#i barely even spend much time w/ her and i just kno her and her mind and mentality etc | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ofmythsandmadness · 5 years ago

Text

laughing like there’s any good reason to smile.

SUMMARY: diego did not think he’d be spending his night driving home a drunk weirdo like he ran a taxi company. and he really should have just not answered the phone, or said he was busy....but he was already out, he might as well do one more good deed for a NOT-friend who will not stop laughing.

WARNINGS: some language (not much, but i do like the word pisspot), romantic ideations, mentions of being drunk/alcohol. a little bit of oblivious mutual pining, too.

WORD COUNT: 3737 Diego Hargreeves x female insert.

A/N: I...I don’t know how I just wrote this. I legit just sat down and wanted to write a small drabble, and so I started this...and an hour later, after writing without stop I have this. It’s not edited, I have barely read through it at all. But it’s cute and messy and honestly, I don’t know what it is but I really like it. Which is surprising because I rarely enjoy a single word that leaves my mind and sticks on a page but I like this. it’s cute.

There are no TUA S2 spoilers in this, it takes place in a vague pre-s1, au bullshit that I like to base most of my work in (mostly because I’m quite lazy).

“HEY...YOU’RE NOT LIKE...BUSY, ARE YOU?”

Of all the ways to start a phone call, that might be the worst.

Diego drove probably too quickly down the quiet streets, one hand off the wheel, fidgeting in his lap. It was too late to be out like this, out and about like any other schmuck with no life to care about, and yet there he was.

Like any other schmuck.

“I know you’re probably too-tally busy...you know...stopping crime - I whispered so nobody knows, don’t worry…”

The phone call might as well had been with the entire bar, for all Diego knew because of how loud the voice on the other end was. Loud, raspy and dipping in and out of strength. There was a slur to every other word, and long pauses that almost made him think she had hung up. Every single time, until he just got used to saying ‘you there’, waiting for the sentence to end.

“See...awwww, I fucked up. I did, I really….rea-aally did.”

He laughed at that. Couldn’t help it. Despite how hard he had tried to compose himself, be angry (because he really was, he had things to do, dammit!) he had to chuckle there. Imagining the scene on the other end; standing there, leaning up against the wall, too drunk to even stand but too wired to take a seat. He wasn’t sure how much had been drunk, but it would have had to be a lot. Of all the calls Diego got, so rarely was it of that sort.

And never from normally well-composed, generally serious people he mostly considered assholes that did everything in their power to piss him off every single day of his miserable existence.

“But I need a favour...dearest, darling Diego…”

He pulled the car up, hitting the brakes but leaving it running. Absent-mindedly, he contemplated the risk of that - money was tight, he had to be careful about everything - but shrugged it off and stepped out. He wouldn’t be that long, anyways.

The culprit stood, or slouched, outside of the shitty dive bar he had been called from. Diego took note of the disheveled clothes and especially, the state of appearance - he had become so used to one certain way, he had no clue that a person like Y/N could ever, ever, look so bad in their life.

In the back of his mind, he mused that even despite the messy clothes (and mismatched, really atrocious look if he had to call it anything) and hair, someone like Y/N could never look bad.

He tried not to acknowledge that thought.

“Hey, asshole.”

“Hey!” Y/N cried, as though she had not seen him pull up. Though, maybe she hadn’t - which would suck. Diego didn’t really want to deal with someone that drunk that night. “Hey-y, Diego!”

He rolled his eyes. “You look a mess.”

“And you look ab-so-lute-ly adorable,” she slurred. She leant off the wall and promptly fell on her face.

Or, she would have, had Diego not moved in and grabbed her waist, yanking her back up to him. Which turned out to be a stupid mistake on his end, because then she was just right there, in his arms, staring up at him and barely standing up. Her breath smelled like bad whiskey and her eyes rang red, less-so from the drinking and moreso, he assumed, from whatever drove her out here in the first place.

But all that hardly crossed his mind as they stood so entwined in front of the shitty bar in the middle of the open street.

“Well, well,” she cooed, allowing her grip to relax on his biceps. “This...is...this is ni-ice.”

“Nope. Nope, not doing this.”

He said that more to himself.

“C’mon,” he groaned, switching his grip so she stood beside him and not so close to his face. “Let’s get you out of here.”

She sighed but followed suit, though he felt more like he was dragging her than walking alongside her. Her head nestled against his arm, hair tickling against the skin as the wind wafted through the night air.

It was the closest the two had ever been. And more than closest then Diego had ever thought them getting.

He was not sure how to feel about that.

“My knight in black leather,” she sighed beside him, clinging tighter. “You’re a diamond in the dirt, you know?”

“Don’t think that’s the saying.”

“Mm...no. But you’re always...covered in dirt, you know?”

He grumbled something non-sequential under his breath. “C’mon. Sit down, si’down.”

Begrudgingly she obliged, though she struggled throughout the entire thing. It felt more like he was dealing with a criminal from way-back-when then a...well, a Y/N. Whoever she was.

“Does your car have seatbelts, dear knight?”

“Does my-” Diego cursed and slid the seatbelt into her fingers, practically guiding them down. “You’re a real asshole, you know that?”

She tried to gasp but laughed towards the end, so it was more of a huffy giggle than anything. “Why...Diego, is that how you treat a lady?”

“No,” he mumbled, “that’s how I deal with you.” He slammed the door.

Faintly, he made out her yell of ‘pisspot’, and smiled to himself.

He sank into his seat and sighed, pulling out and into the road. Twenty minutes, he mused to himself, just twenty minutes and she’d be gone. If Diego could do anything, he could easily handle a super drunk Y/N in his car, yammering for twenty minutes about nothing at all.

He just had to focus.

“You kno-ow, you’re a grumpy grump, you kno...w?”

Diego said nothing.

“Do you need help with your seatbelt?”

He ignored her.

“Do you want me to drive?”

He answered that without hesitation: “no.”

She laughed.

He realised, sitting there, that he had never heard her laugh before - not really, unless faked chuckles thrown bitterly his way in one of their many disagreements counted, but he didn’t count them. Surprisingly, she had a nice laugh. Not one of those faux ones that he couldn’t stand, it wasn’t pretty, but it was real and loud and rang through the car like a Whitney Houston note; echoing everywhere.

“So grumpy, grumpy.”

He swallowed back his thoughts and just grimaced. “Shut up.”

Diego wished she would stop laughing.

They drove off and out of the miserable nightlife, with her giggling her ass off and him just trying not to lose his mind. He dared not look at her, though he knew her eyes hadn’t left his face. He wasn’t sure why she looked, and he really didn’t know why he couldn’t even just spare a glance, but he just...something about how human she was, real and raw and laughing in the passenger seat of his car like this was more than just a -

-he growled a curse to himself and turned the corner angrily.

A few moments later she had stopped laughing so much and had stuck with only a few giggles here and there. Y/N had taken up staring out the window, watching the people and houses and cars pass as though they were the most fascinating things in the world.

He looked at her then. Watched as she traced her fingers down the glass, staring with her mouth agape, eyes lidded and sad despite however much booze ran through her right then. She was more than drunk - she was tired. More than that, vulnerable in a way the two of them had never been.

That scared him more than the jokes and the laughter.

“Diego?”

His eyes shot back to the road. “Hm?”

“Why don’t you like me?”

“Hu-what?”

“Why do you hate me so-o much?” she asked again, that time with her voice smaller and a little higher. “I...I’m curious, what about me boils your bones...so.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Yes you do!”

“No I don’t!”

“Yes you do!” She wagged an accusatory finger towards his face, so close if he turned she’d surely jab his nose. “Yes...yes you do, you little...y’lil...muffin man. You hate my guts, and I think I have the right to know why!”

Diego rolled his eyes. “I’m not doing this.”

“Why? Are you afraid of hurting my feelings, grumpy grump? Cause,” she sang, rolling the syllables like this was a goddamn musical, “I’m afraid they’re already to-oo hurt, for you to do that. You’re in luck, muffin boy!”

“What does - stop calling me dumb shit,” he hissed.

She stuck her tongue out at him and poked his cheek with her hand.

He swatted it away angrily. “Shut up and let me take you home, okay?”

“No!”

“Well - yeah. Shut up.”

“Or what?”

“Or-” Diego didn’t know what to say to that. There was not much he could do, considering the circumstances - throwing her out of a moving car seemed much too cruel of a thought for anyone, especially a drunk Y/N who could barely figure out seatbelts for herself. Same with leaving her, or taking her anywhere else, or threatening a match or any other thing they’d normally do to one another. Not that he’d hurt her, anyways.

Not intentionally at least.

“You better tell me, or I’m….m...out!”

“You’re - out, what?��

Y/N’s hand found the car lock and with a grin, switched it off. “I’ll go right now!”

“You - you can’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“You’re - you’re strapped into the damn car, you’re just gonna get hurt.”

“Why would you care?”

“I don’t!”

“So you do hate me?”

“No! I - jeez, Y/N!” Diego slammed his hands down on the wheel, spitting out curses he didn’t bother to hide. “Do NOT open the car door, okay? Don’t do that! Just sit down, and let me take you home!”

Somehow his speech worked. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened to speak, but no words came out. Instead, she sank back into her seat. Her hands returned to her lap.

“Great. Thank you, so much. Amazing.”

She didn’t say a word.

He spared a glance her way, only to see her gaze had turned to the road. “Y/N? You good?”

Nothing.

“Y/N?”

Nothing.

“Oh, c’mon, I-” he sighed and slapped the steering wheel again. He hated how his heartstrings pulled at the silence, at how her words had stung - stupidly, irrevocably, no matter what he told himself, it hurt to think she truly thought he hated her. Cause stupid, irrevocably, somehow -

“-I don’t hate you, Y/N, at all. I just - don’t get mad at me, okay? I mean I’m taking you home, I would take you home if I hated your ass, right? I mean - what do you want from me here!?”

Diego took another glance, worried when she still said nothing, and promptly grew a thousand times more worried when he saw her shoulders heave and shake. Without even thinking, he swerved to the side of the road and braked hard before reaching out to her. “Y/N?”

And then she turned, and he saw instead of tears, it was laughter slipping from her lips, rolling out like great ripples of waves, silent and shaking through her body. Her eyes were tearing up, but not from sadness, instead the drunken giddiness she found herself lost within. But they were alight, and warm, and tipsy on the power that must have fuelled her fit of laughter in the first place.

With a scowl, Diego sat back. “You’re such an asshole.”

“Wait, no! I - I just-” she heaved, and let out another peal of laughter - that time loud and echoing through the tiny car again. “Don’t be ma-aad at me!”

“I wish I hadn’t come, you know that? I should’a left you there, you...you asshole.” Despite himself, Diego felt himself grow flushed and embarrassed, struggling to even play this all off as anger. “You are the worst.”

She kept laughing. “I know you don’t mean that now, though! Ha - ha - you like me, darling, admit it!”

“Screw off.”

“You li-i-i-ke me!”

“Nope.”

“C’mon, you can’t lie to lil’ ol’ me, muffin man!”

“Don’t call me - stop it!”

“Stop what?”

“Doing that!”

“Doing wha-at?”

“That! All’a that!”

Y/N’s lips pouted down, though he knew for a fact she wasn’t really upset. “So rude. One might even think you mean it.”

Diego started the car back up again, grumbling all the way through it. He shrugged off her touch. “I do mean that.”

“You know, I think I finally understand you.”

This car ride was beginning to feel like forever. It had only been maybe ten minutes of driving, and yet he felt like he had been trapped in some special sort of hell for a horrific eternity of embarrassment and...her.

“I get you, Diego...fuck! I don’t remember your last name, that’s really ruining this speech!” Her fist came down hard on the car door panel; he flinched. “Darling, what’s your last name again? I - I can’t do this power speech without it.”

He said nothing, indigent and grumpy.

“Whatever, I’ll make do. Um…” she was quiet for a second, then with a triumphant ‘a-ha!’, spoke again. “Okay. So I get you, Diego, I see you for who you are.”

Was his whole entire life leading up to this car ride straight to hell? Because if so, Diego could only wish time travel actually worked. Maybe then he could go back to 1989 and stop himself, somehow, maybe just-

“-you try so hard to make other people think you’re this grumpy lil’ pisspot of hatred and anger and ‘I work alone, move or be moved’ mantra. So, so hard, it makes everyone mad and hate you back, and you’re alone all over again.” She sucked in a heaving breath, sighed loudly and kept going. “But the real Diego, he doesn’t want that!”

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “You don’t know what you’re goin’ on about, I suggest you stop before this gets stupid.”

She laughed, even louder than before. How was that even possible. “It already is! It’s all so stupid, Diego, because people could like you! I mean, you’re a lovely, soft little man underneath the knives and spandex and,” she dropped her voice low and grisly, “‘I hate everything and everyone and also...I’m Batman...woo...Gotham City...I stop crime…”

“Stop it-”

“-but you don’t have to be lonely, darling muffin man,” she cried, throwing her hands up and out in a triumphant cry. “You don’t have to! People like you, or they can like you - I might have to give this speech again, but that’s okay, do you have a pen and paper I can use to write it down?”

He ignored her, trying to force down the pounding in his heart. Trying not to think about a thing she was saying and how badly he wanted to respond to it, no matter how much bullshit and how she slurred her words and spoke in stupid rambles that made not much sense at all. But trying to convince a brain to not think about the very thing they can’t stop thinking about almost all the time, is a very difficult task and an impossible one for Diego, at that moment.

But he really, really did not want to think about how much he wanted to respond to her words.

“I like you, you know that?”

His eyes widened; barely a sign of weakness, and one she didn’t catch. But still there.

“I think you’re rude, and annoying, and dumb sometimes because you almost always get yourself hurt, and I don’t like that,” she rambled, swinging her hands about, conducting an invisible orchestra only she could hear. “But underneath all that stupid shit, you’re quite adorable, you know? And likeable. I feel so bad you feel the need to be so, so hard all the time.”

A beat, and then she laughed again,

“Ah! That’s what she said - ha, I said ‘hard….all the time…’ - tha’s what she said!”

Diego swerved the car to the side street and carried down, slowing until they were in the front of her apartment building. For a moment, he struggled to say a thing, finding the words lost in the chasm of his thoughts. But finally, he managed to speak again, forcing the anxiety down again.

“We’re here.”

“Wh-oh! You’re right.” Her eyes moved from his face to the window, pressing her nose against the glass. “Wow. That was so, so fast.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Thank you, so much, dear...darling...dear...Diego.” With a happy sigh, she unbuckled her seatbelt - he was surprised she was able to do so so easily - and climbed out of his car. “Thank you, and have an -oof!”

In the spirit of dumb drunk decisions, Y/N had taken too big a step backwards and promptly fell, right down on her face. And then laid there groaning and mumbling to herself, while Diego stared at her from his side unsure what the hell to do.

“Dammit,” he muttered, and unbuckled his own seatbelt. He hurried out of the car and over to her side. “How much have you had to drink?!”

“Not that much! I mean, a little much, but not thaaaaat much!” Her lips pouted, staring up at him above her. “Why, how much have you had?”

“N-none. Nothing. Stop it.”

Y/N giggled and sat herself up in the grass. Her gaze moved from his to the sky, mapping the stars through a foggy gaze.

Diego just watched her, unsure what to do or say, as she smiled and watched and mumbled to herself something he could not even try to make out. He swallowed, hard, trying to free his mind or how strangely beautiful she looked, sitting with grass in her hair and tears of laughter staining her cheeks.

It was so strange to see someone who he had forced himself to avoid at all costs, someone who he had grown to see in only one specific light so open and free like that. Uncaring, smiling, drunk off her ass but clearly doing at least a bit better than he was.

His mind went back to what she had said in the car, the small comment about hurt. Why had she been drinking? What had led her, someone of such strict schedule, out alone to a shitty bar in the middle of the night, alone, then to call him? Surely she had more people she’d rather talk to - at least people who’d be nicer about helping her home. Why was it him she turned to?

“Diego?”

He looked back down. “Yeah?”

“Gonna help me up, or are you gonna just stand over me and wait for me to take you down? Cause, you know, I will-”

“-yeah, yeah.” Taking her outstretched hands, he tugged her up, that time more gentle in case of injury. As well, careful not to pull her too close. “You...you need help up?”

“Hm? Oh, no, I should be fine. I’ll call my roommate down, she’s great at helping people.” She smiled cheerily. “You’d hate her.”

Diego did not take the bait, though. He simply held her gently and guided her forward, to the apartment complex doors. He paused, ready to let her go, and then,

“Why wouldn’t you just call her to get you, then?”

Y/N gasped and covered her mouth with her hands, dropping them down immediately after. “And miss out on this terrific bonding experience between the two of us, dear-ling?”

“Well - I-I just mean-”

“-sorry, Diego,” she said, that time a little softer. “I just wanted to see you, is that so wrong?”

“W-w-”

“-don’t answer that, I’m too tired for more of your sharp wit tonight.” Her words bled sarcasm, but her eyes remained bright and happy despite. Y/N then moved close to him, stepping shakily forward so she stood just in front before lifting up to her tallest height. Awkwardly, her hands finding his biceps, she pressed a kiss to the area between his mouth and cheek, into day-old stubble he had almost forgotten about.

Diego shivered.

She pulled back, scrutinizing his skin with furrowed brows. “Hm...I think I mis...nevermind. You be safe, muffin….okay?”

Diego found he could not say a word to that all, struggling to even nod back a response. Luckily, Y/n didn’t seem to need one. She nodded happily and swayed away, into her apartment complex. He watched her lean against the wall and call her roommate, lips moving animatedly in what seemed a more interesting conversation that he thought such a thing would have been.

Then she pulled away, and their eyes met again. Hers alive and his frozen, struggling still to comprehend what the hell had happened in that twenty-minute drive.

She smiled at him.

He couldn’t bring himself to do a thing. Just waited, making sure someone came down to get her before turning back to his car.

Diego moved through the actions of getting in, forcing his body to keep going even when his mind was barely moving at all. Mechanically he fastened his seatbelt, long fingers slipping away without even a thought, moving to start the car up again.

But then fell from the wheel, and up to his face. A hand traced the skin her lips had just touched. The skin was dry, but he could still feel somehow the imprint of her mark, pressing into his skin and stubble and being.

And then the hand fell away. Went back to the car, peeling out of the lot and off back to his own place. It dared not touch the skin again, for fear of being burned.

Diego tried to forget about it. Tried to sleep, work out, push through the thoughts radiating through his mind as though it was frozen on just one screen and didn’t know how to exit unto another. He stayed up all night, trying to rid himself of the memory and the thoughts and feelings and the way her eyes looked so stupidly bright in the street lights.

When he finally was able to sleep, it was restless and filled with torments of memories he did his best not to think about. And yet every time, the dreams cycled back to her, the her crying out stupid monologues in the passenger seat of his car, animated and loud and laughing like he had never heard someone laugh before. Drunk and in pain and clearly holding back something and yet alive, in a way he had not seen another human be in a long time.

Her gaze on him, every single time, just before he would wake up, smiling from ear to ear.

“I just wanted to see you, is that so-”

-and then he woke up.

Every time, smiling like a stupid idiot.

PART TWO - here.

#diego hargreeves x reader #tua x reader #the umbrella academy x reader #this may be super messy i'm so sorry #but it's happy and i rarely write anything happy so!!!#i actually like this fic #my fics

218 notes · View notes

stigmata-core · 4 years ago

Text

my gf was saying that she doesnt kno anyone who hates going home quite as much as i do and u kno . it's like.. why would i like going home ? i cant name a time i was ever happy there.. ive always been an outsider & i always will be .. from the get go i was teased for being half russian & ostracised for being weird and all the teachers treated me like i was dumb and when i was older it was homophobia and still being treated like an idiot and a freak.. and at home my parents used to work all the time and my mum would get so annoyed and we'd argue and she'd make endless snide comments abt everything and my dad would either straight up blank me or make me cry on purpose like .. i barely got any attention ans whenever i did it was negative or my dad would say he was proud of me but it was hollow and then my mum would be like for what are u proud of her for lol and even tho me n my mum get on rlly well now i only like spending time w her when my dad isnt there cuz he ruins it lol i just think like . why the fuck would i wanna go back i hate basically everyone there

#mad rant lol

5 notes · View notes

faunusrights · 5 years ago

Text

OFFAL HUNT REMASTERED LIVEBLOG //CHAPTER 20

i mispelt the title as ‘oofal hunt’ which, i mean, mood,

IN THIS EPISODE OF DEPRESSION TO THE MAX:

"Fuck you."

THAT’S IT. THAT’S-- THERE’S THE CHAPTER.

/looks at the chosen lyrics for this chap :hrm:

do i still have to a little introduction to this liveblog? twenty chapters in? methinks not so lets just get right Tew It shall we

“We’re here, Ms. Fall.”

/marks this next section down on the tally of cinder’s mistakes. we’re somewhere in the high thousands.

An old Dust extraction point, quietly rotting. Cinder’s mouth pulled. There was an abysmal dearth of kindling.

cinder: you know you could at least take me somewhere better suited for me to kick your ass. this is VERY rude. am NOT a fan. my yelp review will NOT be kind.

i love cinder counting up the numbers. you know honestly id be deeply charmed if someone saw it fit to bring half an army out to take me on. i mean, would it be a pain in my ass? yes. but also. awh. thanks lads! love how many of you blocked out this evening just for me x

"Sienna Khan!" Cinder could barely hear herself between the claws of that strange laughter. "Sienna Khan! It’s really—really—you!"

uh-oh sisters,

oh man sienna and cinder is just. look. WOOF. theres a lot here. a lot going on. a lot that HAD gone on. but also im gay so this tension is peak for me PLEASE lay it on thick!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LETS GO!

Cinder stopped laughing.

"Overkill," she repeated, and in the same breath, crossed the tarmac in full immolation.

HELL YEAH BABEY. but also was the more the implication that cinder is an easy kill OR the implication that glynda’s the bigger threat that’s more annoying,,,,,,,,,,,,, well!!!!!!!! too late to find out now!!!!!!!!!!!!!

They clashed: once, twice, three times, steel on Aura, flitting through space, but—he wasn't faster than Glynda.

wait it’s the former i forgot cinder’s gay nvm

“Cinder. I mean it. I want to talk.” Sienna’s face revealed nothing. Her gaze stayed fixed on Cinder, as if she were searching for something.

What it could be, Cinder had her guesses, and all of them repulsed her utterly. She spat, “Well, I was only planning on sending your Lieutenant’s head to you in a box signed Love Cinder, so I didn’t really come with a speech prepared.”

SDHJGHJGSKFD SORRY IM LIKE. tryna liveblog but im also just :EYES: at everything here.......... im SO PUMPED for this cause im just SO CURIOUS,,,,,, WE’VE HAD SO MANY SNIPPETS,,,,,,,,, BUT IM HONGRY FOR MORE,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

that said i feel like cinder’s the type of person who revisits arguments in her head hours later with new, better points, so i think she does have a speech prepared. in fact i think she has many words stored up in the ol’ meatspace, and all of them are very rude,

The Sienna Khan that Cinder remembered still had baby-fat in her cheeks and hadn’t learned to keep her thoughts off her face. The one she saw now had weaponized distance.

/stage whisper hang on that visual is cute dont put it in HERE where the TENSION IS

Quietly, Sienna went for her belt, pulling away something the same polished silver as her whip. It might have been an arrow tip, except that it was lethally barbed and looked like it had been modified to chamber Dust. Pale blue glinted within it.

Cinder darkened. "Ice Dust?"

sienna: i wanna talk sienna: with violence!

GOD ITS REAL INTERESTING CAUSE,,,,,,,,,, THERE’S A LOT HAPPENING HERE. glynda didnt Know cinder in any sense so we’ve very much been on the ‘let’s figure cinder out with glynda’ train like the whole. the rain! and the desert! etc! all very much thru the lens of glynda ‘i dont remember shit’ goodwitch! so now we have seinna who Knows Shit cause there’s so much history here and im like blease wait talk more first i want the KNOWLEDGE

[...] "Roman Torchwick is holed up in Vytal with your warehouses, and those two teens haven’t been sighted in months... But you wouldn't send them that far north, would you?”

“I wouldn’t send them anywhere you could get your claws in them.”

“The White Fang isn’t like that anymore. We don’t strong-arm children into our ranks. That girl—the snake Faunus—”

“If you say one more word about her,” Cinder said. “I’m going to do something drastic to every single person here.”

ACTUALLY TALK LESS TALK LESS LETS FIGHT RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!! AND NOT TALK!!!!!!!! A T A L L

Sienna's shoulders leveled. "This is not Hróðvitnir's White Fang anymore."

me: huh why do i recognise that name,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, me: oh yeah!!!!!!! that bitch,

HJGDSJKHGFDS we Love a homage to a classic au and to a cinder so good that id die for her. i mean id die for this cinder too but like that was another level of Die For. anyway. back to the au at hand,

“If I didn’t know better, I might believe you," Cinder snapped, and her old scars throbbed in tandem. “But I do know better. I found one of your parasites, sucking the life out of a town near the wastes. Bringing the White Fang’s protection. You should have seen how he protected them. There wasn't a child there without a fang or an antler missing."

hang on a sec, lets LEAP BACK in time for just a moment

okay so i nipped back to chapter five for just a hot second to see if there was a line that was particular pertinent, but also i found smthng else...

Violence collected at her twitching fingers, old scars across her body flaring with phantom pain. (Chapter 5)

“If I didn’t know better, I might believe you," Cinder snapped, and her old scars throbbed in tandem. (Chapter 20)

HM,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, man. cinder. you got real fucked up huh. ANYWAY THAT WASNT WHAT I WAS LOOKING FOR I JUST LINED THE CONTINUITY (because im jealous). what i was ACTUALLY looking for was THIS:

There would be another overseer, the inhabitants would resume their harried lives, and Cinder wouldn’t spare this town a second thought.

i said at the time in an emotional fit of pain that this was a straight-up lie but cinder is nothing if not a melting pot of emotional reckoning, and I WAS RIGHT. LET IT BE INSCRIBED UNTO THE STONES!!!! SHE DID SPARE IT A SECOND THOUGHT!!!!!!!! HELD IN HER MIND LONG ENOUGH TO RECALL THE DETAILS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! JUST 2 SPIT IT IN SIENNA’S FACE!!!!!!!!! im telling you that cinder has SO MUCH MORE GOING ON!!!!!!!!!!! and heres my PROOF. PROOF OF WHY SHES AN ANGEL (ONLY ON TUESDAYS THOUGH [10AM-1PM])!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Then: "Why don't you say," Sienna responded slowly, her expression slotting into place like a bullet chambering, "precisely what you mean, Cinder."

"Fuck you."

:’3c

cinder has such a way with words. i love her eloquence. remember that time glynda thought she was taking the piss out of the fact she was autistic at dinner? cinder yr a maestro. never change.

“You brought Beowolves to heel. You could turn a Goliath with a word!"

“I had—no—Aura! Nothing to protect me!”

:eyes: :thinking:

HM,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, INTERESTING??????? i feel like this is the first time we’ve heard of cinder w/o aura implicitly? unless im Stupit and dont remember a Got Dang Thing but HUH. does this. hm. huh. am i stupid. someone tell me if i missed a thing.

“This isn’t a diplomatic mission, Cinder. I simply wanted to know what their lives were worth to you—before we wipe our hands of each other for good.”

“That’s a funny way of saying only one of us is walking away from this.”

GOD,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, i LOVE this scene a lot the interplay between sienna and cinder is absolutely PEAK,,,,,,,, PEAQUE,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, im rly enjoying this. also im dying. but im enjoy it a LOT.

“The White Fang you and I grew up in doesn't exist anymore. We’re changing. But you… When did you stop caring? Was it when you cut your horns to be one of them instead?"

Dragonfire scorched Cinder's lungs, blackening every word: "I was never—your—people."

feels like its been a good goddamn whilst since i got to do one of these 👈😎👈, so let’s savour the moment

👈👈👈👈👈👈😎👈👈👈👈👈👈

aaaaaand savoured. lets continue.

Shaking with the effort of holding her strike, Sienna grit, "I won't relish this."

And Cinder howled, "I will!”

ah shit i shouldve said lets RELISH this to tie the whole theme together and-- and fuck it, combat scene. never good at liveblogging these. sdfjhgsdfghj

Gunfire sparked against her, but she honed in on him with single-minded intent, the kind she’d whetted to a razor’s edge against Glynda.

for a chapter following cinder escaping glynda, she’s thought about her TWICE now. huh. huh. interesting. gay. and interesting,,,,,,

It was nothing like fighting Glynda. This was bleak and repetitive: the second drove forward and Sienna covered his openings, stopping Cinder before she could rip his heart from his chest, and all the while, the gunfire whittled away at her Aura. It was a joyless tactic, no flair or heart, and yet—

HUH. GAY AND INTERESTING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NO FLAIR OR HEART,,,,,,,,,, i cant believe every time they fought cinder was actually just doing a shit job of flirting. the more you know.

The world erupted into flames. They grew massive, swirling around her like a hurricane—Cinder’s Aura exploded outward in desperation, like a dying star defiantly spending the last of itself on a supernova; one final flare, brighter than entire galaxies, if only for a single moment. Cinder felt flashes of bright pain through her muscles as if the fire was burning her from inside.

MAN,,,,,,,,,,,,, I COULD TALK ABT SOME UH,,,,,,,,,,,,, well. i could talk abt a few things here. but theyre kinda 👈😎👈 so i WONT,,,,,,,,,,,,,, but kno that i am having some Thoughts on the matter. hm.

“Prove it!” Death was thrumming in her veins. It had never made her brave before. It did now, the memory of Glynda’s blind, resolute stare heady in her skull. “Come and prove it! Do it, or I’ll hunt you to your last, miserable breath, Sienna!”

so remember when glynda had her little outburst at winter and i said that i love how cinder rubbed off on glynda in the worst way? i cant believe glynda ALSO rubbed off on cinder ALSO in the WORST WAY!!!! this is how u know this truly is a soulmates thing.

“It’s a shame you outgrew your swords, Cinder Fall. I would have taken them as a trophy,”

it’s with great disappointment that i must say: i agree with adam. the swords were hot. they should come back.

Sienna’s footsteps were whispers at Cinder’s back. The trap was closing. Cinder pooled flame in one palm. The other hand was useless, limp at her side. Impotent rage tasted like blood in her mouth. “I don’t even remember your fucking name.”

HJGKDSFKJHGFSDJDHGF GOD IM SORRY BUT THIS MADE ME LAUGH. WHAT A LINE. WHAT A LINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i may actually have to draw this scene that image is SO wonderful. just cinder, staggering, exhausted, and she still manages to just spit that out. im screaming. shes a champion. i think she won this battle literally just there pack it up her burns come in more flavours than one.

Beneath Cinder, Hati turned, scanning for an escape, but she didn’t drop Sienna’s gaze. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she said, “I’m told I’m something of a menace.”

firstly: AAAAAAAAA HATI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BABY BOY OH NO THATS NO GOOD BAD TIMES AWFUL FEELS MY GUY!!!!!!!!!!!! secondly: CINDER THESE ZINGERS ARE UNREAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! JESUS CHRIST. I KNEW YOU LIED WHEN YOU DIDNT HAVE A SPEECH HOW MUCH MATERIAL HAVE YOU GOT IN THERE?????????

OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD

WAIT WHAT HANG ON

WHAT

WAIT

W H AT

okay wait hold on lets dial back i read ahead and dint live blog wait rthereghsdfgjhdffd HOLD ON

Cinder buried her face in Hati’s mane, hating them, hating, hating, hating. Black ichor clotted in Hati’s fur, tacky against her palms. Grimm didn’t have Auras to protect them, and exit wounds riddled Hati’s mighty body. Cinder’s heart lurched with fury. She could have screamed.

i read this bit and got STRESSED because hati is PEAK like hati didnt even fucking SHOW UP in og but i LOVE HIM and i knew shit would happen because its fucking offal hunt BUT

It should have been impossible at this distance, but Cinder could feel her gaze like traded blows, even nestled among the black of Hati’s pelt.

Sienna’s eyes shone like coins. They were cool, detached. Prepared.

She twisted her wrist and the whip flickered through the air in tight wheels. Its end glittered pale blue.

UH OH

Adrenaline cooled to permafrost in Cinder’s body, as though the Dust had already found its home between her ribs.

Cinder whispered, “Don’t.”

UH OH

Expressionless, Sienna gave a wide lash, and the jagged end of her whip released with a click. Silver sliced through the air, then through feathers and fur, with a sickening sound—wet and meaty as the arrowhead dagger buried itself deep into flesh. Hati’s whole body shuddered and Cinder only had a moment more before ice exploded from his ribs, ripping out through his pelt, even slicing into Cinder’s own skin. It speared him from deep inside, where the cartridge had sunk, impaling everything and rending him asunder.

JESUS JESUS CHRIST AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

JESUS CHRIST WHAT A VISCERAL DEATH SCENE HOLY SHIT OH MY GOD OH NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! O H N O T H A T S A N O G O O D V E R Y B A D T I M E

Cinder’s stomach jumped into her throat, and she held on tight to Hati, her bastion, her sanctuary, her family—held on tight like it would make any difference at all—like she could hold her family together with just her own two hands.

Hati dissolved right between her fingertips, and she plummeted alone.

like she could hold her family together with just her own two hands

OUGH what the FUCK

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA HEY THIS. HEY THIS SUCKED HEY THIS WAS A BAD CHAPTER WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THAT WAS HATI!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THAT WAS MY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!! GO TO HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

EXCUSE ME????????? WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?????????? HELLO??????????? WHAT THE FUCK????????? SIENNA???????? BITCH?????????? GO TO H E L L

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

#rwby #offal hunt #liveblog #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

10 notes · View notes

strvwberryblcnde · 4 years ago

Note

👫 teddy/lana

send a 👫 and I’ll write four headcanons i have about our muses’ relationship.

ok so. lana has a habit of sharing food as one of her many love languages i think. she jst likes.... giving ppl things even if it means she’ll have less. she’d let a wolf make a meal out of her n eat every last piece if she loved him n she knew he’d feel full. bt of everyone i feel like teddy hs always been the one she does this w most.... like even when they first met in the cafeteria she gave him spoonfuls of her greek yogurt n honey. whenever she’s eating fruit (which is a lot she’s obsessed w strawberries n peaches n grapes n tangerines n oranges) she’ll ALWAYS give him half whether tht’s segmenting up pieces or dividing bites evenly between them n Without Fail it’ll always b half tht she gives him whereas she might give other ppl like.... a bite or a piece or two bt......... it’s rly specific each time tht she gives teddy half. it isn’t even intentional it’s jst like a subconscious thing bt if we were to slide on spectacles n analyse this in an english class fr it’s Meaning then. looks at u then looks away. i think this represents the way tht teddy hs always felt like another half of her. they’re one in the same. in a lot of ways they’re very similar mayb even................ TOO similar n that’s why it’s been sch a fking.... bastard of trying to work things out ever bc they very much hv the same rampant commitment issues n bad timing n fears of never being gd enough. i feel like in the past a guy she ws dating (noncommittally as lana tended to do these things) wld have even noticed this n it would have bugged him a lot just like... how close she was w teddy in general............. n he would’ve one day brought it up in the middle of a fight he’d picked jst cutting away from what they were talking abt to be like. u only ever give me one bite but u would give teddy all of it if he asked u to. tell me i’m wrong. n she’d scoff out a laugh in disbelief looking around like omg...... all this over a fruit...... what are u even sa-- n he’d cut her off n be like. literally tell me i’m wrong lana. n she wouldn’t even b able to after going quiet n rly realising what it was he was actually Saying. he’d storm out. relationship over. icons of always being a little bit in love w each other n not even noticing it until someone else points it out <3

god. sighs dramatically at the idea i jst had. i cn imagine in la verse lana being rly drunk getting bk from a date one time n inevitably it was just some random loser since she’s back to dating Trash in this era bc she just truly cbas trying after her breakup w dom n............. it would be like a parallel to tht one time they’d fallen out over him sleeping w imogen when she ws upset w him bt crawled into his bed drunk at a party just to lie w him for a little while despite everything...... she wld have gone to his instead of hers on some drunken automatic pilot n somehow got into his room n..... she’d clamber in n flop nxt to him n maybe it wld be funny at first if he woke up n was like lana what the fk...... are u doing here.... so disorientated n confused.......... n she’d just be joking initially bt very clearly drunk like making fun of her date talking abt how he kept complimenting his own hair n calling himself a tesla in a sea of prius’ n checking himself out in every window they passed n then the laughter wld slowly trickle off n she’d go kind of quiet fr a moment n maybe teddy wld assume she ws passing out bc she’d drank sm bt after a short silence she’d perk up with a mumble out of nowhere n, barely conscious of what she’s saying, b like “why didn’t u wait for me like u said u would”. n if he was like.............. huh? she’d have her eyes shut n just b murmuring half awake then open them sleepily to look at him n rly quietly be like........ “u promised”. mayb she’d even reach out to gingerly trace his face bt then her wrist wld go slack bc she was rly tired n she’d just wriggle closer n tuck her head to get comfy n be like “warm” then promptly fall asleep. JSGSFKGHFHGKHGSFKH. literally jst jolting him awake w this rarely serious n genuine conversation then passing out. jst the worst fk teddy’s life bet he lay there staring at the ceiling fr so long after tht one <3 lana wouldn’t remember this in the morning either she’d wake up like why am i here........ did we meet up last night............ teddy jst like >_> u crashed here it was nbd.

i picture the first week they moved to LA lana wldn’t have admitted it bt she wld be feeling rly homesick............ radcliffe was very much like the first place she truly felt was her home n she’d miss all of the ppl there n just the general area A Lot............. one night i can see her jst wanting to spend with teddy to have like a sense of familiarity in an unfamiliar city (even if she’s spent a decent amt of time there over the yrs bc of jameson records hving studios etc bt still) n i’m imagining them like. breaking into an indoor swimming complex that her n her friends in high skl used to break into in the summers when they vacationed yrs ago.... maybe lana still has a key cut tht works from a connection she made bk then idk <3 it doesn’t matter <3 n they’d inevitably be drunk n just messing around n splashing each other n doing handstand competitions n all the typical..... fun frivolous childish antics lana n teddy tend to get into whenever they’re around each other.... truly jst transformed into big kids whenever they’re in the other’s company..... inspired a little by this gifset jst in terms of the playing around underwater vibe. anyway. mayb they mostly dry off bt they end up climbing up onto the rooftop after n it’s a baking summer night anyway so it isn’t like they’ll catch a cold being damp bt they share a big fluffy towel n bottle of rum between them huddled overlooking the lights of the city. n maybe somehow it gets onto lana admitting how much she misses home n how it’s kind of weird being here especially bc she’s further from caleb. she’s never been this far from him since he was away in the army n we all kno hw tht turned out. mayb she’d go a bit quiet after saying this bt then i think she’d take his hand w their fingers laced together n she’d rest her head on his shoulder n be like. at least i’ll always have u. it’s like i took a piece of home w me. we’ve always had each other like that. then she’d perk up n lift her head n be like let’s make a deal. i’ll be ur home if u’ll be mine. ok? n make him pinky promise. i dnt think she’d quite consider the sentimentality in tht bt 😔 she nvr rly does she jst says what feels natural without attention paid to the deeper meaning tht motivated it n.... sighs. looks at u then looks away....

this is inspired by tht scene in don’t trust the b in apartment 23 where she’s like “look. that video of me getting rawed by my best friend means the world to me.” KJGFGJKSFHKGHKSFGHKFSHKGSHGK god. inevitably in lana n teddy’s prime when they were literally hooking up 24/7 in earlier college yrs they made.............. a few videos. i mean it’s jst realistic. it’s jst common sense. probably even a feature length film at one point. n i had this idea where bc teddy’s trying to get into acting etc mayb if he gets an agent his agent is like.... do u have any dirt u need to take care of? loose ends to tie up? incriminating files to delete? sex tapes? n if he was like... ya..... mayb his agent wld have asked him to delete them if he still had them on his computer or w.e i mean i kno lana wld n wouldn’t have deleted them she wld have been proud of their work of art...... bt maybe he told lana abt this just laughing abt it n the atmosphere ws lighthearted at first bc she’d find it rly funny too like ommmmggggggg i’m a skeleton in ur closet tht is so fun if u get famous i cld be blasted all over perez hilton that’s kind of sexy..... bt............... mayb she’d as a joke be like. mayb we shld watch it one last time before u delete it. kind of like a funeral service. a goodbye party. sailing out the flaming viking raft n paying our respects u know??? n they were joking bk n forth bt then she’d be like. seriously tho mayb we should? growing more accustomed to the idea actually being a genuine one even tho tht is fking. the WORST idea i have EVER heard in the world like i do NOT know how lana wld think she has the self control to do that bt in her head she’s like. teddy n i are jst best friends now... it’s fine........... we’re open w each other it’s just a bit of fun.......... n then i can imagine if he went along w this it’s like a game of chicken they’re playing w each other where they’re both like fking hell shd we do this.... dnt wna seem like I’M the one tht thinks i can’t handle it........ n it’s some back n forth like nick n jess in new girl where they’re daring each other to have the threeway w the landlord. bt then like not even.... a minute into watching it as they’re both silently holding their breath n crunching popcorn they mde for the occasion (insisting on acting like it ws just a normal movie night) lana wld literally have to be like. slams laptop shut. UMMMM i forgot.... i....... have a very important meeting......... n teddy’s just like. meeting? u don’t have a job... what are u ta-- n she’s like A MEETING A VERY IMPORTANT MEETING...... very blatantly squirming around as she slowly gets up n tries to head fr the door... n teddy’s like.... taking the excuse without much question too like... ya i have to run lines actually i jst remembered gt an audition coming up..... n they’re both like ya haha... maybe some other time.... or maybe just delete it it’s whatever.... anyway we gtg haha... bye.... ttyl...... lana wld literally hv to SPRINT out of there to go home n. deal w how flustered this made her i won’t lie. she bumps into parker n is all flushed in the face n is just like CAN’T TALK BYE n takes off sprinting again like some kind of freak. it’d b a train wreck. i jst think that’d b rly funny tho n dare i say it? it’s canon.

#lana jameson | teddy lawrence #meme #excvlsior

4 notes · View notes

mikeshanlon · 5 years ago

Note

iwwv anon and PHEW OK. I def did not expect that essay and now I feel bad cause I KNOW my thots r not gonna be articulate or right. nonetheless! i think Oliver does qualify as an unreliable narrator cause hes. very oblivious but not like... Richard papen (who is a whole ass clown don't get me started on tsh) but not like addy from dare me(I will support till the day I die that dare me is da like I WILL die on this hill) who sees what she wants to see. 1/?

i think he just... thinks that his friends r diff ppl than they actually r? that doesnt rly make sense but yea. what I mean is that everything the characters do is coated in that empathetic view Oliver has which is usually wrong? so we don't get an objective look into the characters. meredith is my girl like I love the hot popular girl trope deconstruction but at the end of the book she's not at a great place like she's w someone that doesn't love her like she needs to be loved... 2/

I guess the most probable ending is that James never meets Oliver again and that everyone is kinda stuck on what happened but that's soo sad and I really don't want to think abt it. ngl iwwv wasn't like my fave book ever and I really don't understand why people are so obsessed with dark academia sometimes but what i rly liked abt the book is that despite how fucked up everyone is and how toxic they r to each other they do at heart care abt one another...3/

like I rly liked that esp cause at that point the only other da book (other than dare me!) that I had read was tsh and godd every character is so fuckinh annoying and they all hate each other. i was super confused by it till I saw someone saying that it's satire and I felt my mind explode. I feel like this is so long but I didnt rly properly answer all you wrote sorry! I think its a pretty good book tho it has some crazy quotes like hold awn Im gonna look at the highlighted stuff on my copy.. 4/

Were you in love with him?” “Yes,” [...]Yes, I was.” It’s not the whole truth. The whole truth is, I’m in love with him still. LIKEEE PHEWW OK OK OK. WE OUT HERE. that line literally made me go crazy. I'm so sorry for any spelling mistakes or like general mistakes I made here English isn't my first language, it's 1am and I wrote this in the notes app w/o looking it over. so like.. NOT a professional review lemme tell you. 5/5

Ahh im so sorry I did not see this before I yeeted for a month!!!

Oooh okay first of all dare me as a DA… I’ve only watched the show but like yeah I see the Elements for sure.

Also yeah I can understand what you mean abt Oliver being an unreliable narrator now… Ig my view of unreliable was more like they are purposefully twisting the truth or omitting facts or just literally don’t know shit but I get how personal bias can make the narrator unreliable. I do think the assertion that Oliver thinks his friends are different than they actually are makes sense. He sees James in a very positive light and though I like James a lot and think he is better than, like, Richard, he definitely has darker moments and manipulates Oliver at times (again I’d like to think it’s not the most nefarious thing in the world but like him just being shitty bc he’s in a dark place and he one, wants to do anything he can so Oliver doesn’t figure out he fought Richard so Oliver still thinks of him the same way/bc he knows Oliver would do something stupid like get himself arrested for James; and two, is very jealous that Oliver is with Meredith after Richard dies and has sort of a somewhat positive outcome from Richard’s death versus James being riddled with guilt and anger). And yeah, the probable ending is they never meet but I refuse to acknowledge that so LGNRG. Also that line makes me go CRAZZZZZZZZZZY!!! There are so many great lines, both using Shakespeare and on their own and its like okay give me a moment im going bonkers…

Personally, I haven’t read that many dark academia novels yet (bc for some reason i can barely finish a book rn sigh) but the concept interests me. I think what’s compelling is the setting/atmosphere of like ~mysterious college vibes~, and the idea of a sort of niche, obsessive bond and pursuit of knowledge with a tight knit group of friends (and the like inherent homoeroticism in every single DA elrngenrg). Like Dead Poet’s Society (the film I haven’t read the book) isn’t Dark in the same way most other dark academia is by like, obsession and death and manipulation (though of course there are dark elements with Neil’s storyline), but I think the other building blocks of academia are present there in a more wholesome way and you can see why people are drawn to that idea. As for the more Dark aspects I think it’s interesting to analyze things like group psyche, obsession, manipulation, etc, like what went wrong for everything to take such a dark turn???

But, like everything else, it really has to be done well or else its just like okay….… I’ve tried to read TSH twice and I may try again but from the 100+ ish pages I read I totally get what you mean. IWWV is so interesting to me bc the characters are all very compelling and multifaceted and I like that they are a close friendship, we come in after 4 years of them spending all the time together and to me that is apparent. Like you said, we can see fissures and problems especially as the novel continues but there is care there between them. That also makes the decision to let Richard die much more interesting and sinister imo, as well as how all of them interact with each other after he dies, and how the roles of the group change without their “leader” so to speak. Also, maybe it’s just bc I like Shakespeare, but I think the academia part of IWWV is so much more accessible compared to TSH. Like I don’t know every Shakespeare play or anything so I didn’t understand every nuance or was like immediately like oh this is from Cymbeline or whatever the fuck, but you could understand the gist of things and it made sense that they spoke in Shakespeare lines bc that’s all they’ve been doing for four years and also theatre kids are Like That. Their pretention also provided any Layers to the story, like the parallels between the characters they play and their own arcs, how some of the lines echoed their own thots, foreshadowed, or they were able to say things through Shakespeare (I’m thinking of like, Oliver realized he loved James during Romeo and Juliet, the foreshadowing that James was going to ruin Richard’s life and that he dislikes Meredith/Richard when he quotes Mercutio at the start “A plague o’ both your houses”, the exchange Oliver and James had onstage and had that kiss during King Lear before Oliver was arrested,etc.) (Also I think the structure of some of the dialogue being formatted like a play really helped make it feel more realistic and immersive). Versus TSH which is just so pedantic and dense and hard to follow at times im like I get they are smart but what??? And maybe that’s part of the satire aspect (or maybe im dumb) but like donna I read TGF I know you are pretentious and info dump abt random obscure shit anyways so erglknerg. Like to me there was a Point to all of the academic Shakespeare stuff in IWWV and it was the soul of the book, and M.L. Rio made it very interesting—like the way that the directors reimagined the plays and had Julius Caesar be like a modern political play, the cool mirror shit in King Lear, the Macbeth and Romeo and Juliet performances where they did them at events and interacted with their environments (which were one of my favorite parts of the books bc I just think that concept is so interesting), etc. For TSH the shit they did literally just felt like “okay look at them they’re smart see you can’t even keep up!” like okay… I felt lost a lot and only like snapped into reality whenever Henry (?) was like oh… murder….. and even then I was like idk what this dude is saying but like he’s being darksided LMAO. And I also agree that it’s just like… Richard being thrown in the middle of this group could lend itself to some cool ideas but its hard to believe that he fits into the friendship group and hes just like hell yeah I love Greek so much and lets go kill this guy other than like okay ur gay and stupid and just want to impress Henry or whatever his name was (which he was but I digress). It’s just not as impactful to me as this close friend group falling apart. Ik TSH fans might be angry if they see this (and of course I haven’t finished the book so my perception may be warped but I also kno many ppl felt that way u did) bc I’ve seen ppl say IWWV is just like TSH but “lackluster” or whatever and while I can see some parallels (mostly b/w Richard and Henry and Alexander and Francis), I really think M.L. Rio expanded upon common DA tropes and the interesting parts of TSH but made it her own and interesting and oh yeah there are actually multiple compelling female characters and LGBT characters (and no incest)!!!

#if we were villians #books #also literally dont apologize for any mistakes or going bonkers like i have no problem n i understood what u meant anyways LMAO #anon #ask

5 notes · View notes

movedyourchair505 · 6 years ago

Text

Buzz

We were gonna wait with this until tomorrow, but I guess here’s another treat to celebrate the boy’s birthday. This is the longest fic on my blog, but me and Elana wrote it together so 60% of the credit goes to her (I know you disagree, babeh, but your writing is much better and you always do our saving and editing when we write together) and it’s just so so fun to write with her, I hope all y’all enjoy 8K+ of pure dominant Alexander smut. And check out Elana’s fic blog, she’s insanely talented and writes Alex in such a beautiful and authetic way xx

As you padded down the hall with overfilled shopping bags in hand, you had a sudden realisation that your apartment keys were in the bottom of your handbag and the physical effort required to reach for them made you sigh dramatically. You dropped the bags to the floor with a thud, hoping that nothing would fall out and leant against the wall to rummage. Your body ached, ached like it hadn’t in weeks and the exertion of bending down to pick everything up again once you’d located your keys at last, was far too much for you right now.

And then you remembered why you were aching and it dawned on you that you didn’t need your keys after all. Of course. Because Alexander was home and he had been for an entire weekend, popping back to spend time with you until the next leg of the tour. You had just been down to the supermarket, hungrily searching for something to cook after an entire weekend of staying in and indulging in each other’s company after so long apart. He’d stayed back to unpack his bags, two days later than he’d intended and now all you wanted to do was eat together and curl up next to him with a glass of wine.

You pushed on the door handle and it opened with ease. You were flustered - strands of hair fell into your face, your coat getting momentarily caught on the door and you’d barely made it inside before you could hear his voice, the thickness of it echoing down from the end of the corridor past several rooms.

“Babeh? Is tha you?” he called.

“Yes! Just gonna start dinner!” you replied, all your focus on the task at hand, balancing your bags in your arms as you kicked the door shut firmly behind you.

“Can yeh come ‘ere first please?” There was an edge to his voice, something you couldn't quite put your finger on, the question hanging in the air, to be continued.

You carried the shopping bags into the kitchen and heaved them onto the countertop with a heavy sigh, the relief of setting down their weight relaxing your body instantly. You slid out of your shoes and coat on the way to the bedroom, suspicious as no follow up came until you stood in the door frame and looked at Alex, your face reddening instantly.

He looked gorgeous, the white top and the chain, the necktie, the dark suit trousers with a thick fabric belt, varyingly tight and loose in all the right places to accentuate his waist. His facial features hard and gorgeous and untainted by his hair, his head freshly buzzed. And in his hand, he held something that you sure hadn't meant for him find, let alone hold and confront you with, the shiny new toy you'd purchased online not too long ago, to make lonely nights without him a little easier.

You tried to think of something to say, your mouth opening and closing a few times uselessly and you felt flushed. The image before you was confusingly gorgeous and embarrassing and somehow turning you all at the same time and Alex cocked his head a little, his jaw tensing as he began to speak again.

“I were cleanin’ the ‘ouse while yeh were out ‘nd I found this.” Alex took one step towards you, as if accusing you of something very serious, then lowered his gaze, looking so far into you that you could feel your palms sweating, fingers shaking. He was so hard to read when he was like this, not quite smiling, not alarmingly serious but something dangerous just under the surface and you tried to look away, instantly worried that your silence would only provoke him. You turned your knees inwards, glued to the spot. The corners of his mouth twitched and he conducted your gaze again when he spoke.

“Yeh gonna explain yehrself, babeh girl? Or just gonna stand there like tha?”

Your cheeks were burning now and you took a step towards him, reaching out abruptly and trying to grab the vibrator from him but he just held it up high, letting it fall into his other hand stepping back, holding it out of your reach.

"Nuh-uh, babeh, I wanna kno' wha' this is about, eh? Me cock not enough for yeh then?" he asked, his gaze dark, fixated on you.

“I only use it when you’re away, babe,” you replied, intoxicatingly closer to him now, just relieved you’d managed to spit an answer out at last. “It’s nothing.”

The cockiness was maddening you. You knew he’d noticed how red you were, knew he’d realised how weak you were, the way he was refusing to blink as he glared at you.

“Are yeh embarrassed?” he teased, taking another step back to avoid your incessant grabbing. “Didn’t want meh to find this did yeh?”

"Well, I didn't think you'd get so jealous…" you replied, lifting your chin and licking your lip quickly in nervousness. The scratch at his ego was enough for him to flinch. He didn’t like that, didn’t expect you to answer back so easily, but there was something about challenging this Alexander, the dark Alexander, which thrilled you in ways you couldn’t explain.

He took a moment to compose himself, swallowing hard, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat, straining against his sensitive skin. "Not jealous, princess..." he drawled. "No, no, joost didn't know yeh needed summat like tha'..." he hummed. "Fought I satisfied yeh..."

You bit your lip, giving up on your desperate attempts to claim your toy, sinking down to stand in front of him again. "Can't satisfy me when you're on tour for weeks, Alexander..." you mumbled, watching him carefully, eager to drink in his every move.

That had apparently annoyed him too, a sensitive subject and he raised an eyebrow in surprise. He was too much of a control freak, far too on edge now to have you answer him back like that but he always had the perfect response.

“Does this fing make yeh moan like I do?” he asked. He watched your lips part at the question. You knew what you were doing now, purposely building his frustration until he would snap.

"Wellllll, it does have these different levels of vibrations that are so good…." you replied plainly, crossing your arms, counteracting his tease with one of your own. You’d thought about what you were going to say before you’d said it but didn’t know it would have this effect on him. You could see the rage you’d prompted, the way the veins in his arms and neck were beginning to bulge, his fist clamped so tightly around your toy you thought he might break it. Alex stepped forward with purpose, closing the gap between you at last, his gaze still intensely locked on yours, the vibrator still very firmly in his grip.

“Take off yehr clothes for meh,” he spat, his glare so hard to tear away from. “Now.”

"W-Why?" You asked quietly, trying to hold his gaze, swallowing hard.

"Joost do as I fookin' say" Alex drawled, his eyes so full of lust, and something else that made your skin tingle, a dull ache between your legs.

"Alex, I hav-..."

"I said take 'em off..." he repeated, the order followed by a low groan from the back of his throat.

The sound made you tremble and you stepped back from him slightly, your shaking hands coming up to start unbuttoning your blouse, keeping your eyes locked on his, your lips pressed together as you tried to figure him out, tried to figure out what he had in store for you. He watched you undress, mesmerised by how he already had you trembling, one hand reaching to scratch over his buzzed head. You discarded your clothes as quickly as you could, shimmying your underwear off too. You’d been home for no more than three minutes and he already had you naked, vulnerable, waiting for him. You felt the need to cover your body a little but he’d told you how much he hated you doing it before so you let your arms dangle at your sides, waiting, just waiting.

“Now…” he mumbled, stepping forward to you again, gesturing with the vibrator. “Why don't yeh show meh 'ow yeh fuck yehrself wif this fing…”

If you had been embarrassed before, now it was almost too much to bare and you wobbled on the spot, his words sending a jolting ache through you.

“Al…”

“Babeh, if yeh don’t fookin’ follow meh instructions I’m gonna walk out ‘nd leave yeh ‘ere on yeh own.” You let out a strangled breath and held back a sob at the hardness of his words. He was too much. He was going to be the end of you. His free hand moved towards you and his thumb came up to stroke your lips, the first time he’d touched you. He was drinking you in, enjoying every second of the torture he had you under.

“I know yeh’re wet,” he mumbled, pulling your bottom lip down slightly as his knuckles pressed into the skin under your chin. “I know yeh want somefin to fill yeh up…”

You were trembling, your knees shaking, desperately trying to keep your composure. "W-Well, I do have something, don't I?" you asked bravely, cocking an eyebrow up at him, tensing, waiting for his reaction desperately. He'd done this to you, had made you ache for him within seconds in his presence, and now he was going to deny you. You couldn't take it.

"Are yeh talkin' back teh meh reyht now?" He asked, furrowing his brows. "Because if I walk out of 'ere, I'm gunna take yehr little friend 'ere wif meh. And yeh'll be on yehr own. Empteh ... desperate..."

You gasped, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your heart racing, your mind clouded with lust and just that deep, primal desire for him. "Alex..."

"If I'm gunna give yeh this fing, I want yeh spread out on the bed, showin' meh 'ow yeh use it…"

You had nothing to say. He’d won this round. So with one final sigh you nodded convincingly, shook your hair loose from the ponytail and tiptoed across the room, surprised you could even walk. He practically lowered you onto the bed with his gaze himself, probably already having brought you over the edge at least three times and in three different ways in his mind. You arched your back as you shuffled back and spread your legs. At first you were unsure if you’d even be wet enough but from the way Alex was eyeing you, the obvious lick of his lips, you weren’t surprised when you coated your fingers with ease just by gently teasing your folds.

“That’s meh girl…” he sighed though gritted teeth.

As soon as you’d touched yourself you knew you’d need more, the insatiability growing and you found yourself reaching for the vibrator wordlessly, Alex’s face curious but still very much on edge as he held it out for you.

"I want yeh teh fookin' look at meh the whole time..." Alex drawled, biting down on his lip as he watched you carefully. "Keep yehr eyes on mine while yeh stick tha' fing in yehr cunt..."

You gasped, his words alone making you weak and teased your entrance with the toy instantly to get the tip wet, your other hand coming down to start rubbing your clit, your eyes already falling shut at the feeling of final relief and you wanted more, wanted him.

“Babeh," he groaned and you heard him shuffling closer instantly. "Wha' the fook did I joost say?"

Your breath shaking, your eyes snapped open, meeting his dark ones. "S-Sorry..." you breathed, your voice trailing off into a whimper as you poked the tip of the toy inside you, rubbing your clit harder, already breathing heavily. Alex watched you lustfully, licking his lips, his facial features hard, unimpressed, so focused on you, your every move. He was going to enjoy this.

You thought he’d sit down, make himself comfortable at least but instead he leant back against the wall, his arms crossed, looking down at you over his nose. As you twisted the toy inside you fully for the first time, you gasped and watched Alex flinch, unable to hide just how much he hated not being the sole reason for that noise. You bit your lip as you pulled it out and pushed it back in again, the wetness spreading by the second, struggling to hide your illicit moans.

“I want yeh teh pretend I’m not even ‘ere,” he mumbled. “Eyes on meh.” He was so impossible, always making things so difficult. How could you fulfil both of those demands? That’s when you glanced down momentarily to his crotch and realised just how hard he was, his erection fighting the fabric of his tight trousers which only fuelled you even more. The outline of his cock made you rub your clit harder, faster and you began to speed up, your breaths hitching in your throat, figuring that the quicker you could make yourself cum, the quicker he’d be inside you instead.

It felt strange, using the toy when Alex was right there and you were desperate for him. On lonely nights without him, the feeling of it inside you as a relief had you aching too, in a different way but right now, it didn't compare to the image you had inside your mind of Alex's cock filling you slowly, throbbing, feeling the heat of his body against yours.

"Didn't yeh say summat about vibrations?" He drawled, his eyes focused on the toy moving in and out of you, shiny with your wetness.

You breathed out shakily, reaching to switch on the first stage of vibration, moaning and struggling to keep your eyes open and fixed on him, your lips parted, moans of pleasure falling from your lips as you tried to keep your eyes from wandering, his tight trousers barely containing him. You wanted him so badly, wanted him to get on top of you, take you, fuck you senseless, but no teasing would get you that now. He had a plan, and obeying him was the only thing you could do.

“I wanna see yeh cum, darlin’.” Alex growled, throatily, his eyes wide and fixated on your every move. “Number two,” he declared, holding up two fingers. He was impatient now, palming himself inconspicuously through his trousers and as you switched to the second vibration setting you felt the feeling grow in your stomach, the familiar euphoria of being on the edge, so close to coming undone completely. Your forced your eyes open, scared to close them and knowing the eye contact would only make you cum harder.

"Are yeh gunna cum for meh, babeh?" Alex groaned, his eyes boring into yours, intense, and making you shiver. You were so close, the way he was looking at you only making you wetter and you couldn't only feel but also hear the toy moving inside you obscenely.

"Yeh look gorgeous spread out like tha', babeh..." He groaned. "Come on, babeh girl, fook yehrself 'arder, yeh can do better than tha' ... I want yeh teh cum so 'ard for meh..."

You whimpered, doing as he said, whimpering each time you pushed the toy inside you, your walls fluttering, squeezing at it, the pleasure increasing with each stroke creating friction inside you, making you hotter and hotter.

And then, just when you were sure you were going to burn up, the feeling came, building and building and then you fell apart at last. You threw your head back, the groan erupting from your lips obscene and your legs shook, the toy still firmly inside you, one hand gripped to the base. Your walls danced around it, contracting again and again and though it felt good, you wanted Alex now, even in the midst of your orgasm. Alex was down on his knees before you could recover from the waves, kissing the inside of your thighs, already beginning to put your toy to use again, driving it into you himself.

“I want yeh to tell meh when yeh got onleh one left in yeh, princess…”

“I can- I think I can gooooo- ohhhh - to three.”

Alex smirked in response and though you weren’t sure what it meant, you knew you’d find out eventually.

You tensed as he pushed your hand away and started the driving the toy in and out of you, fast and hard, enjoying the way he had you writhing in no time.

"A-Al..." you cried, your hips shaking, bucking towards the vibrator.

"Yeh want it deeper, babeh, is tha' it?" He asked, groaning as he watched the way you tried to fuck yourself on the toy, whining, desperate for him to fill you instead.

"Yeh like tha'?" He asked, flicking the switch that made the vibrations intensify, making you whimper. "Yeh look so delicious, babeh, when yeh're at me merceh like tha' ... gunna make yeh feel so good..."

His words alone had the power to make you wetter, your walls clenching pathetically around the toy, your cheeks reddening when Alex chuckled and pushed harder on the toy, his bicep tensing, requiring more strength when you squeezing around the vibrator and held it in place for a moment until he forced it deeper inside you.

“Alex…” you groaned, over and over, sweaty stands of hair falling into your face. “Alexanderrrrr… Alex…” He had a weakness for you calling his name like this, the way it fell from your lips so uncontrollably and he hissed back, his erection throbbing. His knuckles brushed violently against your clit each time you met and you circled your hips slightly, enjoying the way it stretched you, your eyes now so heavily lidded with lust and desire than you couldn’t see. The toy didn’t compare, would never compare to him - his size, his length the way he buried inside you and you salivated at the thought of it as he continued to fuck you relentlessly with the flicks of his wrist.

He drove the toy inside you repeatedly, as if to test just how far and how hard he could go, making you cry out his name over and over again, already feeling your orgasm creeping up on you again.

"Look 'ow long it takes yeh wif this fing..." He taunted, licking his lips as he watched in awe, the toy disappearing inside you. "Dun't take nearleh as long when I fuck yeh…”

“Then let me have you,” you groaned, so out of breath, so sweaty, so close to giving in to the sensation. “I want you…”

“Patience, babeh girl…” he mumbled, kissing your knee as he shifted closer, ready to give his final blow. Turning the highest vibrate setting on, you watched his bicep flex and strain against his movement and then he speed up even further, your legs spreading even wider for him. You were there, just about there, reaching to scratch your fingernails over his head for stability and to give him something and then you were gone again, the vibration shaking your walls, not quite hitting the spot he usually did but it was enough to have you cumming for a second time anyway. It was shorter this time but still gorgeous. You whimpered through it, and he slowed his movement as you came down, grinning when you could open your eyes into his again.

“That’s two…” you panted. “One more.”

“We’ll see,” he mumbled, standing back up and gesturing for you to help him out of his trousers.

You whined softly as he pulled the toy out of you, discarding it to the side and you shot up instantly when you realised he was going to fuck you, gladly undoing his trousers, shuffling them down his hips, eager to pull his hard cock from its restraints. You were salivating, looking desperately at him, knowing he'd fuck you so much better than the toy and you were impatient, needed him so badly.

"I kno', babeh, fook..." He groaned, his head falling back as you gave him a few pumps. "I kno' yeh're gaggin' for me cock…"

He was so swollen, his tip a faint reddish-purple and you mumbled something incoherent about how much bigger he was as he discarded his remaining clothing. Sinking towards you, you crawled back across the bed to make room for him. Alex decided that he was done with teasing you for a while, the need to be inside your heat making his throat dry. Pushing you down and pulling your hips up, he sunk into you at last and you gasped and groaned, your eyes rolling back, clutching him so tightly so that you didn’t fall to pieces instantly. To no surprise, he filled you so much better than the toy had and you struggled to move against it. His weight on top of you, he was angled so perfectly, so deeply as you raised you hips to meet him, top eager.

“Thaaa's wha I'm talkin' about, babeh…" he drawled thickly, exhausted from waiting. "Only I can do tha, reyht?”

The burning friction as he pushed inside you, his cock stretching you out so good, more than the toy ever could've, you couldn't help but shut your eyes, they fell closed automatically but snapped right back open when Alex delivered a hard thrust, burying himself deep inside you.

"Eyes on meh, princess" he drawled. "I asked yeh summat..."

You whimpered, struggling to look back at him, gasping when his hands came down on your breasts, groping, squeezing. "Y-Yes..." you whimpered. "O-Only you, Alex..."

He grunted in response, pulling and twisting on your nipples, enjoying how quickly they reacted to him, hard. He leant closer into you, moving his lips against yours for the first time, hungry, possessive and controlling and you melted into the mattress. He bit your lip hard, his dominance well and truly taking over.

“That fookin’ fing can’t touch yeh like I do…”

He had you so good, so satisfied, so full but still wanting more. You were truly trapped under his grip and breathless but you angled your hips desperately, grinding into him as much as you could. You could hear just how much he was enjoying it, his vocality spilling out constantly.

“Look ‘ow desperateleh yeh’re tryin teh fook yehrself on meh. I kno onleh me cock does it for yeh.”

He fucked you hard, his palms pressed into the bed above your head, no regard for how sore or sensitive you were already and then he spat a determined, “Apologize, babeh.” He punctuated each word with a bruising thrust, his round eyes so dark now, so consuming.

"I-I'm sorry" you cried, not even questioning him now. You wanted him badly, and you were going to do whatever it took.

“Again," he rasped. "I didn't 'ear yeh, babeh..." His hips picked up the pace as he drove harder and harder inside of you, his deep voice shaking as he panted.

"I'm sorry, babyyy…” you whimpered, trying to meet his thrusts, the sensation slowly but surely overwhelming you. You were so close.

“Only I can satisfy yeh like this,” he groaned, his hands moving down to your hips to hold your body in place.

"I'm sorry I'm so sorry, Al, only your cock does it for me, you're right, even when I fuck myself when you're not there it's not the same…"

“Tha’s rehyt,” he announced. “Yeh’ve made such a mess…” He was relentless in the way he spoke, filthier than you’d ever heard him tonight, so focused on taking you there again, desperate to prove a point both of you had long forgotten. "Is it meh? Is it me cock? Yehr cunt got soo much wetter when I filled yeh… Can feel yeh squeezin’ around meh…” You shook violently, so close to giving in for what you were sure would be the last time, your hips falling out of time with his.

"This fing's almost dry and yeh say it's better than meh?” he drawled ridiculously, gesturing to the infamous toy beside you.

"N-No..." you whined, tears forming in your eyes, the heat between your legs becoming too much as your hips collided over and over again.

"No?" he groaned.

"N-No, it's not better than you- ohhhh..."

Alex chose that moment to deliver a particularly hard thrust, nudging right into that spot that had stayed unattended to before and he sent you spiralling, your body shaking, your chest heavily rising and falling, a string of profanities rolling of your tongue, blending together with praises of his name as your walls squeezing around his throbbing cock, the burning stretch forcing your eyes shut as the pleasure washed over you.

He drew out of you quickly as you came down, one hand stroking your knee almost comfortingly and his eyes squeezed tightly shut, his mind whirring. You could tell he was struggling just from how much he was shaking, how heavily he was breathing and he held the base of his cock for a moment to keep himself from spilling over at the sight of you dripping down your legs filthily.

“You okay?” you mumbled with genuine concern, sitting up as you came down from your third orgasm. “You okay, Al?”

“Yes,” he hissed, unable to admit he was struggling, too focused on his game, on punishing you for whatever he though you’d done. He took a deep breath then spoke again, deeper, much more focused. “Turn around for meh. Gonna take yeh from behind.”

“I thought we said three,” you mumbled, dazed. You felt like you were gonna cry from the intensity of his glare back. You didn’t move. He cocked his head, blinked couple of times, stretched his jaw. And then, his patience already tested enough, he pulled you up, spun you round, held you against his chest and drawled, “You said three… I said owt,” before pushing you back onto the bed, in position to take him again.

You whimpered, his words firm, decisive, there was no arguing him. Not that you wanted to, the way the tip of his cock brushed up against your entrance, poking inside just slightly, teasing you, enjoying those whimpers and helpless moans falling from your mouth so much. He lived for your reaction, seeing you writhing beneath him.

"A-Alex, I ... I don't know if I can..."

"Yeh can and yeh will, doll..." he drawled, his hands gripping on to your hips possessively, holding you in place. "Yeh fink tha' fing's gunna make yeh come twice and I'll settle for one? I'm gunna fuck yeh until yeh can't feel yehr legs, me love..."

He was always the overachiever, competitive, always needed to win. A strangled moan fell from your lips as he used that moment to bury himself inside you again, one swift thrust and he filled you up again, your still sensitive walls fluttering instantly around him, hungry for him, for the friction his throbbing cock created inside you, taking full control of your body.

Alex was so good at working himself up, frustrating himself even now just with his own words and you found a spare second to remember that he was the sole reason you were in this situation. You wanted to remind him that you’d never claimed anything was better than him, especially your little toy and he echoed that fact in the way he dipped in and out of you over and over, deeper each time. You were thankful he found it in him to use his anger on you like this nonetheless. You fell into a daze, your mind fogging over as he pulled your hips back onto him each time, his grunts filling the gap between your moans.

“Apologise,” he grunted, reaching forward to grip your shoulder for extra leverage. His finger nails dug into your collarbone as he grunted his second word to snap you out of your silence, “Again.”

“I’m sorry Alexander…”

“Again,” he tutted, unsatisfied.

“Haven’t I said sorry enough?” you mumbled, exhausted.

You heard him hiss, his movements slowing for a brief moment, then he drove himself deep inside you again. "Have I fooked yeh enough?" He spat and you could hear in the way he posed the question how he was trying to stay calm, how his mouth stretched, his accent thick, his voice deep and he pulled back, his grip on your hip tightening and he pushed inside you hard, making you gasp and lurch forward.

"Alex!"

"Did I stutter, princess?" He asked, his voice calm, but with the edge of a threat, danger coiling under the surface. "I can stop reyht fookin' now…"

"No!" You whined, knowing you wouldn't be able to handle it, your body physically aching for him, already fearing that he would leave you like this, desperate and shaking for him. "No, please..." you cried, your heart skipping a beat and you backed up on him weakly, ready to do anything for him to keep fucking you hard like this. You knew you'd be bruised tomorrow, you were bruised already, your legs weak, your walls sore.

"Joost say the word and I'll leave yeh drippin', yehr cunt empteh and comin' round nofin'..."

"No, please!" You begged him, you were aware of how pathetic your pleads for him were now, but it would be too much for you if he stopped now, his words having you tense and desperate.

"Apologize!" He growled, his hand coming down harshly on your ass, colliding with your skin. You lurched forward again, screaming into the pillow. Your mind was clouded with lust, the stinging feeling of your now reddening skin had you reeling, aching for more and you knew he could probably feel you getting wetter, silently begging him to spank you again.

"Don't need meh then?" He taunted you. "Got tha' fing instead, don't yeh?"

You let out another strangled moan as he buried himself deep inside you, brushing into just the right spot, holding himself there. "N-No..." you cried, forcing yourself to speak, not wanting this feeling to end. "I do need you, Alex, I need you so bad, that thing is nothing compared to you..."

You hoped for him to take pity on you now, but he had no mercy, slowing his movements, having grown aware of how much he was giving you, now purposely not pushing himself all the way inside you.

"One last chance, princess. Apologize!" Another slap on your ass, this time on the other cheek and you whined, knowing you wouldn't be able to take much more.

"I'm sorry, Alexander, I'm so sorry, babe ... it's o-only you..."

"Thaaa's it..." he drawled, dragging his hand slowly down your back.

"A-Alex, please fuck me harder" you whined, desperate for him to hit that spot again.

"Makin' demands now, are weh?" He asked and you could hear the amusement, set on not giving you what you wanted just yet.

"I-I'm sorry" you whimpered as he instantly put you in your place again.

He hummed, without a warning pushing inside you deeper again, a hard thrust, your hips smashing together, making you cry out desperately again. "Oh, fuck, Alex, yessss ... right t-there..."

He chuckled, pulling back and hitting the same spot again, keeping you close, his cock throbbing as your walls contracted around him, so close to the release you could taste it, his cock so hard, making you feel so full and well-fucked. "Reyht there?" He teased.

He was so ridiculously on edge, keeping you hovering around the sensation you’d been craving for so long, that you felt that nervousness, your need to test him grow again.

“Are you jealous Al?” you giggled breathlessly as he fucked you into the mattress, almost too quietly for him to hear you. But he did.

"Dun't yeh dare, babeh,” he groaned, his hips slowing suddenly, his hand slamming against the sensitive skin of your ass again, his lips twitching violently as he watched you writhe. “Dun’t talk teh meh like tha again or I'll walk out and leave yeh a fookin’ sobbin mess wif yehr cunt frothin’ for me…”

“I know- I know that you’re…- j-jealous,” you cried, your bravery pushing back through, your breath staggered, knowing it would take minimal effort from him to send you spiralling into another orgasm but his abrupt stillness was agony. Letting out a sharp breath, he smacked you once more, branding you as his and pulled out before you could even finish screaming. You knew if you tested his patience too much that it’d go something like this - but you hadn’t realised he still had the strength to pull out of you.

"Yeh don't deserve it,” he drawled, watching you heave breathlessly, an embarrassed, swollen mess for him on the mattress.

You turned around and it took all your strength as you looked back at him with wide eyes, desperate, regretting everything you'd said talking back to him. You’d underestimated him, and it wasn't the first time you'd made that mistake either. "Please come back..." you whined, his prediction very much coming true instantly, you were almost sobbing, so insanely wet for him, it was running down your thighs. "I need you..."

"Yeh can't fookin' listen, can't fookin' stop talkin' back teh meh..."

"I'm sorry,” you pleaded. "I'm so sorry, don't leave please..."

Alex’s lips parted, as if he were considering what to do with you. He ran his fist over his cock a couple of times, coated in your arousal and sighed, the frustration almost too much for him.

“Please Alex,” you sobbed. “Please, I need to let go.” You’d have done it yourself, using your own fingers in the need if you weren’t scared of his reaction. You decided instead to play along and moan for him to come back. “I need you,” you told him, pathetic.

“I’ll tell yeh wha’, babeh,” he grunted, pacing a little as he spoke. “I’m gonna tie yeh to the bed, cover yehr eyes, and leave yeh wif yehr toy inside yeh.” He cleared his throat, speaking as if he were holding any conversation, the same way he conducted his interviews. But you were still squirming with just his words. You were speechless. You felt so dirty. Your own throat was dry. “And I’ll be back teh deal wif yeh when the battereh runs out…” You tried to move towards him convince him that you were going to be good, that you were never going to last through the hour long charge, that you wanted him more than he knew, but he stepped back, refusing to let you touch him.

“Alex no please, please don’t…." you cried, stumbling towards him on the bed, your legs shaking, your hands shaking, your core shaking.

“It’s what yeh fookin wanted darlin’... I warned yeh.”

You looked back at him, blinking repeatedly, your chest rising and falling heavily, your breath shaking. "A-Alex, no... please... one more chance, please..."

He cocked an eyebrow at you, the corner of his lip twitching. You knew he wanted you, you knew he was desperate to get you there again, to fuck you so hard you'd remember it for days but he kept his self-control, eyeing your body up and down, your skin flushed, from where he'd been.

"Why would I do tha'? Eh?" he teased.

"I'll make it up to you..." you whispered. "I'll be good, please..."

He pondered your words for a moment, moving his hand to give himself a few more slow pumps. "Wha' if I joost cum on yehr face reyht now, babeh?" he asked but you knew that neither of you wanted that.

"N-No, please..." you cried. "Please, I need your cock inside me..."

The corners of his mouth tugged upwards into a small smile, your heart skipping a beat of relief when he stepped closer to you again, closer to the edge of the bed where you sat, weak, desperate for him. "Yeh want me cock?" He asked.

You nodded eagerly, licking your lips.

He chuckled. "Suck it then,” he gave in. "Suck it before I change me mind."

You wasted no time in moving closer to him, dropping back down onto all fours so that you could bring your lips close to his head, so big, so swollen and taste him, taste yourself. Your hands squeezed his delicious ass to bring him closer. He was hot and thick and felt heavy on your tongue and you squirmed as he stepped forward into you, the heat of your mouth so inviting. You flattened you tongue to make room for him, hollowed your cheeks and he groaned repetitively, unable to find words after so long. He moved his hands so that one was cupping your throat, his thumb pushing into the soft, sensitive skin under your chin, the lightest amount of pressure to tilt your gaze up at him. His other hand was on the top of your head and he purred in pleasure as he stroked your hair, his fingers tangled in the knots, his eyelids so heavy and full of lust.

He stared you down, the intensity of his eyes sending shivers down your spine, the sensation going straight to your core. You were empty, so wet for him, closing your lips around him to start suck him eagerly, desperate to prove to him that you were going to be good for him, that you deserved him, hoping he would give in and fuck you again as you purred on his cock, the tender way he stroked your hair a sharp contrast to his hips starting to rock and push inside you slowly.

He shifted to the side and you looked at him, confused for a moment before you realised he'd grabbed the toy again, flicked the switch to turn the vibrations on, a mischievous smirk playing around his lips. "Yeh wanted meh teh fuck yeh, babeh girl?"

You whimpered, pushing your legs together in protest as he reached over to line up with your entrance again, his eyes darkening at your resistance.

"D'yeh realleh want teh waste tha' chance?" he drawled. "Yeh wanted meh teh fook yeh, there yeh go..."

"N-mhmmmm..." you mumbled, gagging slightly when he pushed his cock inside your mouth, deep into your throat and you struggled to keep control of your body.

He used that to his advantage, nudging your legs apart with his knuckles, filling you with the toy that now seemed rather disappointing in comparison to him and you were more frustrated than before, the toy not enough anymore but teasing you even more as it brought you closer to what you wanted, but didn't satisfy you one bit.

His hands around your throat, he moved to guide you slowly off his cock and you breathed shakily, clearing your throat, followed by a raspy moan as he started moving the toy inside you, picking up a fast pace and you were so desperate, so close to the edge that even the toy did it for you, you were gagging for him. "N-No, please..." you cried. "I don't want to come around that, I…"

“Then don’t…” he said, handing you your next challenge, his lip curling upwards as he tried to keep his eyes open. “I don’t want yeh comin’ around tha’ eifer.” His grip tightened on your throat to show that he meant it and to keep you still as his hips bucked into your mouth, his thighs trembling. The task seemed impossible, he’d pushed you so far over the edge and was asking you not to let go, not to cum even though you needed to. You felt it build in your stomach again, low and consuming and when you tried to explain, justify yourself, beg him - he pushed his cock further into you, filling your throat. You coughed and spluttered as he held you there, his moans utterly obscene. You were gone. His gaze was enough to do it this time, the darkness of his eyes the trigger, the veins throbbing in his neck, his gorgeous sculpted body overwhelming you once more. His eyebrow arched, he knew what was happening before you’d even let out the deep, animalistic moan you’d been trying to suppress and you watched his stare harden, his grip on your throat angrier now.

You whimpered as you realised you'd failed within mere seconds after he'd given you an instruction, moaning louder as his grip tightened around your throat while your walls tightened around the fake cock, pathetic and not even what you wanted. You were desperate for him, desperate for him to replace the toy with his cock but you doubted he'd do that now, his stare hard and merciless and you almost wanted to cry. You'd tested his patience to the limit several times and he'd given in several times. The pleasure ripped through you, made your body shake and for a moment, you saw worry flicker across his face, his hand remaining around your throat but lifting you slightly off his cock, groaning at the way you moaned around him, closing your lips around him in one last desperate attempt to win back his sympathy before he pulled out all the way with force.

“Yeh done?” he grunted, standing back, unable to stop himself from jerking into his hand at the way you were looking at him, your lips pouty and swollen, your skin red and patchy from the heat, his various hand prints decorating your body. He was so hard to read, so unpredictable and you were more than exhausted but you still wanted him, his warmth against yours in whatever way he wanted to give it. You nodded, your orgasm fading faster than it had arrived, a deep flush on your cheeks again. Alex sighed, struggling. You were sure he’d turn away, sure he’d threaten you again, leave you alone and writhing - but he didn’t. Instead he pulled the toy from you, switched it off and threw it across the room gently, leaning closer to you. The mood was different somehow, quieter and he pressed his lips to your cheek softly as if he were congratulating you for something.

“Onleh me, rehyt?” he mumbled, his face close to yours and crawled onto the bed beside you, somehow still smelling incredible, whimpering almost unnoticeably at the sensation of his tight fist.

“Only you, Alexander,” you hummed, ghosting his chest with your shaky hands, still afraid to touch him for fear of his reaction. He was undeniably softer now but only minutes ago he’d been a different person, tense, angry, merciless and you were still nervous to make a wrong move should something flip inside him again. “Always you.”

He was overwhelmed, obsessed with the way you needed him, how much you’d tried to prove it for him but he’d seen you cum four times now and he wanted one more, one final push so that he could finish buried deep inside you.

“Got one more in yeh, babeh girl?” he mumbled, licking his lips, his eyes tired and warmer than you’d seen in a while. He kissed you adoringly for a while, like he was trying to convince you that you could do it, one more for him, just one more. You were aching, bruised, your walls sensitive and tight again, your clit throbbing relentlessly. You should have said no, should have told him that you just couldn’t, but he was so perfect and you never wanted to deny him when he was like this, desperate, hungry.

“Anything for you,” you sighed quietly, kissing him quickly and shuffled into a position so that he could crawl between your legs, the bed sheets crumpled beneath you.

“I kno how gorgeously yeh come for meh like this,” he mumbled, and then he shuffled, pushing your thighs apart with his hands, splaying you out like he owned you - because he did - pressing his soft, pink lips against your skin everywhere but where you now wanted him again. Something about him was delicate now, and you wondered how he was holding on when you were this needy for him, knowing just how weak your incessant purring made him. His hands shook as he stroked your abdomen, your thighs, your wrists, searched for your hands and clasped them tightly. “Tha fing can’t make yeh melt like I do,” he drawled, licking his lips and then at last pushing them against your heat. He was sloppy but slow, knowing just how sensitive and sore you were. Within seconds you were softly whimpering, crying out for him gently, the sensitivity of your clit too much to handle as his nose gently brushed it.

"Me pretteh girl…” he groaned against your heat and you shook. His face was slick with your constant arousal, lapping at you in the way he knew you could never resist.

Your hand came down at the back of his head, the other clutching the sheets desperately as you writhed under the touch of his tongue, his lips, you were his, all his and despite already having reached your high several times, you knew he'd have it easy coaxing another one out of you. He was too good. Hesitant at first, you scratched your nails over the fuzz on his head as he leaned back slightly into your touch, the movement being all the approval you needed. You loved when he dominated you, it was a whole different level of trust and intimacy, but right now, he had you even wetter, was about to show you just how good he was.

“Alex," you whimpered as his tongue started drawing slow circles on your clit, adding more and more pressure gradually, then covered your heat with his mouth, licking up your folds, the pleasurable movements of his tongue and lips alternating to never allow you to get used to a certain sensation, keeping you on edge, keeping you close, and you knew you couldn't take much more. He had you so good.

You felt his head move into your touch, always loving the way your nails were scratched against his buzzed head and you bent your knee, needing more leverage to keep yourself still.

“Goooorgeous, babeh girl,” he murmured deeply, barely stopping to breathe as his perfect hands found their way back to your thighs to hold you down. He was still possessive, still controlling, still owned you completely but he was pouring his heart into the task at hand, his groans rippling into your wetness as he pressed open mouthed kisses against your clit, pulling at the sensitivity with his lips. You knew it was coming, felt it growing just as you had before, unable to breathe for a moment, knowing that this would be euphoric, unimaginable and that you would be just about ready to pass out afterwards.

“Alexander…” you groaned, arching your back to meet the flicks of his tongue, your heart beating faster than you knew was possible, getting ready to beg him - but you didn’t have to - he just knew.

"I kno', princess..." He drawled, the look in his eyes soft as you managed to stare back at him, your breath coming out shakily as he lifted his head and crawled over you, holding your gaze, pressing his forehead against yours as he gave himself a few pumps, holding himself up with the other hand, the muscles in his arm tense.

"O-Oh, please..." you whispered, desperate to feel something as your orgasm faded again but he lined himself up with your entrance in no time, your walls instantly tightening around him again when he filled you, the burn of his cock stretching you once again having your eyes roll back, you just needed him so bad, needed him to get you there.

He was breathing heavily too now and you knew he was just as desperate, throbbing, panting, trying to hold on for you as he drew his hips back and you both hissed, gazes thick with pleasure, your voices merely whispers as he drove himself inside you again. He didn’t have to move much, a couple of slow and deep trusts inside you before the feeling was there again, untameable, all consuming, too much to hold back.

“Let go,” he sighed close to your ear, feeling his own body ready to give out. “Let go for meh.” You didn’t have time to process it all, couldn’t work out what finally drove you over the edge that last time - a combination of his fingers finding and circling your clit, his honeyed coaxing, the way he was drinking you in, the way his bicep curled as you wrapped your hand around it, his final thrust, the exhausted smile he was wearing - all helping you give into the sensitivity. Your walls fluttered, your breath hitched and you fell back into the elation, the rushing feeling, seeing stars and mumbling your adoration through it all. He held you close as you came for him and couldn’t take it anymore, so sore from holding out all this time.

'Tha's it, darlin’,” he drawled, his deep voice trailing off into a loud groan and you felt him release, triggered by the way your walls squeezed his throbbing cock so deliciously, finally overwhelmed himself, getting his release he'd been so close to ever since he'd watched you undress. His head fell down on your shoulder as he groaned quietly, the movements of his hips slowing, ceasing and he bit down lightly on your skin.

You stayed wrapped in each other for a while, the weight of him on top of you such a comfort and then he pulled out of you and you winced, with little regret for the unbearable tenderness you felt now. You were both completely spent, rolling around and groaning together but Alex pulled your hand so that you were facing him, always so needy after he’d fucked you so good.

“Are yeh okay, me love?” he sighed, breathless. “Are yeh alrehyt?”

“Alexander…” you giggled, shifting closer to him, rolling against his side, barely noticing the way your bodies were slick with sweat, the need to be together again quite frankly more compelling. “You are impossible.”

“Impossibleh, good…”

You rolled your eyes at his cheekiness - the relentlessly cocky bastard - and he grinned at you with that massive goofy, lopsided smile which he only reserved for times when he didn’t have anything to say. You were both breathing heavily still but so lost in each other's eyes and he pulled you in closer, then leaning down to nuzzle into your neck as you were all cuddled close to each other and he giggled quietly against your skin, his breath tickling you.

"I didn't 'urt yeh too much, did I?" he mumbled, now sounding more serious, his giggles paused.

"Well, you did, but I liked it" you assured him, humming softly, moving your hand to the back of neck, scratching lightly at his scalp, living for the way he sighed out softly, enjoying the touch immensely, nudging your jaw playfully with his nose, making you giggle. "And next time I miss you while you're away, I'll call you… maybe just need you and not that thing."

Alex lifted his head, looking at you with wide eyes. "Oh, babeh, yeh better use tha' fing when I'm not there teh do it. Fuck yehrself good and fink of meh, yeh?" He nudged your nose with his now, cackling childishly. You laughed softly, nudging his nose back, rubbing them together.

"Really?"

He hummed. "Mmmm, realleh. Can't 'ave me girl not well taken care of when sheh needs meh, can't 'ave yeh unsatisfied,” he stated, licking his lips. "Joost don't let meh catch yeh wif it when I'm 'ome."

You smiled to yourself, shuffling closer to him, your chests pressed together. "Okay..." you whispered.

"If yeh want meh, yeh onleh 'ave teh ask..." he smirked.

You rolled your eyes at him, your heart so full of love and adoration for him, you just couldn't believe how lucky you were to have him, to just have him shower you with his love while he also always knew just what you needed, never leaving you unfulfilled.

"And call meh when the mood strikes yeh again while I'm aweh..." he hummed. "And I'll talk yeh through it."

“I can’t wait,” you mumbled, almost sleepily then pretended to think for a moment. “When’s the tour start again?” you laughed, and he teased your sides with his calloused fingers in response, your giggle vibrating - for lack of a better word - around the room.

#alex turner #alex turner smut #alex turner fic #alex turner fanfic #alex turner fanfiction #alex turner/reader #buzz #buzzcut prince #arctic monkeys #The Last Shadow Puppets #writing #adt

454 notes · View notes

underroleau · 6 years ago

Text

chapter 9

A slashing sound echoed in the empty cavern, red water fell like rain over the bridge, and a voice was heard.

- Sorry, but not this time. -

And impact could be heard, like a hammer hitting a glass.

Undyne opened her eyes slowly, in front of her an orange/red sweatshirt was moving and a creature fell flying down the bridge. Wave panted, exhausted.

- That was pretty close, right? - he breathed, heavily.

Undyne was shook, she thought he was dead… with a movement, she stood up using Wave’s shoulder as a support to stand.

- ...so it’s true that idiots never die. -

She was melting against him, kept barely together by her own determination. Wave smiled.

- I can’t just dust away, right? And we can’t die no, - Undyne felt a sudden relief as her soul turned orange, and her melting was delayed a little – or else, who is going to watch anime with Alphys? Or who will wake up Sans? -

Wave picked her up slipping her arm around his shoulder, muttering as he started to walk with her.

- Whoa, whoa, someone’s big. -

She smiled. - I’m not heavy, it’s you that’s weak… but, how did you survive? -

He froze on the spot for a second, as if thinking, looking at her and smiling.

- I have no idea. -

Undyne stared back making a strange face, before bursting into laughter.

- I can’t believe you’re so stupid! But I owe you one. -

Slowly, step after step, the lab was closer but the duo got slower and slower because Undyne was still a melting mess. Looking down, however, Undyne noticed red splotching on the ground.

- You’re bleeding, you idiot!! -

- Well, it is normal if you have a cut in in the chest. - Wave smiled.

She hit him on the head, - I’m the soldier here! - she sputtered, trying to hold herself together – And I can walk better than you!! -

He replied with dragged voice – I kno..w…but… w..e… need.. to – Wave was slowing down, each step heavier and heavier – reach the… - Undyne’s soul was flickering red and orange.

- HEY! DON’T SLEEP NOW!! -

- Sorr...y… Undyne… I… ca.. - Wave fell on his knees, and then on the ground.

Undyne’s soul returned red again and she started melting fast again – NOT NOW!! - She desperately tried to drag him but Wave was losing consciousness, - WE HAVE TO REACH THE LAB! - She tried to keep him awake, but he kept losing “blood”. Almost to the lab, Undyne collapsed and Wave’s magic was gone, so she dragged herself till she couldn’t anymore, and everything became black.

She woke up very confused about her sorroundings, her arms and legs were very heavy, and her vision blurry. She moaned a little, too weak to talk, and as she turned slightly her head she saw an IV sticking out of her arm in which red liquid was flowing, she could hear a familiar voice speaking, and then Alphys’ hand on her cheek.

- Undyne, UNDYNE! Don’t close your eyes, please… please, don’t sleep again. Stay awake and don’t talk, you’re very weak… sorry!! -

Without any other warning, she slapped Undyne with all he strenght. The warrior was too dizzy to understand anything, but that made her stay awake.

- Alph.. Alp… -

Alphys hushed her, worriedly.

- Shh, shh… you’re too weak to talk, now just think about resting, and don’t move your arm! You already slept a lot.. Now stay calm, I’m healing you. Just, stay calm. Mettaton! -

A quirky music started in the room, and lights with some firework appeared.

- Did you call me, dear? - it asked, with a dramatic pose, and Alphys jumped on the machine.

- Not now!! Shh!! Help me put Undyne sitting. -

- Ok darling!! - it swiftly obeyed the order, placing her with her back against the wall.

- I’m sorry Undyne.. - apologized Alphys – I need to check Wave.. -

Undyne nodded, looking to her surroundings slightly more clearer. They were in the same lab where the dog came from, and on a bed right next to her, connected to a tube like herself, Wave.

The scientist was checking him, surprised as she tried to make him lay down.

- You should be resting!! You risked a lot! - she stammered, but Wave was stronger than her and sat up, - Your regeneration is incredible, but you lost a lot of blood and… -

She was interrupted as Wave pat her head.

- Don’t worry, I’m ok. And if I can help Undyne with this, I’m happy. -

A sudden voice, however, startled Alphys. The squadre robot gave Alphys some steaming ramen.

- DARLING, YOU SHOULD TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF, YOU KNOW! HOW MUCH TIME DID YOU SPEND HERE? -

Alphys blew on the ramen to eat it, and pushed Mettaton outside the room who kept babbling loudly.

- THEY NEED REST!! -

Undyne shortly after passed out again, as Wave transferred his own “blood” to keep her together.

(…)

A few days after, Undyne was strong enough to stay awake, as day after day her soul became more solid and surfaced to her chest, hard and heavy like a diamond. Her body was more human than before. Wave was recovering more slowly, weakened by the constant infusion to Undyne, and was replacing his energy by eating a lot. And Alphys was keeping Undyne updated on the situation in the outside world, everything was calm.

Undyne was strong enough to be able to speak, so she decided to ask Wave once more, - How did you survive? How can you stay like that as if nothing happened? -

- Mhh… - Wave mumbled – All I can emember is a strange sensation in my chest, and all became black like someone turned off the light. I felt myself sliding away… then I woke up and heard you screaming. -

- It was a war shout! - corrected Undyne.

- War shout – smiled Wave – and then I saved you – he ended, with a proud smile.

Alphys walked into the lab with a sheet of paper in hand, looking nervous.

- I have some bad news for you guys.. -

Undyne and Wave stared expectantly for her to continue. She took in a deep breath.

- First, Wave… your soul changed a little, but I don’t know if it’s for the best or not. It’s more… solid? - she said.

- What does it mean? - Wave questioned, tilting his head.

- It just seems out of energy, maybe due to the infusion to Undyne.. you just need lots of rest. -

- Oh, if it’s only about that, I don’t feel like running so it’s ok. -

- Y-Yeah.. ok.. so… - Alphys walked towards Undyne, shaking more than before – And.. you.. I think.. we have another mess… -

- ...what do you mean? -

- The infusion saved you… - Alphys started, staring at the paper with teary eyes – But… but your body… is more solid… your soul has more material and for this, your magic has changed… and, I don’t know how to explain it but… - - TALK! - Undyne shouted, before calming down - ...sorry, just tell me. Please. -

Alphys took another big breath – I don’t know if you can throw you spears again with your magic!! You can’t control it anymore because your body isn’t stable with it, I’m sorry!! -

- … -

Silence fell in the room, broke by Wave’s laughter as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

- THIS IS NOT FUNNY!! - Alphys shrieked.

- It is, if you think she was even able to aim her spear! AHAHAH! -

Undyne was till confused by the news, but Wave’s happy mood lightened her own, and after he stopped she went next to him.

- You’re right.. I don’t AIM… I ACT!! - she said, slamming Wave on the floor and falling on him, laughing.

Alphys just looked at them, with a sad smile, before turning to the door.

- Guys… I’ll be right back. -

She said, before leaving the room.

Once she calmed down, Undyne spoke again.

- You should’ve killed that creature. -

- I don’t feel like that would’ve changed anything. - Wave answered.

- You are an idiot. But thanks for saving me. - she said, patting his head

- You told me, idiots never dies. - he smirked

Undyne choked a laugh. - Maybe I’m an idiot too. -

(…)

Days passed on, Undyne still had some issues walking, and Wave was fine only showing to have a problem with his stamina. That afternoon, a sudden alarm was heard.

Alphys ran in the room followed by Mettaton, and shouting.

- We have no time!! Wave! Undyne!! You need to go! -

Undyne and Wave were very confused, as she kept yelling – No time to… -

A door flew in the corridor, slamming loudly.

- There’s no time!! Go! - She panted, pushing the two patients.

- Alphys!! What are you doing?! Stop pushing me! - Undyne spurted, falling on the ground.

- We have no time! - Alphys cried, still trying to push Undyne – I’m sorry, I have to do this, but I lo…!! -

A knife hit Alphys in the chest, getting stuck inside her body, as blood came rolling down her mouth, motionless. Undyne screamed as the scientist, with a small smile, pressed a botton on a controller she was holding.

- ...it was fun… Thanks for that time in the Waterfalls… Undyne… - she whipered. A wall fell from the ceiling, separating her from the other two, a glass in the middle of it. Undyne started hitting the window with all her might, but it wouldn’t break.

- ALPHYS!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING??!!!! I CAN FIGHT THAT THING!! -

Mettaton flew against the glass, landing flat at the base of the wall, and Undyne could see the human behind Alphys, who was on her knees, grabbing her knife. She waved a hand to Undyne and Wave, murmuring what it looked like “ It was a good life… “ before being sliced in half.

- NOOOOOOOOOO!! - Undyne screamed in a terrific way – I WILL END YOU!!!! -

Wave grabbed Undyne, dragging her away. She tried to break free, but was too weak for that.

They fled the lab. MASTERPOST

thanks again @nephdetermined the chapter 9 was bugged so i have to repost it o.-o

#masterpost #chapter 9 #chapter

4 notes · View notes

bettsfic · 6 years ago

Note

1 i'm really looking forward to/hoping there will be a big clarke/octavia blowout fight in TW where they both put each other in their place at least a bit. i do understand octavia's reaction and think it's justified to SOME extent, but her making the situation & aftermath all about herself without even considering her own role & her distancing herself from her supposed bff since being w/ jasper leaves a bad taste in my mouth and makes her somewhat less sympathetic

2 then again i guess that is to be expected since clarke is the protagonist i know and am rooting for and am therefore more likely to sympathize with despite her not great actions. & especially now as octavia is completely cutting clarke off from everything while clarke is still all "is octavia ok she needs someone oh no.” just looking forward to hopefully a bit more righteous push back and anger from clarke u kno the classic IM SORRY I DIDNT TELL U ABOUT IT BUT I AINT DAMN SORRY I DID IT!!

love this take

i consider octavia what i call a door-slam person. she’s not like bellamy and clarke. she doesn’t think too much about things. she’s a being of merciless gut-instinct. i tried to twist together s1 and s5 octavia, in that when she’s happy she seems like this bubbly peppy teenage girl, but she has a sincere dark side that, when angry, she can be of a single mind and nothing can sway her, not even bellamy.

it’s also a bit of a with-wonkru/against-wonkru mentality. like, she sees any betrayal as a punishable offense with no gradation of logic.

i know at this point TW barely seems like a fic anymore, but since octavia doesn’t spend a lot of time in-scene, i’ve had to rely on canon to support her actions.

there will be some righteous anger, def. but clarke feels responsible for what she did to octavia, and has no idea how to handle the aurora situation, so she’s taking a step back.

#training wheels #Anonymous

4 notes · View notes

finsaraan · 6 years ago

Text

i just want you to know - this is the abridged version. i wrote something longer. and it was really prosey fancy and vaguely like an actual ficlet, but i felt like, there isn’t a chance in hell of anybody finishing this unless i file off at least a few paragraphs and fill it with the amusing use of casual language and luis-from-ant-man-style retellings to juxtaposition the setting and theme of the story being told

anyway @kohledtouch @championofstendarr @laelaloola (especially u u agreed to this and u didn’t even kno, this is a lesson in looking before u leap) y’all enabled this, gotta face the consequences of ur actions hit me up w/ how many paragraphs u got in before ur soul left ur body and idk what i’ll owe u but i’ll owe u something LMAO

Well he’s Titus Mede II’s son and his name is Alexandros and his mum is Olympias the emperor’s second wife and she married him when she was 17 bc her family wanted the power and she’s a descendant of a usurped Septim emperor from way yonder through the mists of time. So she has this baby boy, hooray, he’s adorable with his wavy blond hair and his odd eyes, one’s blue one’s green, and he spends his childhood frolicking barefoot through the White Gold Tower’s private gardens which it would realistically have as the home of the royal family, and chilling with the soldiers in the barracks, and the grooms in the stables, learning filthy language and all about war. His parents don’t get on because his mum doesn’t take shit lying down and doesn’t and never did love her husband, so if he’s remotely rude to her, which he can be because he’s just like that but also stressed all the time, she snaps right back and then he snaps back because he’s a proud man and not good at apologising and then it spirals out of control.

One day in particular when Alexandros is four, it’s soon after the death of his older sister, who was the crown princess and very capable and absolutely doted on by the emperor who’s distraught about it still, he goes to his mum’s room late at night only for the emperor to come in soon after absolutely sloshed, immediately getting his kit off, and Olympias, hoping to make him go away and also shield her baby’s eyes, hides Alexandros and says ‘no we can’t do the do it’s that time of the month’ but he’s like ‘you said that a week ago you HAG’ but now that she has her baby she’s feeling very protective so she snaps right back more viciously than usual so they start a proper shouting match until Alexandros bursts out screaming SHE HATES YOU GO AWAY GO AWAY, only to be grabbed by a stunned and horrified and slightly embarrassed (bc hes naked) emperor and tossed quite violently from the room. He’s caught by the guard on duty who takes good care of him while he screams because honestly that was a pretty traumatic experience. Once he’s put to bed and then up the next morning he doesn’t remember it, but it does scar him psychologically. The marriage goes downhill quite badly from there, it was their worst argument yet, there were a lot of insults, Titus feels very attacked by his now-crown-prince son’s apparent hatred of him, Olympias is livid that he handled her baby so roughly - it all makes everyone bitter.

Now when Alexandros is seven his education has yet to start and he’s a bit too cosy with the common soldiery that man the Tower, as someone puts it ‘he speaks as if he was conceived against a barrack wall’. Also, he hasn’t had a lot of interaction with his father, who doesn’t have time for children really and is still kinda put off by That Incident and by the very guarded way his son looks at him when the boy’s brought up for inspection days that let Titus see how he’s doing. So Titus thinks, to get him away from his mother’s influence, because she’s probably turning the boy against him (tbf she is), he’ll send him off to Cloud Ruler Temple to be mentored by this Penitus Oculatus commander called Leonidas. Leonidas thinks Alexandros is a spoilt brat. He has the child doing a soldier’s training from dawn until dusk, feeds him two spare meals a day, gives him shitty blankets and makes him sleep outside if he’s been disobedient (and if it’s not gonna kill him), and while this does mean that Alexandros is really good at taking hardship when he’s older - his soldiers will love him because he’s known for refusing to take food, water, or shelter if there isn’t enough for every single man - it’s also frankly irresponsible on Leonidas’s part, because he chronically underfeeds a growing boy, and Alexandros ends up significantly shorter than average for the rest of his life.

Now he’s twelve and his training with Leonidas is done, so he’s back home. He sings at a court banquet and a grumpy Titus Mede - who thinks he sounds a lot like his mother when he sings and is REALLY put off by it - humiliates him in front of everyone by telling him it’s a stupid waste of time for a prince to learn an instrument. Alexandros runs away and blackmails a soldier he knows, who's travelling home to sort a blood feud, into taking Alexandros with him. There’s a battle between two tiny villages and Alexandros makes his first kill, takes the head home, and feels a lot better knowing he is officially A Man at twelve when his dad didn’t have HIS first kill until he was sixteen. Now Alexandros gets his own retinue, a bunch of generals’ sons around his age, and he meets HEPHAESTION. Hephaestion is a babe, they hit it off immediately, and it’s barely any time at all before they’re completely inseparable. They’re soulmates. The same day that they meet, Alexandros makes another lifelong friend - the stallion Bucephalus, who nearly tramples some people in a panic at a horse fair, but Alexandros realises it's been mistreated and gentles it until it lets him ride it, ooh ahh very dramatic and you bet your ass Hephaestion is swooning in the background.

Fifteen years old, Alexandros is sent off with his friends to study some real important shit like philosophy and morality with a former Psijic monk (who isn’t actually former he says that but actually he’s an active Psijic - they sent him to try and influence Alex to take a good and wholesome path) called Aristotle. Alexandros never gets the hang of magic but he likes medicine and learning about nature and discussing abstract topics. Supposedly, doing this all in some chateau out in buttfuck nowhere is so he doesn’t get distracted but once again, Titus wants to separate Alexandros and his mother. The only time Alexandros leaves is to be summoned to various battles or sieges around the provinces for experience and because he and his father get on quite well when they’re out on campaign, they think the same tactically and Alex does admire his father really, he just feels guilty because his mother’s a woman with drama and flare running through her blood (descended from Tiber Septim rememeber), and lets him know when she feels betrayed. It’s a very emotionally scarring situation, because he can’t please one parent without angering the other. But on campaign it’s ok. He flourishes, he’s clearly got the knack, and the soldiers really love him ‘cause he comes into the healers’ tents to talk to the wounded men and tell them how brave they were. He’s got an incredible memory for names and faces, he never forgets anyone he’s met, and it’s a big thing when you’re just some lowly soldier and the crown prince remembers you and says he saw you, first up the wall in that siege, terrific job mate. He really craves the adoration of his people, it’s so much simpler than the mess his family is in. Be nice, make an effort, the lads love you. No nonsense there.

Sixteen now, he’s left as regent (of the entire empire!) when the emperor goes off on a longer campaign, but has to embark on his own one when there’s an issue with a big load of Forsworn. He does insanely well. He’s sixteen. Sixteen! Half of the enemies he comes across can’t even take him seriously, until he slaughters them. You stop laughing pretty fast when Alexandros’s legion comes at you. More than that, he gets there from the Imperial City faster than the soldiers sent from actual Skyrim, and they show up half way through like ‘whu?’ but Alexandros ropes them in no-nonsense and as they incredulously ask the Imperial soldiers ‘how old is this guy?’ they’re just given a knowing look and told ‘wait ‘till you see him in action, then you’ll know’.

At seventeen (he’s up to a lot now) his mum is pestering him to start churning out bastards because he’s unusually celibate for his age and status. She’s feeling very insecure because she’s engaged in some political fights and frankly the only reason she’s alive is because she’s wife of the emperor and mother of the crown prince; if she looses that status, she’s a goner, and at the moment the only reason she’s still married to Titus is because if he divorces her he weakens Alexandros’s claim to the throne and that could be chaos if Titus were to unexpectedly perish. So a potential heir from Alexandros would strengthen her position, and also give her another baby, which she wants because she’s feeling very excluded from Alexandros’s life. Rather than inevitably fail to walk the tightrope between his parents, he’s taken to only speaking to them when summoned, and confiding in Hephaestion for everything instead. After Alexandros dodges a series of prostitutes sent by his mother to get him producing and maybe separate him from Hephaestion a little, he pretends he slept with one to get his mother off his back, and ends up, in the aftermath, getting jiggy with Hephaestion for the first time instead. They’re as madly in love as ever. All their friends can tell It’s Happened, and some bets are finally won.

Now shit goes terribly wrong, and it’s about to get convoluted - the emperor takes a fancy to the daughter of one of his generals, Attalos. If she becomes his mistress, and has his children, and Titus really takes a shine to her, her noble birth makes her a really strong candidate for marriage, PLUS, Attalos is rumoured to be a Thalmor informant. That would put Olympias and Alexandros in the doghouse and in serious danger, but take a big weight off Titus’s shoulders, because he no longer has a mortal enemy in his house and a son influenced by said mortal enemy. Alexandros just tries not to rock the boat. On the return from a state visit, father and son and entourage are hosted by Attalos at his villa on the road. Attalos gets drunk and alludes to the potential union, suggesting any children from it are better than a child of Olympias, and then he insults Olympias a lot, thinking he’s being subtle, but he’s not, because he’s completely smashed. Alex is pissed. When he calls Attalos the fuck out, Titus gets pissed at him and tells him to check himself. Alex calls out him next, telling him to stand up for his own heir, unless he’s a desperate old man who’ll lick Attalos’s feet he’s that thirsty for the man’s daughter, who is frankly much too young for his old ass - also, they all know the rumours, Attalos is a filthy Thalmor informant, so he’s probably trying to suck up to them as well.

(The retelling of this gets him a lot of points amongst Thalmor-haters and if you hear it retold in certain places the string of inventive insults that prefix ‘Thalmor’ is about as long as the entire rest of the story.)

Titus is pissed, as you would be, to the point of drawing his sword, maybe a bit extreme, but he trips and falls on his face. Alexandros utters the immortal line ‘look, men, who the people thought would cross the tyrants for them - and he falls crossing from couch to couch’. Alexandros then has to book it, taking Olympias to her relatives in High Rock, then disappearing himself into the Druadach Mountains. He pisses Titus off for a bit by making it seems like he might be gathering allies in the mountains to go to war, but eventually messengers get sent back and forth and after a lot of debate, a peace is agreed to, and Alex and Olympias are welcomed back to the Imperial City. Things are still hella tense. Hoping to fix this, Titus sends Alexandros into Skyrim to deal with this civil war business that’s popped up, planning on following along later because his health is real fucked up just then. He’s been in a lot of battles, he’s like swiss cheese at this point.

Now at this point if I’m feeling indulgent, this is the point at which Alexandros turns out to be the Last Dragonborn and has to deal with all that shit. Otherwise, he just shows up and does his Alexandros thing, which is kicking ass and actually trying really hard to come to a peace agreement. The emperor wants to crush the Stormcloak rebellion entirely, but if Alexandros were to get his way - you know, like if he were to suddenly and unexpectedly become emperor himself - his offered treaty to Ulfric would be a formal apology for the failure of his father to honour his title as protector of the realm and chosen of the Divines; an offer of total religious autonomy, total autonomy in the deciding of any High King or Queen; and a getout clause that lets Skyrim legally secede from the empire if the jarls together decide that the current emperor/empress is failing in his or her duty to protect the rights and well-being of the citizens of Skyrim, failing to honour the gods that put them on their throne, offending egregiously the cultural beliefs of the people of Skyrim, or proving themself unworthy of the respect and power of the Ruby Throne.

Alexandros is real fucking confident. And he enjoys the enormous ‘fuck you’ he’s sending to any future rulers that don’t live up to these standards, because even if the treaty focuses on Skyrim, is they were to pull that getout clause and secede, everyone would follow whether it applies to them or not.

Back in Cyrodiil, while Alexandros is either being Dragonborn or not, the emperor is making plans to divorce Olympias and marry Attalos’s daughter but with legislation that secures Alexandros’s position as heir, hoping it’ll placate him even though his mother’s just been slapped in the face essentially. And on top of that, there’s a member of the Elder Council called Pausanias Orestes - he and the emperor were bang-mates, once upon a time, but Pausanias got dumped for a younger, hotter bloke. Pissed, Pausanias calls the guy a lil’ bitch, and the guy goes and gets himself killed being extra in battle to prove that he’s not. His kin, upset, have their revenge on Pausanias in a very dark and disturbing way because they don’t want to kill him because he’s still on fairly good terms with the emperor. Pausanias entreats the emperor to get him justice. Titus makes Pausanias head of his bodyguard, which is a very big favour, but doesn’t punish them that abused Pausanias. Eventually, Pausanias becomes a member of the Elder Council. Now here’s the thing; who’s the man that did that to Pausanias? It’s general Attalos, father of the girl emperor Titus Mede wants to marry, the man that’s about to achieve a real big power boost just by getting his daughter to bang the emperor. Oh dear. And guess who was with the entourage that stayed at Attalos’s villa the night of the bust up that Alexandros ended up having to flee; who had to stay in the house of the man that had wronged him and never been punished for it? Pausanias. Alexandros noticed this incredible cruelty at the time and apologised to Pausanias for it. Pausanias likes Alexandros for that reason. So when someone comes to Pausanias and says; we want to assassinate the emperor, and Alexandros is in on it, will you go to Skyirm and hire the Dark Brotherhood? Pausanias says yes. The thing is, Alexandros isn’t in on it; he’s far too pious to ever consider killing his own father. But there are those that thing the Medes are getting a little out of hand and if they all happened to die then that would be very handy for certain point-eared control-freaks who have a violent need to be absolute cunts and are the Tamrielic equivalent of that person who comes into your inbox and nitpicks your TES lore knowledge in a very condescending way, especially over things that are honestly subjective.

#( ;; ooc )#( ;; mun speaks )#What Have I Done #honestly? if anyone's device doesn't do the readmore and makes them see the whole post on the dashboard #TELL ME #i'll fuckin get rid of it #u dont deserve that #long post for ts #in case #also like that shit abt pausanias 100% tru alex the greats dad got shanked by his former bf #what a way to go

4 notes · View notes

blame-canada · 7 years ago

Text

I Think - Crenny

Kenny is just starting to tiptoe into the realm of boyfriend terminology with Craig when he gives him a gift he could never repay him for. The way to Kenny's heart is his family, after all, and with the way he's gotten to see all their smiles so brightly this Christmas Eve, he's about ready to pop the question. He thinks, though, he thinks.

Hello everyone! I was given the opportunity to post the Secret Santa gift fic that I wrote for @kotaii-san! It’s some Christmas Eve fluff, just in time for Christmas Eve. It’s a bit long to be posting on Tumblr, but I guess that’s what cuts are for, haha. I hope you enjoy. :) Read it on AO3 here!

“I don’t mean to be a bratty teenager, but this sucks.”

The words hurt Kenny more than he wants to let on. At thirteen, Karen has had her fair share of pubescent girl meltdowns, and Kenny’s cleaned up the aftermath more times than he can count. In Kevin’s defense, he’s helped too, but the older he’s gotten, the more detached he’s become. His mother tries, sometimes, but more often than not she gets so overwhelmed so quickly that before Karen’s even done screaming, she’s reaching for the nearest illicit drug. It’s frustrating, but it’s life, he supposes, and Kenny sometimes wonders if in a different world he could have been dealt a better hand. It’s not worth the trouble to dwell on it now though, because the three of them are busy sitting huddled in the center of the living room, touching shoulders for warmth because the heat is at a bare minimum, and finding patterns in the stains on the carpet with their mouths shut and their fingers curled around small hands of cards.

“It’s not your fault,” she adds on, because apparently he hadn’t hid his disappointment well enough to keep it a secret and she reads him like a book anyway. “You do your best. It just kinda sucks.”

Kevin shivers while he nods, and the guilt in the pit of Kenny’s stomach weighs him to the floor so that he sinks further into the circle they’ve made, nearly touches noses with the discard pile. Sometimes in December he dreams of Stan’s house, or even Cartman’s, where it’s warm and there are soft lights and candles everywhere and pine needles wrapped around the banisters and fallen on the tree skirt that adorns the very bottom of their Christmas trees.

The McCormicks have never had a Christmas tree. He isn’t sure if it’s because his parents never thought it was important, couldn’t afford it, or both. He’d been planning on surprising them all with one this year with a meager savings he’d accumulated from the jobs he’s been working to help pay the bills, but it had to go to an emergency window fix, the glass punched out in a fit of rage. Kevin’s hand is still scabbed over and bruised on the knuckles.

“Do you think mom will be home in time? For midnight? Uno,” Karen asks as she drops a card onto the pile, because for some reason they still care that their family is together while the calendar turns to the twenty-fifth. Their father walked out ages ago, which was probably for the best. Now their mother works late into the night and early in the morning, and they don’t see her very much anymore. Kenny understands, but they all miss her, regardless of how horrible she can still be. It’s not a perfect place, and maybe when they move out they’ll each have their own revelations about just how toxic and abusive the household they came from was, but for now it’s all they’ve got.

“Dunno, Kare,” Kevin mutters, and Kenny puts his cards facedown on the ground to pat the top of her head instead. She protests with a whine and ducks away, but he still messes up the top layer of her thin hair. When she straightens up, she’s smiling, and Kenny smiles too.

“Love ya, kiddo,” Kenny says, because they don’t say ‘Merry Christmas,’ because it doesn’t really mean anything. They never were taught the story of Santa Claus. There isn’t much merry about their seance for warmth in a cold, dark house.

“Love you too, Kenny,” she replies, her voice small and fragile, and she adds, “love you too, Kevin.” Kevin grunts.

They finish their game and fall back into silence, and Kenny reaches for his phone, practically a burner several years out of circulation. He has a new text message, and he feels a flutter in his chest, because the name of the sender is a short string of emojis and there’s only one person in his contacts without a regular name.

His phone buzzes in his hand as another text comes in, from the same tiny spaceship between two stars.

You home

Answer if youre up for a good time :P

Kenny licks his lips, glances up at his siblings while he contemplates the offer. They’re each using one earbud to listen to music. The screen from the old iPod they still use is lighting up their faces, because night is setting in and the last drops of sunlight are fading from their profiles so that they turn to silhouettes. Ordinarily he would say yes, of course, in a heartbeat, because his spaceship crush is a deadly combination of addicting and rare. Tonight he hesitates though, because it is Christmas Eve, and as he realizes this, he thinks to ask him why he’s looking for a quick visit today of all days.

tf u doin xmas eve that u wanna fuck around instead @_@?

The response is almost immediate. His spaceship is always lightning-fast, the same way it traverses the galaxies like ponds and hops stars like lily pads.

Nothing important

Before Kenny can reply, he sends another.

Thats not true. Im doing important stuff. Which is why I need to know if you are part of the important stuff.

Kenny sighs. Though it’s tempting, and he feels like maybe it’s selfish, his family needs him more. Maybe they’re fine, he doesn’t know. It just doesn’t feel right.

i gotta spedn it w the fam dude. xmas sux but u kno. its family

*spend

There is a long pause in which Kenny does nothing but stare at his phone. There isn’t much to do on it like the newer models, so it feels like more of a brick than anything else. He switches between watching the clock tick by and watching his brother and sister share music together. It’s approaching eleven, and he isn’t sure his mother will make it home in time after all. The pile of cards they’ve abandoned sits neatly at their feet. The brick vibrates.

Well. Dont go anywhere.

Kenny’s curiosity is piqued, but he’s not sure if it’s too forward to ask what he’s talking about. His spaceship likes to keep secrets sometimes, within its indestructible metal walls. That’s not quite true, Kenny corrects, because he knows how to destruct it, and it’s one of his favorite things to do. The faint high of excitement and nerves makes his stomach flip, and he tucks his phone away in his pocket, reaching out to hold Kev and Karen’s hands again per tradition.

Karen drops her head on Kenny’s shoulder and starts to doze off then, and he starts blinking away sleepiness himself as the ambient noise of his house lulls him to sleep. He doesn’t want to fall asleep though, so he keeps snapping back up to attention, jolting his head up and blinking his eyes rapidly awake. Kevin seems to be doing the same thing, and eventually, Karen starts gently snoring against him. He adjusts his arm so she can rest her head on his lap and in her sleepy stupor she obeys- something she hasn’t done since she was nine years old. He pets her head with his now free hand and tries not to think about how much she deserves better.

A knock on the front door startles all three of them so that they sit up straight, and Karen gasps as she returns to the waking world. “Mom?” Kevin asks, and Kenny shakes his head.

“Nah, she don’t knock. Lemme check by the window.” Kenny stands, walks across the room carefully to avoid the squeakiest floorboards, and peeks out the window to check out the scene.

He’s met with a view of a mass of dark green.

He is even more confused than before. He looks back at his family and nods his head roughly to the left, silently telling them to hide behind the hallway, and they obey quickly. Kenny takes the metal bat he keeps by the door in his hands, shifting it in his grip carefully and weighing its potential fatality, and in a streamlined motion he’s practiced before, he yanks the door open and pulls his bat up behind his head, ready to swing.

“What the-” a familiar voice rasps, and its owner leans backwards, his eyes wide with surprise. “Kenny what the fuck,” he exclaims, and it takes Kenny a moment to take in what he’s seeing.

Craig, his spaceship between two stars, is standing on his doorstep, and in his arms is a big pine tree as tall as he is. Kenny drops his bat down against the wall, and takes a deep breath in through his nose. “You answer first. What’s goin’ on?”

Craig blinks, then shakes the tree a bit to his right. “I said important stuff.” He shrugs, a motion made awkward by his bulky cargo, and Kenny points at it.

“What is that?” he asks, not wanting to get ahead of himself, but he thinks he knows. He has a pretty good idea that he knows.

“The fuck does it look like?” Craig shivers and Kenny realizes he’s left him standing outside inappropriately, and he jumps to the side so Craig has room to enter his humble abode- emphasis on humble. “I got you a tree,” he says as he lugs it in, and with a small grunt of effort, he leans it against the wall beside the door.

Kenny is silent for a moment. “You sure fuckin’ did,” he replies, weakly, because he’s not really sure what else to say. “Where the fuck d’you find a tree on Christmas Eve?”

“Farms sell them till the last minute. I knew you didn’t have one this year. I got a stand and shit too, because, you know.” It’s unspoken that Craig most likely knows that it isn’t just a this-year thing that they don’t have a Christmas tree.

He can’t really help himself; Kenny wastes no time in planting a sloppy kiss on Craig’s lips, not caring that maybe their relationship status isn’t the most defined or that his sister might see. He doesn’t care at all about anyone except the angel gone rigid in front of him who then wraps his arms around his back like he’s hugging him for dear life, like he always does. He feels tears prick at his eyes and tries to blink them away, but he’s not entirely successful. He wants Craig to know how much he loves this moment so he doesn’t try too hard.

Kenny doesn’t say anything at first because there’s not much that he can say to make it better. The silence between them is their usual comfortable normal, the adoration in Kenny’s heart beating so rapidly he’s sure Craig can feel it against his chest. “Thank you,” he finally decides on, whispering it, and Craig hums, the vibration of his Adam’s apple tickling Kenny’s cheek. “Is this real?” he breathes against his collarbone.

“I think so?” Craig replies, but the way it sounds genuinely like a question makes Kenny laugh.

“Craig, I don’t,” he begins, but he truly doesn’t know what to say, and so he says, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything,” Craig murmurs, and he kisses the shell of his ear, and suddenly Kenny is floating miles above his own body. His soul dances in his chest like a ballerina, jumping and spinning in joyous circles that make him laugh. He must look crazy, doing that, laughing for no outward reason, but he doesn’t care.

“Kenny..?” a timid voice calls, and he remembers he banished the other two-thirds of his family behind the corner of his house for their protection. He leaves Craig’s arms as he turns around and Karen is peeking around the corner, her tiny hands gripping the wall and hair spilling straight down towards the floor.

“You can come out,” he says softly, his smile warm and glowing, “it’s just Craig.”

He can see the sigh of relief in her shoulders before she hops out from the hallway. She catches sight of the tree and gasps. A big smile is slowly growing on her face until it becomes too strong to hide behind her lips and her teeth poke out with glee. Kevin saunters out behind her, but rests his back against the wall, crossing his arms and keeping watchful distance.

Before she can crash into them, Karen screeches to a halt in front of him and Craig. She looks back and forth between the two of them, her eyes crinkled slightly closed from the pure intensity of the blissful grin on her face. “Um,” she begins, suddenly growing shy and clasping her hands in front of her sheepishly, “is that for us?” She looks over at the tree then back at Craig, waiting patiently.

Kenny looks to Craig too, whose expression is essentially unreadable at first but melts into a gentle smile, the kind that makes Kenny melt too. “I had an extra, so.” Karen giggles and Kenny sees Kevin chuckle a bit too before he kicks away from the wall to join the rest of them. “We gonna put this shit in the window or what?”

The rest of their evening is punctuated by happy chattering and giggling while they put together the small string of lights and miscellaneous baubles that Craig has likely stolen off his own Christmas tree for them, and Kenny wishes he could have recorded it. He wishes he could have committed every single second to memory, to savor the glow and genuine joy that pulsed from each of their chests so that every moment felt sweet, soft, and safe. He can, however, memorize the little flashes of things: the way Craig’s eyes get so dark they look black when the room is lit only by Christmas tree lights. The way Kevin smiles when he’s truly, really, happy, with one side of his mouth higher than the other and his tongue stuck between his canines in a smile. How Karen looks at him when no one else is looking, with so much innocent hope in the rosiness of her cheeks that he’s forgotten his worries entirely.

The way his mother looks shocked, confused, then overjoyed when she walks through the door at twelve fifty-three in the morning, officially Christmas Day.

They hold their breath as she steps quietly across the room and looks up at Craig, who struggles to keep eye contact and has to look away after only a few seconds. “Um,” he starts, but she pulls him down into a tight hug, and she starts to cry.

“Thank you,” she says, “oh, thank you for doin’ this for my babies. Thank you so much, Craig. Yer a good kid, you know. Your momma must be proud.” Craig’s cheeks are flushed with embarrassment after that, and Kenny can’t help but giggle at him, his heart in the clouds. “Well come on in now, kids. It’s Christmas, come on!” she insists quietly, her arms opened wide on either side of her, and Kevin, Karen and Kenny pile into them with Craig squished between them all.

She sighs, but it’s happy, and she holds them for a moment longer than usual. “Look, look,” she murmurs, twisting each of her children around by their shoulders- Craig too. “Look at all them pretty lights. You ever seen somethin’ so beautiful in this room?”

Kenny looks up, studies the way the white lights glow against the window and the wall, and he thinks to himself that he has. He’s seen four things so beautiful in this room in fact, and he sees them all around him, and it’s the most beautiful this room’s ever felt for as long as he can remember. Craig’s shoulder is bony against his own, and, remembering his proximity, he twists his hand around his forearm to search for his fingers. They find his and wrap together, warm and clammy, and Kenny breathes out deeply. For a moment, as his lungs empty, so do his troubles.

“Craig,” Kenny mumbles, his eyes struggling to stay open, the streetlight outside the only thing telling him that Craig’s eyes are open too across from him on his mattress.

“Hmm?” he hums, the way he does where his lips buzz and resonate with the vibrations of his heart. Their hands are clasped between them, meeting in the middle between their pillows and bathing in the white light that paints crescents in Craig’s dramatic knuckles.

“I think I love you,” he whispers, letting the smile in his heart overtake his lips, and Craig’s eyes widen before they return to half-lidded. Kenny watches his lips stretch into the widest closed grin he’s ever seen on Craig’s face. He looks so silly, like a caricature of a smitten cartoon.

“Oh yeah?” he questions, and Kenny laughs a bit.

“Yeah,” he says, “I think so.”

“Well,” Craig murmurs, in the deep, raspy voice that he adores that precedes his sleep and preludes his mornings, “I think I love you too.”

He squeezes his fingers in time with his racing pulse and closes his eyes, resting his forehead against the soft, flat back of Craig’s hand. “Thank you,” he whispers, and Craig hums again, and he falls asleep dreaming of the day he isn’t afraid to leave out ‘I think.’

Not yet, but maybe next year.

117 notes · View notes

zoemurph · 7 years ago

Text

to have a friend, chapter 10: $233

on ao3 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

haha im dying!

thank you for being patient. i have one essay left, a group project (that includes another essay :P), a final quiz, a flash fiction piece, and a final. and i'm done with my first semester of college? i'm actually...taking next semester off so...probably more consistent updates after this. phew. oh and i won nano? wild

i'm exhausted and genuinely don't like at least 75% of this chapter, but it's done. please please p l e a s e read the end notes for a little disclaimer thanks

warnings: anxiety, depression, panic attacks, let me know if any other warnigns should be added

enjoy~

Sometimes Connor has the really strong urge to hold Evan’s hand.

It’s a weird feeling. This desire to just reach out and take Evan’s hand in his own and not even say anything, just hold it.

Sometimes Connor thinks that romantic feelings are bullshit. Especially when it’s seven in the morning and Evan sees him waiting by the locker and lights up like the goddamn sun and Connor’s stomach tries to become an Olympic gymnast.

Like right now.

Evan stands next to Connor, their arms almost touching, as he talks to Alana. They’re still trying to figure out a name for their club, because for whatever reason, Alana refuses to use The Fuck Project.

Jared thinks it’s hilarious, which has somehow worked against the name.

Alana is going on about the details. Evan nods, and he probably knows what’s going on, but Connor’s zoned out. Alana has this in the bag and also Connor isn’t actually involved in their little pet project. Even if the initial idea did come from Alana being way too fucking nosy.

She’s nice when she’s not picking Connor’s brain.

So Alana and Evan talk and Connor stands and people pass them and time until the next class starts ticks down and down and down. It’s a nice moment. Weirdly calm. For once, Connor doesn’t feel entirely awful, despite where he is and everything about himself.

He still wants to hold Evan’s hand.

It’s not like Connor actively tries to think about it. The opposite, in fact. As soon as thoughts about dating Evan pop up, he shoves them to the very back of his brain. He quarantines them away in the darkest corners, because thinking about it hurts.

Evan has made himself a constant in Connor’s life. But a temporary constant. Which is weird and annoying and tiring. Sometimes Connor’s emotions bubble up inside him and threaten to spill out and then Evan will give him this look when Connor pays him and everything just vanishes. Evan looks at Connor and all Connor’s thoughts shrink back and go ‘fuck never mind’.

That doesn’t mean that he’s actually good about not thinking it. He’s getting worse, actually. It’s turning into a mild problem.

Evan can just look at Connor and Connor’s heart will flip and his mind will be consumed with ‘holy fuck I would date the shit out of him’.

He would. Connor has absolutely zoned out staring at Evan on multiple occasions. He keeps passing it off as being tired and honestly it’s a miracle that Evan hasn’t started asking about Connor’s sleep schedule— which is a disaster but isn’t why Connor keeps staring Evan.

Connor keeps staring at Evan because his brain is a fucking traitor and likes to think about what it would be like to kiss Evan.

Of all the boys to fall in love with, Connor had to go and fall in love with Evan Hansen.

Connor checks his phone under his desk. It’s been facedown on his desk — he’s making an attempt in calculus because he’s doing a really shit job right now and he has to pass because he literally cannot spend a day longer in this hellscape than he has to — but he can see the screen lighting up repeatedly.

From: Ev To: Connor AR eyou in clasright no w Of cours e youre in c alss where els e wi oudl you b Im so ryrcan you g et out ?

Connor squints at the board. There are x’s and t’s and some other bullshit that he doesn’t understand. A lot of lines and marks.

Fuck.

He opens another conversation.

From: dickbag To: assface you any good at calc?

Jared replies surprisingly fast. Actually, not so surprisingly. Connor is actually not surprised at all that Jared uses his phone in class.

From: assface To: dickbag ive got a mean b in calc bc y

Connor raises his hand and asks to go to the bathroom. The teacher waves him out the door and keeps teaching.

From: assface To: dickbag i have to do something and i need to not fail you willing to tell me what the fuck is happening?

From: Connor To: Ev where are you? got out of class

Connor heads to the bathroom, because he’s already on the third floor and that’s where Evan was last time. And it’s the closest bathroom. His phone buzzes in his hand as he hurries through the hall and he tries not to groan when it’s just Jared.

From: dickbag To: assface no promises but i can try dont know y ur coming to me lmao also i charge $10/hr

From: assface To: dickbag fine but youre a dick

Connor pushes the bathroom door open. The lights are on, someone’s been in here in the past ten minutes, but the bathroom is empty. He drags his hand through his hair and catches a look at himself in the mirror.

Wow. He looks like shit.

Connor rubs his face and checks his phone again. It’s been buzzing, but it’s just been Jared.

From: dickbag To: assface not news whats so important that ur running out of class?? o shit drugs? 420 blaze it i dont kno weed culture

As Connor scrolls through Jared’s messages, a text from Evan pops up on the top of his screen.

From: Ev To: Connor J aanito s clostesecond follr

Connor runs into a wide eyed freshman as he hurries out of the bathroom and swings around a corner to get to the stairs. He only vaguely knows where that closet it, because he’s never had a reason to pay attention to it. Janitor’s closets are usually locked and it’s not like Connor is observant when it comes to his surroundings.

He skips the last few steps and just jumps down to the landing, slowing to a fast walk as he searches the hallway for the janitor’s closet. He finds it tucked into a corner between two classrooms. He glances up and down the hallway before he knocks softly. He tries the handle and knocks again before he pulls the door open.

“Evan?” he asks softly into the darkened closet. Light from the hallway spills into the darkness, barely brushing Evan’s shoes. Evan is huddled into the corner furthest away from the door, squished between shelves, on the ground with his knees pulled to his chest and his arms covering his head.

Connor stares for a minute, listening to Evan’s ragged breathing, before he steps into the closet. He turns on his phone’s flashlight and covers it with his hand before pulling the door closed. He lets some light slip through his fingers and finds a bottle of Windex on one of the shelves. He puts his phone under it and the room glows blue. Maybe life hacks aren’t always as shitty as they seem.

Connor sits down on the floor next to Evan. “Ev,” he whispers. “Can I help?”

Evan doesn’t look up. After a few seconds he stops holding on to his hair so tightly and holds a shaking hand out to Connor. Connor takes it. Almost immediately, Evan’s hand clenches around Connor’s, squeezing Connor’s fingers tightly. Connor moves over so the position is less awkward and lightly squeezes Evan’s hand back.

Connor sits and waits, because he doesn’t really know what else to do. He watches Evan’s breathing and tries not to let his mind wander too much, because it’s too early in the day for any of that shit.

Evan loosens his grip on Connor’s hand and the tension seems to run out of his body. He sags against the wall and slowly lifts his head from his knees. He pulls his hand away. “S-sor-sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Connor says. His voice sounds weirdly rough. He clears it and stretches out his fingers.

Evan stares at them. “I— i-if I hurt your…your hand I didn’t mean to I just—”

“You didn’t,” Connor interrupts quickly. “See?” He wiggles his fingers. “Work just fine.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Do you…uh, want to talk about it?”

Evan makes a strangled sound. “N-nothing to… I mean there’s always—” He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. “D-dr. Sherman always says that— that there’s something? And I just don’t u-understand what so I’m…supposed to process it. But I just…”

“I think it’s a fucking lot to ask you to process shit right after a panic attack,” Connor says flatly.

Evan shrugs helplessly. “I don’t— I-I forget. I forget what I’m— what I feel in the moment a-and what I was thinking and then when she asks what was going through my mind I can’t tell her and then I feel worse and like a failure and I think I’m supposed to be getting better because I go to therapy and I take meds and—” Evan cuts himself off to take a deep breath. “It takes time,” Evan says softly. “It takes time. It takes time and it’ll get better it just—”

“Takes time?” Connor asks.

Evan smiles at him weakly. “Y-yeah.”

The bell rings, slightly muffled. Evan goes tense.

Connor thinks about his calculus teacher. She probably won’t be thrilled that he skipped out on the rest of class, but whatever. Maybe he’ll do homework for once and try to get back on her disinterested side.

“Your mom is working right now, isn’t she?” Connor asks slowly.

Evan nods. “Yeah, she’s a-always working. Pretty much.”

“We’ve still got three classes to get through.” Connor bumps their knees together. “Can you hide out in the nurse’s office or something? I’d say just leave, but…” Evan shakes his head. “Yeah, exactly. I don’t know shit about doing things the ‘right’ way.”

“I’ll…be okay,” Evan says.

Connor stares at him.

“It’s-it’s really fine,” Evan insists.

“Ev—”

“I’ve done it before, it’s not a big… I’ll just— it’s okay, really.”

“You aren’t taking the bus home today,” Connor says. He gets to his feet and takes the Windex off of his phone. “Light warning.” Evan covers his eyes. Connor flicks the light on and winces in the brightness before shutting off his flashlight. He slides his phone into his pocket and offers Evan his hand.

Evan takes it and lets Connor haul him to his feet. “Y-you don’t have to—”

“Fuck the bus,” Connor interrupts. “Zoe has a perfectly good car.”

Evan blinks. “Doesn’t she have rehearsal today?”

“How do you know my sister’s schedule better than I do?” Connor opens the door of the closet and peers out into the hallway. They have to be careful, because high school is fucking hell. Most people won’t give a shit and don’t pay attention to shit, but all it takes is one person assuming something. When no one is looking, he steps out of the closet and pulls Evan along, walking away from the closet quickly and melting into the thinning crowd. “So what if we have to wait for her to get out, just hang around with me for a little bit.”

As soon as Connor says it, his stomach twists. “I don’t have any today but—”

Evan stops walking, yanking Connor back a bit. They’re still holding hands. Connor pulls his away and puts his hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt.

“D-don’t,” Evan says.

Connor furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“You’re already— you’re doing me a favor by…by driving me home. So you don’t have to…” Evan gestures with his hands. “Debt paid. It’s— you’re fine.” Connor stares at him. “I— okay.”

Evan takes a step back. “I have to… I have class. I’ll see you after.” He spins on his heel and walks down the hallway, dodging other students before disappearing around a corner.

—«·»—

Connor drops into his seat in the back of AP Literature and puts his head down on his desk.

He needs to think about something — anything — other than Evan. Evan is supposed to be the one who thinks himself into an anxious spiral, not Connor. And Connor can’t help but feel like something is horribly wrong.

But, fuck, he wouldn’t stop their arrangement for anything. He’ll keep paying Evan to put up with him in the halls for as long as he possibly can, just to see Evan smile.

He wants to see Evan smile today. Anything other than the empty expression he had on his face when he walked away from Connor earlier.

Alana sits down next to Connor. Sometimes Connor forgets him and Alana talk now, even if it’s only because she’s Evan’s friend and probably thinks this is a good way to keep tabs on Evan. All she’s ever wanted from Connor is information, anyway.

Connor stares out the window at the icy field hockey field spread out in front of the school as the teacher starts the lesson. Something about the essay they have due in a few days at midnight.

Alana hands over her essay, printed and typed, five pages long double spaced and stapled in the corner. “It’s just a rough draft,” she says.

Connor blinks at the paper. “Uh…were we supposed to…”

She shakes her head. “No, we just needed to have an outline today.” She adjusts her glasses and opens a notebook. “But if you didn’t—”

“I did,” Connor says quickly. He actually did for once. “Here.” He pulls out his notebook and flips through pages and pages of shitty sketches to the section where he just stuffs any loose papers he’s handed. He pulls out the outline and smooths it out a little. “Don’t expect anything.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Alana says as she takes it from him.

Connor squints at her. “I did this while high so it’s either a brilliant disaster or just a fucking mess.”

Alana grins. “I hope it’s a brilliant disaster.”

“Probably not.”

She just shrugs and pulls out a pen, tapping it on her notebook as she skims over the outline. Connor turns to Alana’s essay and starts reading. Alana likes words and complex sentences. She’s good at backing up her points with evidence from the text, and doesn’t dance around her conclusions. She has a structure and logic to her essay that Connor’s never been able to achieve. He just sort of says words until he feels like he’s done.

He reads her fourth paragraph a few times, picking at his nail polish as he does so. He glances over to Alana and then reads it again.

She’s scribbling on his outline when he looks back to her. She meets his eyes. “Something wrong?”

Connor’s eyes flick from her to her essay. “Uh…no.”

Alana rolls her eyes and hands him her pen. “Fix it. Whatever it is. That’s the entire point of peer review.”

“I could be wrong—” Connor starts, but Alana holds up a hand to stop him.

“I’ll decide what to do with your feedback. Just do it.”

Connor nods slowly and hesitates with the pen hovering over the paper. “What are you doing, by the way?”

“Translating.”

“What?”

Alana pulls another pen from her backpack and uncaps it. “Your outline is good, you have some really good ideas in here, it’s just lost in the typos and grammar.”

“I can figure it out,” Connor says. “You don’t have to do that shit.”

Alana raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

Connor blinks. “…not anymore?”

She nods firmly. “Exactly. You edit mine, I’ll edit yours. You won’t hurt my feelings, please, feel free to rip it to shreds.”

Connor exhales slowly. “Okay, Beck. Whatever.” He strikes out a sentence. “Whatever you say.”

—«·»—

Connor meets Evan by Evan’s locker. They lock eyes and for a second everything feels weird. And then Jared shows up.

Connor has never been relieved to see Jared Kleinman before.

“What’s up?” Jared asks, clapping a hand on Evan’s shoulder. “My…main bros.”

Connor rolls his eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

“Alright, crossing that off the list.” Jared gives Evan a look and Evan shrugs. Connor looks between them and shifts his weight to his other foot. “Anyway, you free on Saturday?” he asks Evan.

Evan blinks. “Y-yes?”

“My moms wanted you over for dinner. They’re going to try to harass Heidi into coming too but,” Jared shrugs, “we know how that is.”

Evan smiles and ducks his head. “I-I mean— yeah that’d be…that’d be nice. Um, I can…ask my mom?”

“Nice.” Jared holds his fist out for a fist bump. Evan rolls his eyes and knocks their knuckles together. “Okay, text me, cause if she’s working, I’ll swing by and pick you up.”

Evan nods. “O-okay, I will.”

“Sweet, got to dash or I’ll never get out of here.” Jared shoots finger guns at Connor. “See, ya Murph,” he says before sprinting down the hallway.

Connor lifts a hand to wave goodbye as jealousy twists in his stomach. It makes him feel gross. He swallows it and turns to Evan. “So, uh…we can probably hide in a practice room until Zoe’s done.”

Evan pulls on the straps of his backpack. “A-are they, um, open? Because I know, I mean I’ve heard because sometimes the band kids in my classes complain about this, that they lock? Or get locked? So…”

“We can…check?” Connor suggests.

Evan nods. “That’s…probably a good idea.”

Connor leads Evan down to the music wing. The first two practice rooms are locked, but the third that they try is unlocked. Connor raises his eyebrows at Evan and pushes the door open. The lights flicker on automatically and Evan closes the door behind them.

All four of the practice rooms are the same in Connor’s experience, a keyboard and bench, a trash, and maybe a stand or chair that someone has dragged in. Except one, that for some reason, has two pianos. They lucked out and that is exactly the room they’re in. Less room, but it doesn’t really matter.

Evan puts his bag down on one of the piano benches and then sits on the floor in the space between the end of the piano and the wall.

Connor coughs. “Uh…are you…okay?” He winces. Yikes.

“Tired,” Evan says softly.

Connor glances to the light switch before pressing the button to turn off the lights. There’s still a decent amount of light from the window in the door, but it’s darker. Connor puts down his bag and joins Evan on the floor. Evan looks up at him.

“Take a nap,” Connor suggests.

Evan blinks at him.

Connor sighs. “Scoot over.”

Evan moves so he’s as close to the piano as he can get. Connor squeezes into the space between Evan and the wall. There’s way more space in these practice rooms than it seems, the pianos make them look small.

Connor pulls on the sleeve of Evan’s sweatshirt. “Just lean on me. More comfortable than the wall, probably, though I’m basically all bone.”

“Y-you sure?”

Connor rolls his eyes because it feels right. “I wouldn’t be offering if I wasn’t. Close your eyes, Ev.”

“Okay,” Evan whispers. He rests his head on Connor’s shoulder. “Wake me up if your arm falls asleep.”

“Sure,” Connor lies.

A few minutes later, Evan’s breathing starts to even out. When Connor is sure that he’s asleep, he carefully pulls his phone out of his pocket.

From: C To: Z waiting in practice room c evans napping so dont come in just knock or some shit

Once he’s sent the texts, he puts his phone down and turns his attention back to Evan. Connor turns his head to look down at Evan, and when his nose brushes Evan’s hair, his heart goes into double time.

Fuck.

—«·»—

Connor thinks he’s drifted off when Zoe finally knocks on the door. He inhales sharply and sits up straighter, eyes wide. He leans forward to see Zoe standing in front of the door with her guitar on her back and her saxophone in hand.

He leans back and sighs. Okay.

Connor shakes Evan’s shoulder. “Ev, Ev wake up. Zoe’s done.”

Evan groans and blinks blearily. “Huh?”

Connor’s breath catches in his throat. He finds himself lost in Evan’s sleepy eyes for a moment too long and hopes Evan’s still too asleep to notice. “Zoe,” he says. “We can go home now.”

“Oh.” Evan pulls himself to his feet using the piano. About halfway up, he grabs Connor’s arm and pulls Connor up as well.

They grab their bags and open the door.

“Sleep well?” Zoe asks with a smirk.

Connor flips her off behind Evan.

Evan shrugs. “I-it was the floor.”

Connor takes Zoe’s saxophone from her. “Let’s go. I have an essay to write.”

Zoe blinks. “You do?”

“Unfortunately,” he grumbles.

The parking lot is blissfully empty when they step outside. The air is bitter and cold, and Connor wishes that it would just snow more than half an inch so the burning cold is worth it. He grabs Evan’s arm when Evan slips on ice and Zoe makes an offhanded comment about driving and black ice.

“You know?” she says to Evan.

Evan blinks. “N-no, I don’t— I don’t drive?”

Zoe frowns. “Do you take the bus?”

Evan turns pink, and Connor wonders if he’s redder because of the cold or not. “Yeah, it’s…yeah.”

Zoe looks to Connor.

“What?” Connor asks.

“What time does the bus pick you up?” Zoe asks.

“Uh…” Evan slows his walk. “I— around like…6:35?”

Zoe purses her lips. “Okay. Monday? We can swing by and pick you up.” She twirls her car keys around her finger. “Unless you hate my music choices as much as Connor does.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Evan says quickly.

“Too late,” Zoe sing songs. She unlocks the car and pops the trunk open. She puts her guitar in and then takes her saxophone from Connor. “We’d be happy to, right Connor?”

“Duh,” Connor says. “The bus is bullshit.”

“Good for the environment,” Evan says. “P-public transport!”

“We’re already using this car.” Zoe slams the trunk shut. “So it doesn’t actually matter. No additional cars on the road, just one less Evan the a bus.”

“Uh…”

“Sleep on it.” She rubs her arms. “Let’s go before I freeze.” She glances to Connor as she moves to the driver’s side. “How are you alive?”

Connor shrugs and pulls open the car door. He slides into the backseat next to Evan. “Can’t feel cold if you’re dead inside.”

Zoe twists around in her seat to glare at him before shutting the door. She turns on the car, blasts the heat even though it’s just air at the moment, and plugs her phone in. “Today we’re listening to Billy Joel,” she announces. “Get over it Connor.”

Connor just leans his forehead against the cold window as Uptown Girl plays from the speakers.

Zoe asks for directions a few times, but for the most part, they drive in silence aside from the Billy Joel in the slowly warming car.

Connor sits up when they arrive at Evan’s. “I’ll text you,” he says.

Evan gives him a smile. “Y-yeah. Thanks for the ride.”

“I’ll see you Monday at 6:40!” Zoe calls out before he shuts the door. She turns to look at Connor. “You moving up?”

“I guess.” Connor unbuckles and climbs over the center consul to get into the passenger seat. He buckles back in and Zoe backs out of the driveway.

“So…” she says slowly. “You and Evan.”

“What about us?” Connor asks flatly.

Zoe glances to him. “Anything…up?”

“Do you want me to say it?”

“No, but I can’t stop you from doing shit.”

“The sky.”

Zoe rolls her eyes. “Great, now that that’s out of the way—”

“Nothing,” Connor interrupts. “Can’t two people be friends?”

“Well, yeah, obviously.” Zoe taps on the steering wheel. “You just seem like more than that.”

Connor scoffs. More like barely that. “We aren’t.”

“Do you want to be?”

Connor stares at the road. “The light is green.”

Connor spends most of his Saturday writing his paper. Because Alana had written all over his outline and now he feels obligated to make something half decent out of the genius she turned his bullshit into. Also, she shared her essay with him on google docs the night before for him to edit — he does not know why the fuck she did that and hates the fact that school emails are standardized so she didn’t even have to ask for his email — and offered to edit his in return. He’s not going to give up that opportunity. He’s doing fine in english but another solid essay grade can get his parents to calm down for at least a day.

He texts Evan and draws when he’s not writing. The other weekend, Cynthia dragged him off to the store with her, so he threw a cheap set of kids’ watercolors in the cart. And a box of Capri sun. He sits on his floor and drinks a Capri sun while he waits for a painting to dry. Evan is making lunch right now, so it’ll be a few minutes before he responds. Evan doesn’t usually text Connor while he’s making food, apparently the risk of fire is higher than normal, and that’s not just Evan’s anxiety talking.

Evan had texted him the night before thanking him for the ride home. Connor had replied ‘what are friends for’ and then threw his phone across the room so he didn’t have to read Evan’s response. It didn’t end up mattering, because Evan’s next text wasn’t sent until this morning, and it was a frantic apology because he fell asleep before responding.

Connor just said it was fine and changed the subject as fast as he could.

Connor sighs and gets to his feet. As he waits for the painting to dry, he’s really fucking impatient, he takes pictures of some of his least shitty doodles from class and posts them on a randomass tumblr he made after Evan suggested posting his art online. Mostly Connor did it out of curiosity, he didn’t really use the site otherwise, just posts drawings and then vanishes for a few days, but it’s also good because it means he has somewhere where all his art was stored digitally. He might’ve accidentally spilt a mug of coffee all over a notebook the other day. And he distinctly remembers setting a few sketchbooks on fire back in middle school.

From: Ev To: Connor Back ! ANd I didnt evne burn anything

Connor smiles to himself and leans against his bed.

From: Connor To: Ev congrats you now have the cooking skills of a 12 year old

From: Ev To: Connor :((

Connor hesitates before typing out his next message. He really shouldn’t ask — it’s a fucking terrible idea on so many levels — but it’s been slowly eating away at him. Which doesn’t make sense. But whatever.

From: Connor To: Ev doesnt matter though i mean youre having dinner tonight wth jared right??

He puts his phone on his desk and goes back to painting and tries not to think about it for a few minutes. It’s not fair of him to get jealous. Because Jared is trying to get better. He’s still a dick but there’s an attempt there.

Connor hasn’t changed anything.

He sits on the floor and works on the painting. Now that he has slightly less shitty watercolors, they’re still pretty garbage but they aren’t old and mostly gone, he uses way too much purple again.

Whatever.

He doesn’t check his phone again until he has to wait for more paint to dry. He’s tempted to grab a sketchbook and keep ignoring it, but that’s not fair to Evan.

From: Ev To: Connor Oh y eah We used to ha ve dinner a lot togethe r when ew wer elittle All oru moms were friends Kinda weird that were doing it again but… NIce?? Hopefull y ? My mom s ocming which is nice She hasnt been home ofr a few nights so yeah

Connor takes a slow breath before replying.

From: Connor To: Ev thats pretty cool i hope its fun and the food doesnt suck

Evan replies almost immediately, even though Connor took almost twenty minutes to respond.

From: Ev To: Connor Thnk you!!! Jareds moms are really good cook sso itll be good I think I hope dinner goes ok for you tonight !! Good luck :)

Connor stares at the smiley face and falls on his bed with a groan.

—«·»—

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Evan lately,” Larry says, pushing quino around his plate.

Connor resists the urge to roll his eyes. They never really talked about that. Sometimes, when Zoe goes over a friend’s house or has a friend over, Connor will give Larry a very pointed look and Larry will find something on his phone fascinating. An amazing double standard.

And, like? Of course he spends time with Evan. They’re best friends— pretending to be best friends. Connor doesn’t know how to get that through Larry’s thick skull.

Evan is Connor’s best friend.

“Well yeah,” Connor says, stabbing a piece of kale with his fork. “He’s my boyfriend.”

Wait, shit—

Zoe chokes on her drink.

“What?!” Larry practically shouts, silverware hitting the table.

Connor opens his mouth to explain that technically, no, they aren’t boyfriends, though they are friends who are boys, even if sometimes Evan looks at him and makes Connor feel like he’s turning to putty. But they aren’t actually—

He glances to his mom with wide eyes. “Mom? Are you okay?”

Cynthia smiles, eyes watering. “I’m just so happy for you, sweetie!”

Connor slowly looks around the table. His mother crying tears of joy, his father staring at him in shock, his sister trying to bite back a smile.

Connor needs to talk to Evan immediately.

They’re fucked.

—«·»—

Connor grabs Zoe’s before she can disappear into her bedroom. She stiffens and he pulls his hand away. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine.” She crosses her arms. “I thought you told me nothing was going on between you and Evan.” She raises her eyebrows.

Connor grimaces. “I— don’t tell Evan.”

Zoe tilts her head. “Don’t tell Evan…you’re dating?”

Fuck. “No, no, fuck.” Connor frantically searches his mind. “I, uh, we weren’t going to…tell people? Yet? And I…fucked that up. So don’t— don’t mention it to him until like he says something or whatever, okay?”

Zoe mimes zipping her lips. “Secret’s safe with me. But also, I fucking knew it.”

Connor forces a laugh and runs his hand through his hair. “Yeah. You did.”

Zoe goes back into her room and Connor grabs his phone and goes down to the basement. He wonders if he can get his door back for Hanukkah, but for now, this is the only private place he’s got. He would lock himself in the bathroom, but that’s still way too close to the rest of his family members for comfort.

He flicks on the light as he heads down the stairs and grabs a blanket off the back of one of the chairs. The basement is about half finished and has been since Connor was in middle school. One of those projects that Larry never got around to finishing. Now they mostly use it for storage and hanging out when it gets too hot in the summer and even central air isn’t working well enough. Him and Zoe used to camp out for weeks in the basement on air mattresses and stay up way past their bedtimes giggling.

Now it’s December. He hasn’t been down here since he punched the far wall when everyone else was asleep. Him and Zoe haven’t spent time together in here in years. They haven’t done much together in years.

Connor wraps himself in a blanket and sits down in one of the old oversized chairs. They’re only down here because the went out of style and were deemed unworthy for the living room.

He unlocks his phone, scrolls through his contacts, and presses call. Then he listens to the phone ring and hopes that they’re done with dinner at the Kleinmans’ while he waits for the call to be answered.

“Hello?”

Connor grits his teeth. “Hi. I…might need help.”

“Is it about Evan?”

Connor frowns. “Why do you assume it’s about Evan?” It is but—

Jared laughs. “Dude, we aren’t friends. The only reason you talk to me is because of Evan. What’s up?”

Connor blinks. He’s just gotten so used to having Jared constantly around that it’s like they’re basically friends. But not. Because Connor doesn’t have any real friends.

“I,” Connor clears his throat, “my family now thinks Evan and I are dating.”

There’s a long pause. Connor waits for Jared to start cackling, but Jared just whispers, “Holy shit.”

“Say whatever shit you want to now,” Connor mutters. “Get it out.”

“Holy shit,” Jared repeats. Connor rolls his eyes. “Murphy, what the fuck.”

“Yeah, I know, I fucked up.”

“What are you going to do?” Jared sounds almost amazed.

Connor frowns at the phone. This is not how he thought this conversation would go. “Pay Evan two hundred dollars? I know you meant that as a joke but—”

“Fucking shit, my dude. What the hell!”

Connor drags his hand through his hair. “Kleinman, my mom started crying when I said Evan was my boyfriend, okay? I can’t— fuck. I don’t know.”

Jared whistles.

Connor picks at his nailpolish. “Would Evan…go along with it? Do you think?”

“I think that’s a question for Evan.”

“I’m asking you.”

Jared snorts. “Okay, fine. I think he’ll go along with it.” It almost feels like Jared is going to say something more, but he doesn’t. “You got two hundred bucks lying around?”

“No,” Connor admits. He has an idea. It’s a terrible idea that could backfire, but it’s an idea.

“So…how are you going to get it?” Jared gasps. “Oh shit! Are we going to rob a bank?”

Connor frowns. “No? Why is that the first thing you came up with? Why would you rob a bank for two hundred dollars? Wouldn’t fucking…normal robbery be easier?”

“Fuck off. Are we doing that?”

“No.”

“Well we both know you’re not getting a job—”

“Fuck you.”

“—and that would probably take too long. Are we going to sell weed?”

“What? No,” Connor says. “Also how long did you restrain yourself before asking that?”

“Too long for that boring answer and reaction,” Jared admits. “Give me something to work with, stoner kid. We could just steal it. I know you said no, but—”

“Jared what the fuck,” Connor interrupts.

“Dude, you aren’t offering any ideas here, I’m just trying to help out.”

Connor rubs the bridge of his nose. “Fucking— do you know how PayPal works?”

“Yeah sure,” Jared says. “Super easy, why?”

Connor sighs. “Would you be willing to help me set one up?”

“Ten bucks.”

“Fine.”

“Yeah sure, you wanted some help on calc anyway. Do you have info on your bank account, by the way?”

“I…can find it,” Connor says slowly. “Does tomorrow work? My house?”

“Yeah sure, my man. Shoot me an address and a time. I expect snacks.”

Jared shows up on the doorstep ten minutes earlier than Connor expected with his backpack slung over one shoulder and a Starbucks drink in his left hand. “Sup.”

Connor rolls his eyes. “You’re early.”

“Fashionably.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Whatever.”

Zoe leans out of the dining room. “Who’s here?”

Connor steps aside to let Jared in. Jared waves at Zoe.

Zoe squints. “What are you doing here?”

“So nice to see you again too, Smaller Murphy,” Jared says. He kicks his shoes off and puts them next to Zoe’s converse.

“Calc,” Connor says. “I’m…not doing great.”

“But you aren’t failing yet,” Jared says. “So we’re just going to keep you from not doing that. What are you learning again?”

Connor shrugs. “Something implicit. I’ll show you the homework.”

Jared nods. “Chill, chill.”

“Aren’t you friends with Alana?” Zoe asks.

“I…guess?” Connor frowns. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“She’s the valedictorian, isn’t she? Why didn’t you ask her for help?”

“Uh…” Connor looks to Jared.

Jared takes a sip of his drink. “I’m genuinely offended, by the way. I’m no Alana Beck but I am passing AP Calc BC, which is more than you can say for seventy percent of our class. Don’t take it.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Zoe assures him. “Just didn’t tutoring was your…thing.”

“Alana tutors,” Jared says.

“I know, that’s my point.”

“Ha ha very funny. She tutors a lot of people so it makes sense that I take someone off her workload.” Jared points to Connor. “As her friend, Connor understands.”

“Right.” Connor nods. “That.”

Zoe rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t judging you or anything I was just wondering. Have fun. Don’t set the house on fire, I’m going over Pippa’s to work on our history project, and Mom and Dad are out shopping or something.”

“I’ll keep Jared away from anything breakable,” Connor promises.

“I remind you I’m doing you a favor,” Jared says.

“You’re making me pay you.”

“Shit you’re right.”

—«·»—

“This is easy shit,” Jared says, looking up from Connor’s textbooks. “Really easy.”

Connor flips him off.

“I’ll explain it!” Jared promises. “This makes my job easier, probably. So back to real reason I’m here—”

“You are here to help me with math.” Connor reaches for his laptop. “I’m going to open commissions.”

Jared stares at him with a blank expression.

“Commissions,” Connor repeats slowly.

Jared blinks. “Since when do you draw?”

“Do you actually know anything about me?” Connor asks.

Jared looks away. “Valid. How can I help?”

“Mostly just need help with PayPal. And maybe wording the post? I don’t know shit about talking to people.” Connor opens his laptop and logs in. He closes a few tabs and opens up tumblr. He hesitates and then opens his blog. “Here.”

“Your theme is awful,” Jared says flatly.

“Did I ask you?”

“Didn’t have to.” Jared clicks a few times. “Dude, if you want to be selling your art, you need a theme that isn’t painful to look at.” Connor opens his mouth to protest, but Jared holds up a hand. “I’m doing you a favor here. Give me like ten minutes. I will change your world.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

Jared pushes away in the desk chair. “Too late, I’m not helping if we don’t change this ugly ass theme. Doodle or something while I do this. Make a commissions banner, I don’t fucking know.” Jared hunches over the laptop and starts typing.

Connor stares at him. Hopefully Jared isn’t going to charge him for this too.

Forty minutes later, Connor is putting aside a random drawing and Jared is looking up from the laptop.

“Bam, motherfucker,” Jared announces spinning the laptop around. “A picture heavy theme with easy navigation, readable text, and colors that don’t make me want to stab my eyes out.” Connor leans forward to see it. It actually looks pretty decent. And pretty professional. Jared has also added a few links, including one to Connor’s still nonexistent PayPal and a commissions page. “By the way, your art is pretty rad.”

Connor blinks. “Thanks. Did you want that bank account information?”

“Yeah sure.”

Connor gets up from the floor. “Let’s break into my dad’s office.”

Jared sets aside the laptop. “Sweet.”

—«·»—

Connor sits down in the chair in Larry’s office. He pulls open one of the lower drawers in the desk and flips through the the hanging folders until he finds one with his name.

“Don’t steal my identity or anything,” he says to Jared as he hands him one of the folders. “But see if anything in there is what you need.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jared starts flipping through the papers. “Your identity is too lame to steal.”

“Thanks.”

Connor skims over various forms and papers with his name all over them. So weird that he’s attached to all of these things but doesn’t understand any of them. That might be concerning. Is he supposed to know what these mean? He squints at something that looks like it has something to do with money.

“I can’t believe you’re going through with this,” Jared mutters.

Connor looks up. “With?”

“This fake dating shit.” Jared puts a stack of papers down on the desk. “I thought this was convoluted before.”

“You helped.”

“So you two keep reminding me.” Jared flips a piece of paper over. “I think this is it.”

“Cool.” Connor puts his folder away and Jared puts Connor’s laptop on the desk. Connor fills out what he can and Jared helps with the rest.

“And you have a PayPal,” Jared announces, finishing the form. “If you click this you can transfer money to your bank account, which is how you’ll get the money off the internet and into Evan’s hands.”

Connor nods. “Makes sense.” He grabs the papers and puts them back into the folder. He puts it back in the bottom drawer and makes sure everything is just how Larry left it before he gets up from the chair.

“I genuinely didn’t think either of you would get invested in this shit,” Jared says as they stop in the kitchen to grab a bag of chips.

Connor shrugged. “I fucked up, that doesn’t mean anything.”

Jared gives him a flat look before biting into a chip. “Let’s just finish this shit so I can teach you how implicit differentiation works.”

Connor wrinkles his nose. “Fine.”

They bring the bag of chips up to Connor’s bedroom and sit on the floor with Connor’s laptop in front of them. Between handfuls of chips, Jared sentences to the post.

“We can’t call it ‘I’m Gay Give Me Money’,” Connor protests.

“Why not?” Jared asks. “It’s tumblr.”

“What’s your point?”

Jared pulls the laptop closer and starts typing. “We just say like… ‘I’m trying to meet my boyfriend’, we stay vague on the details no one wants to know the complexity of this shit and also it’s weird as fuck, ‘so I’m opening commissions’. Blah blah blah here are details…” Jared looks up at Connor. “Any suggestions for prices?”

Connor shrugs.

“You are the least helpful person,” Jared mutters. “Okay…going on what I saw on your blog…” He types rapidly for a few minutes. “And posted.”

“What?!” Connor grabs the laptop from Jared. “Why did you do that?!”

“You weren’t going to have anything to say so fuck it, it’s posted.” Jared pops another chip in his mouth. “Chill the fuck out.”

Connor reloads the page to check the post. He doesn’t have any idea if the prices are reasonable, but Jared put up Connor’s email and a link to his PayPal and tagged the post with a few tags that make sense and a few that don’t.

Connor groans. “If you fucked this up for me—”

“I didn’t,” Jared says. “I am doing you so many solids right now. And now I’m about to try to teach you calculus. I am literally a god.”

Connor resists the urge to slam his head against the keyboard.

#connor murphy #evan hansen #convan #tree bros #deh fanfic #my fics #to have a friend #hi im dy ign

78 notes · View notes

transgenderboobs · 7 years ago

Text

renison post-psu+wedding headcanons because i’m a Big Lesbian (and so is renee)

so they graduate and allison goes up to new york to start her crazy high powered career as a pro exy player/sports wear fashion designer

(i kno nora says she doesn’t go pro but i will take pro allison to my grave)

so renee moves with her, and they stay up there together for a while, but renee’s been planning on joining the peace corps for a couple years now, so after a while, when she’s sure she and allison are on steady ground with their relationship, she gets ready to leave

she’s a lil afraid of what long distance will be like, but she and allison spent so long getting to each other they’re not about to let a few miles get between

(n like allison still has an asston of money so if she really starts to miss renee she can just hop on a plane n go see her !)

so renee leaves for a couple years, and allison pours all her free time into her career and builds her own sort of empire

her and renee talk on the phone every week, and renee sends letters, and allison sends (too many, according to renee) care packages

but distance Really does make the heart grow fonder, so even tho renee is out of the country for two years she and allison r still going strong

and whenever they get to see each other it’s like they haven’t even been apart and they just fall right back into their normal routine, with some extra making out to hold them over until they get to see each other again

renee comes back home a couple years later. idk how many?? how does the peace corps work ?? just. a couple.

she pretty much immediately moves in with allison, and they rent a pretty big apartment in manhatten because of proximity to allison’s job(s)

that being said, allison makes fucken Bank but because of prolonged exposure to renee she gives away like. more than half her income, n starts about a million charities and leaves 500% tips and pays off everyone’s kickstarters

neil once jokingly asked if she had her own secret deal with mobsters bc she gives away so much but Nope. she just has a charitable gf

all that being said, and even with all the money she Still has after all of that (lbr she’s Allison she’s still. Loaded af) when she proposes to renee she buys a very modest ring, b/c she Knows renee and that’s what she would like

allison proposes. barely a month after renee gets home. they wasted too much time in the beginning Not being together so now allison wants to stay with her Forever

when she goes to propose, she pulls out the ring, and renee just starts laughing. allison’s like ?????? for a Hot Second, until renee pulls her own ring out of her pocket, explaining the she was gonna propose

they laugh and kiss and laugh some more and have a really great night, renee wearing allison’s ring and allison wearing renee’s

they spend abt a year planning the wedding, b/c this is /allison’s/ wedding and it’s gonna be the goddamn party of the century

they have a denominational ceremony in renee’s church two weeks into may, on the anniversary of the First day renee and allison met at the foxhole court b/c allison goes All Out in all aspects

the ceremony is very simple, just family, only about ~20 people, and it’s so beautiful dan cries. even wymack looks a little misty, especially when they say their vows, which they wrote themselves

the colors are pink and orange, but not bright and garish, more muted and soft, so it looks like renee and allison are being married in the middle of a sunset

the reception, tho, is extravagant and lavish and just all in all a really wonderful party. it’s an outdoor reception, with soft dusty-pink roses and sunset-orange calla lilies and fairy lights and it genuinely looks like a dream

also andrew definitely eats like. an entire tier of the wedding cake himself. theyre ok w that tho

renee, angel that she is, doesn’t stop smiling all night. not her calm, serene smile, but a huge, goofy, crooked grin that crinkles her eyes and scrunches up her nose and only intensifies whenever she looks at allison

it’s not like allison’s any better; she’s smiling just as much.

it feels like a dream, renee still feels like she needs to atone for her past, but she looks at allison and thinks she must’ve done something right if she gets to have this woman in her life, for the rest of her life

allison can’t believe that renee, this miracle of a woman, actually looked at allison and saw something worth holding onto, instead of just the “catty bitch” that the rest of the world reduces her to

anyway they are blissfully happy in beautiful gay love for the rest of their life the end

#renison #renee walker #allison reynolds #aftg #loverboy posts

25 notes · View notes

creativitytoexplore · 5 years ago

Photo

Candy by Dave Wakely https://ift.tt/306W3OW Dave Wakely's character has to look after his estranged fifteen-year-old daughter for a few days.

"God, you're so useless!" She stands before me, two skimpy candy-pink tops dangling from their hangers like the discarded skins of lurid reptiles, her ferocious glare expecting me to choose. Decisions, decisions... Luminous Lycra or acrylic machined-lace the colour of bubblegum. I scratch my chin while her right foot counts out the seconds on the rough concrete floor. Tap tap tap. This is her second day with me after half-an-hour's notice, after what passes for an explanation from her mother. Just a text, neither predictive nor predictable. Hasn't her daughter told her? Abbreviations are sooo last year.

Moved in new house but hv chickenpox + R on business in Singapore. B not had it. Don't kno neighbours so cant ask. Yr office sed u r on study leave, so sending her over w driver. Shd be ok in 2 wks. Will xfer £s to yr a/c. Spk later. J.

Since she arrived, we might still be in my town but we're in her world now. Mine never smelt of fast food and unisex perfumes. The lighting was kinder, and it was quieter there. How's a man to think? More to the point, what would the man she now calls Daddy do? Would he even allow her in a place like this? The tapping stops, and then comes the outburst. "You're supposed to be GOOD at this!" Her tantrum is, I understand, designed to drag me back into the moment. I've been lucky to escape so long. She lives for now, not for later, even if that's when most of her life is going to actually happen. At fifteen, hormones trump strategic thinking. Frankly, it's still a tussle at thirty-eight. For twenty minutes now, I've lurked in the shop's darkest corner while Bonnie has ransacked the rails, the gum-chewing sales assistant eyeing me like I'm an old paedo lurking behind a playground fence. Above my head, a speaker booms like the daytime disco Bonnie probably wishes she was in. Eddie would cope with this so much better than me. He usually says I'm trying to be kind when I tell him I envy his deafness, but right now... Still, it's her mother's money I'm spending, I remind myself, not mine. B nds new summer tops: put xtra £150 in yr a/c, this morning's text said. No sign-off - not even a J, let alone an x - but Jess has an encyclopaedia of reasons to hate me. My uselessness isn't news, just an echo sounding down the years. Whether I dress her daughter as a teenage hooker or a day-glo Edwardian vamp, it will be just another erratum slip tucked inside the bulging catalogue of my failures. I wonder if she ever reads them to Bonnie, bedtime stories with a pinch of deadly nightshade. Bonnie was twenty-three months old when Jess finally realised the main reason I'd spent the afternoon on the balcony, our baby girl cradled in my arms. Not to revel in the sunshine and the miracle of my daughter's existence, but for the view of the man next door and the shadows flickering across his sunburnt-pink back as his muscles danced the lawnmower to and fro. My life started then, or at least the life I lead now. I'd seen the pain in Jess's eyes when she gave birth, heard her screams, but I gave birth to myself - to the honest version - in the spare-room, on my own. No gas, no comforting hand, no drugs beyond the illicit. If Jess heard me cry, she didn't say. Tap tap tap... Bonnie's left foot jerks me back into the day once more. "Hold them up against you," I tell her, buying time I've no urge to spend. At least not here, not now. She holds first one hanger and then the other against her, arms signalling a bad-tempered semaphore. I admire her energy, but with every flourish of her elbows I get the message: I am rubbish, a desperate case. Eventually she pauses, the skimpier blouse's lacy material as transparent as her mood. "The other one?" I ask. "Just for a few seconds?" I watch her dial her loathing up another notch, glowering as she slams the second hanger against her collar-bones, letting the first fall to the floor. I expected Till Girl to complain, but she just scrolls her head from left to right like a security camera, purple hair swishing as she scans first Bonnie and then me. Her lip-stud winks with every grind of her jaw, a twenty-first century beauty spot. Maybe, behind her carefully applied overlay of tedium, she's as baffled as me. It's not just the fashions that I'm out of touch with: it's the girl. For twenty-four hours we've skirted each other, any moments in the same room an uneasy truce. I'm like a wary gardener, too daunted by the thorns to venture a nostril nearer to the rose. I've seen Bonnie grow, but in giant leaps rather than baby steps. Standing on the porch, face caught between smiling and blankness as I drove away in a borrowed car after six months of sleeping on an old sofa, stemming the draughts under the garage door with the boiler-suit I'd worn to half-finish painting her bedroom. Outside the divorce court three years later, beaming and waving as she held Roger's hand. "Daddy," she called out, till she was shushed into silence. "I'm right here, darling," I heard him say. Then at nine-and-a-half, when Jess's mum died and her father invited me to the funeral, still preferring me to Roger. Close enough to see her tug Jess's sleeve while she pointed at me, for Eddie to lip-read her mother calling me 'Uncle Desmond'. Since then, mostly snatches of conversation at weddings or old friends' parties before Jess or Roger could steer her away. Perfunctory paragraphs in Christmas cards, letters send via lawyers' offices. As I wait for her scowl to turn vocal again, I remind myself that I am the adult here, even if I'm not the precise adult either of us might have chosen. She knows me as little as I know her, and taking a gay man shopping hadn't turned out as fabulously - and that would be the word, wouldn't it? - as she'd hoped. I turn to Till Girl, her face dead-pan. "I need your help here," I tell her, shouting over the music. "This is Bonnie. She's fifteen years old..." "I'm nearly sixteen," Bonnie interrupts with a shrill squeak of outrage. "She was fifteen four months ago," I continue, hearing my voice coarsen into a bark. "Her mother's ill, so I'm looking after her. She needs a new top." I can feel my emotions bubbling like a percolator, finer manners sinking like silt. "One that doesn't make her look a total slut." As the words leave my mouth, I hear the shame under the rage, feel the realisation that it isn't really Bonnie I'm angry with. Till Girl flicks her tongue across her lip, a snake tasting the air. Contempt, or contemplation? One hand drops below the counter and the music abruptly dies. Bonnie is silent now too. The girl steps round from behind the counter, nods once at me and strides to a rail by the changing-room. "What size, please?" she asks, her crystal vowels a surprise. I motion Bonnie to reply. "Six," she mutters, absorbed in staring at her feet. Till Girl's fingers fly through a mass of hangers, pulling out a blue velvety creation with an asymmetric hem and sparkling embroidery. "This suits your colouring more," she tells Bonnie firmly, "and the cut will make you look taller. Slimmer." There's a subtle emphasis on the second adjective. "And I think you're more like an eight." She pushes open a changing room door and waits as Bonnie half-drags, half-stomps her way across the shop. As the door swings shut behind her, the girl raises one artfully-pencilled eyebrow at me and struts back to her counter. A seemingly eternal silence later, Bonnie re-appears, tugging down the shorter side of her new hem. Till Girl knows her stuff: she looks taller and more graceful, almost adult. Differently dressed, she has the beginnings of a figure, shaded and outlined without anything being underlined or underwired. "Well?" she says, more tremulous than truculent. Till Girl beats me to it. "Quite sophisticated, actually. Yes, I like that," she says. There's an undertone of surprise. "What does your father think?" "I think you look great," I say, before Bonnie can speak. Before she might deny my existence, or I might do the same. Even here where it would never matter, where it's already assumed, it seems an acknowledgement too far. "Not that my opinion matters, I suspect. I'm just the wallet carrier. Is there a younger man she might impress?" Till Girl almost smiles, and turns her head towards the back of the store. "Jamie!" Her shout would stir a catacomb. A boy of eighteen or nineteen shuffles out of the stock-room, all ear-tunnels, piercings and ink-black tattoos, halfway between Meccano and a badly-photocopied medieval map. He moves inside his baggy clothes like a man wrestling inside a duvet cover, the waistband of his unbelted jeans sitting below under-developed buttocks. There's a flash of gaudy yellow underpant, bright as cupcake icing, the only hint of sweetness he's allowed himself. "Trade Descriptions Act," Eddie always says when he sees a boy dressed like that. "If it's not for sale, don't put it in the window." Till Girl does her security-camera head-swivel thing at Bonnie, and then back to the boy. "Cool," he says, his voice as flat as Lincolnshire. "Wicked." Whether from shyness or lust, he rubs his palms on his thighs, a blush spreading through the few patches of bare skin left on his neck. Is this how straight teenagers flirt nowadays? It's like watching a wildlife documentary. Bonnie's face is as pink as the clothes she would have chosen, but she's clearly persuaded.

Twenty minutes later - after she's convinced us both that her new look requires black metallic leggings and, two stores down, petrol-blue patent leather stilettos that of course she insists on wearing - we walk the mall's marble walkways, a stable-hand leading a prize filly into the dressage ring. Each time I hear a pause in her erratic clip-clopping, I take her hand for a second before she teeters, sparing her more the embarrassment of toppling than the pain of a twisted ankle. I watch the eyes of teenage boys as we pass, scanning her like bar-code readers assessing some new exotic fruit. Whenever a woman Jess's age comes close, I try to read her expression as if I might read Jess's mind by proxy. As if I ever could. Bonnie's eyes dart from window to window, feverish with the shopping bug. Each time we stop, it's not the display I dissect but our reflection. The young woman, dumped on an almost-stranger but bursting to be happy. The gangly man in the biker jacket and faded 501s, sullen as a teenager and anxious to be somewhere else. And the way they avoid each other's eyes, stranded in a no-man's-land between anger and apology. We pause on the benches by the fountains in the open courtyard, faces splashed with spray, pretending that an icy slab of damp marble under our buttocks comes as some kind of respite. I take her picture on her phone so she can send it to Jess. My new look, her message says. Like it? B x. There's no reply. As we drift back into silence, I watch her attention scampering from one boy to another, so blatantly she triggers more blushes than smiles. Maybe this is the kind of moment Jess and Roger would never allow her, a chance to make mistakes. Perhaps she's even enjoying being here, with me, just a little. I police my own gaze more carefully. Here and there, middle-aged fathers sit with teenaged daughters, carrier bags at their feet and shoulders turned a fraction against each other, seeing the world at different angles. Maybe this is what teenage girls think fathers are for: for presents and treats, but not for company or conversation. "I'm sorry I made you lose your temper," Bonnie says, looking down at her feet as she breaks our silence. She's shaken off one of her new shoes and there's the start of a blister on her heel, already rising a livid red. "I'll buy you some plasters," I tell her. "Unless you want to put your trainers back on?" I pat the growing pile of carrier bags beside me. "Thanks," she mumbles, shaking her head, "but I can afford Elastoplast, at least." She takes my proffered tissue and folds it over, wrapping it round her heel before she slips the shoe back on, trying not to wince. "And I know me being here isn't your fault. Just 'cos Mum's using you doesn't mean I should. It's not like you're responsible for me or anything." I want to protest, though it would do no good. Jess didn't get herself pregnant: if I'm not responsible for her, who on earth is? Without me, Bonnie wouldn't be anywhere - wouldn't even be. But it's not what she means, and complaining won't help. Roger's her father now: I abdicated and I can't expect loyalty. "It's ok, I'm sorry too. I know I'm kind of the last resort," I tell her. "Like being promised a trip to the zoo to see the tigers and winding up in the reptile house with some cold-blooded thing staring at you through the glass." She looks as embarrassed as I feel. The fountains spray our faces with cold water as the silence grows again. "How about I treat you to something?" she asks me, suddenly a child again. A fifteen-year-old girl wanting to impress. "Have you ever had bubble tea?"

The concession stall is a cartoon-coloured laboratory of bubbling liquids in luminous columns. Their high-buttoned uniforms as white as surgeons', Asian boys barely older than Bonnie strain alien concoctions into transparent beakers, inscrutable stewards in a Martian cocktail bar. I scan the menu, pretending to understand. "Extra bottom, 50p," it declares. With Eddie, I could have pointed and laughed, but not now. I turn to Bonnie. "Help me out here?" "OK," she says, "are you more milky? Or more fruity?" "I guess I'm more the fruity type," I say, stifling a snigger I can't quite prevent. "Apple, if that's possible?" "How are you with things that burst in your mouth?" she asks, all wide-eyed curiosity, and I wonder if she's trying to provoke me, testing my boundaries, or if being fifteen is still as innocent as I dimly remember. The students I teach are older: nineteen, twenty... women, not girls, though their counterparts are still more boys than men. "I'll try anything once," I say. Her face stays straight. My offer to pay refused, I perch on a ridiculously tall barstool while she places our order, passing over her little sequinned purse from her backpack when she remembers her new outfit has no pockets. I watch how she keeps it hidden below the counter-line, too girly now for her chic ensemble, for the suddenly mature Bonnie. Young enough to blush and giggle, but old enough to play the scene to suit the audience. She passes me a see-through cup filled with something bile green. There are viscous black lumps clumped at its base and a thick purple straw sticking out like a drainpipe. Hers is a shade of lilac only chemicals could conjure, but she slurps at it happily. We swivel on our seats, our feet dangling in mid-air, two satellite dishes scanning the ether for different channels. "Go on," she teases. "Try it." I lower my head and suck. The glowing gunge fills my mouth, cold and thickly chewy. I give silent thanks that I've mastered my gag reflex, and swallow with what little elegance I can muster. "So, how does it taste?" she asks, apparently blind to my discomfort. Preoccupied with not throwing up, my manners go AWOL. "Like it looks," I mutter, scrambling for tissues to wipe stray globules from my chin. "Dragon sperm." I watch her roll her beaker across her cheek, either hiding a blush or cooling one, and wonder if I've gone too far. There's a pause before she replies, but no coyness in the question. "You recognise the flavour?" Her eyes signal a smile that's yet to reach her lips. "I've had... similar." It's taken twenty-four hours, but finally I've made her laugh. "You're much more fun than Roger," she tells me. "Or Mum. And it's ok - leave it if you don't want it."

The concrete park bench feels warmer than the mall's marble, although the landscaping's manicured scrubland is no more sincere. In the dogwoods behind us, I can hear the underground pump that sends the curiously tidy stream trickling down through the artificial hills. She wants me to choose a place for lunch, but where would she enjoy? I can hardly take her to The Taverners and spend an hour explaining the difference between bears and otters, cubs and twinks. That menu would mean as much to her as the bubble tea bar did to me. What have we got in common? She has my nose, my eyes, but it's only genetics. What do we share beyond a woman neither of us seem to love anymore and a weakness for letting our eyes wander over the bodies of men we don't know? Bubble tea might be thicker than water, but blood? I ask a question that I probably shouldn't. "So, what kind of boys do you like?" She looks a little flustered. I'm probably creeping her out more than earning her interest, but my mouth keeps moving. "I mean, what kind of boy do you dream of being with, one day?" I wonder if I'm blushing now. "Intelligent," she tells me. "Clever. Someone that reads. Proper books, not comics." Hardly the answer I expected, but heart-warming: maybe Eddie might like her after all. I won't tell him she asked me yesterday why I 'went for' a deaf guy, like he was something sub-standard I'd settled for. As if I'd told myself that was what I deserved. She didn't say it quite like that - although he did, once. "Just checking," he said afterwards. "Making sure." I wonder what she'd make of him, proof-reading in his brother's spare room to escape a girl he's pre-judged as shrill and vacant, if she got to know him. Maybe she'd see what I love, if she took the time to look. "Someone who cares about more than money and deals and profits and all that," she says. "Not like Roger." I feel an eyebrow rise and I struggle to keep it level. "Or like Mum. Thinking a turtleneck jumper or a squirt of scent covers everything. Even when it gives her away." My eyebrow drifts aloft like a balloon slipping from a child's hand. "Last time she farmed me out, she said she had a migraine..." Bonnie pauses, her face wondering if she should tell me. "When I got home, I sat on the sofa with her. The cushions smelt of cologne. I recognised it." She's looking down at her hands, her fingers knotting and unknotting. "It wasn't Roger's." She unclasps her hands and they lie in her lap, palms upturned. "Not that he's any better. Coming home late reeking of breath mints, a plaster over a love bite and some crap about cutting himself shaving." She looks almost like she's going to cry. I slip my arm round her shoulder and she nestles her head into my chest. I can't think of a thing to say. "So I'd like a proper man. Classy. Faithful." She's almost mumbling now. "Not like someone you'd find in a shopping mall then," I say. Her smile is half-embarrassment and all charm.

The canal-side bookshop café's an oasis after the mall, tables far enough apart for your conversation to be your own. Away from the neon and the noise, Bonnie's quieter too. We take a balcony table with a view out over the water, a gaggle of Uni students messing about in punts. She chooses mushroom risotto - no meat, Jess's texts had reminded me, she's veggie now, apparently - although she seems to live on Haribo and Diet Coke. She has a sweet tooth and the world is her candy store, eyes still darting from one man to another with the indiscretion of youth. Mine too, pretending to soak in the view but drawn more honestly to the rowers. One of them wears only cut-off jeans, torso already lobster-pink and shiny with sweat. He must have been in the water, thick hairs flattened against his legs, droplets catching the sunlight in his dense black beard. He could be a satyr from an old Greek vase: all he needs is a horn to blow. I barely register when Bonnie asks if I'd mind if she reads the paper, although I notice it's a broadsheet she brings back from the rack, unfolded to the crossword and pen in hand. "The waiter guy said it was ok," she says. "Although he doesn't think I'll manage it." I look occasionally as she starts to fill it in, resting the paper on the table's edge as she either writes in an answer or stares into space, temples lined in concentration as she grasps for solutions. My cheesecake devoured, my attention drifts back to the other temptations. I don't even notice when she gets up to go to the loo. It takes a second or two before I realise the insistent throb in my pocket is my mobile - another command from Jess, no doubt. But I'm wrong: it's a message on Grindr. "Well, this is kind of sweet ☺" There's no profile photo, just a name - Huxley92. Checking Bonnie's not back yet, I send a simple "?" "Her watching me watching you watching him." I'm scanning the room, trying to work out whose eyes are on me, whose fingers are tapping away. "Behind the counter. Goatee. Glasses. Reading Brave New World. Or pretending to ;-) As I turn my head, he smiles casually, paperback propped against a serviette dispenser. I recognise him now. Graham, a former colleague of Eddie's. Cheeky, Eddie says, and flirty with it, although it's only ever just words. We met at some Department evening, me joking with Eddie that every time I turned round I caught Graham pretending not to be looking at me. "Oh, you're his type," Eddie told me, laughing. "Scruffy." Then a pause that could have been shorter. "And gorgeous with it." He planted a theatrical kiss on my cheek, making sure Graham saw him pinch my arse. "She's my daughter," I type back. "It's complicated." "Sure is! Still, she has taste. You too, dude. Eddie's always said so." "Thx. I think." "She's coming back now, btw - you want coffees?" I nod, grinning sheepishly, before I'm distracted by a noise outside. The rower has capsized his boat and he's spluttering in the water, spitting out the rancid taste of city centre canal. As Bonnie sits back down, Graham's right behind her, bringing two large lattes. We each get a shot glass full of Smarties. "Enjoy," he says, as he glances over Bonnie's shoulder. Her crossword puzzle is complete, her handwriting all the more girlish for the pink pen she's been using. "Oooh, cryptic," Graham tells her. "I'm impressed. Where did you learn that?" He's looking at me as he speaks, and I could swear there was a wink. "This hip dude here?" Yep, definitely a wink. "It must just be genetic," she says, cool and coy. As I sip my coffee, I realise my phone is still on the table and Bonnie's been reading it out of the corner of her eye. I play it deadpan, face as inscrutable as an exam invigilator till she looks up at me. I nudge my glass of Smarties across the table. "You have these. My eyes are bigger than my appetite." She nudges them aside and smiles back. "Well drink up, then. We've got more window-shopping to do." She giggles as she reaches across the table to take my hand. Her mother's laugh, perhaps, but her father's sense of humour.

#FICTION on the WEB short stories

0 notes