our Second Citadel!

RILLA: (CHUCKLES) Alright. Sell me on it, then.

DAMIEN: It happened hundreds of years ago. Our First Citadel lay in ruins. Every knight in the kingdom was slain; our King, devoured.

RILLA: I know the story—

DAMIEN: Shhhhh, shh-shh-shh-shh. You don’t know this version.

RILLA: Alright. Go ahead, Sir poet.

DAMIEN: The human race was on its final breath, and the monsters began their assault. The beasts sent three parties to destroy humanity over three days: one by land, one by sea, and one by air. And they would have succeeded – if it hadn’t been for three brothers, lowly workmen in a village by the sea.

RILLA: Our saints, right.

DAMIEN: On the first day, the monstrous hordes came by land, riding over the mountains to the north… until they were met by the oldest brother, a mason, Saint Aaron the Resolute, who struck the earth with his hammer again, and again, and again, until the ground opened up and swallowed every foul beast to the shadows below.

On the second day, they came again, this time by sea. And who met them in the sea, my love?

RILLA: Someone with a dumb name and even dumber followers.

DAMIEN: My divine lord and namesake Saint Damien the Tranquil met them there; and he stared into those gaping maws beneath the waves and he did not move an inch… until precisely the right moment. Then he threw his fisherman’s-spear into the waves at just such an angle, and just such a force, that a mighty whirlpool spun and shredded the demons to chum.

RILLA: And on the third day they came by air, and no one was there to stop them.

DAMIEN: No one at all… until the child. Saint Ferdinand the Brave. And while the people ran screaming from the shadows above, Saint Ferdinand held his ground. And that bravest of boys held his slingshot high; and just as the first blast of fire came from the first of those terrible creatures in the sky, Saint Ferdinand let forth, and through his courage his pebble became a thunderbolt which struck every dragon from the heavens, and the world was clean once more.

RILLA: Exciting story, Damien. But it was the same exciting story that gets told at this festival every single year. I thought you said this would be different.

DAMIEN: Well, I haven’t gotten to the ending, have I? Because after that day, when humanity survived our Citadel’s fall, we began to rebuild. Centuries passed. A new and greater Citadel was formed, and in it were born two people: one a knight, one a genius herbalist. One a man, and one a woman…

RILLA: Oh, come on, Damien.

DAMIEN: And they fell in love, and they resolved to live a life together. A life of love and opportunity that the Saints would have wanted for those to come. Two in union. Simple. Strong. As we were meant to be.

Amaryllis, will you marry me?

RILLA: I said yes months ago.

DAMIEN: I would like to hear it again.

RILLA: Yes, Damien. I’ll marry you.

SOUND: DISTANT DRUMMING.

DAMIEN: What was that? A monster? A demon?!

RILLA: It’s midnight of the festival’s first day, Damien. Those are just Saint Aaron’s drums.

DAMIEN: Right. Of course, of course.

I should return to my watch.

RILLA: I should probably go check on my experiments back home.

Have a good night, Damien. Don’t strain yourself.

DAMIEN: I won’t.

RILLA: You will, but I thought I should say it anyway. Come over to my place tomorrow and tell me how it went, alright?

DAMIEN: I will. Good night, Rilla.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS DEPARTING. DOOR CLOSES.

(SIGHS) Saint Damien above, give me your tranquility. She has been gone but seconds and already my heart begins to ache. She said she’d marry me, Saint. Marry me! It’s enough to make a knightly heart burst with joy, with Rilla, my Amaryllis—

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

—little flower, my… my… but… she never said when, did she?

SOUND: DOOR CLOSES. FESTIVAL SOUNDS GROW MUFFLED.

Did I ask her when? I– I don’t recall. Did I ask her and she didn’t answer? Wha-what does that mean, Saint Damien? D-does it mean she doesn’t want to marry me? That she doesn’t love me?! P-perhaps she doesn’t today; perhaps she never has, or-or what if—

No, no. That’s… absurd. Saint Damien above, give me your tranquility. Your tranquility.

But… then why wouldn’t she answer?

Have I pressured her too much? Oh no, no… but-but-but-but what if I have? What if I always have? I’ll have to ask her. I could go right now, it-it would be just a moment, but– but what if some foul beast should come when I am tending to my weakness of the heart, what if—

SOUND: MUFFLED CRASH.

(GASPS) What in the world…?

???: Tktktktk…

SOUND: INSECT-LIKE HISSING & RATTLING.

DAMIEN: Saints above…! Something in the Queen’s chambers! Oh tranquility, fill this arrow with your calm, your strength…

SOUND: BOWSTRING STRETCHES. DOOR CREAKS OPEN, FESTIVAL SOUNDS GROW LOUDER. INSECT-LIKE HISSING & RATTLING.

???: Tktktktktktktktk—

SOUND: TWANG, SWISH, THUNK. SILENCE.

DAMIEN: Has it… disappeared?

VOICE 3: (CHUCKLES) If you think that was a disappearance, human, I’m afraid that says more about your eyes than my speed.

DAMIEN: Step back, beast. A Knight of the Queen will not tolerate a monster in Her Majesty’s chambers.

VOICE 3 (MONSTER): I’ll give you one chance, little knight. Three seconds to step back out that door and pretend you never saw me here. Tktktktktktktktk.

DAMIEN: A tempting offer.

MONSTER: One…

DAMIEN: Though I must say, I do find this spectacle fascinating.

MONSTER: Two…

DAMIEN: I’ve never seen a lizard count before – even one who walks on two legs.

MONSTER: Thre—

SOUND: TWANG, THUD.

Very tricky, little human. Your arrow almost struck me.

DAMIEN: If you think that was a trick, friend lizard, I’m afraid that says more about your eyes than my speed.

MONSTER: You may prove to be the quickest-witted human I ever kill, tktktktktktktktk.

DAMIEN: And you may prove to be the most cultured corpse I ever claim.

MONSTER: (HISSES)

SOUND: WHIP-CRACK.

DAMIEN: Ha!

SOUND: HEAVY THUMP.

MONSTER: (GROWLS) I didn’t think knights were such cowards. With that bow keeping you at a distance, you can move long before I ever reach you.

DAMIEN: And with those four knives in your four hands you could cut me to shreds in seconds. But if you can never approach, and I can never hit you…

MONSTER: A stalemate. (GROWLS) I don’t have time for this.

DAMIEN: Then I suppose we’ll have to come to some sort of agreement, won’t we?

MONSTER: Alright. My terms: first, you stand still. Then, you die.

DAMIEN: Declined. My counter-proposal: you drop three of your knives immediately.

MONSTER: Ha!

DAMIEN: Why not? Four minus three is one, and one weapon against one seems perfectly—

MONSTER: —so you humans have finally gotten around to mathematics, have you? Only one thousand years after us.

DAMIEN: Do you accept my terms?

MONSTER: I will not entertain your insults. A knife against a bow? Never.

DAMIEN: Well, I’ve no knife to use.

SOUND: SWISH.

Whoa!

MONSTER: There’s one.

DAMIEN: So there is. (GRUNTS)

MONSTER: Well? Drop your bow, now.

DAMIEN: I will if you throw your knives onto the balcony.

MONSTER: What?!

DAMIEN: I intend to have a fair fight, monster. Throw your knives, and I will throw my bow.

MONSTER: (GROWLS)

SOUND: METAL & WOODEN CLATTERING.

There. Are there any other rules? Can we fight, now, or do I have to draw a card first?

DAMIEN: No cards except the ones Fate deals us, demon.

MONSTER: And the quaint little prayer-cards they’ll print for your funeral, tktktktktktktktk.

DAMIEN: Approach me, beast, and we’ll see who dies. By the Saints above, I am tranquility itself.

MONSTER: And proud of it, aren’t you? Haaaaa!

DAMIEN: (GRUNTS)

SOUND: BLADES SCRAPING. GRUNTING & PANTING.

MONSTER: (PANTING) You hold my knife like a butcher, little knight! Treat it with some respect!

DAMIEN: I may not have your skill with a blade, friend lizard, but I’ve twice your stamina. Winded already?

MONSTER: Stamina! You start dueling right after you’ve scaled a forty-foot wall. The rocks you humans threw together to build this tower are as slippery as they are structurally irresponsible. Haaaa!

DAMIEN: Oof!

SOUND: WHIP-CRACK. HEAVY THUMP.

(PANTING) Structurally irresponsible? Is architecture one of the lizard’s hobbies, then? You read floor plans while you sit on your eggs and bask in the sun?

MONSTER: You may waste your time with hobbies, little knight. I have only craft.

DAMIEN: A master architect-cum-burglar! Sneaking into people’s windows and then criticizing the moulding! These monsters think of everything, don’t they?

MONSTER: (ROARS)

DAMIEN: Oof!

SOUND: WHIP-CRACK. HEAVY THUMP.

Everything except boxing lessons, evidently. You’re likely to give yourself a concussion if you keep careening into corners this way.

MONSTER: (CHUCKLES)

DAMIEN: Perhaps the concussion has come earlier than expected.

MONSTER: And you, little knight? Are you a master of anything besides prattling on and on?

DAMIEN: No.

MONSTER: Well, at least you’re honest.

DAMIEN: I am a poet by trade, friend lizard. My words can strike at a heart with all the speed and power of my arrows. When I’m not beating evil counts, I’m counting holy beats; I am just as likely to disarm with a compliment as my blade. That cape looks quite handsome on you, by the way. It matches your eyes: violet as amethyst.

MONSTER: A poet! (LAUGHS) Delicate as honeysuckle, aren’t you? And your blood will be just as delicious, I think, tktktktktktktktk.

SOUND: BLADE SLASHES.

DAMIEN: (GRUNTS)

SOUND: WHIP-CRACK, HEAVY THUMP.

MONSTER: (PANTING, THEN CACKLING)

SOUND: CRACKING, RUMBLING.

DAMIEN: What is it?

SOUND: RUMBLING GROWS. CHINA RATTLES.

What’s that noise?

MONSTER: I warned you, didn’t I? Completely unstable, these stones. All it took was a few blows in just the right places…

DAMIEN: When you hit the walls… you didn’t miss, did you?

MONSTER: I’ve never missed, little knight. And I’ve never lost, either. (CHUCKLES) With the correct stones out of place, the collapse will begin soon enough. First, you’ll hear cracks grow in the walls…

SOUND: CRACKING GROWS.

Ah, there they are. Then, perhaps things will start to crumble from the ceiling…

SOUND: CRASH.

…or the furniture might start to fall.

DAMIEN: You’re bluffing. Your tail struck that.

MONSTER: Perhaps. But are you certain? Is it really worth the risk?

SOUND: RUMBLING & RATTLING.

(CHUCKLES)

DAMIEN: Beast! Fix this! You’ve started this collapse, you must be able to fix it!

MONSTER: And why should I do that? Better yet: what makes you so certain there’s a way to stop this at all? Tktktktktktktktktk.

DAMIEN: I’ll kill you where you stand, demon! There must be a way to fix this!

MONSTER: Of course there is. A single brick could stop it all, if stabilized. But… that brick lies behind you, knight.

DAMIEN: Behind me? Where? I don’t see—

MONSTER: (HISSES, GROWLS)

DAMIEN: (GASPS)

SOUND: WHIP-CRACK.

Where are you? Show yourself, beast!

MONSTER: (LAUGHING) Tktktktktktktktk…

DAMIEN: He must be crawling in the shadows… along the wall and ceiling… could be anywhere…

MONSTER: (HISSES)

DAMIEN: (GASPS) No… no, collect yourself… breathe…

Oh, Saint Damien, you of patience, of calm, of the quiet waves and gentle breeze…

MONSTER: (LAUGHING)

SOUND: RUMBLING FADES, REPLACED BY OCEAN WAVES.

DAMIEN: Grant me your tranquility: the strength to wait while I must, to let the world flow through me…

MONSTER: Die, little honeysuckle! Haaaa!

SOUND: WHIP-CRACK. SHARP THUD, GASP OF PAIN.

DAMIEN: …and to strike when the time is right.

MONSTER: (PAINED GASPS) So you’ve… pierced my arm! It’s nothing! As soon as I get my knife again, I’ll—

SOUND: WAVES FADE OUT.

DAMIEN: You mean this knife?

SOUND: METAL CLINK.

MONSTER: (SIGHS)

DAMIEN: You don’t seem in a terrible rush, friend lizard. The tower isn’t collapsing, is it.

MONSTER: Of course it isn’t collapsing, you idiot! You can’t topple a tower by kicking the bedroom walls! With the foul things you creatures do in these rooms, you’d all be living in rubble.

DAMIEN: But you did know enough to make the walls crack… to make the foundation rumble. A very… special sort of monster, aren’t you?

MONSTER: Don’t patronize me! If you’re going to kill me, then do it!

DAMIEN: Of… of course.

MONSTER: (SIGHS) …Well? You do know how a knife works, don’t you? You just hold the sharp end to my throat and push.

DAMIEN: No. No, I don’t think I will.

MONSTER: Ohh, no. No, no – if you expect me to sit through another sappy little poem first, hand me that knife and I’ll kill myself.

DAMIEN: No poems. Here.

SOUND: FABRIC RUSTLES.

Bandage that arm tightly and the bleeding should stop.

MONSTER: Is this… silk?

DAMIEN: One of the Queen’s headscarves. Her collection is priceless, they say.

MONSTER: Your Queen! How… interesting.

DAMIEN: Yes, she is certain to be furious with me. But it is to be my punishment and my penance. I challenged you to an unfair duel.

MONSTER: (QUIETLY) The Queen… Tktktktktktktktk…

DAMIEN: I insisted we fight to my advantage. Half of my hands were armed, and only a fourth of yours were; an advantage two times over.

MONSTER: I’m not sure your numbers line up, honeysuckle.

DAMIEN: I am a poet, friend lizard, not a mathematician. Besides, it is clear from the cunning in your lips and the deep intelligence in your brow that hand-to-hand-to-hand-to-hand combat is not your greatest strength.

You are… a builder. No: an inventor. An architect. A very good one, I suspect.

MONSTER: The greatest.

DAMIEN: And if I finish you here, I’ll never know how great, will I?

SOUND: METALLIC CLATTER.

MONSTER: What are you doing?

DAMIEN: Giving you your knife. You will need it tomorrow.

MONSTER: Tomorrow! What sort of trick—

DAMIEN: No tricks, friend lizard. I will not kill you until I’ve beaten you at your best. Today, we fought in my domain, by my rules; tomorrow night, you will choose the location and the time of our duel.

MONSTER: (HISSING, CLICKING) A very interesting offer, little knight. Very interesting.

You know you will not survive that fight.

DAMIEN: It is possible. You are a very… capable beast.

MONSTER: Fine, then. You know Rakschakala, the oldest willow in the forest?

DAMIEN: Not offhand, I’m afraid. I’ve left my census of trees in my other armor.

MONSTER: Stupid—! Fine. It’s the grove just outside the western gate of this Citadel, just beside the– what do you creatures call it… th-the bells?

DAMIEN: Saint Damien’s Bells, beneath the Gate of Tranquility. I know it well.

MONSTER: Ugh. You humans take paragraphs where syllables would suffice.

DAMIEN: The grove outside the Bells, then. I imagine you will stock it with every trap of which your foul mind can conceive.

MONSTER: You say ‘foul,’ little knight, but you don’t mean it. The word is not in your heart.

Why?

DAMIEN: A healthy rivalry keeps a knight at his best.

MONSTER: No, no. No more poetry, no more dancing around an answer. You do not spare every monster – we both know it. So why me?

MUSIC: STARTS.

DAMIEN: I… am not certain I have the words for it.

MONSTER: Aren’t you supposed to be a poet? A professional prattler?

If you want me at my best tomorrow, you’ll have to find the words. Isn’t that what you creatures call ‘honor’?

DAMIEN: There’s…

…there’s something… human in your eyes.

MONSTER: O-of all the overblown…! Y-you’d never consider that there might be something monstrous in your eyes, would you?

DAMIEN: You asked. I answered.

MONSTER: I will delight in exploiting your every weakness, honeysuckle.

DAMIEN: I look forward to it. Tomorrow, then?

MONSTER: (HISSES) Tomorrow.

DAMIEN: Wait! One last question, friend lizard.

MONSTER: What is it?

DAMIEN: What… what is your name? I would like to know what to call the beast I’ll duel tomorrow.

MONSTER: If I had it my way, little knight, everyone would stay quiet and I wouldn’t have to be called anything at all.

(SIGHS) I am Lord Arum, who rules the Swamp of Titans’ Blooms.

DAMIEN: And I am Sir Damien, Knight of the Crown.

MONSTER (LORD ARUM): I’ll be sure to write that on your tombstone. Until tomorrow, Sir Damien. Tktktktktktktktk…

DAMIEN: …Until tomorrow, Lord Arum.

MUSIC: ENDS.

***

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING, MUSIC.

CONDUCTOR: If you've enjoyed this tale, please consider donating to The Penumbra on Patreon. Our artists work tirelessly to bring you these stories, and if you have the means, we hope you will support our efforts. Every dollar helps. You can find that page at patreon.com/thepenumbrapodcast. If you support us on Patreon at the $10 level or higher, you'll receive access to commentary tracks like this one, from actors Noah Simes and Matthew Zahnzinger:

SOUND: TRAIN STOPS, DOOR SLIDES OPEN, RAIN.

NOAH: …and he is literally a lizard. (LAUGHS) Um, and then, y’know—

MATTHEW: Yes… yes he is. A key fact—

NOAH: Yes.

MATTHEW: —in the characters’ relationship.

NOAH: Yes, if you missed that, go back and listen. ‘Cause he’s super a lizard.

MATTHEW & NOAH: (LAUGHING)

NOAH: But– but, y’know, so trying to find something that feels… unhuman… and- and sort of base in that way that we think of, y’know, reptilian almo– y’know, means base in certain contexts, right…

SOUND: DOOR SLIDES SHUT.

CONDUCTOR: You can also support The Penumbra by liking us on Facebook, following us on Twitter @thepenumbrapod, following us on Tumblr @thepenumbrapodcast, telling your friends about us, telling your friends to tell their friends about us, and especially by rating and reviewing our podcast on iTunes. Every rating, comment, and kind word spreads our stories further and inspires us to keep creating more and better tales to come.

We would like to give special thanks to all who support us on Patreon, but especially to Jaimie Gunter, The Princess and the Scrivener, and Elizabeth Miller for their incredibly generous contributions per episode. Thank you.

This tale, Knight of the Crown, Lord of the Swamp, was told by the following people: Matthew Zahnzinger as Sir Damien, Noah Simes as Lord Arum, And Melissa Ennulat as Rilla.

On staff at The Penumbra: Kevin Vibert is our lead writer and recording engineer. Sophie Kaner is our director and sound designer. Grahame Turner is our script editor. Noah Simes is our production manager. Alice Chung is our designer and financial manager. Original music by Ryan Vibert. Promotional art by Mikaela Buckley.

The Penumbra is created and produced by Sophie Kaner and Kevin Vibert.

I'm afraid this is the end of the line for today, dear Traveler. We hope you will ride with The Penumbra again soon.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

[meshugana1]

Another idea, Rich's(28) girlfriend is tired of all her friends having babies and kids and wants one of her own. Rich disagrees. She ends up cursing him as he finds himself getting dumber and childish as he regressed to her little 3 year old toddler girl trapped in diapers he can't help but use while he can no longer read or do math or even speak properly.

   “Come on Rich, let’s just be mature and talk about it,” Ricki said. Her head hung low and her hands wore out the couch she sat on.“Babe, I really can’t talk about this, not again. I don’t care if all your buddies are doing it. I’m not ready to be a dad.”“Well, when will you be ready? For Christ’s sake your almost thirty, how much longer do I need to wait? Or are you hoping I’ll hit menopause before you’re ‘ready’?”“Don’t play that card, you know what my childhood was like.”“That excuse wore itself out a long time ago, Rich. I want a baby, I need a baby, why can’t you understand that?”“I do, I just don’t care. Do you forget just home much we earn? How much our car payments are? Our mortgage? And you want to drop a baby on top of that? I know you’re a woman and all but why don’t you take a second to actually think things through for once in your life?”“You think this is just cause I’m a woman? I can’t believe you! I told all my sisters you were different, that you really cared, but you’re just a sexist pig like all the rest!” Rich had had this conversation many times with countless women. The ending never really varied, they all leave him and find someone better.

   He braced, letting her vent, it always went over better that way. But all he heard from her was her irate breathing. “I try, goddamnit I try so hard Rich. I just wanted to talk, that’s all. But you and your damn stupid attitude, well fine. You don’t want to talk? You don’t have to talk ever again!” Rich felt weird energy about the room as she screamed at him. He was used to the yelling, but it almost felt like the room was hotter. It was a penetrating heat, the kind that drains you and makes your eyes flutter. Rich felt that as his head started to swoon, he slumped into his chair and saw Ricki grab her coat and storm out, not five minutes later he was asleep and elusive dreams played out in front of his eyes.

    Rich woke up to the smell of burning bacon, a trademark of Ricki’s cooking. He bristled, surprised she had stuck around unlike so many others, but expecting she did so only because she had much more to yell. Sitting up, something about his clothing felt just the slightest bit off, but sleeping in a lazy boy will do that. He carefully opened the door, finding Ricki at the stove. That was concerning enough, but she also hummed a lighthearted tune that didn’t really seem to fit the tenor of her rage last night. “Oh good, you’re up. I was worried that you might sleep right through breakfast.”“Um, thanks? But aren’t you like, mad? You were yelling pretty loud last night,” Rich said. He shifted from foot to foot awkwardly, rubbing his arm expecting the hammer to drop. Instead, she smiled, a motherly sort of smile. “Oh sweetie, it’s all water under the bridge. You were right, I was getting a little emotional, but I’ve taken some steps to fix everything, don’t you worry.” Rich was stunned, this was new. He smiled and practically felt like dancing. He nearly skipped to the table as Ricki brought him a platter of eggs, hash-browns, and various meats.

   Usually Rich didn’t go in for such lavish breakfasts, but this was apparently her form of apology. She didn’t wait for him to grab his fork and speared a healthy amount of scrambled eggs, bringing the prongs near his mouth. Still unwilling to rekindle the rage he saw last night, he opened his mouth and allowed her to feed him. It was surprisingly relaxing for him, there was a small part of him that said that this was emasculating, but it was much quieter than it normally was. He was also surprised by the quality of the food she was giving him. Typically, she could only produce black charcoal to eat, she must have been practicing lately. The thought of her, slaving away at a cookbook, working hard to improve herself, made a pit of guilt for in Rich’s stomach. Before he had time to apologize or truly process that guilt, his meal was done she ushered him to their room to prepare for the workday.

   He donned his usual business casual outfit, he didn’t vary too much in his work attire. This morning, however, his clothing didn’t quite sit right. His shoulders seemed almost narrower and his shirt sleeves rubbed against his wrists. His belt even required an extra notch to hold his pants up, that one was at least welcome. But, once again, before he had any time to process these laundry accidents, Ricki had handed him a bottle of water and a lunch and encouraged him into the car, which in another uncharacteristic move, she drove.

   “Have a good day, Sweetie! I’ll pick you up later, just going to do some shopping.” Ricki said.“But, I can drive myself—” Rich began.“Don’t be silly, this way saves on gas and time. Now march on up there and make me proud.” Ricki said as she sped away, leaving Rich with very little choice in the matter. Rich stared at the tall building, feeling alone. His cuff chaffed his wrist, his bag lunch felt heavy in his hand, and he felt an odd sense of being out of place. His feeling was only compounded when he stepped through the threshold of the office door. The firm was already crawling with activity, which only served to unsettle Rich more. Everything seemed larger, not just in the physical sense, it almost seemed like everything here wasn’t meant for him. His awkward pace wasn’t peppy enough for someone, and he soon heard his name, followed by several expletives, and was commanded to join the others in the boardroom.

   “Alright everybody, I’m only gonna say this once, we’re in real deep shit. Our clients are pulling out, controversy after controversy has desensitized the public and they’re more litigious and organized than ever. If this advertising company is gonna survive, as it has managed to do for the past hundred years, we need a fresh new take. Something that will appease those whiny fuckin’ millennial and our diehards. I am not gonna be the one at the helm when this company goes down, so if anyone has an idea, you better speak up now.” Rich only feigned attention. He was a supposed to care, he wanted to care but something, a hazy sense of boredom held him back from it. It was as though the CEO were miles away speaking to him. An intern, especially one as hungry as he was should’ve leaped at the opportunity, sunk his claws into it and never let go. But instead, Rich sat quietly and doodled in a yellow legal pad. His scribbles were nothing a twenty-eight-year-old should be proud of, but in his mind, he was crafting a masterwork. Unicorns danced in fields, ballerina knights slew smelly dragons, and princesses adorned themselves with the prettiest dresses imaginable. “Who the hell are you?!” The CEO called out, directly at him. It was so loud and so jarring that it snapped him back violently to reality and his head swirled trying to regain his bearings. “M—me?” He said.“Yeah, you. This is a staff meeting and I certainly didn’t hire any teens recently. Are somebody’s kid or what?” Rich darted his eyes to and from each coworker, silently asking for help of any kind. “Um, I’m Rich, the intern?” He said, as unsure as everyone else seemed to be.“Bullshit. That guy is almost thirty, you little missy don’t look a day over sixteen. Now tell me who you are or get out, I’m not in the mood to play babysitter.” Sixteen? Missy? What was he talking about? But as Rich stood up and his shirt cuff swallowed his hand, and his pants nearly fell to his ankles, he had an idea of why he said what he said.

   Rich did as he was told and shuffled out of the boardroom, retaining his pants to his waist with his hand. His cheeks felt hot and his eyes were growing misty with anxious confusion. His first instinct was to run to the bathroom as fast as his small legs could take him. Is it secured hand slammed and locked the door. He approached the mirror cautiously, his boss hadn’t even recognized him and though there was no reason for it his legs moved like weights and his dress shirt dad is misty eyes preparing him for what he would see. In the cheap mirror, he could find almost no trace himself. His angular features had softened, his cheeks were puffy, his eyes were red, and here it lost and no less than a foot and a half of his former 5 foot 10. He watched his bottom lip quiver as his eyes search for any sort of answer. His shirt hung limply on slender shoulders and his hands could not be seen, but they felt delicate as if never having seen a day of work. His belt was all but useless and his pants fell to the floor. The elastic band of his underwear still did its job, but even beneath that had not been spared from whatever was happening to him. His cock was nothing to write home about before, but now it’s imprinted in his underwear is barely visible and to his distraught eyes seemed to grow even smaller.

   His legs panicked and he ran back to his desk giving no thought to his state of dress. He scrambles for the receiver of his office phone neither caring nor aware of the eyes watching his diminutive form. He punched in the numbers for Ricki’s phone, he knew the number by heart. At least he thought he did. Instead of his beautiful girlfriend, a crotchety old man answered the phone demanding why he called him at such a late hour. Rich apologized, claiming the old excuse or the wrong number. His finger must have slipped, so he tried again and of this time connected with the New York Museum of Natural History. He tried a third, fourth, and the fifth time, failing each. His eyes were no longer misty and full sorrowful tears cascaded down his soft cheeks. He sat on the floor using his sleeve to wipe his eyes, his shirt now functioning more like a dress. His coworkers around him stood confused, wondering just who have brought their daughter into work today. Before anyone else could take charge of the situation, someone strode in from the main door and kneeled down near the distraught 28-year-old man who sat in a small puddle of fear induced urine. “Shhh, it’s alright sweetie, mommy’s here.“

   “Alright now raise those arms!” Ricki said with a smile, feeling a purer joy that she could recall. The tiny, wet little girls arms shot into the air excitedly, happy to feel her mothers warm embrace again. The towel collected every stray bit of water that’s still clung to her body. “Okey-dokey sweetie, is my big girl ready for her diaper?“ She didn’t wait for an answer as she collected the supplies to change little girl. It was a well practice procedure by now and she already laid on the changing mat ready. She squeals excitedly as the powder tickled her thighs and covered her exposed bottom. Each noise of excitement fills Ricki with happiness that just days ago she felt she would never hear. Once the tapes are secured, the excitable little girl hops up and latches onto her mother’s leg. She doesn’t see the soft tear escaping from her mother’s eyes. “I didn’t want it to go this way Rich, but I’m so happy it did,” she said she lumbered into the kitchen, the happy weight still clinging to her leg, to prepare a beautiful steak dinner for herself, and a sliced hot dog for her beautiful daughter.

The End. Hope Y’all like it!