#i didn’t know what to do for the background so it’s just a weird bench thing lmao

[admiralvermin]

no more fighting. wrold peace now.

[brattyspence]

sober thoughts | s.reid

summary: pining!reader makes a drunk call to spencer after going out with friends, and is aggressively trying to flirt with him. 

tags: reader is DRUNK! alcohol!! dont read if thats not okay!!, fluffy as fuck, spencer is the most gentle of gentlemen, pining!reader, reader wears makeup/dress/heels, spencer is lowkey bad at flirting but he shows affection in weird ways, one use of Y/N (sorry i know)

a/n: this has been bouncing around in my head for a while. sigh.

word count: 1.9k

masterlist

He was used to seeing you tipsy, if that was even the right word for it. 

You were friends, after all. Best friends, even. And the fact that he lived only a few doors down from the pub the team frequented made it stupid not to offer his couch to you after going out with the team. 

You weren’t a heavy drinker by any stretch of the imagination. Every now and then on a Friday night, you’d head out with the team and have one, maybe two drinks if you were feeling particularly adventurous–but you still didn’t want to drive home, especially when he was offering his home to you. Truthfully, you just liked getting to hang out with him. You liked getting to exist in his orbit and discuss a random topic late into the night. It had become normal for you, an excuse to do something together that didn’t revolve around work. 

What was not normal was the fact that it was a Saturday at 11 PM and you were really drunk, calling him. 

Your contact photo filled his screen, illuminating the dark room. You weren’t one to call, preferring the convenience of a text. Especially this late, which worried him a bit. He picked up quickly, tucking the phone to his ear.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Hey, Spencer?” It wasn’t your voice. “This is Molly, Y/N’s friend. I’m sorry to call so late. We’re out with some friends from college celebrating someone’s birthday, and she got… like, drunk drunk, kinda sloppy… and she’s been blabbing about you for a while. She wanted me to call you.”

“Oh,” he sighs. He runs a hand through his hair, preparing himself. “Can you put her on?”

“Yeah. Not sure you’ll get anything out of her, though. Here…”

He can hear the general chatter and chaos of the bar over the call. There’s some rustling sounds before you finally take the phone.

“Hi,” you say, your voice dripping with a certain kind of fondness. He can hear the smile through the screen. 

“Hey,” he replies. ”You having fun?”

“Oh, Spencer, I was… I haven’t heard your voice in so long. What’re you…” you trail off, lifting the phone from your ear to answer someone else. “Sorry. ‘S so loud in here.

He chuckles to himself. “I saw you yesterday.”

“Yeah, ‘nd that was��� Oh, I can’t do math right now. A long time ago.”

“Are you okay?”

On the other side of town, you were sitting in a barstool, swiping your finger along the beads of condensation rolling down the glass of water in front of you. 

“Mhm. ‘M good. Fine. Drunk.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” he smiles. “Are you gonna be able to get home?”

“Uhh…” you pause. “I was gonna Uber… but then I thought that maybe… if you weren't busy… we could hang out…” 

He could vaguely make out dialog on the other end of the phone. Some kind of “Girl, this sounds really pathetic,” followed by a “Shhhh!” in two other drunken voices.

“But I could also make Molly order me an Uber,” you added. “‘S okay. Nevermind.”

“No, you're not getting in an Uber inebriated. That’s ridiculous.”

“‘M not inebriated.”

A background voice comes back. “Yeah, you are.”

Spencer sighs into the phone. “Just… send me your location, please? I’ll come get you.”

“O-kay. ‘M sending it right now, jus’ tell me when you-”

The call went dead before you could finish your thought, which he chalked up to some kind of drunken user error. A few seconds later a text came through 

You: dropped a pin

You: its molly again. let me know if you got this

He responded, relieved that you had someone looking after you, before getting ready and grabbing his keys. 

-

You were sitting on a bench outside the bar. The air was cool and crisp, but you were warm, your skin clammy from the alcohol. You had been mumbling something incoherent about Spencer, he’s just so good to me, Molly, and oh, god, I don’t know what to do with myself, and…

Molly, who had been trying to sober you up (unsuccessfully), was standing in front of you, arms crossed, listening to your incessant rambling.

“...’nd sometimes he talks to me, ‘nd I have no idea what he’s talking about but he’s so hot when he’s smart. You should hear, it, Mol’.”

Cars pass on the street behind you, filling the silence momentarily. Molly looks over her shoulder, scanning the street before turning back to you. “Alright. Be quiet. He’s here” 

“Don’t care.”

She puts her hand out to help you up, which you accept rising to your feet. You’re surprised by how unsteady you feel, but you focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

“I’ll make fun of you for this tomorrow,” she says. 

You only have a few seconds to grumble in protest before Spencer reaches you. He scans you quickly, chuckling to himself.

“You are a mess,” he says, amused. 

You feel slightly infantilized watching Molly hand over all your personal effects to him. You weren’t even sure when you’d put down your wallet and keys, much less where, but you’re thankful she picked them up and not someone else.

“Good luck,” She tells him. She pats your arm before turning back to the bar, leaving you alone on the street with him. 

“You okay?” He asks. You watch him shuck off his jacket, which he helps you slide over your arms.

“‘M fine,” you reply. “Warm.”

“Because you’re drunk.” He keeps his eyes trained on the zipper of the jacket, or really anywhere that isn't you in that dress. “Alcohol is a vasodilator. So you feel warm. But it's forty degrees outside, and hypothermia doesn't care.”

You pout at him, watching as he pulls the zipper tab up enough to shield you from the cold. Only then does he really look at you. 

“I wanted you to see my pretty dress,” you pout. Your words come out slurred still. 

You meet his eyes for a split second. He opens his mouth, seemingly about to reply, but quickly decides against it. He shakes his head as if to clear the thought.

“Come on. We gotta get you home.” 

“You don't like it?” 

“I didn't say that.” He tucks a hand under your arm as you begin back down the street, keeping you steady. 

“So you do like it?” You look over at him, your face more excited than he was expecting. 

“It’s very pretty,” he replies.

Your shoulder bumps his as you walk, seemingly unable to maintain a straight path along the sidewalk. The click of your heels against the pavement is uneven, despite your efforts to maintain some kind of composure, and unfortunately for you, he’s right, and it's freezing outside. You make steady progress down the block, placing all your focus on not falling flat on your face. Thankfully, he doesn't live all that far.

“D’you think I look pretty, too?” You ask, approaching the steps to his apartment.

“What are you trying to do?” he asks, looking down at you. He takes in the slight flush of your cheeks as the effects of the alcohol battle the chill in the air.

“I’m trying to flirt with you. And you didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh, you're going to be difficult all night, aren't you?” He sighs, ignoring the question. He pauses outside the door, keys in hand, and unlocks the door before guiding you inside. 

“You don't ever want to flirt with me.”

The door falls shut behind you with a clunk. The room is dark, with only the distant light from a lamp somewhere across the room illuminating it. You squint when he turns on the big light.

“That’s not true,” he says, quietly. If you weren’t hanging on to his every word, you might have missed it. He carefully unzips the jacket, tugging it off your shoulders and setting it on the table.

“So why won’t you flirt with me right now?” 

“Because you’re drunk,” He guides you towards the couch, his touch still careful as ever. 

You flop down onto the cushions. The leather sticks to your legs as you sit. Being the gentleman he is, he has already left pajamas out, his pajamas, you’d since claimed as your own, with the blanket you steal every time you stay over. 

“So what?” You begin working at the clasp on your heels, fumbling with the leather straps to no avail. 

“So, you’re drunk.” He repeats, reappearing in front of you. He sits on the edge of the coffee table in front of you, and hands you a pack of makeup wipes. “Do you need help with your shoes?” 

You nod. A soft breath of laughter escapes him as he leans in to help you take them off, setting them on the carpeted floor. 

“Spence,” you look at the pack of wipes. “Why do you have these?”

“Because every time you’re here you forget them,” he replies. 

“Oh.” You rip them open. “You don’t have a secret girlfriend?”

“No,” he replies, lowering your foot back to the ground. 

“You don't let other drunk girls sleep over?” You paw at your eyeliner, effectively smearing it around more than removing it. 

“I don't let anyone sleep over,” he says, taking the wipe from you. “Just you. Close your eyes.”

“Because you love me?” 

His fingers find the underside of your chin, gently tilting your face towards his so he can finish swiping away the last of your eyeliner. Maybe you’re blushing as a result of the alcohol warming your bloodstream, but the more likely answer is him, at this proximity. 

As soon as he’s done wiping your eyes, you open them again to look up at him. 

“You’re bold when you’re drunk,” he says, smiling. He sets the used wipe down on the table.

“Mhm. You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m not going to,” He says. “Sorry. Go get changed.”

“That wasn’t a ‘no’,” you say. You collect the clothes off the couch and slink across the apartment into the bathroom to change. You don’t bother shutting the bathroom door before slinking off the dress you were wearing and sliding on the pajamas he’d left for you. Once you finish, you collect your dress off the floor and make your way back towards the couch, settling right into the cushions as you frequently did on nights like this. 

You were formulating another complaint about his lack of reciprocation, but your thoughts were interrupted as he pulled the blanket on his couch over you. Your blanket, or at least one you’d claimed as your own during one of your nights spent here. He had already turned off the ceiling fan, which you’d always insisted off when you slept over. You followed him with your gaze as he turned the lights off, swapping them instead for a smaller, softer light somewhere in the kitchen, remembering the way you’d always insisted he leave a light on somewhere, just for you. Your phone was already charging on a side table, your heels sitting nicely by the door, your keys on his key holder, evidence of you, everywhere, details that were distinctly for your comfort. Maybe you had missed his signals. 

“I think you do love me…” 

He reappeared a moment later, crouching in front of you with that look. He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Go to sleep.”

“And I love you. And I called you because I wanted to tell you that.” 

“You really need to sleep it off. You’re saying things you don’t mean.”

“But I do mean it,” you whined. “I swear. Ask me again tomorrow.”

“You won’t remember this tomorrow,” he laughed. 

“But I will. I promise,” you replied. “No bedtime kiss?”

Of course, this time you did pick up the way he looked at you. 

“No, honey. Maybe tomorrow.”

[watarfallar]

Does anyone here like this weird thing called "Desert Duo Incorrect Quotes?" No? Oh well. I'm running out so I'm giving as many as I can to you all. Enjoy it!

Scar: My hands are cold. Grian: Here, let me hold them. Scar: My lips are cold too. Grian: *covers Scar's mouth with their hand*

Grian: I want to kiss you. Scar, not paying attention: What? Grian: I said if you die, I wont miss you.

Grian: Being gay is a constant battle between "I wish to sit on a window bench with my lover, our legs tangling as we listen to the birds" and "Hey, let's go throw rocks at fascists" and I think that's very sexy of us. Scar: If the window's open and you time it right, you can do both.

Scar, to Grian: We had a date! Scar: *aggressively points to Hello Kitty Coloring Book*

Scar: I warned you. Scar: I'm perfect.

Grian: Please, Scar, after everything we’ve been through together. You can’t do this. Grian: I’m sorry Scar. Grian: I’m begging you. Don’t do it. Scar: It has to be done. Grian: Scar: Grian: Scar: *Places +4* Uno.

Scar: Are you packed for the trip? Grian: Yup. Scar: Then where are your bags? Grian: All I’m bringing is a good attitude and a sense of adventure. Scar: A change of underwear might be nice.

Grian: Just be careful, Scar! Scar: *heading out the door* I'm always careful, Grian! Scar: It's everything around me that's careless.

Grian: *Gives a bouquet to Scar* Scar: You know I'm allergic. Grian: That's the point.

Scar: Your future self is talking shit about you right now. Grian: Jokes on them. I'll ruin their fucking life.

Scar: Who the fuck- Grian: Language! Scar: Whom the fuck- Grian: No.

Scar: Ha! What are you gonna do? Stab me? *Five minutes later* Scar, calling 911: HELP, IVE BEEN STABBED.

Grian, looking at the squad: Okay, so I need to become a therapist faster.

Scar, handing a balloon to Grian: I have no soul. Have a good day! Grian, walking off: I don't have one either.

Scar: I’ve only ever said ‘I love you’ to two people in my entire life: Grian and a guy in a dark club who I mistook for Grian.

Grian: I found a note in one of my old word .docs that said Note to self: Get revenge on Scar. Grian: Except I couldn't remember what I was supposed to get revenge for. Grian: But I trusted my own judgment, so I went with it. Scar: Hmm... I don't know what you were supposed to get revenge for, either. Grian: I can only assume you got what was coming to you. Not 100 percent sure, though. Scar: Well, whatever I did, I guess I deserved it. Grian: Let that possibly be a lesson to you.

Grian: Oh, fiddlesticks. Scar: Look, I understand this is a tense situation, but let's watch the fucking language.

Grian: Heh, Scar sneezes like a girl. Scar: How about I pound you like boy? Scar: That didn’t come out right.

Grian: Consider the fundraising over! Your hero has arrived! Scar: Uhh… where did you get so much money from, Grian? Grian: Well, you know, I’m pretty good at numbers. I just crunched them, I stretched them, I analyzed my accounts, I timed the market- *police sirens start to wail in the background* Scar: DID YOU ROB A BANK?! Grian: Oh, come on, Scar, do you really think so little of me? *opens the bag as purple dye explodes on their face* Scar: Grian: …it was a credit union.

Scar, turning to Grian: Stop calling yourself hot, the only thing you can turn on is the microwave.

Grian: *trying to get five seconds of sleep* Scar, poking Grian’s arm: Grian Grian. Grian. Grian. Grian: WHAT? Scar: …We’re out of Capri Suns—

Grian: I’m not being weird. Am I being weird? Scar: Yes, and that’s coming from me.

Scar: And have you learnt anything this Christmas, Grian? Grian: …Not really. Scar: Nothing? Grian: Tell you one thing I have learnt—Christmas; ultimately, commercial holiday. Who's the real winner at Christmas? Amazon. they have drones now! Tiny little dystopian slaves delivering iPads and headphones. I ordered a toaster; It was on the doorstep five hours later! Do we need that? It was 4.99! For a toaster! I mean, someone's being exploited there.

Scar: Bottling up negative emotions is bad for your health, so you shouldn't do it. Grian: I know, that's why I bottle up all my emotions, both positive and negative, so it cancels out. Scar: Th-that's not how that works-

Scar: Priest kink is definitely a thing and I am afflicted by it. Grian: Go to church. Grian: WAIT—

Scar: Is it just me or is instant ramen even better uncooked? Grian: It’s just you.

[honeyscara]

Chapter 5

↪Not as annoying

The next morning, the team decided to go jogging as part of their warm-up routine. Naturally, Hinata was overly excited and dragged you along, despite your protests.

"Come on, Y/N! It'll be fun!" he had insisted, practically bouncing on his feet as you reluctantly laced up your shoes.

Now, here you were, panting and struggling to keep up as the team jogged through the quiet streets near the inn. Unsurprisingly, Hinata had taken off like a rocket, sprinting ahead without a care in the world.

"Sho!, slow down!" you called after him, but your voice barely carried over the sound of his energetic footsteps.

"SHOYO!!" Sugawara and Tanaka shouted, their exasperation clear as they chased after him.

Meanwhile, Kageyama, who had been running at a steady pace, glanced back at you. You were trailing far behind, your breathing labored and your expression one of pure annoyance.

"You’re going to fall behind if you stop," Kageyama said bluntly, slowing his pace to match yours.

"I already am behind," you grumbled, stopping in your tracks and putting your hands on your knees to catch your breath.

"Running is not my thing, okay? I don’t know why Hinata thought dragging me along was a good idea."

Kageyama crossed his arms, staring at you with his usual deadpan expression. "You could at least try."

"I did try," you shot back, glaring at him. "You guys are built for this. I’m not."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Then walk if you can’t run. But don’t just stand there. The coach is going to yell at you if you fall too far behind."

You gave him a look but straightened up and started walking briskly. Kageyama matched your pace, his long strides making it look effortless.

"Why are you still here?" you asked, side-eyeing him.

"Someone has to keep an eye on you," he replied, his tone matter-of-fact.

"I don’t need a babysitter," you muttered, picking up your pace slightly to put some distance between you.

"Clearly, you do," he countered, not even breaking a sweat.

You stopped again, hands on your knees as you tried to catch your breath. "I can’t… I can’t do this. I need a break," you panted, glancing up at Kageyama, who had also stopped and was watching you with a faint frown.

He looked around for a moment before spotting a small shop nearby with a bench outside. "There’s a bench over there," he said, nodding toward it.

You didn’t even hesitate, trudging toward it and plopping down with a heavy sigh. Kageyama followed, standing in front of you with his arms crossed.

"You’re really bad at this," he remarked flatly, and you glared up at him.

"Gee, thanks for the motivational speech, Kageyama," you shot back, leaning against the backrest of the bench.

He sighed and sat down beside you, his long legs stretched out in front of him. For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the distant sounds of the team jogging fading into the background.

You stared at your hands, fidgeting with your fingers. "Hey," you started, your voice quieter. "About… everything. I guess I owe you an apology."

Kageyama glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. "For what?"

"For, you know, calling you stuff… and, uh, the other day," you said, your face heating up as you avoided his gaze. "The, uh… 'kiss.' It was an accident. I didn’t mean for that to happen."

Kageyama’s expression softened slightly, though he still looked a bit awkward. "It’s fine. It was… weird, but it’s not like you did it on purpose."

"Still," you mumbled, your voice barely audible.

He cleared his throat and leaned back on the bench. "So, if you don’t like sports, what do you like? What do you even do with your time?"

The question caught you off guard, and you glanced at him. He wasn’t teasing; he looked genuinely curious.

"I like music," you said after a moment. "I play the piano."

His eyebrows rose slightly. "The piano? Since when?"

"Since I was a kid," you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips. "It’s just something I’ve always loved. It’s… calming."

Kageyama nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful. "That’s… cool, I guess. You and Hinata are so different. How did you two even meet?"

You chuckled softly, a warm smile tugging at your lips. "He’s my neighbor. When I first moved here, he was the only friend I had for a while. He’s always been there for me, and I’ve always been there for him."

Kageyama’s lips twitched, almost like he was fighting a smile. "Sounds about right."

"What about you?" you asked, shifting the conversation. "What made you fall in love with volleyball? Why do you play?"

His expression turned serious, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "Volleyball’s always been… everything to me as a kid. I used to play it with my grandpa and older sister. It’s just.…perfect."

You watched him as he spoke, noticing the way his face lit up ever so slightly when he talked about the sport. For the first time, you saw a glimpse of the passion that drove him.

"That’s… kind of inspiring," you admitted softly, surprising even yourself.

Kageyama turned to look at you, his blue eyes meeting yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the air between you unusually calm.

"You’re not as annoying as I thought," he said suddenly, breaking the silence.

You blinked, then laughed, shaking your head. "Thanks, Kageyama. I’ll take that as a compliment."

For the first time, the two of you shared a small, genuine smile, a tentative truce forming between you. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.Just as the quiet between you and Kageyama began to feel almost comfortable, a familiar voice shattered it.

"Y/N! Kageyama!" Hinata’s cheerful yell echoed down the street as he jogged toward you, the rest of the team following at a more leisurely pace. Sugawara, Tanaka, and Nishinoya looked just as out of breath as you had been earlier.

Hinata skidded to a stop in front of you, his face glowing with excitement. "I met. a new person! His name’s Kenma!"

"Kenma?" you echoed, tilting your head.

"Yeah! He’s kind of quiet, but he’s super smart! And he loves video games!" Hinata said, his words tumbling over each other as he gestured animatedly. "Oh and he plays volleyball too and he is a setter!!" he exclaimed

You smiled at his enthusiasm, nodding along as he rambled. "That’s nice, Shoyo"

As Hinata continued to chatter, Kageyama stood behind him, his expression unreadable. He watched the two of you quietly, his blue eyes flicking between you and Hinata as you laughed at something the orange-haired boy said.

Sugawara noticed Kageyama hanging back and nudged him lightly. "What’s wrong? Not joining the conversation?"

Kageyama shook his head slightly, his gaze still fixed on you and Hinata. "Nothing," he muttered, his voice low.

"Nothing, huh?" Sugawara teased with a knowing smile before moving to join the others.

Kageyama stayed where he was, his hands shoved into his pockets as he continued to watch. Something about the way Hinata spoke so easily with you, the way you smiled and laughed without hesitation—it made his chest tighten, though he didn’t understand why.

"Come on, you two," Daichi called, breaking the moment. "Let’s head back before Coach gets on our case."

Hinata grabbed your wrist, tugging you along. "Let’s go, Y/N! You’ve got to see how well we play tomorrow!"

You stumbled slightly but laughed, letting him pull you forward. "Okay, okay, Shoyo! Calm down!"

As you walked away with Hinata, Kageyama followed a few steps behind, his thoughts swirling. The sight of you and Hinata together stirred something unfamiliar in him, a strange mix of irritation and unease.

He didn’t say a word, but his gaze lingered on you as the group headed back to the inn.

~

The dining room buzzed with lively chatter, and you were slowly getting used to the team's loud, boisterous energy. Hinata, as usual, was the center of attention, animatedly recounting his encounter with Kenma while Tanaka and Nishinoya hung on to his every word.

"You should’ve seen him! He’s so calm and seems smart! Totally different from Kageyama," Hinata said with a grin, earning a glare from Kageyama.

"Shut up, dumbass," Kageyama grumbled, poking at his rice with his chopsticks.

"Calm down, Kageyama," Tsukishima said, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You’re just mad because someone else might be better at volleyball than you."

Kageyama shot him a glare. "I’m not mad."

"Sure, you’re not," Tsukishima replied, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"Tsukki, don’t start," Yamaguchi said, nudging him lightly. "You’re just going to make him angrier."

Tsukishima shrugged nonchalantly. "It’s not my fault he’s so easy to rile up."

"Anyway," Sugawara said, cutting through the banter, "Y/N, what do you like doing? We all know you’re not a sports person, so what’s your thing?"

The sudden shift in attention made you pause, your cheeks heating under the weight of their stares. "Uh… I’m into music. I play the piano," you admitted.

"Piano? Really?" Yamaguchi’s eyes widened with genuine interest. "That’s so cool!"

"Yeah, way cooler than volleyball," Tsukishima remarked, earning a few groans from the team.

"Tsukishima," Daichi said with a pointed look before turning back to you. "That’s impressive, Y/N. How long have you been playing?"

"Since I was a kid," you replied, fidgeting with your chopsticks. "It’s something I’ve always loved."

"She’s amazing at it!" Hinata chimed in, beaming. "She’s been playing forever and is also really good at drawing! I told her to enter this music competition, but she hasn’t decided yet."

"A competition?" Sugawara’s eyes lit up. "That’s amazing! You should go for it."

"Yeah, Y/N!" Ennoshita said with an encouraging smile. "It sounds like something you’re passionate about."

"Agreed. if you've got talent, you’re wasting it by holding back," Tsukishima said, though his tone was more matter-of-fact than supportive.

"Exactly!" Nishinoya leaned forward, resting his chin in his hands. "And if you win, you’ll have the honor of me treating you to anything you want. A true champion deserves a king’s reward."

"Nice try, Noya-san," you said, shaking your head but smiling nonetheless.

Kageyama, who had been unusually quiet, frowned at Nishinoya’s comment. "She doesn’t need a bribe," he muttered, his tone clipped.

Sugawara raised a brow, his lips twitching with amusement. "Kageyama, you sound weirdly invested in this."

"I’m not," Kageyama snapped, focusing intently on his food.

"Uh-huh," Tsukishima drawled, smirking as he sipped his drink. "And I’m the nicest person here."

"Tsukki, stop," Yamaguchi said again, though he was clearly holding back a laugh.

"You know," Kiyoko said softly, her calm voice drawing the team’s attention, "I think you should try it, Y/N. It’s a great opportunity, and you’re clearly talented."

You looked around the table, feeling a mix of nerves and gratitude at their support. "I’ll think about it," you said with a small smile.

"That’s the spirit!" Hinata cheered, practically bouncing in his seat.

As the conversation shifted back to volleyball and their upcoming match, Kageyama stayed quiet, his gaze occasionally drifting to you. Nishinoya’s playful flirting and Hinata’s enthusiastic compliments were grating on him, though he couldn’t quite figure out why.

"Hey, Y/N," Tanaka said suddenly, breaking Kageyama’s train of thought. "If you do enter, we’re expecting a private concert first. You know, to prove you’re as good as Hinata says."

"Yeah, we’ll be your test audience!" Yamaguchi added, his smile kind.

You laughed, the team’s banter lifting your spirits. "I’ll think about it. But don’t expect too much."

"We’ll hold you to it," Sugawara said with a grin, and the team erupted into more laughter, the camaraderie between them infectious.

Kageyama, however, remained quiet, his hands tightening around his chopsticks as he glanced at you. Something about the way everyone was drawn to you, especially Hinata and Nishinoya made his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t quite understand.

other chapters here

[hyunnieshannie]

CLOSE | HJ

Chapter 13: Are you dense? (part 1) Series Master list | General Master list

Word Count: 2.6k

General Warnings: Strong Language, fluff!!

Disclaimer: This is a fanfiction, this does not represent the idols mentioned in any way.

A/N: FAIR WARNING: THIS CHAPTER WAS PROOFREAD BY A TEAM OF : 2 HAN QUOKKAS, 5 JINIRETS, AND 6 LEEBITS AND YOU CAN TELL IT WAS. (Don't ask why I have that many- Mini)

Another ridiculous day has passed, as you waited for the rest of your group to show up at the agreed meeting spot. Only you and Jisung had shown up on time while the others texted their excuses as to why they were late. You were busy staring up at the sky, as Jisung sat on the bench typing away at his laptop; headphones on, bobbing his head to whatever song played in the background. 

You leaned over to peep at his laptop to see what he was listening to, noticing that you recognized the program he was using, it was the same Kitty used when making music. 

“Are you working on a song?” you asked after poking his arm lightly to get his attention. He took out one headphone to hear you.

“Uh.. yeah.” he says shyly as he scratches the back of his head.

“Is it for a class?”

“No, no. This is a personal project,” he says as he clicks away on his keyboard a few times. “I’m just working on the beat for now, lyrics are a work in progress.” He looks at you quickly and back to his laptop. “Do you.. Do you wanna hear it?”

“I don’t think I’d be much help. I don’t know anything about composing music. Kitty tried to teach me once and it didn’t go over well.” You laugh awkwardly remembering all of the words Kitty threw at you as if you knew what she was talking about.

“It’s ok, it’s just the beat. You.. uh.. You don't have to listen if you don’t want to though…”

You wave your hands frantically, “no, no really. I’d love to listen if you’d like to share.”

Jisung gave you a huge smile and passed you his headphones, playing the beat for you. It was a very calming beat, with a soft piano opening. The song gave off calm, cozy, lofi vibes. There were no lyrics but you felt yourself calming down while listening to the soft beat, lightly bopping your head, a small smile gracing your lips, and your eyes closing to focus on the beat. Jisung was watching you very carefully, after all this was the song he was writing because of you; well it started off for himself, but quickly it became your song. He watched the small bobbing of your head, your brows knitting together, and the smile growing on your lips as you listened to it. He felt relieved that you were reacting so well to his song. 

“Will you add lyrics to it?” 

He quickly looks away from you, and you notice the slight blush to his cheeks. “I- I have a few I just don’t know where all of it is gonna fit in you know?”

“Can I see-”  Jisung’s eyes bug out of his head as he scratches the back of his head again, frantically looking anywhere but at you. “-or not it's up to you!” You try to save the conversation, obviously you just made an error in asking.

“No!” he yells and you immediately get disappointed. “No, I mean yes; uh- I-'' Jisung keeps making weird hand gestures as if he's trying to pick the correct words out of thin air. “Yeah you can see them sorry, I usually don’t show people but feedback is always good!” He quickly pulls a beaten up notebook out of his backpack and opens it to a page with scribbled lyrics and doodles scattered across the page. He hands you the book shyly, you carefully take it in your hands and examine the lyrics he wrote. 

Will you tell me about yourself?

You, who was seen from afar

I don't want to just watch without doing anything

Yeah, just tell me about you

There, far away, I can see you walking

I come to you without fear and ask about yourself

In the quiet tunnel, you with the sports car, the noisy engine blares

The walls that were colored are all black

They were colored by you, I'm surprised by the feelings felt for the first time

Name, age where do you live

Too many questions, I know i'm being rude

I'll cross the line just a little, as I finally

Avoided this road, I was walking on unsteadily

I'll look at you and rest for bit, I know I'm putting you out by doing this when it's our first meeting

I'm rambling noisily, as it's my first time having these emotions too, so I'm still

You look up at him after you read the words and give him a huge smile. “These are really nice Jisung!”

“Oh, thank you- I uh, kind of just write how I feel and hope for the best.” Jisung smiles, a blush dusting over his cheeks, and rubbing at the back of his neck, unable to make eye contact with you.

“Well, whoever this lucky person is, I’m sure they’re going to love it Jisung, honestly this is really good so far!” You say as you give him a genuine smile. You’re not gonna lie to yourself, you wish someone wrote things like that about you. His words were so sweet and you could feel the sincerity in it. Jisung is lowkey freaking out next to you, incredibly flustered by your praise. 

“Yeah she’s uh- well.” You look up at him as he begins his sentence, he quickly looks away from you and at his feet. “I’m still getting used to things, who knows maybe she’ll hate it or maybe she won’t, maybe I won’t even show her.” You lean back on your palms, looking back up at the sky; carefully choosing your next words. Jisung couldn’t help but admire the way you looked, the sun beaming down on you, the wind gently moving your hair. Your eyes wide as you stared up at the clouds that gently rolled by.

“I think, if you choose to show her; it would be nice. I mean what girl doesn’t want an entire song written for them?” You giggle, “I don’t think she’ll hate it. The lyrics are coming along beautifully, and if she does for some reason react badly, well she wasn’t worth it and clearly doesn’t have taste.” Jisungs jaw basically drops to the floor, quickly turning his head away from you to quietly scream. He tries to compose himself as best as he can before faking a coughing fit. 

“If someone were to uh-” Jisung thinks of his next words very carefully. “If someone were to do this for you, how would you feel? Wouldn’t you think it’s like.. Too much or something?” You look up to the sky as you carefully think about your answer. 

“I think- I think I'd be a little surprised at first. I mean, it’s not like I’ve ever had a song written about or for me before-” You look down and fiddle with your fingers. “But I don’t think I’d react badly about it, it’s a sweet gesture, and if the song is as good as yours I’d be dumb not to appreciate it, you know?” You look at Jisung and notice the hint of surprise on his face, and you quickly cover yourself up to try and make light of your seriousness. “Unless the guy is a total tool. Now that would be unfortunate.” 

“What if-” Jisung started, but he was immediately cut off by Hyunjin sneaking up behind him, yelling in order to scare him. 

“MY FUCKING STARS HOW ARE YOU TODAY?” Hyunjin yells from behind you both, making both you and Jisung startle in your seats on the bench. 

“Do you ever- not yell?” Mini groans as she finally makes her way up beside him, “I have a fucking migraine please for the love of god; shut the fuck up.” 

“So grumpy,” Hyunjin mumbles, pouting from Mini yelling at him.

“You see this face I’m making right now? This will always be your sign, to shut the fuck up.” 

“Never fuck with Mini when she has a migraine. It doesn’t end pretty for anyone.” You say as you shiver at the very unpleasant memory of the attack she launched on you after accidentally setting her off.

“Now, where the fuck are the others.” Mini groans, placing her camera down on the bench; as she begins to lay on the grass. 

“On their way now, we can set up-” Hyunjin starts, but Mini gives him a look of disgust, “I can set up, so that we’re ready for this next scene.” 

“Which scene are we doing again?” You ask and immediately regret the question when Mini shoots daggers at you from her spot on the grass. She’s definitely gonna beat your ass later for not remembering what scene you were shooting. 

“The confession scene, falling into the kiss, and then into our villain trying to ruin things.” Hyunjin says as he begins prepping the equipment. The rest of your friends start arriving one by one. Something finally clicks in Jisung’s head and his cheeks immediately turn bright red. I HAVE TO KISS HER TODAY?! He thought to himself. He starts trying to busy himself with things around him, his nerves getting the better of him.

“You okay there HanJi?” Minho laughs, as he witnesses Jisung’s expression, “Don’t tell me our little Y/N is going to pop your first kiss cherry today!” 

“She’s not popping my- what?” Jisung pauses, staring at Minho. 

“So why do you look like you’ve got the ultimate sunburn on that pretty little face of yours huh?” Minho asks, poking one of Jisung’s cheeks. 

“Just got a strange text that's all..” Jisung says, obviously trying to cover up his small freak out. 

“Was it spicy? If it was, I want all the details.” You turn around and smack Minho in the shoulder. “What!? Maybe he’s got a secret girlfriend or something! I want to know!” 

“Can we just get this the fuck over with? I want to go home.” Mini grumbles from the ground.

“Who the fuck pissed in her cornflakes this morning?” Kitty says as she makes her way over to Mini to help her up from the grass. You all turn around quickly and stare at Seungmin. 

“I didn’t do shit-” Seungmin holds his hands up in defence. You all continue to look at him and he drops his hands and rolls his eyes. “Okay, whatever, we just had one extra drink last night it wasn’t even that bad-” 

“She doesn’t get hangovers what the fuck did you do to her?!” Kitty yells, patting Mini on the head and running her fingers through her hair. 

“What didn’t he do is the better question to be honest-” Hyunjin shudders as shakes the images out of his brain.

“Shut your mouths unless you all want to die.” Mini grumbles, but looks at Kitty, “except you, you’re safe baybee.” Kitty smugly smiles at Seungmin and sticks her tongue out at him, as she continues to pet Mini.  “Everyone to your fucking spots.” Mini goes and grabs her camera, getting her setup all together. 

“Ok let’s start from the confession-” Hyunjin states, grabbing his script from his bag. 

~~~~

After a few rounds of rehearsals, and some errors in filming, everyone decides to try one last time after getting a few good shots. Standing in front of Jisung was sending your nerves into a panicked shock. The two of you were staring at each other as you tried to remember exactly what your lines were.

“I can’t do this-” you recite the lines to Jisung, looking at the ground as you feel a slight tinge of pain in your chest. 

“Why can’t you,” Jisung says, placing his finger under your chin and lifting your head. “You can’t even look me in the eye, what did I do wrong?!” 

“Why did you even call me out here, Peter?” You pull your head away from his fingers, pulling back from him, looking back down at the ground to compose yourself. “I want nothing to do with you.” 

“You know that’s not true.” Jisung says softly, stepping closer to you. “Look at me, and tell me that’s the truth. Tell me and I’ll go.” is this what a confession would actually feel like?

“I can’t…” 

“Can’t what. Look at me, or lie to me.” Jisung says, his voice getting quiet as he finishes the line.

“God you guys wrote this so dramatically…” Changbin whispers to the English majors. 

“Stop hiding from me.” Jisung sighs, running his hands through his hair, exasperated. “You can’t just keep running away from me.” 

“Why not.” You finally look up at him. This whole scene feels so real, you can't help but admire the man in front of you. He’s kinda pretty, and soft looking… and he smells so fucking good. Focus Y/N. You knit your brows together, fisting your hands at your side. “If you called me out here, to ask stupid questions I'm leaving-” You turn to walk away before Jisung grabs your wrist to stop you in your tracks. 

“I called you out here, to figure out what you want from me. Why do you keep hiding from me, running from me! Why do you always leave just when I start thinking we’re getting closer?” Jisung is getting frustrated, his heart not understanding the situation. “Why? Why do you keep distancing yourself from me?” He drops your wrist in defeat. “I called you out here to figure out if you felt the same way, don't you get that!?” Jisung yells. 

“W-what” you stutter. It was your line, but you reacted so out of instinct because it felt so… real. 

“I need to know.” Jisung says softly, grabbing your hand so gently. “If you feel the same way. Please..” He almost begs. 

“I don’t know…how I feel…” You struggle to find the words. Mini looks between Hyunjin, Kitty, Jeongin, and Seungmin. This was not in the script. “I’m so confused…” They let the cameras roll to see what the outcome will be. Jisung looks at you confused but since no one says anything he tries to continue.

“Fine.” Jisung says and grabs you, pulling you close to his chest. “How do you feel about this then?” He asks gently. He places a finger under your chin again and tilts your head up to his, your lips a breaths distance away from one another. He leans in to close the distance and you melt in his hold. You couldn’t help but feel weak at the knees because of him, the secure hold he had around your waist, the gentle hold on your chin, the soft caress of his lips against yours. You wrap your hands around his neck and pull him in closer.

“Perfect!” Hyunjin yells from behind the camera. Neither you or Jisung really register Hyunjins call of your names at first, too lost in each other's warmth, but once it registers, you both push away from each other, blushing like crazy, your ears and his cheeks bright red.

“Does art imitate life… or does life imitate art…” Mini whispers to Hyunjin.

“What?” Hyunjin looks at her confused.

“Are you dense? They like each other.” Mini whispers at him and slaps his arm.

“Seriously, I told you he was dumb.” Seungmin mumbles to Mini. 

“Fuck you.” Hyunjin seethes to Seungmin.

“Not your job, but thanks for the offer!” Seungmin winks at Hyunjin.

“I hate both of you.” Mini rolls her eyes. 

“Not true, you only PARTIALLY hate me.” Seungmin teases, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

“What even makes you think that anyway?” Felix asks from the side of the group.

“Look at them?!” Mini whisper-yells, as she points at you and Jisung are being awkward near each other.

“Nah.” Chan questions. “Anyone would be a mess if they had to kiss like that- right?” Kitty rolls her eyes at him.

“God you’re also dense.” Kitty says. “Men.”  Mini nods in agreement.

TAGS @https-skzology @chanlixiiee @channiesbub @silentcry01 @iadorethemskz @heavensheadbitch @maeleelee @kubuwu @tfshouldidohere @jisungsbff01@applepie-macaroon @amara-mars ♡ Thank you for letting us tag you

[morganski-19]

I Don't Know Which Way's Home

Chapter 3: Awkward Fumblings

ao3 link, Part 1, Part 2

September 1985

Julie sits on one of the picnic benches in the community area of the trailer park. She has one of her many notebooks open to a page she’s been working on for weeks. It’s a pencil drawing of the short story she wrote a few weeks ago. An empty field with serene trees and clear skies. The perfect background for the forefront of her story, if she could just figure out how to draw it. 

One of the trailer doors slams and a girl around her age goes around her trailer, heading to the gate with a small food tray. Her name is Max, Julie thinks. She and her mom moved into the trailer down the street from her a month or two ago. 

She shuts her notebook, the ideas of how to depict the scene she was drawing not coming to her anyway. It’s weird how the scenes created in her mind can get twisted when she tries drawing them on paper. 

When Max is walking back to her trailer, now with an empty tray of food, Julie walks up to her. 

“Hey,” she says, interrupting Max’s movement. “I’m Julie, I live two trailers down from you.”

“Cool,” Max replies with a cold glare. “I’m Max.”

“Were you feeding your dog?” Julie was never good at making friends, she doesn’t even know why she’s talking to Max at all. But she knows everyone else in the trailer park and they’re either too old to be friends with or too young. There’s just something about Max that she thinks might click. 

Max rolls her eyes slightly. Julie can’t tell if she’s annoyed with her or something else. “Yeah, he’s out back behind that fence.”

“Oh, I’ve seen him a few times. Wondered when he showed up.” They stand there awkwardly for a moment, Julie slightly swaying with the book held in front of her. “It was nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Max says with an attitude that means she probably didn’t mean it. 

Julie gives her a tight-lipped smile before walking back to her trailer. 

She doesn’t talk to Max for a few more weeks. She sees her a lot, just from sitting out on park benches and sometimes at school. But she doesn’t go up to talk to her again, Max clearly didn’t like it the first time. Doesn’t blame her. She caught her at a bad time, probably, and that made her not want to talk to Julie again. It just happens sometimes, most of the time. 

The trailer door slams shut again after a screaming match Julie could hear between Max and her mom. Mainly Max screaming, but about what Julie doesn’t know. After living in a trailer park for so long, she got used to shutting out the noise of the other trailers. They all have the thinnest walls known to man and sound travels fast, but it’s better for everyone if they learn to tune it out. 

It’s bad enough living in a small town where everyone seems to know everything, they don’t need to be hearing what’s going on inside everyone else’s homes. 

Julie expects Max to go behind her trailer to where her dog sits behind the gate. That’s where she normally goes after slamming the door shut. But instead, the table creaks as Max sits across from her on the other bench. 

“What are you doing,” she asks bluntly. 

“Drawing a scene from one of my stories. I can’t seem to get the tone right.” Julie erases the people she had drawn in the foreground, they weren’t right. 

Max nods, looking unsure of why she’s even here. After their last interaction, Julie can’t help but ask the same question. “What is the tone supposed to be?”

“Tense. The story is about a family that seems normal to the reader, but there’s something off that they just can’t place. Until it ends and you find out that the dad was never actually addressed properly because he was a ghost the whole time.”

“Spoilers much,” Max jokes. It’s surprising, but not unwelcome. “That’s a cool concept though.”

“Thanks,” Julie puts her pencil down, deciding to try and figure out how to fix it later. 

“Did you hear anything before, when I was yelling at my mom?” Max blurts out, eyes darting away when asking the question. 

Julie shakes her head. “I try not to listen to what happens in other people’s trailers. You end up hearing things you regret. Like, a lot of sex.”

That makes Max snort. “I get what you mean.” There’s a comfortable silence that falls over them this time, like they bridged a gap that Julie hasn’t ever really before. “Could you show me your drawing, maybe I can help you figure out what to do.”

“Sure,” Julie shrugs. 

. . . 

“What the hell are you doing here, dingus,” Robin scolds him as he walks through the door of Family Video, head throbbing. “You said you had a migraine, get out of here.”

Steve winces when he fully opens his eyes to the bad fluorescents. “I called out last week for an obvious fake sickness, Keith won’t let me do it again, even if it’s real.”

“You look like you can barely stand, Steve. Go home. Actually, no, I’m calling Eddie to come pick you up.”

He waves her off. “No, no. It’s fine. I just need to drink some water and take more painkillers. I’m at the end of my last dose. And I drove over here just fine.”

Robin glares at him, her jaw clenched. “Fine. But if I see you pushing yourself too far across the limit, I am calling Eddie and helping him push you into his car to take you home.”

“I’ll be fine, Rob, promise.” He unscrews the cap of his water bottle and swallows two more pills. 

“And I’m turning off some of the lights, I don’t care.” Robin walks to the light switches by the break room and flips the switch where every other light turns off. Steve hates to admit it, but it did give him a little bit of relief. 

Compared to his other migraines, today’s ranks at about a three. He was able to get out of bed and stand, so that automatically puts it underneath an eighth. And when he takes his pain meds on time and makes sure to stay hydrated, he can make it through one six-hour shift. He probably would have called out if it was any longer, but he can do it today. 

And luckily for him, Thursdays tend to be slow so he’s able to lean on the counter for the majority of his shift while rewinding tapes. A tedious job that Keith would yell at him for not also doing returns while they were rewinding, but he left an hour ago so Steve could do what he wanted. Within reason. 

Halfway through his shift, there is a slight crowd of people as the school day ends always bringing in a few kids on their way home from school. The excess noise from the groups of teens makes Steve’s head throb more, or at least makes him notice it more. He takes a few deep breaths in between customers, trying to keep a less pissed-off face on. It might not work but he tries. 

As the crowd weans down, someone comes up to the counter, dropping a tape on it getting Steve’s attention. 

“Hey, Steve,” a familiar voice he can’t place says. “Don’t take this the wrong way but you look like shit.”

When he lifts his head, he sees Julie, staring at him with more concern than she probably wants to. They haven’t talked since last week when she showed up at his house. Not like he didn’t want to. But he didn’t have a number or an address to go to and waiting to see if he could catch her after school sounded creepy. So, he was waiting for her to come to him, but she didn’t, not yet. Maybe now he could say something, apologize for not trying to get her to stay more. 

“Hey,” he says, perking up a bit. “How are you?”

She shrugs. “As good as I can be. Uh, this might be insanely overdue. I was finally going through some of my old stuff and guess I never returned it.” She slides the tape across the counter. 

Steve picks it up, scans it, and immediately gets rid of the late fees. “You’re good.”

“What,” Julie looks at him confused. “I know I’ve had that tape for at least three weeks, there should be late fees.”

“For most people yeah, but the joys of knowing someone who is willing to cheat the system is no late fees.”

“And risk his job just to let the kids walk over him,” Robin interrupts, coming behind the counter. “Not you, the other kids,” she turns to Steve. “Go take your break, I got it.”

“There still a rush, Rob-.”

“And I can see you struggling from across the store. Go. Take. Your. Break. You absolute dingus.”

Julie looks at them confused. “I know I said you look like shit but are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he brushes off. 

“No, he’s not. He should be home but he’s an idiot who decided it was a good idea to come to work with a migraine.”

Steve rolls his eyes as he goes to grab his lunch from the break room. “I’m going to eat in my car, be back in fifteen.”

“Hey,” Julie calls out to him when he leaves the building. “I don’t mean to take up your break, but I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I know you didn’t mean for last week to go like that. It wasn’t fair for me to lash out like that.”

“It’s ok. I’m sorry you couldn’t stay longer.” He sits on the hood of his car, motioning for her to sit next to him.

She does. “Me too. I really hate it at that house.”

“You know you’re not like banned from coming over. I mean you don’t if you don’t want to. But as long as you don’t stay the night and don’t break curfew, Hop said it was ok for you to come over.”

She takes a moment to think about it. “I think I would like that.”

“I would too. I always wanted a sibling,” he adds on, trying to show her that he cares. 

“I did too,” Julie smiles. “I’ll let you get back to your break, hope your head feels better.”

“Thanks. See you around.”

Steve eats his sandwich from his car, taking a moment to lie in the back seat, throwing an arm over his eyes to try and give them a break from the light. When he gets back into the store, it’s a bit better, but still there. It’s one of the many life adjustments he’s had to go through after four years of going through the same thing over and over again, but he’s slowly getting used to it. 

“I saw you talking to Julie on your break, you two good?”

“I think so, she said that she might come over sometimes.”

Robin smiles. “That’s good. She seemed like a good kid. We talked a little bit when you were having your absurdly long talk with Eddie and even though she was kind of reserved, I could tell. Like she just gave me that impression, both in the night before and in that morning. What’s wrong you’re giving me that look when you feel stupid asking a question.”

“I haven’t made a friend under normal circumstances in years, Rob. How do I even go about this?” Steve asks, suddenly hit with the realization that he knows so little about her.

“I don’t know, things. I mean I know you said you didn’t get to talk that much when she was there the last time, so maybe just use what you learned last time and go from there. Also, if you think these are normal circumstances then I hate to break it to you, but it is not. Bond over your shitty father. Get the awkward getting-to-know phase out of the way. Something”

Steve shrugs. “Maybe.”

. . . 

Julie knocks on the door of the Harrington house for the second time in her life, but this time she is supposed to. At least she hopes. All her life she’s felt that wherever her father fucked off, she would never be accepted. Especially when she learned the circumstances of how she came to be, there would be no chance. She half expected that when her case workers finally located her father, he would give up the rights so fast and stick her in the system for two more years until she ages out.

Which in the grand scheme of things, wouldn’t be the worst since she can leave in a few years. But she would do anything to get out of that house and can’t imagine that the next one would be any better.

But there was a small glimpse of hope that she couldn’t help but start to believe in. Steve genuinely seemed interested in knowing her, interested in trying to have some sort of relationship. And he wanted to try too.

It wasn’t surprising really, he was the only family she had that actually seemed interested at all. Someone she didn’t even know about until a month ago, and never met until the previous week. But in the short amount of time that they actually talked, she just had a feeling that this might work out.

“Give him some credit,” Chief Hopper said to her before dropping her off at the foster home. “There was nothing he could do to stop me from bringing you back. I’m not going to tell you what to do with your life because God knows that teenagers never listen to me, but just give it some thought.”

As Steve opens the door and invites her back into his house, she can’t help but think that what he told her was right. She wasn’t mad at Steve, and she should give them both a real chance to do something before jumping to conclusions. Both of them deserved that.

“So,” Steve starts, leading her to the living room. “This is going to sound really stupid.”

“Why do I not like the sound of that?”

He snorts. “I don’t really either, but it’s all I got. We don’t know that much about each other, so I figured we could speed run some of those really stupid icebreakers just to get it out there.”

“To get the awkward stuff out of the way and start to find things in common. I get it.”

“Yep, exactly,” he nods. “So, things about me. I just turned twenty back in August. I’m not in college and don’t plan to be. I work at the video store, as you saw. My favorite color is green, I told you some of my hobbies. And that’s all I got right now.”

“Very interesting information,” She says sarcastically. “My turn, I guess. I’m sixteen, my birthday is in January if you didn’t catch that already. Uhm. I don’t have a job, but I wouldn’t mind getting an after-school one soon to start saving up early. I would like to go to college sometime, but I’m not sure if that would be entirely in the cards right now. My favorite color is blue. And like I said, my hobbies are writing and drawing, but I also like to read a good bit too.”

“What do you want to major in, if you did go to college? Do you know yet?”

“Writing, I think. I’ve been doing it for a while now and I really like it, and English is my favorite subject so I definitely want to do something with literature.”

“That’s really cool. I wasn’t the greatest in school, I tried to pay attention but a lot of the subjects just were hard for me. But I always did the best in history for some reason. Or gym if we’re counting that as a real subject.”

Julie laughs. “Wow, you really were a jock.”

“I like sports and for a time, it was the only thing I thought I was good at.”

“And now? What else are you good at?”

Steve sinks back into the couch, taking a second to think. “I like to think I’m a good cook. I’ve been alone really since high school, so I learned how to cook. Probably not the best in the world, but I like doing it, and it’s fun.”

“What do you mean by really alone?” She asks. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to. I was just curious.”

He laughs, like what he just said wasn’t incredibly sad. “I forget that not everyone knows. My dad always went on a lot of business trips, but for the first few years since I was born, my mom stayed home. Then she found out about his cheating, and went with him. After that there were nannies, none stayed for more than a few years, my mom always found something about them that pissed her off. When I started high school, she stopped hiring them. Both of them agreed that I was old enough to be home alone.”

Not like she’s too shocked, but to hear that her suspicions were right about Steve’s parents never being home hurts. She can’t imagine what it was like living in a home where the two people who are supposed to take care of you are never there.

“When did your mom find out about the cheating?” She’s hit with the sudden thought that it might have been around the time she was born, and she couldn’t help but ask.

“I was four, maybe five.” It takes him a second, but his eyes widen, and he sits forward, mouth agape. “Holy shit.”

“That’s probably not a coincidence, is it?”

He runs a hand through his hair. “It would be insane if it was. I thought she wouldn’t have known, that he kept it from her too. She must have found out somehow.”

Guilt hits her. He lived an empty life because of her.

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. It’s his fault, always was. He cheated on my mom constantly. On the rare chance that they were home, the screaming matches were intense. She knew of them, of course she knew about you.”

“I’m still sorry. You didn’t deserve to be left alone because your dad is a piece of shit.”

He huffs. “I’m sorry too.”

“How did you meet Robin? I never got to ask the other day.” She changes the subject to something different, hoping that it will bring them out of the weird mood that they landed in. 

“We worked at the same summer job. Scoops Ahoy, the ice cream place that was in the mall before it burned down. The one with the really terrible sailor outfits.”

Julie winces. “I remember those. They were pretty bad. And Eddie, when did you become friends.”

“Spring break, during all of the craziness that happened.”

She nods her head, letting him ask a question about her before they just start talking. It’s weird but nice at the same time. They strangely get along well and the conversations, while slowing at some points, keep picking back up. It’s feels natural, like it’s not forced. 

But then five o’clock hits and she has to head back to the foster home. He offers to drive her, and she accepts, loading her bike into the back of the car. The car ride isn’t awkward, even if they don’t talk the whole time. It’s comfortable, it’s safe. 

In the short amount of time that she’s known Steve, she can tell that he’s safe to be around. It’s just the feeling she gets from him. She’d be lying if she said it wasn’t surprising, but it’s not unwelcome. 

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Steve says, rustling in his trunk when he helps get out her bike. “I wanted to give you this,”

She takes the box. “A walkie-talkie?”

“Yeah. I use them to talk to the kids I look after and their range is like unbelievably far. So I figured you could use it to talk to me, if you wanted. Or to shoot a warning that you’re coming over. Just something.”

It’s weird, but she accepts it. “Ok, thanks.”

“Yeah no problem,” he shrugs. “I’ll see you around.”

. . . 

When Steve doesn't know how to feel about something, he tends to just not feel anything about it. Like this whole situation about his father, he doesn’t know how to feel about it. 

His father is a cheater and has been for pretty much Steve’s entire existence. There was no secret about that. He’s made his own opinions about that a long time ago, and just shuffled it all to the part of his mind that he doesn’t like to think about too much. Because it hurts too much to think about it all, so he’d rather not. 

But the truth about it was that Steve was used to how his dad was. He was used to the way he treated Steve. How there were barely any phone calls unless he did something that would affect his dad’s image. No birthday or holiday calls, barely even making an appearance during Christmas or Thanksgiving anymore. Just an empty house that was never really lived in enough to even have memories created, let alone any semblance of a life. 

It was just Steve, and he was fine with that. As long as he was the only person that got hurt. 

Even that logic was flawed as his mom has been hurt for years. But that was different, she was an adult. And even though Steve knows that there would be no way that his mom could leave without her reputation being ruined, she still has some responsibility for how he was treated. He never blamed her, but she wasn’t without blame. 

So Steve didn’t care that he was hurt, as long as he was the only child of Richard Harrington that was. And for the majority of his life, that was true. Except it wasn’t. 

And Steve had no idea how to feel about that. 

When Steve wakes up the day after Julie came over again, it’s like all of the hurt that he has tried so hard not to feel has come back to the surface. All of the hurt that he’s become numb to has festered enough to make his skin crawl again. The hurt that would make him want to act out and seek attention from people who never really cared about him, but he wanted them to. 

He stares at his ceiling, thinking about all of the times that he’s woken up just like this. Empty house, bare walls, not a soul other than himself to talk to. More mornings than anyone should have been able to experience. Where it happens enough that the numbers get so large there’s no point in counting them anymore. 

Steve knows that there are people out there that care about him. Knows that there are people that love him. His friends and the family he’s made through the past experiences of his life loved him and he loved them. But the fact that he had to make a family outside of his own just to be loved the way he wanted hurt. 

Parents are supposed to love their kids. At least that’s what it feels like. From what Steve’s observed through his friends and even in his job, families are supposed to love each other. Fathers are supposed to be there to play catch in the yard, moms are supposed to be there to provide a hug that cures all tears. They are supposed to be home, not shove their kids off on someone else. 

It took a long time for Steve to realize that his family was broken and he couldn’t fix it. That one more party wouldn’t get his dad to notice him, for his mom to come home. Making the team got him a phone call because it looked good on them, not because they were proud of him. Getting rejected from college hurt their image, so they cared. Their son refusing to get a job other than part-time at a video store hurt their image, so they cared. There was a scar on his neck that looked suspicious enough that it made people talk, even if it wasn’t true, but it hurt their image, so they cared. 

Not one time did they ever come to visit him during his many hospital stays. Not once did they even send a card. The birthday gifts stopped after the Beemer, and even then it was rare. They didn’t care about him, just what he could do for them. 

Steve was just so tired of acting how people who didn’t even really care about him wanted him to. So he wasn’t going to anymore. 

He gets up and ready, heading straight to his car without a second thought. Driving with a half-baked plan that is made out of a sense of rebellion and just generally wanting something. Steve wants something with someone for the first time in a long time, and he’s tired of holding himself back from it. Even if his dad would hate it, he’s stopped caring that he would. 

“Steve,” Eddie asks confused when he opens the door. “Everything ok?”

Steve nods, letting himself in. “Yep, everything’s fine. Great even.”

“You sure?” Eddie looks at him with a concerned face. “You seem really jittery.”

He is feeling a bit shaky but that’s not going to stop him. “I’m done doing things just because I think it will get my dad’s approval.”

“I thought you already were, but continue. This is good.”

“So I’m going to things that I want, even if I know my dad will hate it. I’m not going to hold myself back anymore.”

“Good, you shouldn’t.”

Steve walks up to him. “I’m going to do what I want, because I want it without thinking of what could happen if he finds out. He acts without thinking of me, why should I act with him in mind.”

“I really like where this is going, Steve, but you are still scaring me a little.”

He lightly grabs the sides of Eddie’s face, a shocked noise slipping out when he does so. “I’m going to do what I want to.”

Before Eddie gets the chance to say anything else, Steve kisses him. Harder than he should of but he doesn’t care. He’s wanted this for far longer than he’s realized and isn’t going to let that voice in the back of his head tell him that it’s wrong anymore. He already canceled their previous plans because of that, he isn’t going to do that again. 

After the shock, Eddie kisses him back, leaning into Steve’s touch and wrapping his arms around him, pulling Steve in closer. 

. . . 

Julie’s least favorite class is probably gym class. A bunch of kids wearing the same clothes, all of which have shorts that are way too short, playing some dumb sport that her teacher deemed important for them to learn. The only good part about the class is that it’s not co-ed, she can’t imagine the comments that would be made about her if the guys were in the class. 

But she has to do it, so she goes out to the gym, the cold air hitting her as she exits the locker room, clutching her middle and just begging it’s something easy today. She notices a girl in a wheelchair by the bleachers, another girl with short hair sitting next to her animately talking about something. It’s Max, Julie realizes. She hasn’t seen her in school since last year, or at all really. 

Not that they were ever really friends. They talked a few times, but never enough to form something real. And after a while, Max came outside in general less and less, always looking like something else was taking over her mind. Julie wanted to reach out and ask if she was ok, but never felt like it was her place to do so. 

And then something big over spring break happened that no one had a good explanation for, and Julie didn’t see Max again for a long time. 

“Do they really make you come to gym class if you can’t participate?” Julie asks, walking over to Max and her friend. 

Max’s eyes are slightly clouded over and she looks at Julie like she can tell that she’s there, but can’t see it. “Yeah, it’s pretty stupid.” Her friend leans over to tell Max who it is, a face of recognition forming. “Julie this is my friend Jane, she just moved back to Hawkins from California.”

“Nice to meet you. Odd to hear someone moving here instead of away.”

“We are happier here,” Jane supplies, speaking with certainty in her voice. 

“I thought you moved too. I haven’t heard anyone drive to your trailer in a few weeks. Thought you might have gotten out of that shit-hole.”

Julie clams up, debating whether or not to tell her. But she’d rather not get emotional in the middle of gym class. “I moved to a place on Cherry Street, that’s probably why.” 

Their conversation is cut short when the teacher calls everyone to the center of the gym to go over the rules. Her mind is everywhere but the gym. Racing thoughts of what could have happened to Max to cause her to be in a wheelchair and possibly blinded, from what she could tell. Only landing at the same spot all of her thoughts seem to end up for the last few weeks. 

She thought that maybe there would be a time when she could think of her mom without almost breaking down, but she couldn’t. It seems that every time someone mentions anything about her, all she can think about is the fact that she’s dead. That Julie is left alone without her mom, forever. 

All she wants is to remember her mom without crying for once. Think of the happy memories with that sadness old people seem to get when talking about their friends. A form of silent sadness that doesn’t cause her to want to rip her heart out. She seems to continuously wake up with sore, red eyes and a pain she has no way of stopping. 

. . . 

July 1986

A few different cars pull up in front of the Mayfield’s trailer, a bunch of kids around her age pouring out and going up the door. All of them cheering when it opens. She recognizes a few of them from her classes. They must have been Max’s friends. 

She hasn’t seen Max since spring break. The only answer that her mom could ever get from asking neighbors was that she was severely injured from the earthquakes and was hospitalized. For months, apparently. 

Max came home last week in a wheelchair. Some people had come over to help build a ramp to the trailer a few days before and showed up again when Max came home. She wanted to go over and say that she was happy to see her back, but it felt wrong for some reason. 

Julie doesn’t know a lot about earthquakes, but she knows that they don’t happen in the middle of America, let alone Indiana. And they don’t happen in the way that it happened here. The cracks in the ground weren’t on any fault lines, or near them at all. And for all of them to start from one location and hit city hall, wasn’t normal. 

Nothing that happened over spring break was normal. She had seen the same bunch of kids running around the trailer park a few days before the quake. And the string of murders that Eddie Munson was wrongfully accused of happened days before the quake. 

None of it made any sense, and Julie had no way of knowing what really happened. Some said this town was possessed by the devil, but that was evangelical Christian panic shit that claimed a board game was demonic. There was something wrong with Hawkins, and Julie wanted to know. But sometimes questions never get answered, and she had to accept that. 

Part 4

Tag list(let me know if you want to be added or removed): @homoerotictangerine, @mugloversonly, @thesuninyaface, @imyelenasexual, @anaibis, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @brainsteddielyrotted, @jackiemonroe5512, @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @cinnamon-mushroomabomination, @lolawonsstuff, @writingandmushroomdragons, @stevesbipanic, @sierra-violet, @steddie-as-they-go, @dauntlessdiva, @mousedetective, @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner, @zombiethingy, @connected-dots-st-reblogger, @that-agender-from-pluto, @allyricas, @cheddartreets, @devondespresso, @crypticcorvidinacottage, @queenie-ofthe-void @chronicpainstevetruther, @cheddartreets, @theupsidedownrealestateagent, @acidbubblegummie, @sirsnacksalot, @l0st-strawberry, @helpimstuckposting, @strawberry-starss, @freddykicksasses, @italianwhore1, @i-threw-my-name-out-the-window, @rageagainsttheapathy, @nuggies4life, @ape31, @whimsicalwitchm, @chrissycunninghamfanblog, @michellegilligan, @hippielittlemetalhead, @bridget-malfoy-stilinski-hale, @jaytriesstuff, @confused-stripes, @faeb1tch42069, @marklee-blackmore, @hel-spawn, @genderless-spoon, @mamafaithful, @estrellami-1, @starryeyedpoet17 @i-amthepizzaman

[docholligay]

Drunk Shakespeare

I’m not sure what else there is to say about Drunk Shakespeare* other than I think a humorous recap of a Shakespeare play in one and a half hours while one of the cast is drunk is a delightful time. 

The show is: Imagine me and a bunch of my drunk Lit friends are all trying to recap a Shakespeare play in a dive bar, one of us is already wasted, and we have gotten the rest of the bar to pay attention. You’ll have an excellent idea of what you’re buying tickets for. 

The room was small and intense--I think there were only about three rows to the back in total, and the room was the size of what I would consider a decent-sized restaurant, decorated as a library with the sort of color-sorted books that suggests no one in the family actually reads. We were seated in bench-style seating with a little cubby underneath, next to two young girls celebrating a 21st birthday. 

Birthdays are, as you might imagine, a common thing at intimate activities like this, especially in big cities. Hell, we were there to celebrate my mom’s birthday. But there was something about her that was so perfectly eager and artless, in the way some people are. She was telling the actors (who come around before the show to get a feel for who in the audience is willing to participate and be picked on a bit--more on that later--and who would prefer to stay in the background) how she was an acting major and how she had always wanted to go to this for her 21st birthday, had waited until she was 21. She was intensely awkward in the way that only people who deeply love a thing can be, and I was actually rather touched. 

Again, birthdays, not an odd thing, but anyhow, they do this auction for the king and queen of the evening, who get to sit in the throne, and wear crowns, and twice in the play get to, de jure, do a sobriety check and if they are deemed too sober, force them to take another shot. De facto, this means, force them to take another shot. They get a bottle of champagne--actually, if I was going to say I had one annoyance with this show, it would be that they gave the king and queen a bottle of decent midrange bubbles that was unavailable for purchase on their drinks menu. I had a glass of middlin prosecco, but I would rather have split a bottle of decent sparkling wine between me and mom wow I am abusing the FUCK out of this em dash, amazing--and we all have to call them by their royal name and they get to participate in the play and it all seems very lovely. 

They auction it off. 

This is where I would tell you that I won the royalty, and that I gave it to the little weird girl and her friend for her 21st birthday because she would enjoy it more than any person living. But, that didn’t happen, because I was outbid to a level i could not afford, and so the fantasy of being nice to a stranger will have to be just that. 

They only ever do plays that are well known to audiences, as there’s not a lot of point to doing Coriolanus jokes when most of the audience have no idea that’s a Shakespeare play. The biggies: Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet, etc, seem to be the choices here. As a practical matter, NYC is always Macbeth, unless google reviews have lied to me, which is great, actually, as I don’t need the element of surprise here and Macbeth is my mom’s favorite Shakespeare play. 

Who this show is for: 

Drunkards

English majors (Drunk)**

People who have never read a Shakespeare play

Drama nerds (Drunk) 

Attention whores (First row only) 

Moms from Worchester

Who this show is NOT for: 

Someone expecting a “real play”

People who don’t like to be around drinking

Moms from, I don’t know, Texas, probably

I don’t say that to criticize the show as I had a great time, but if you’re looking for a serious discussion of the bard I have to assume you can’t read, because this is anything but. The joking is often barroom joking, tits and sex and surface level political stuff that plays very safe to a New York audience. I had a great time, I think many people would have a great time, but I think it’s always important to frame who something is for, or not for. 

During the little entree in which the actors come around and talk to you, I had stated happily that I was quite the extrovert and very difficult to embarrass if you know nothing about me, so they could happily go at without any worry. During this time, I also got into a sort of play-argument with one of the actors when I was telling him Mom was very game, too, and extroverted, and he accused me of answering all the fucking questions and while in fairness, he had me there, I reminded him that I only occasionally let my mother out of the basement and so social interaction is new to her. It sounds aggressive on paper, but I assure you there are people in the world who tease around like this and I’m one of them, I had a great time with this guy. You can sort of see where this is going. 

We get to the scene with the drunken porter, and he’s played by the guy that I was having so much fun with before the show. He sees me, and for his speech comes over and says, “Helllooooooo,” and starts talking about his conquests and how drink “Provokes the desire but takes away the performance” and it is very funny, and he keeps saying my name, and doing knock knock jokes with me, because the door keeps knocking and knocking, the actress playing macduff yelling at the door. So he’s backing away from me, still talking to me, telling me:

“It is my job to answer this door--”

To which I reply: 

“Well, you’re not doing a very fucking good job of it” 

To which I gave great thanks to my lord and maker that I thought to reply that. I love getting a laugh like I love few things in life. Best part of the show because I’m an attention whore (See: Who this show is for) 

At one point the sobriety test bell was rung and they had the actress who was drunk balance a beer on her head and then, try to drink it faster than the lady, leslie, they picked from the audience. Sarah could not use her hands, they said, and so Leslie had to have a straw. This is clearly a very good party trick that Sara can do, to show how funny it is that she’ll be asked to take another shot. And it was truly amazing to see. I can’t believe she got the fucking thing off her head and had started to drink it in an INCREDIBLY QUICK amount of time. 

But. They were not counting on moms from Worchester. 

Leslie was a powerhouse. A monster. An icon for the ages the likes of which we may never see again. It is so so difficult to chug a beer through a straw. Nigh-impossible. Leslie cared not at all for this reality. She blew through it. She killed. Sara was laid to waste. I pledge allegiance to the moms of Worchester. 

In all, a very fun show, assuming you know what you’re getting and show up with the right mindset. It very much helps to be unserious about Shakespeare, or have the ability to be unserious about Shakespeare, and also to be a drinker. I loved it, very much recommend it, if you are that sort of person, and unlike most shows in NYC it has a tight run time so you can get on with your evening very easily or go to bed early or whatever your needs are. 

*Followed by me saying many hundreds of words. 

**Some of the language is Shakespeare’s and some, obviously, is off the cuff or jokes or whatever. My ONLY disappointment was that the very funny gal playing lady macbeth was doing the whole “I wish i were a man, I’d fucking kill the king, I wouldn’t be such a fucking pussy about it. I would use my huge fucking dick to stab him. You know, if I were a man.” thing and when she got to “Unsex me here” She waggled her eyebrows and it was all I could do not to stand up and go, “THAT’S NOT WHAT IT MEANS AT ALL”

[cutepastelstarsalior]

Clone high season 3!!!!!! Let’s goooooo!!!!!

Episode 1

Joan is being exulted from the group :( also Jesus is here!!! I miss him..

Omg roll call song!!! Joan pls let them sing. Jackie the ripper….. Grell Sutcliff vibes. Ohg Vincent!!!!! The blorbo…

Oh yeah, the new teacher is definitely suspicious, and that new guy and Harriet are totally gonna be a thing. For some reason Abe and JFK feel a bit off? Also the husbands…I love them.

His I forgot what it’s like to laugh at jokes in a show…

😔 rip to jfgosh….maybe…

Honest to god I too would also try to pick a color before graffiti it…I now love the bench creatures

The eyeball scene….gross.

Random person in the hat, I love you.

Why do people think Joan try to kill them? Like yeah, she throw everyone in a pit, but then they were led to a room to be brainwashed??? I can understand them think the pit would kill them or something but???? Murder?????

Episode 2

Cinnamon being a rising star of snorkeling but flailing, Mr b a sex worker who ran away from home…….the elements for a hurt/comfort fanfic are here…..👀👀

Maybe it’s just me, but this painting reminds me of Saint Sebastian. It might be the arrows?….

Marie….NooOOOOOOOO. (I literally screamed seeing her knees) tho it make me wonder, marries can fully speak with her head off. Can clone just, not die? Is this just silly cartoon logic, or can clone can lose body parts and keep going? If that’s the case then thats a major reason why Joan’s mom want to clones to be leaders, they could be physically be un-killable.

Everyone wanting to get out of their small rural/supern town….Mood. Pls pls pls let there be an indie type coming of age romance or friendship episode!!! Pls pls.

Abe going a sport team!! Again!!! JFK doing more sports!!! It’s cool to see Abe, JFK, and Confusious as a trio. And to see Abe not being romance focused, JFK too.

Vince trying out for cheerleading, Genghis too <3

It’s kind of weird to see Harriet as the cheer leader captain? I thought it would be Cleo since that more of a mean girl/popular stereotype? Harriet taking the mean girl role feels weird? Like last season she was a nervous theater kid who wants friends? Now she the cheer captain??? But also snappy. She the mean smart girl??

Cleo charter moment!!!!!!! Her caring about Frieda’s art and respect it!!!!

I love this episode

Episode 3

:( did JFK not have an accent anymore? It goes and goes..

Catherine the great x Anna Boleyn 👀 👀 oh that a cute ship!!! Also LGBT background characters let’s gooo!!!!!!

“I’ll happy let you take my virginity” Abe…ABE.

JFK not like the label “slut” :(

Oh my god is bi/pan jfk going be canon??? Also hella Abe x jfk vibes, nice

Christian rock…..do you think Jesus clone would be weird out by this music or like it?

Side note, Vincent isn’t an active Blecher Creature. So if he’s not that, not popular, is he middle ground? Are all the background characters just….middle ground?? (I’m thinking to much of the logic here)

Abe x JFK…:..boyfriends/QPR real <3

The whole “jfk didn’t want to do sex/be seen as a slut/want to do more things in life” is like, a good premise but the execution on this episode???? :/ idk.

Clone Cleo x 2 and cloe Frida x 3. 👀 👀

Oh neat, my thoughts about how other schools/people outside of Exclamation Point don’t know that clones exist!!!!

Abe did you puke that ring out or something else???

Episode 4

Oh neato, that how Harriet texts!!! It’s always cool to find out how fictional characters text and talk to people!! (That and it makes chat fic more realistic if you cope the canon way characters text)

The husbands have sex dolls of each other….👀👀

HE IS NOT THAT BUFF I REFUSE to believe that’s canon

Confucius breaking up with Harriet. I mean, I don’t think looking at another man is cheating? But it’s nice to know that is isn’t in the wrong or did anything bad, well beside the whole bear thing.

Episode 5

Oh, so Confucius and Jain are fake dating…

Oh my god there doing a manic pixie dream girl…

JFK and Abe nothing seeing and hearing the shoulder angels and demons…..👀👀

Mr B acting more human <3

SKUNKY POO IS A GIRL?????

Harriet’s dance outfit is cute.

Ok, Joan and Confusious talking by the water, then then dancing was super cute. Also Abe and Mary? They seems like a cute couple. Also skinny poo and cinnamon dancing in the rain was nice (wish it was Mr b tho… :( )

Oh nice, Harriet and what’s his name ended on good terms! I was afraid they were going to fight.

Ennui = a feeling of weariness and dissatisfaction. 👀 JFK having these feelings because the shoulder angel and devil aren’t there, representing inner conflict. 👀 👀

I really like Confusious’s character growth, he’s not into technology to find praise and company. He’s friends with Abe and JFK and him and Joan dating seems….healthy? Tho I do wish Joan stay single, 2 out of 3 seasons she’s been dating someone and it would be cool to see her be herself and do things she likes to do.

[takaraphoenix]

So DCeased ended, huh.

And I’m... it wasn’t the worst ending, but I’m also not happy with it?

After that amazing twist with Alfred becoming the Spectre, specifically to save Damian’s life, to save his last son (still kinda pissed that Cass is... just... not acknowledged at all as a Bat Fam member I mean she is alive?? She barely appeared at all in this run? And doesn’t seem to matter to Alfred and Damian at all?).

Alfred did this great thing to save Damian... just so Damian could now sacrifice himself for the universe. Wow. How satisfying. /s

And it was somehow made more infuriating by how dumb everyone around him seemed? Cassie not realizing that this was a sacrifice play. I’m sorry, but if someone says they have “a weapon” and “can’t tell you what it is” but leave you, their romantic interest, behind on purpose... then the weapon is them, it’s a sacrifice play, they’re not coming back. You don’t need to be Wonder Woman to figure that out, but also Wonder Woman should definitely be able to see through that.

It absolutely infuriated me how dumb this made Cassie look, on top of sidelining her. Not giving Wonder Woman anything to do in this final battle against EREBUS, the ancient GREEK deity of darkness. Really? You really did that? You made the Big Bad a Greek god and then you benched Wonder Woman?

But hey! Ares got to go and play! And the Black Racer! And... so many more guys. It was a real... sausage party up there. Oh, yeah, and Dinah, I guess. Wow. One woman, huh.

No, seriously, benching Wonder Woman here? And not letting Cass as Shazam do anything anymore? Making Cass Shazam had been such a cool move but then she kind of... never really... appeared anymore, aside from in the background? And I gotta repeat where I couldn’t hold my tongue earlier, because seriously. They made Alfred mourning Bruce, Jason, Dick and Tim such a big deal. And yeah, it should be. Absolutely. But... how do the women not matter at all? So Steph and Babs aren’t ‘family’, so their deaths don’t have that much impact (it would still be nice if they would have been mourned too, to any degree), but Cass is family and Cass is still alive and Cass is not included in anything. There are no moments between her and Alfred, between her and Damian. What the fuck.

The way Damian mentions that Cass is training the new Kryptonians just... reminded me that Cass exists - or rather, showed me that the writers remember that Cass exists - and that makes it somehow worse, I don’t know.

Speaking of the new Kryptonians, another underused female character really was Kara though. The way this series opened up around Kara, I... falsely assumed her to be a central figure and play a... bigger part... But... uh... she... really didn’t... I mean really didn’t. Even the reunion with Clark was kind of a throwaway moment that faded away and then she was gone, because untrained new Kryptonian.

But the severe underusage of its badass female characters aside, the sacrifice play.

I don’t believe that it was necessary. There’s no way, no way, that they couldn’t have found a better solution for it. That they couldn’t have delivered it on the damn USB drive that it was on, or whatever. Heck. Put it on a mouse and sacrificed the mouse, sorry, PETA.

But Damian had this whole arc over this series, and Alfred did this great thing to save him, and now we’re just back to “yeah I do everything on my own, and now I gotta die to save the universe, all on my own, without even trying to figure out a better solution with my team”, when one of the great things about this series was when there were all these great and different characters working together.

Also I honestly wish they had not included the part with Damian’s birthday and him turning eighteen. For one, it made the sacrifice much... sadder. He was just a kid, still. I had genuinely assumed that much more time had passed in-universe and that Damian was 20+ at this point. And the other part, it would have made the Damian/Cassie less weird if they had not gone out of their way to announce that, because she’s... Tim’s age, so five-ish years older than him. So it seemed like a bit of a choice to emphasize that.

On the overall? Man, that finale was a... letdown. Which sucks, because I really had enjoyed it so far. This had so much potential. It was great. I hate when something is amazing, but then... just doesn’t stick the landing, because a mediocre or bad ending can sour the whole story and this... did that.

So now Alfred haunts space, mourning his sons. The ending doesn’t fit the journey, in my opinion. It was always a journey of hope, Clark and Pam and Jason and Jon and Alfred everyone always projected hope to... get a new start. And, obviously there were losses, there had to be, but the literal final shot of this was Alfred, all alone, staring into a vast universe created by Damian’s death, thinking about his dead sons, thinking about the past. Not the hope, not the future. We don’t even return to Earth in this finale, we don’t even see them start to rebuild, we don’t see hope’s seedling, we don’t see a joyful future that Damian brings, we only the sadness. And that stands in contrast to this message of trying to find hope that the story kept telling throughout.

Hope? Hope would have been Victor Stone, who has the intellect of Brainiac and the knowledge of Apokolips, actually figuring out a better solution, instead of being robbed of his agency by a self-sacrificial teenager who got to explode into a new universe because they couldn’t think of implanting this into a mouse or something. It would have been seeing them all return to Earth, rebuild. Seeing what Harley and Pam have been rebuilding down there already, and those from Earth-2 finding their place back home. Seeing Alfred and Leslie, happy, with Damian (and Cass...). That’s what everyone has worked toward for this entire journey.

[heartbreak-sandwich]

CHAPTER TWO: YOU JUST HAVE TO MEAN IT

NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI

Part One if you would like to start at the beginning 💕 Part Three if you're ready to move on.

Chapter Two is SFW content (though later there WILL be NSFW content, therefore, the 18+ label) - here's slightly more background, but we'll get into some feels this time.

A/N: HERE IS PART TWO! This contains some feels, and I think this is a moment that so many of us have needed - at least I have. A little more background setup, and the next part will get the story moving a little more. I still don't have a title (*surprise*), but I think that will come along as the story unfolds. As usual, check the tags for hints on what's to come, and THANK YOU SO MUCH for reading, and I love you very much!!

Eddie scooped up the mushy green pile of guacamole on his plate with two fingers and flung it onto the ground with a glop. The street tacos were more than satisfactory for 25 cents apiece, and everyone was chattering about that night’s impending show with their mouths full and their hands greasy.

“What do you mean you’re not going to sing Pat Benetar?! Everyone loves Pat Benetar,” Steve protested, breaking out into a very unique rendition of “Shadows of the Night.”

“It’s not that kind of music, Steve,” you replied through a giggle. Steve gestured as if to say “whatever” and indulged himself in another taco while Eddie started refastening his rings to each of his digits, taking care to make sure they were all facing the correct way.

“Harrington, while I am no music taste basher, I will say that you are a pathetically poor judge of genre. What does the phrase ‘progressive metal music’ mean to you, dear boy?” Eddie broke out his Olde English accent for this question, and Steve knew it was only a matter of moments before you and Eddie both started teasing him mercilessly, and he didn’t have the means to defend himself against a Hellfire ambush right now.

“Well, it’s about time to get going back,” he managed to convey around his last bites of street taco. “You don’t want to be late for work twice in one day.” Your mouth fell open in mock offense as you backhanded him on the shoulder before standing up from the park bench you were all sitting at.

As the three of you made your way back up the sidewalk to Trax, you decided to share what had been floating around in your head since you left the shop. “It was kind of weird seeing Billy be so unphased about you running into him. You stepped right on his shoe, and he didn’t even complain. Not a single insult. Did you notice?”

Steve scoffed. “Yeah. That doesn’t make me any more glad to see him though.” He kicked a rock a few feet out in front of him, and Eddie took a skip forward and made the next kick.

“I don’t know,” Eddie mused. “I think something might have clicked in the douchebag. Tommy was trying to pay some kid to key my van when I picked Dustin up from school the other day, and Billy totally rocked his shit in front of everyone. Told him he’d be dead if Billy ever caught him trying to mess with me again.”

“What?!” you and Steve gawked in unison, both of you coming to an abrupt halt.

“And you didn’t think to, maybe, I don’t know, mention that?” Steve’s eyebrows almost met his hairline in surprise. “Dude, how could you not tell us this?” You could tell he was actually slightly offended, so you decided to soften the mood with an irrelevant question.

“And what was Billy doing in the parking lot of the high school?” You resumed the game of kick the rock so everyone would continue down the sidewalk again.

“Picking up Max is my best guess,” Eddie replied, taking his skip forward for the rock.

“Yeah, well, a few good deeds don’t erase a whole year of being a total prick to anything that breathes,” Steve grumbled, keeping his eyes on the ground and taking his turn to kick the rock.

“Out of any of us here, you would do well to remember that people can change if they want to, Steve,” you said, giving him an affectionate side eye. “It wasn’t even two years ago that you were King Steve, being just as much of a prick to Jonathan as Billy was to you. Give him some time. See what it’s all about. That’s my suggestion.”

Steve sighed heavily and gestured toward the front door of Trax as Eddie opened it for you. No one said another word as you entered the building, sloppy salutes signaling the end of the conversation, and the two guys continued on their return to Steve’s car.

–

Screeching tires alerted everyone in the Hawkins High parking lot of the arrival of a slick blue Camaro. Billy flicked his cigarette out of his window and saw Max swiftly approaching his passenger side door, her ginger hair flowing steadily behind her, skateboard resting on her shoulder. She slid into the seat beside Billy’s and clunked her bag and board down by her feet.

“Max,” Billy said dryly, keeping his aviator sunglasses fixed on the windshield in front of him.

“I’m not late,” she replied, a slight tone of annoyance in her voice.

“I know,” Billy stated, reminding himself to soften his jaw when he spoke to her. “I just want to talk when we get home, if you’re not, you know, busy or whatever.” Max just stared at him, incredulous.

“You want to…talk? About what?”

“Nothing, okay? Nothing until we get home.” The sharpness returned to Billy’s voice as he gripped the gearshift and peeled them out of the parking lot. Max was completely lost for words, but she complied with Billy’s instruction and tried to zone in on Ted Nugent’s “Wango Tango” for the trillionth time as Billy sped down the side roads to their home on Cherry Lane.

Max hurried through the front door and straight to her room to discard her things. She was eager to know what Billy could possibly want to talk about, but she was also afraid to ask. After everything they had experienced this past year, it could be anything, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for anything again. She turned around to find Billy standing in her doorway with his eyes down at his shoes. Why was he acting so weird? This wasn’t like him at all, and it made a hint of anxiety start to creep down her neck, giving her the shivers.

“Billy?” she said, unable to hide the concern in her voice.

Billy shuffled his feet where he stood and started to fidget with his sunglasses in his hands, still not making eye contact with Max. “I need to ask you something, and you have to swear not to make fun of me. I’m dead serious,” he said, his ocean blue eyes finally making stone cold eye contact.

“Okay. I promise.” Max’s voice shook slightly, and she took a seat on her bed to steady herself.

“I need to know how to apologize,” Billy admitted, his eyes falling back down to the ground.

“Apologize? For what?” He must have hit his head, Max thought. There was no way this was actually Billy talking.

“For being…ugh.” Billy let out a painful sigh and took the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “For making everyone’s lives hell this past year.” Max’s eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open in shock. He had apologized to her, and they had what she would consider a pretty fair conversation about their sibling relationship, but this was completely unexpected. He wanted to apologize to The Party?

“I mean, I guess you just…say it, you know? You just say it, and you hope for the best, and that’s all you can do.”

Billy was unimpressed. “That’s it?” he asked with a scoff. “That can’t be it. It needs to be more. Needs to be better than that or there’s no way in hell they’re going to take me seriously.”

“You just have to mean it,” Max replied, her eyes softening as she came to the realization that this was really important to him. She had never seen him like this before, and it was clear that he really felt remorse, and he wanted something to change.

“Max,” Billy choked, his voice breaking. A tear fell from his face making a tiny tap on his shoe, and Max stood up abruptly.

“Billy, it’s going to be okay,” she said, her own eyes welling up now. She had only ever seen him cry once.

“Max, I’m so sorry. I know you said you forgave me, and I know things have been different ever since July, but I’m just so sorry.” Billy was speaking softly through sobs now. “Max, I can’t be the same as I was. I can’t explain it. Nothing can ever be the same as it was before everything that happened, and I don’t know who I am anymore.” Billy brought his hands up to his face, covering his eyes as he continued to choke out words as best as he could. “I’m so sorry, Max. You didn’t deserve that. Nobody did. I need to make things right, but I don’t know how.”

“Billy.” Max stook a few steps toward him, palming his shoulder gently. “I know there has always been a part of you that wants to be good. I forgave you because I really believed that. All you can do is say it, mean it, and try. Just keep trying.” Billy reached his arms out and gave Max a firm hug. He had no idea how badly he had always needed to hear that, and in that moment, he found himself eternally grateful he had a little sister.

After a few seconds of the second hug they had ever shared, Billy let go, and Max took a step back, both of them wiping their eyes, noses red and puffy from the flare of emotion. Billy patted Max on the shoulder and pivoted on his heel to leave her bedroom. Max turned her attention to her backpack and mentally prepared herself to start her homework.

“Max?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.” Billy half smiled, and Max could tell his gratitude was genuine.

“Anytime.” She returned his half smile, and Billy sauntered away into the other room. Max found herself, for the first time ever, feeling really proud of her brother.

[arpov-blog-blog]

..."For Republicans, it’s a chance to capitalize on a once-in-a-generation map that massively empowers their base of rural white voters to build a sustainable GOP majority that could take a decade or more for Democrats to reverse.

The GOP, however, is already suggesting its focus may be much, much narrower.

Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell told CNN in May that the party is concentrating on a relatively small number of races where its chances of victory are greatest: Montana, Ohio and West Virginia — states where former President Donald Trump won by eight percentage points or more in 2020 — and Pennsylvania, where party operatives believe former hedge fund CEO Dave McCormick, who lost last year’s primary to Mehmet Oz, could make a formidable challenger to Democratic Sen. Bob Casey.

The rest of the map is at risk of becoming irrelevant.

“I don’t think anyone sees a real possibility for us in Michigan, Wisconsin and Nevada of winning those races,” said a Republican who has worked on Senate races and requested anonymity to speak candidly, referring to three presidential swing states where Republicans should, theoretically, be in contention.

McConnell, always known for choosing his words carefully, left the impression the party was all but giving up in some perennial battlegrounds, either because their benches are too MAGA or because McConnell can’t find the recruits that fit his preferred profile — a boardroom Republican with a business or military background who also has millions available to self-fund a campaign.

With just two seats standing between McConnell and a GOP Senate majority, the Kentucky Republican may not have to think that big to get what he wants.

“The philosophy of McConnell and his world has always been to think smaller, that you put all your eggs in the basket that you’re most likely to win, rather than going on the offensive trying to find new baskets,” the Republican operative said, noting that Republicans’ attempts at going big backfired spectacularly in 2022.

“We really thought it was going to be an opportunity to go on the offensive and win a big majority, and that didn’t work,” this person said. “So for survival’s sake, the party can’t afford to posture that way, because people are going to compare it to what happened last cycle.”

McConnell himself acknowledged there’s still room for Republicans to “screw it up” ― his swipe at the slate of unelectables who killed the GOP’s hopes for a Senate majority in 2022. Who could forget Oz, the celebrity doctor who didn’t seem to know anything about the state he was running in? Or Herschel Walker, who lied about having fathered two secret children? Or weird tech guy Blake Masters, who touched a political third rail when he talked about privatizing Social Security?

For JB Poersch, the president of Senate Majority PAC and a chief political lieutenant of Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.), McConnell’s comments revealed not a lack of ambition but an acknowledgment that there isn’t much the GOP establishment can do to avoid the nomination of politically toxic candidates in certain states.

“I’m not sure this is an exercise in interest as much as dealing with the minefield of Donald Trump and MAGA-right candidates,” Poersch said.

He added a note of caution for Democrats, whose own expansive ambitions have crashed and burned in the past: “There’s a lot about this map that remains unsettled. There are a lot of places where we don’t know who the [GOP] candidates are or what that looks like.”

Already, some top Republicans have passed on running rather than competing for MAGA votes or tussling — perhaps literally — for Donald Trump’s endorsement. Fortunately for McConnell this time around, Trump doesn’t seem to have much interest in playing kingmaker as he runs for president and confronts mounting legal challenges. But Trump could again blow up the Senate map for his party by elevating candidates based solely on their loyalty to him."

[the-infamous-coat-of-baron-zemo]

My Heart Is A Safehouse For You | Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Santiago Garcia x Reader

Word Count: 3,964

Rating: T

Summary: Set prior to the events in the Triple Frontier universe. There is a 3 year contract to obtain intelligence and dismantle as many cartel related activities as possible - hopefully leading up to toppling one of the most prolific traffickers in Columbia. Can the reader help the team decipher the cartel’s next movements, and will they possibly lose their heart in the process?

Notes: Taking all the background liberties with this one. Littering everyone’s backstory we know from the film and pretending the guys banded back together for a 3 year contract mission, that paid them pretty decently and kept them relatively at low risk.

Not beta read or proofread.

----------

Wednesdays were typically a training day. In the morning, the guys would fill their time with working out, breakfast, and heading to the shooting range out back. Then Tom would bring everyone around and work out what leads to follow or any recon that could be assessed for an upcoming op. 

If there wasn’t any new intel, then the guys would go off and do their own thing until later. 

Today was a pretty slow working day, which was a nice change of pace. You normally don’t join the boys when they workout, but you didn’t sleep the night before. Nightmares constantly plaguing your mind. So you were first out the door, getting an early morning run in. By the time you returned, the guys were in full swing with their routine. 

You enter through the side entrance, which leads straight into the gym. It must have been Santiago’s turn to choose the playlist for the day, because Metallica was blaring through the speakers.

As you walk into the gym area, you refill your water bottle from the filtration system. None of them had noticed you yet, since you were tucked away in the corner of the gym. Taking this rare moment in, you creep a bit closer. You lean against an edge of wall, sipping your drink and admiring the view. 

Tom was laying down on a bench, lifting some weights. Benny and Will were sparring towards the open space in the back of the room. Frankie was cycling, staring out the window with a view of the field. Garcia was furiously wailing away at a punching back in the opposite corner of the room. 

You could calculate they all had probably been at it for a good 45 minutes. Santiago had built up a sweat on the front of his chest and back. 

Normally you wouldn’t stare at them so openly, but none of them were facing in your direction - so you let your guard down a minute, Your heart always does a weird flip-flop inside your chest whenever your eyes land on Santiago. 

You really needed to find a way to get over him, but it was difficult since he - you know, lives with you. 

There was a lull in the music; so you decided this was your chance to make your presence known. 

“Morning,” you say, a bit louder than usual. 

Benny looks up from circling his brother and raises a gloved hand to wave at you. Will took that moment as an opportunity to knock his baby brother to the ground with a right cross. 

Ooooh. 

You suck in an invisible breath through your teeth. Ouch. 

“How many times do I have to tell you? Never drop your guard. Even with a beautiful lady standing on the sidelines,” Will chides his brother, but offers his hand in assistance to help him up. 

Benny bats his hand away in irritation.

“Beautiful, you say? Sounds suspect. You must want something from me today if you’re pulling out the big guns this early in the day,” you snicker at Will, amused with the situation. You mouth an ‘I’m sorry’ to Benny, as you walk up to them. 

Benny punches his brother in the stomach as retaliation. He just grins at you and waves it off. 

You wave at Fish and Tom, who have decidedly ignored the intrusion. Turning your head to greet Santiago, you notice he’s stopped working the punching bag and is aggressively tearing off his gloves, a scowl on his face. 

Who pissed in his Cheerios this morning? 

“Finish your match, I’ll be over here,” you voice to Will, as you change course and head towards Garcia. Santiago has now taken a seat on one of the benches along the wall. You decide to sit next him, handing him your water, “Hey you.” 

Garcia jerks, not expecting anyone to sit down next to him. He really was in rare form this morning for you to unnerve him. 

“You okay?,” you prod, still holding out the water bottle for him to take.

Garcia sits back and leans against the wall, taking the offered water.

“M’fine. Thanks,” he says, tipping the water bottle at you in appreciation.

“No, you’ve got your grumpy face on. What’s up?” you nudge him gently with your leg. 

“I don’t have a grumpy face,” Garcia mutters. 

You snort.

“Pope. I’ve known you long enough to know when something is eating at you,” you raise your eyebrows in response, cocking your head to the side.

“It’s nothing. I’ll shake it off. Just woke up this way.”

Okay, you couldn’t really push him. It’s very possible he didn’t get any sleep either, and you got the feeling, pushing his buttons wouldn’t be a very good idea. 

In fact, giving him some space, seemed to be what he wanted. 

“Alright.” 

Now it was Garcia’s turn to raise his eyebrows.

“That’s it?,” he questions.

“Yup.

“Just like that?”

“Just like that,” you calmly reply. 

“What’s wrong with you?,” Garcia suspiciously asks. 

“Lots. Probably,” you deadpan to him. 

The beginnings of a smile appear at the corner of his lips. 

You study Santiago as he starts to stretch his legs out. It looked like he was planning to say something to you, but sucks in a pained breath and clutches his left knee instead. 

“Knees aching again I take it?,” you inquire. 

Garcia concentrates for a moment before nodding, rubbing at his knee lightly. 

Not wanting to see Santiago in any pain, you move to sit on the floor, tapping his leg in the process, “Get down here.” 

“I’ll be fine. Just need a minute,” Garcia says. 

“Nu-uh. Not taking any macho bullshit today. Get your ass down here Garcia and let me help you.” 

“Yes m’am,” he murmurs, moving his body to the floor next to you. “What exactly are you going to do to me?” 

“I think I can help alleviate some of the pain you’re in. I’m not a doctor, but I’ve researched some methods that may help reduce the soreness you get after an intense workout or run,” you answer, scooting over to one of his legs. Your hands hover over the knee you’re sitting next to, “May I?” 

Santiago searches your eyes for something, but he nods, bracing his arms behind him. 

You lower your hands to his knee and begin to place your fingers over certain sections around the outside pocket of his knee. Pressure points that could relief pain and achiness for periods of time. 

Garcia tenses at first. You dart your eyes over to him, making sure he’s okay. He purses his lips together, but gives you the go ahead to continue. 

You move your fingers swiftly and apply pressure. You heard large exhales come from Santiago as you worked on him. Your fingers are pressing on the side of his leg right below his knee cap, when you hear Garcia moan.

“Oh, fuck,” Pope drawls out. 

You pause, glancing up at him.

“No - please. Continue, that felt amazing,” his chest heaving.

A tiny smile graces your lips before nodding and applying more pressure once again. 

Another smothered groan comes from Santiago. Fuck your life. If he keeps making these kind of noises, you’re not going to survive helping him and you’ll be the one in need of medical attention. You try to concentrate on his knee and nothing else. You managed to make it through the one leg and move to the other side of him to work the other knee out. 

Now that you had a better idea of what pressure points help to reduce the pain in Santiago’s knees, this one didn’t take as long. 

More moans come from Garcia, and you pray to whatever God is out there to end your agony. Why had you decided to do this?

Oh yeah, because you’re stupidly in love with him. 

You didn’t want to call Garcia out on his noises of relief. He’d only razz the shit out of you the remainder of the day, and you couldn’t deal with that. 

Thankfully Fish steps in.

“For fuck’s sake, Pope. Get a grip, you act like you’ve never been touched before.”

There were a chorus of agreements from the rest of the guys. You were facing everyone now, working on Garcia’s other knee, and you whispered a ‘Thank you.’ to them. 

“Que se jodan chicos,” Garcia says, twisting his head to the side to look at them.

Will, of course, was giving you a very pointed look. 

You shift your gaze to Santiago and notice his eyes are closed. Lifting one hand from his leg, you flip off the older Miller brother in response. 

He just huffs at you, throwing a towel in your direction. It hits your face. 

Because of course it does. 

You pull the hand towel off your body and toss it to the side, making a face at Will for his action. You move your hand back to Garcia, when he shakes his leg loose from you. 

Turning your head to meet his eyes, Garcia has that scowl on his face again.

“We’re done,” Pope says, tight-lipped. 

“I’m almost finished,” you respond quietly, not sure why his mood shifted so dramatically.  

“It’s fine,” Garcia tersely replies, jumping up from the floor to grab his towel off the bench.

Santiago moves to leave the room, before stopping to spin around, “They do feel better. Thanks.” 

And then he’s gone. 

“It wasn’t anything you did,” Tom’s voice floats over to you. 

“He’s been in a mood the past few days,” Frankie says. 

You hum in response. Unsure of how to take that information in. 

Getting up from the floor, you grab your abandoned water bottle from the bench. The guys start filing out, leaving you and Frankie alone.

“Hey, don’t mind Pope. He’s not mad at you,” Fish says, walking up to you.

“Do you know what’s bothering him?”

You see Frankie still momentarily, “It’s nothing. Just something Pope needs to work out on his own.” 

“I see,” you murmur.

“You going to the farmer’s market today?,” Frankie asks, clearly trying to change the subject. 

You flip your wrist over to read the time, “Hmm. Yeah, it’s still early enough, you wanna come along?” 

“Actually, yeah - I do. I’m cooking again tonight, and I’d like to pick up a few ingredients.” 

You perk up hearing this news. 

“Great! I’ll meet you at the car in 30?”

“Copy that. Wheels up in 30 mi rayo de sol,” Fish smirks. 

You laugh and lean into Frankie, pushing him towards the hallway. 

OOOOO

The farmer’s market was every Wednesday and Saturday. Usually, you went by yourself. It was a nice way to get out of the house from time to time. As much as you adore your boys, sometimes having a quiet moment to yourself was needed. 

Frankie was surprisingly good at picking out fruit and vegetables. He claims he’s practicing for his future wife, wherever she may be. 

It was a beautiful day. Early enough in the morning that the heat of the day was still a few hours off. 

You and Fish are strolling through various vendors, occasionally stopping to make a purchase. At first, you thought Frankie wanted to go out; so he could talk to you about Santiago without any prying ears or eyes around, but no such luck.

At one of the vendors stops, Frankie was bartering with one of the women selling a particular fruit he needed. You look around to the other shops nearby when you notice a man in a black hat, with a black scarf pulled up over his face, covering his nose and below. 

You don’t give much thought to him at first; however as Fish finishes up his purchase and the two of you start walking again, you see the man also starting to travel in your direction. You’re trying not to make eye contact. You keep your head lowered and shuffle up next to Fish. He walks parallel to you and Frankie from the opposite side of the street. 

Talking a chance on your hunch, you stop at a local vendor at the corner. The man in the dark hat, stops as well, pretending to have dropped an item. 

“Hey sunshine. you coming?” calls Frankie. 

“Yup, thought I might have needed something here. Sorry,” you shout. 

You turn to meet up with Frankie. You bow your head down and to the side to view out of your peripheral vision. The man also starts walking again.

This was not good. 

You hurry your steps to Fish, ever so slightly. Once you reach Frankie, you grip his arm and throw it over your shoulder.

“Uh, everything okay?,” Frankie asks.

You lean into Fish as he tugs you closer, jostling the bag in his other hand.

“I think we’re being followed,” you whisper to him. “Guy in his late 30s, black hat, black scarf, other side of the street.” 

You feel Fish take in a deep breath before turning his head to bury his nose at the crown of your head. He rubs the tip of his nose against you a few times, before laughing and tucking you further into his side. 

“I don’t recognize him, but you’re right. We’re definitely being followed,” Frankie replies nonchalant. 

You feel Fish’s posture changing. No longer is the carefree and fun loving man you know. Now, he’s more alert, tenser, critically taking in the area for more threats. 

“It might be nothing,” you state.

“It’s definitely not nothing.” 

You turn to peer up at Frankie, when he jerks you to the sidewalk with him. The force of the pull, causes you to stumble, but you recover and fall into step with him once again.

“On my signal, we’re are making a break for this corner, and will start sprinting. Understand?”

You swallow thickly, before nodding a couple times in acknowledgement. 

“3, 2, 1 - now.” 

You both turn the corner in normal stride, and then as soon as you’ve cleared it - start racing towards the next block. Frankie twists his head to check for our mystery stalker. 

Frankie pulls you into an alleyway and drops his grocery bag on the floor as you press yourselves up against a wall, listening for footsteps. 

You hear footfalls approaching, unfortunately it sounds like more than one person. Nervousness is creeping into your veins, and you try to calm yourself. Fish has bent down to peer around the corner trying to see if it’s the same guy following.

Frankie turns to you, lips in a grim line, shaking his head. You close your eyes and curse internally. Fish quietly makes his way back to you, back also pressed against the wall now. He holds up a finger to his lips in a hushed manner.

You nod. 

Frankie points to a gap behind the dumpster several feet down the alleyway. You both look out to see how close the men are. Fish makes a motion with his hand to start moving when you see the man who’s been following you both. Frankie grabs you and pushes you toward the ground.

The situation is much more alarming as you’re both out in the open. You only hope the men don’t search the alleyway. 

Surprisingly, none of the men walk down the alley. They give a cursory glance and keep moving forward. As they almost pass the alley, their backs are to you both now. Fish grabs your arm and gently pulls you up. 

Frankie makes a move to lead further down the alley, when you hear metal clanging on the ground and a pipe rolling into the middle of the street. 

You look down and realize Fish’s shoe caught on some scrap metal and released a pipe, causing the commotion. 

Fish swears silently and gives you an apologetic expression. 

Your head snaps up when you hear the tell-tale sign of a gun safety being released. 

“Run,” Fish said, his tone leaving no room for argument.  

You both sprint to the opposite side of the alley, hearing the first ping of gun fire ricochet off the wall you were just at.

Trying to run in a zag zag motion, you careen into the alley wall, Fish right on your heels. As you turn to him, you see one of the men point a gun straight at him. Without hesitating, you grab Frankie by his shirt jacket and yank him to you, dragging him against the wall. 

“Thanks,” he wheezes, wasting no time to grab your hand and keep running down the street. 

You point to an opening across the street, leading back into heavy traffic, “There.” 

“Let’s go.”

More gun shots go off, but thankfully miss. 

You hear one of the gunman stop to reload, and you and Frankie nod at each other this is your chance to make a break for it and cross the alleyway back onto main street. 

Sprinting as hard as you can, you both high tail it. You’re right behind Fish, hot on his heels when you hear shots firing again. Frankie looks back, and yells, “Move right!” 

Frankie makes it around the corner, and you jump over a basket in your path slowing you momentarily. You pivot to your right and move towards Fish. Another round of gunfire pierces your ears. You feel a slice across your upper arm, as you rush to catch up to Frankie. 

Now back into the farmer’s market, you work quickly to cross to the other side of the roadway, ducking behind cars and vendors in the hopes to lose your tails. Surely, they’d be more cautious opening fire with tons of people around. 

Frankie sees another alleyway to duck into, in between two shops. There’s a cubby where you both can hide in. It leaves you some field of view to spot your attackers. 

Your back is against the cubby wall as Fish is scanning the crowd. You can only see Fish’s facial expressions, but after a few moments he relaxes. 

“They’ve passed us. But we should probably hang out for a bit longer before getting out of here,” Frankie whispers. 

You bob your head in acknowledgement, noisily releasing the breath you’ve been holding. You raise your arm up, moving to thank Frankie but stop short, hissing in pain.

Bringing your other hand up to your arm, you grab hold of where the pain is coming from. When you pull your hand away, you see blood. 

“Shit. Hey, come here,” Frankie says, alarm coloring his voice. 

Fish tilts his head to look around and make sure no one is around. Once he’s satisfied, he gently drags you into more daylight to see your injury.

“I’m alright, Frankie.” 

“Yeah, it looks like a graze, but it’s bleeding a lot. We need to stop this blood flow and get you back to the house,” Fish states matter of fact, trying to hide his worry. He peels off his outer shirt layer and rips off a strip, wrapping it around your wound. 

“Thanks,” you murmur. 

“Pope is going to murder me,” Frankie faintly whispers, eyes tight. 

“What was that?,” not catching everything he said. 

Finishing his makeshift bandage, Frankie ties off the wrap. 

“We need to get back to the truck,” Fish relays. 

“What if we take a taxi back?” 

“Why?” 

“Well, we don’t know who these guys are, - what if they staked out our car. We could take a taxi back and then wait until we know the truck isn’t being watched and send one of the guys to pick it up and bring it back. That way no one person is associated with the truck and it might make them think they had the wrong vehicle all along.” 

“Anyone tell you, you’re a genius?” Frankie grins, the first genuine smile since your day had been derailed. 

You shake your head at him and give a light squeeze to his hand.

“Thank you.” 

“I think I see our ride, let’s get you home safe. I’m going to have the guy drop us off a few blocks earlier, so we can walk the rest of the way.”

“Sounds good. The adrenaline is wearing off. Let’s get the hell out of here.” 

You cautiously hop into the nearest taxi, and give directions for your drop off point. 

Once the driver arrives at your destination, you hop out of the car in a hurry. You do your best to keep a straight face, but your arm is beginning to throb.

“You still with me over there?” Fish saddles up next to you, arm hovering over your back in case you need the support. 

“I’m going to be okay Frankie. Like you said, it’s just a graze,” you smile reassuringly at him. 

As you approach the house, you motion to Frankie, “Let’s take the side entrance, I don’t want to drip blood all over the front of the house.” 

“Seriously?” Frankie scoffs. “You’re injured and you’re worried about the house?”

You shrug, smiling through the blood loss, “You know how I feel about blood in my house, Fish.” 

Frankie helps you inside and sits you down in the gym, while he moves to grab the first aid kit out of the closet. 

“Sunshine. Hang in there, I need to get the kit from the kitchen. This one doesn’t have what we need to fix your wound. I’ll be right back,” Fish says, jogging down the hallway.

You sag on the floor, back resting on the bench nearest to you. Glancing at your arm, you see blood seeping through, but not quite as fast as before. Feeling a bit light-headed, you close your eyes to rest a minute, trying to ground yourself. 

There’s a muffled shout from the hallway. You were unable to make out what was being said, but it definitely was some sort of heated exchange in Spanish. 

Hurried steps were coming closer to you. 

You roll your head to the side expecting to see Frankie with the first aid kit, but instead your eyes rest on Santiago, who’s crouching down next to you.

Gone was the grumpy attitude from earlier, his expression now shows something akin to panic.

“Hey - sweetheart. Can you focus on my voice? I need to stay awake okay?” Garcia softly says. 

You clear your throat, blinking a few times, “I was expecting Frankie.” 

“Yeah, well - I thought I’d give you something nice to look at while we wait.”

You know Garcia was trying to keep things light, but his voice was betraying him. He kept moving his eye line from your bleeding arm then back to your face. Always assessing. 

“I appreciate the thoughtfulness,” you reply, a bit more color in your voice. 

Santiago brought his hand up and began caressing your face from forehead to jaw.

“Are you in a lot of pain?” Garcia questions. 

You snort at that remark. Maybe it was the blood loss. You weren’t at 100%, which is possibly why you made the mistake of mumbling out, “Please, Garcia. I’ve been through much worse.” 

The hand on your face freezes.

“What did you say?” Pope whispers, eyes locked onto you. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, just realizing what you said. 

“Don’t worry about it,” you quietly express, resting your cheek in his hand. “Need a nap.”

“Fish, hurry up dammit,” Garcia yells, before dropping his voice again. “Hey - no nap time here. Later. We need to patch you up.” 

You hum at Santiago, but the events of the day finally caught up with you. Blinking heavily, you slump to the side, feeling Garcia catch you.

“Just need 5 minutes,” you murmur, slurring your words. 

Darkness creeps in, as you hear Santiago’s voice getting further and further away. 

You drift off, with the feeling of Garcia’s arms firmly wrapping around you.

-----------  

[arndylevinbarber]

Biscuit

Pairing: Jake Jensen x Reader

Rating: Fluffy McFluff!

WC: 717

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

It was always nerve wracking whenever Jensen was away for a mission. You would never know if he'll ever be able to walk through the door and yell out "Honey I'm home!" with that toothy grin on his face, bright red ears and arms spread open for you to jump into. You would often clean while he's away, constantly distracting yourself from your worries.

He'll be fine. He's fine. He'll come back home.

Cleaning and rearranging the house at least three times is fine, right? Working remotely with a setting that isn't strict on hours definitely helped you ease your nerves but distraction can only do so much. On most days you find yourself sitting on the couch, using the television as background music as you let yourself wander in your daydreams and relive the past where Jake was home. Mornings were composed of "We don't even have to do anything today B..." and the ever so classic line "Five more minutes..."

You missed the whiny voice of your adorkable puppy. You miss how he would always hesitate to ask you a question thinking that it's dumb or how it doesn't matter and you would always think of how people from Jake's past treated him and why he feels that every thing that comes out of his mouth is nonsense. Providing the big man with reassurance and making sure that you get to communicate how you are always so much more than willing to listen to his rambles and answer his questions because you're with him till' the end of the line.

"Biscuit?"

You hear but didn't pay much attention to. You're probably going mad at this point. Maybe Beyonce really did have a point for making "Crazy In Love". That sweet nickname that Jake has for you that had the silliest backstory to.

It was the first time you two met. You were just a bystander that he mistook as another person undercover. You were sitting on a bench, enjoying the view of the beach on a hot summer day with your iced coffee in hand while the other reached down to retrieve a biscuit when all of a sudden–

"Hey sweetie sorry I'm late."

He sat down next to you and noticed the pack of biscuits and helped himself to a bite before moving closer and wrapping an arm around you.

"Excuse me?"  You ask in disbelief, ready to pour your coffee all over the man.

"We don't have much time Biscuit, tell us what you know."

"All I know is I have a strong urge to dump my drink all over your face."

He looked shock which was ironic because you're the one who's beyond confused here. You just wanted to have a nice day to yourself, having a lil' snack while watching a beautiful view and in comes this man who thinks that–

"Shit... I'm so sorry. I think I got the wrong person."

"Yeah no shit goatee."

"What's wrong with my goatee?"

You felt bad. You didn't mean to make the man feel insecure for how he looked. You sneaked a look at him and you were greeted by a man filled with muscle who had a face that looked like he was a kicked puppy.

"Nothing, I just– fuck, I'm sorry. There's nothing wrong with your goatee. It was just weird how you did all that earlier."

"You're right... I'm sorry too but I gotta go now."

That was all he said before getting up to leave and you watched the man walk away scratching the back of his head and looking around while talking to himself. It wasn't until you looked down at your small pack of biscuits that you saw a piece of paper with a number scribbled on it.

"Smooth move, goatee."  You quietly mumble to yourself.

Things were awkward when you two met again, a mix of "No no you go first." since it seemed like both of you would think at the same rate and had awfully bad timing at talking but overall, it was great. It's been two years since you two first held hands and a year since the first kiss. Life with Jake by your side felt more alive with his energy and you wouldn't ask for any more other than for him to come back home.

"Biscuit?" You were forced out of your thoughts as you looked to where you heard the sound.

"I'm home."

[iwadori]

When the haikyu boys make you insecure PT 3(Osamu)

Part One Part Two  Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

word count: 1.2K

genre: angst,fluff

masterlist

Osamu

You and Osamu are recently a new couple

You are next door neighbours so you were always going around to eachothers houses (even before you were dating)

You were a great couple, with the love for food and cooking one the main things you have in common.

You started the day making yours and Osamu’s lunch. You were a dutiful girlfriend, he never asked or forced you to make him lunch for school but since he basically makes all your food whenever he comes around (unless your having your weekly cooking dates) imagine having Osamus food, you thought it was only fitting for you to return the favour. Especially since, he can get really busy with volleyball practice.

The bell rang for your lunch and you excitedly skipped over from your class over to the gym, where you see the boys already practicing.  

You wait at the door for Osamu to spot you and walk over to you (like he usually does) but today it seems he was lost in his own head as he didn’t immediately spot you. When Atsumu nudges him and points in your direction, Osamu only looks your way gives you a slight head nod then returns to practice.

‘Thats weird’ you think. So your efforts don’t to waste, you go to the gym bench and call Osamu over. He trudges over, with an expression on his face which read as ‘I want to be anywhere BUT here.’  

“Hey ‘Samu” you exclaim “I have your lunch for you!” you say handing him the box filled with his favourite foods. He mumbled a thanks and then stared at you, waiting for you to leave. “Well aren’t you going to try it?” you ask, looking up at him since he always at least takes one bite in front of you to give you his praises on how nice it is.

“Umm to be honest, I don’t really want your lunch today” he saids apprehensively “it’s a little...bland”

You mouth parts slightly in surprise, and you remind yourself in your head to NOT cry. Osamu, even before you were dating, has always been someone who you would want to try your cooking to hear his thoughts and opinoins and of course every one is entitled to their thoughts about things (especially food) but you didn’t know that he thought your food has been bland all this time and has been basically forcing him to take it.  

You’ve been making him lunch nearly every day since you’ve started dating for christ sake, and all this time he’s thought it’s bland? You think back to all the times you have brought lunch, it would be the same routine day in and day out: you come to the gym, hand him his lunch, he takes a bite, compliments you and you leave. Has he even been eating it all? For all you know, he could take that one bite and when you leave just dash it in the bin... But he couldn’t be that cruel. Right?

“Oh okay, no worries” you say solemnly, standing up to leave “see you later.”

It was obvious that you were a bit upset, and that’s one thing that Osamu wanted to avoid. He sighs and was going to do his usual routine of tossing your lunch away before Atsumu stops him,

“a little harsh bro” he says to his brother putting his hand on the lunch “do you mind if I have that, I forgot to bring my own today” which Osamu let’s him it’s better for someone to eat it then it to be wasted for the umpteenth time.

Atsumu goes to sit down to try your food, and after taking his first bite he is in love ‘bland where?’ he thinks..’Osamu is tripping balls.’ He definitely needs more of your cooking, how has he missed out on your great food for so long he finishes munching all your food before sending you a text,

Atsumu: Hey Y/N please please please please please please PLEASE make me some lunch for school tommorow!!  

Y/N: Sure ‘Tsumu, I'll bring it to you tommorow at practice.

You felt better after seeing Atsumu’s message, as you assumed he only messaged to make you feel better. Because if Osamu think’s your food is shit no doubt that his twin brother probably thinks that too.

The next day, you weren’t really excited for the day until you realise that one of the Miya twins wants your food... just not the one you wanted. Nevertheless, you still wanted to put all your effort into Atsumu’s lunch since it’s the least you could do.

When entering the gym again, your shocked to see Osamu patiently waiting for you at the enterance “Hi Y/N, about yesterday I-”

“Y/N!” shouted Atsumu interrupting his brother and running towards you “Did you bring it?” he looked at you like a dog wanting a bone.

“Bring what?” asked Osamu in the background

“Yes I did Atsumu” you say getting the lunch you made out of your bag “Here you go ‘tsumu”

“Thanks Y/N!” says Atsumu excitedly running over to the benches to eat it, leaving you and Osamu.

“Hi ‘samu” you say politely  

“Hey babe, about yesterday I didn’t mean t-”  

“It’s fine, everyone's entitled to their own opinion” you say, you look over to Atsumu as he is going in on the lunch you made him making your heart swell and ache at the same time, making you happy that someones enjoying your food but reminding you of the fact that Osamu hasn’t liked it for all this time.

“No, I was wrong I was really just being a dick and to be honest I’m not really apologising for what I said it’s just I said it and how long it took me” he said.

Not going to lie, you were kind of appreciated his apology you didn’t just want him to take back his words and lie about what he said and you were mainly mad about how he just said it to you and how he made you waste a whole bunch of food.

“ ‘Samu it’s fine, I'm still hurt by what happened yesterday but I think I'll forgive you if a certain someone provides me with lunch for the next month” you say making him laugh  

“That is doable, and I just want to clarify I do like the food you make just not all of it Y/N but I am sorry.”

“It’s fine, and even if you don’t want me to make you food I can always cook for the ‘better Miya’” you say mockingly making him ruffle your hair.

You did get Osamu to make you the rest of your lunches every day until the end of the year, making your days better as you got to taste his amazing food. Of course, you still had your cooking dates with you improving on your skills and making food that (in yours and Atsumu’s opinoin) was better then Osamus.. But you wont tell him that.  

Authors Notes: I really hated this lol, this is probably my worst one so far lol I am sorry how shitty and short it is and I PROMISE that part 4 will be better guys! Hope you have a good day <3

[pinkchanelbag]

pining (in peace). — kenma.

a.k.a., kenma “i’d tell her i like her but i’m sleepy” kozume.

— because things are actually pretty good how they are. because he likes (and really only has the energy for) taking care of you in those subtle ways. because he hasn’t begun prepping for the emotional charge and crippling fear of a confession. and he's in no rush. because, if he's honest, kenma feels like you'll be the one he ends up with regardless.

— constant hangouts that don’t feel like hangouts anymore. “hanging out” implies a start and an end to kenma’s presence in your day, which is like saying you pull all the hairs on your body out of their follicles at the end of every day and then re-place them in the morning. being around kenma doesn’t feel like hanging out with a friend. it feels the way blinking feels. 

— anyone wants to “talk to you in private”? their eyes will look over the brown-yellow mop sitting next to you, a short distance from you, or blended into the background, bent over a PSP or nibbling on some gummies or blinking at them like a people-watching cat. and they’ll have to mind him, as is clear when you say “huh? oh, it’s just kenma.” 

— he only realizes something is different with you when kuroo makes a joke about how kenma looks after you the way kuroo looks after him.

— in fact, it sticks with him so much that it idly wanders through his mind as he games into the night, and the next day when he sees kuroo, he asks him if his caring for you is unusual.

— “is that...bad? like, does that mean something?” and kuroo is grinning fondly at his oblivious best friend.

— like a good coach, though, he doesn’t just give kenma the answer. he points out that he (kuroo) takes care of everyone, pretty much, so there’s nothing unusual about him doing it. he points out that kenma isn’t like that, but vagues about how just because something is unusual doesn’t mean it’s bad.

— and that’s that...yeah, kenma thinks about it often and eventually does go “ohhh.......” but strangely enough, his realization that he has more-than-friends feelings for you doesn’t panic him much. he’s kinda like, “...weird.”

— don’t get me wrong; for a little while after he realizes, when he’s around you he becomes silently flustered for no reason other than his own feelings. he’ll catch himself thinking about how nice your hair looks that day and how you’re really nice to look at, then be like “yo stop.”

— but he falls easily into it, because kuroo is right: he does take care of you, and he enjoys doing it.

— like when the two of you are at your house after school and he’s looking through your fridge for a snack while simultaneously picking out packable-looking foods and tossing them at you, telling you to put them in your backpack. he doesn’t say—doesn’t need to say—that it’s because he knows you’ll forget to pack a lunch for tomorrow’s school day.

— or how he’ll never say it, but he prefers that you stay after school and wait for him to finish practice because he (usually with kuroo in tow) wants to make sure he accompanies you on the train.

— (especially after the time you called him right before practice, and how he got no response to his hello? but could hear the bustling of the train and your little voice responding to another—an older man’s. kenma couldn’t hear the man’s words, but his tone was casual, friendly. too friendly. too old. and you sounded scared. in an instant he hung up and called you back so that you had to visibly pick up a call, then told you to excuse yourself and move to the other side of the car, then get off at the next stop. and to stay on the phone with him , all the way home.)

— it’s why, now, he gets slightly frowny every time you say you’re heading home before him. you notice it, and it’s why you end up spending most days after school in the library or the picnic tables on the front lawn until the two boys come out to take you home.

— at school, in those free periods where you’re on the verge of passing out and kenma is playing his PSP, he’ll take off that practically statement oversized red hoodie so you can bunch it into a makeshift pillow and sleep next to him on the bench (he definitely doesn’t pause to look at you every now and then).

— kenma who has a cat (furudate told me himself) and when the two of you are at his house and you seem to be in a sad mood, he’ll lightly shove his cat’s bum in your direction so it’ll go cuddle with you.

— and when on the train or in free period or sitting on the grass somewhere, he notices the way you idly watch him play and he adjusts his hold on the PSP and his sitting position, sort of brings himself closer to you so you’re right at his shoulder with optimal view to watch his screen.

— he can’t help the sickly smiley feeling inside when you start asking questions about the gameplay, and he happily answers them in a soft voice close to your ear. if you really wanna make his heart ache, the way you lay your head on his shoulder after craning it weirdly to watch for so long will have him letting out the tiniest of lovesick sighs.

— kenma who won’t facetime you himself but will text you consistently and for long enough that you get tired of typing and call him yourself, and his heart stutters when he sees incoming call on the screen.

— he won’t talk much on those calls, instead choosing to listen to your voice as you go on about absolutely anything. if he feels like you’re becoming self conscious about how much speaking you’ve been doing, he’ll ask a question about the topic (he was listening to every word) to let you know he was invested, or bring up his own conversation topic so you wouldn’t feel like you didn’t let him “say his piece.”

— he’s sort of 😦😐 about the idea of romantic affection or intimacy mostly because he can’t see himself doing it; it’s a big factor of why he doesn’t make a move. the thought of him planning dates and kissing openly and saying things like “yeah, i was with my girlfriend.” it’s too unlike him. he couldn’t be that person.

— that was before you’d ever dozed off while on the phone with him.

— before he ever heard your sleepy voice that made something inside him go warm with a realization that hit him harder than when he realized he had feelings for you: he realized he wanted to hold you.

— or something like it. he wanted to be there with you as you fell asleep. instead of a speaker, he wanted to hear your voice through your own mouth. and if he thinks about your mouth, he knows he’ll wither away entirely.

— that was how he discovered the difference between liking someone and wanting them. not in a sexual way; feelings so strong that they could make someone want to cross the line between a crush and something more. to want someone enough that not being with them, not feeling along the lines of their existence and not being able to say all the things you think about them, hurts.

— kenma discovers what it means to ache for someone, and this is what panics him, because now, how can he not tell you?

— because he’s not the type of guy to hold hands in public or give compliments or consent to meaning something to somebody. but he knows, wearily, that he’d do it. if it’s you, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

— (yeah...maybe not so peaceful after all.)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

In between the city walls of dying dreams

This if for @buckyownsmylife​​ 2k challenge. I chose the character Andy Barber and the AU ex-con.

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series); somnophilia, drugging, breeding, oral, fingering.

This is dark! (ex-con) Andy Barber x shy!reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: One night, you’re saved by the last person you expect, but you don’t know that he’s only saving you for himself.

Note: So I woke up at like 4am and couldn’t sleep. My biggest mistake during my insomniac fits are scrolling tumblr and then I see a writing challenge and decide, hey I hate myself enough to write 6k+ words for a tatted up Andy Barber so here we are.

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The streets were shiny and slick as the rain pattered across the pavement and the eaves trickled loudly. The door of the convenience store chimed as you stepped out into the drizzle with a plastic bag hanging from your elbow. It was late and you were eager to be home after a ten-hour shift, your return delayed by your visit to the shop.

A man stood beneath the beaming ‘lotto’ sign and you kept your head low as you passed him. He kept his hood up but you recognized the grey sweater. You had waited behind him as he paid before you and offered only grumbles to the cashier. You weren’t too talkative yourself although the clerk recognized you from frequent visits. You only lived a block away and it was one of the only places open after your evening shifts.

Your boots splashed through shallow puddles as you passed by the alleyway you took in the daytime, keeping to the halo of the streetlights along the grimy stretch. You had no illusions about the neighbourhood and it often reminded you of its vices. If you kept quiet and faded into the background, it couldn’t eat you up. Living downtown meant that you had to learn to ignore the alarm bells in your head and just keep going. Be vigilant but don’t be bold.

As you cleared the mouth of the alley, you heard footsteps emerge behind you. You picked up your pace and gripped the strap of your purse slung across your torso. You pulled out your phone and angled it to see the shadow following you.

There was a shawarma shop on the next corner. You could hide out there until the creep got tired and left. It was your usual trick and the owner, Mo, was especially skilled at scaring away the rabble. 

The man got closer and you gulped. You would have to start running if he got any closer. You thought of swinging at him with your plastic bag, the bottle of vitamin water would give him a good knock. You walked faster and squeezed your phone as you brought up the dial pad. There was no one you could call who would get there fast enough.

You tripped and felt the hand on your arm. You were spun back against the wall and you threw your bag around to hit your accoster. It bounced to the ground as it was batted away and the plastic bag tore in half. The bottle of vitamin water rolled over the curb and your can of soup was dented on impact. The candy bar was tangled in the white plastic and you were trapped against the brick.

“Wallet.” The man’s knife slid from the handle with a threatening whisper. “Phone!”

He wrestled your cell from your grasp as the blade kept you from resisting. He cut the strap of your purse and yanked it free from your body. Shit. That can of soup would likely be your only meal for the rest of the week… if he didn’t stab you anyway.

You readied yourself for the worst but it never came. You were suddenly released as the man was shoved away from you and the blade clattered to the ground. The stranger in the grey hood kicked his ass so he sprawled across the pavement and bent to grab the blade. He retracted it and booted the mugger a second time.

“Stay down.” He warned as he knelt to pick up the can of chicken and rice and the dark chocolate. He fished the vitamin water from the gutter but the seal had broke and it was mostly gone.

The mugger groaned and pushed himself to his hands and knees. The other man stood and pushed down on his back with his thick sole until the attacker was on his stomach.

“I’m gonna crush your ribs if you don’t get outta here. Now.” He jabbed the mugger’s side sharply. “Go!”

The man scrambled up to his feet and wheezed. He stumbled away and the other watched him until he disappeared. Finally, he turned to you and held out your goods. You took them shakily and shook your head at the vitamin water. He bent to grab your purse and your phone and held them out in turn.

“You okay?” He asked.

You nodded and took them shyly. You never said much to anyone but even if you tried, you expected your voice wouldn’t rise. You huffed at the broken strap of your bag and the scratch across the back of your phone. The screen protector was a spider web of cracks and you were thankful it wasn’t entirely fucked.

You clung to everything and warily sidestepped the man. You dropped the wet bottle in the stinking bin behind him and turned back. You looked at him and froze. He was taller and broader than the man who attacked you. He still held the knife and could do worse.

“Thank you,” you mumbled.

“It’s fine.” He slid the knife into his pocket. “He didn’t cut you?”

You shook your head again. Even as his face was shrouded in shadows, you couldn’t look directly at the man. You never really looked anyone in the face, you often spoke to their shoes or the void above their heads.

“You live far?” He asked and again he received a negative gesture. “You want me to walk you? Or I can watch?”

Your eyes widened at the spatter of rain against the concrete.

“Miss,” he said with exasperation.

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” You whispered as if convincing yourself too.

You slipped past him quickly and he stepped back with a surprised stammer. Your soles slapped the pavement as you rushed away from him. You couldn’t be sure he wasn’t as bad as the other man. He might follow you home and try to get even further.

But he didn’t pursue you. You didn’t hear his footfalls behind you, only the steady fall of rain.

“Good night,” you heard quietly as you got to the corner. 

You didn’t look back and kept on around the bend. You sprinted all the way to your building at the end of the side street and fumbled for your keys at the door. You took a breath when you were inside at last. You were lucky but not many downtown were. That wouldn’t happen again.

🌆

After your close call, you didn’t return to the convenience store for several days and you only did so in the daylight. You had a rare day off and the spree of rain finally ceased. The sun beat down on the buildings and reflected hotly off the sidewalks. There wasn’t much to do, or much you could afford to do, so you didn’t do much in your free time.

You had to get out of your apartment, had to enjoy the nice day before you were once more trapped behind a desk. You walked up to the store and grabbed an ice cream bar from the freezer. You paid in change and claimed your treat with a tight-lipped smile.

As you approached the door, it swung outward and you retreated before you could collide with the other body. You muttered a sorry and stood aside as you waited for your path to clear.

“Hey,” the deep voice was familiar and sent a chill through you. “It’s you.”

You looked up at the man as the ice cream added to the cold flow through your veins. The same grey hoodie and broad shoulders. The man’s deep blue eyes shone beneath his tidy undercut and a thick beard trimmed his chiseled jaw. He was less sinister than the shadow you met days before.

Your eyes quickly flitted away as you remembered yourself and you looked at the door. You nodded as you cleared your throat. Speak, goddamnit.

“Thanks…again,” you croaked weakly. “S-sorry, I’m in your way.”

You tried to step around him but he was still firmly planted in front of the only exit.

“Wait,” he said gently, “Hey, I… don’t wanna seem weird but I was worried about you.”

“You don’t know me,” you said quietly to his shoes.

“Yeah, but that’s a scary thing to deal with.” His voice was firm but comforting, almost warm. Your eyes clung to the tattoo between his thumb and index finger.

“But…” you swallowed, your ice cream would start to melt soon. “You helped me. I’m okay now.”

“Well, good,” he said and finally moved. “I’m happy I could help.”

“Thanks.” You reached for the door but he beat you to it. He pushed it open and held it for you, forcing you to brush against him as you left.

“Be safe.” He called after you as the door chimed and you stumbled out onto the sidewalk, barely missing another pedestrian.

You crossed the street and stepped over the low hedges between the café and the pawn shop. The small park was oddly peaceful amid the chaos of the city and you didn’t mind sitting under the shade of the fragrant leaves. You sat at an empty picnic table and unwrapped the chocolate dipped bar.

You listened to the birds and watched the squirrels as you ate. You pulled out your phone but didn’t have enough data left to do much. You put it down as you licked clean the little wooden stick and shoved it back into the wrapper.

You flinched as a shadow blotted out the sun and you blinked up at the figure as it stopped before you.

“You again.” He smiled and your eyes fell back to the grass around his boots.

You crumpled the empty wrapper nervously and let out a nervous, “heh, yeah.”

“I’m not… following you.” He said and chuckled. “I know we kinda keep running into each other but I swear, I’m not some creep.”

You nodded and watched his fingers straighten. The ink on his knuckles made you nervous.

“Can I sit?” He asked.

You looked beside you as he pointed to the bench and you shrugged. “Could I stop you?” You uttered.

He turned and sat beside you. He took a breath and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a pack of smokes. He opened it and offered you one. You shook your head and he closed the carton, tucking it away without taking one himself.

“I won’t smoke around ya then,” he said. “I’m Andy.”

He held out his hand and you eyed it. Your lashes fluttered nervously and you squeezed the garbage. He waited patiently. You felt the heat on your neck and you reached to shake his hand. He gripped yours firmly and his strength made your wits flurry. You gave him your name and looked down at your lap as he let go of you.

“I don’t blame you not wanting to talk to strangers. Especially around here.”

You stayed quiet and twisted the wrapper around the stick. Your leg jiggled and he ran his nails over his jeans.

“Maybe you’re just shy and that’s okay too. I just thought, well, there’s a lot of shady characters around here and it’s good to have someone lookin’ out for ya.” He scratched his beard and leaned back against the table. “I just wanted to say that if you see me around and you need someone to scare off the other hounds, I’m more than happy to give them a good bite.”

You pushed your tongue against your cheek and stilled your leg. You nodded.

“Alright,” he stood and the whole table shifted with his weight, “Now, I’ve said my peace. You take care of yourself.”

“Thanks,” you wrung your hands around the bending popsicle stick entwined with the wrapped.

“Oh, and… I think I grabbed the right one.” He reached into his hoodie pocket and you noticed the awkward shape jammed into the pocket. He revealed the bottle and placed it on the table. “I’ll see you around.”

You stared at the label. It was the right flavour. You looked up and watched him head out along the path. He unzipped his sweater as he went on and pushed his hands into the pockets. You pinched your lip with your teeth and took the bottle of water. Maybe there were nice people in the city or maybe you were just that pathetic.

🌆

Back at your building, you were relieved to be out of the sun and the stifling humidity. It would be a rough summer and your box fan would do little to stave off the heat. 

After your run-in with your hero, you decided to take a walk and finished the entire bottle in your casual stroll around the paths and the little creek on the other side of the park. It was later than you thought when you got back and fought with the jammed key slot.

You opened up the inner door of the lobby at last and grunted with frustration. Not only did the slot threaten to bend your key but the door was heavier than you. You climbed the first short flight of stairs and grabbed the old banister to continue your trip up the winding case. 

You stopped as the platform above creaked and as another resident came down with a basket of clothes in hand. You stayed at the bottom to let them pass but as they descended, they stopped a step above you. Your name had your head up and your eyes, for the second time that day, met two stunning blue irises.

“I didn’t know you lived in this building,” Andy said as he cradled his laundry and turned to face you. “Small world.”

“I didn’t--” your words dwindled and you focused on the lip of the basket instead of his face. You didn’t talk to your neighbours, not since the old man had threatened to choke you in the lobby.

“I just moved in.” He said. “My first place since… well, the first place I’ve had to myself.”

“Oh,” you breathed and picked at your frilly shirt.

“Well, let me just get out of your way,” he angled away from the stairs. “I’ll probably see you around. Don’t hesitate to say hi.”

You nodded and gripped the railing as you continued up the stairs. As you reached the platform, you glanced back and he was still watching you. He smiled and finally turned away, heading towards the laundry room as he began to whistle. You climbed the next flight and took a breath.

Coincidences happened but you just couldn’t handle so many at once. Andy had been nothing but nice, he saved you from being robbed and he even replaced what he didn’t owe you. You just couldn’t believe it. 

People could be good, they could be kind, just not in the city.

🌆

Your run-ins with Andy continued. You passed him in the hall several times before you realised he lived on the same floor. Your suspicions were confirmed as you grabbed your take-out and saw him unlocking the door only a couple away from your own. You even managed to drop your fliers on his boots when you were grabbing your mails.

Each time, he was friendly and each time, you barely said a word. He was a curious man. His tattoos labelled him as dangerous but his demeanour was welcoming and compassionate. He was entirely off putting and you lived in the city long enough to be wary. And you were shy enough to be evasive.

You were tired after another late shift. The bus ride had you yawning by the time you reached your stop and your short walk to the building was less than enjoyable as the usual weirdos were out with the full moon. You shoved your key into the slot and swore under your breath as it refused to turn.

Finally, it pivoted and you yanked on the handle as the door behind you swished open and closed. A hand grabbed the side of the door and helped pull it back all the way. You peeked over your shoulder as Andy held it and you thanked him with a squeak before heading through.

He followed you a few steps back as you started up the stairs.

“You work late a lot.” He said from behind you.

“Yeah…” you said as you turned up the next flight.

“You work far?”

“Not very,” you replied as you turned again.

“Yeah, I used to be on nights and that was hell.” He humoured as you pressed on.

Your toe caught on the lip of the top step and you went hurtling forward. You tried to catch yourself and cried out as you landed on your wrist and felt an agonizing twinge. You hissed and turned over, holding your arm as it throbbed.

“Shit, are you okay?” He asked as he stooped to look you over. 

Your purse had landed in the corner of the platform and your flat had slipped off in your descent. Embarrassed, you lowered your arm and nodded. “I’m fine. Just… hopeless.”

“Here,” he took your shoe from the step and slid it onto your foot. “Hey, it happens. I almost did the same thing the other day.” 

He paused and you felt him staring. You looked him in the face nervously but his eyes weren’t on yours. You felt a tickle as he pulled your skirt back to your knee. You hadn’t realised how far up it had flown.

“Let me see your arm,” he said as you rested it on your leg.

“No, it’s fine, I--” You waved him away with your good arm and but he took your other gently and bent to look closer.

He tutted as he touched the flesh and you winced. 

“It’s swelling,” he felt firmly along your wrist, “I don’t feel a break but a sprain is a serious thing.”

“How do you--” you stopped yourself. “I’ll be okay.”

“You need to wrap it.” He let go of your arm and stood. 

He grabbed your other elbow and helped you to your feet. He stepped up onto the platform and scooped up your purse.

“You have something to wrap it? You’ll need the proper support.”

You shook your head. “It’s not that serious.”

“It is. You landed on it with all your weight. I’m surprised you didn’t break something.” He insisted. “I have something, I’ll wrap it for you.”

“Really, I can…” you voice fizzled as you tried to steady yourself. “I can do it myself.”

“But will you?” He kept his hand on your arm and guided you up the last steps to your floor. “Please, for my own peace of mind, let me help.”

You stared at the stained carpet as you stopped beside him. “Why?”

“Why are you so afraid of me?” He asked.

“I’m not-- I…” You frowned. “I just don’t know you. I-I-I’m just quiet.”

“I’ve tried to know you so why don’t you let me?”

You drew away from him and watched his hand drop. You stared at the tattoos and he curled his fingers.

“Oh, yeah, well, I guess I can start by being honest.” He sighed, “Yes, I’ve been to prison. I’ve been out for a year now, I’m finally off parole, I have a job, and I’m working to live a clean life. Is that it? You think I’m some goon?”

“No, I…” you looked at the floor again. “I don’t care about that. I’m just… I don’t know what to say to people so I don’t say very much.” You swayed nervously on your feet. “And no one ever really tried to hear me anyway.”

“Well, I can do the talking or we can both just say nothing, but please, you’re wrist, an untreated sprain can do a lot more damage.”

You tilted your head back and forth and another stab of pain went through your wrist. You nodded and looked to the wall. “O-Okay.”

“Alright,” he exhaled and nudged you lightly as he urged you down the hall. 

He stopped at his door and you waited for him to unlock it. You stared inside as he pushed it open. You didn’t really know him and what you did know wasn’t reassuring. He was a convict and you were about to be completely alone with him.

“Or I can grab the bandage and meet you at yours?” He offered.

“No, no, I’m… tired. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he said.

You entered and he followed. He put your purse on the small square table beside the shoe rack and you stepped out of your flats. He bent to untie his boots and left them beside your shoes. He urged you on and you looked around at the surprisingly cozy apartment. It was tidier than yours and smelled like fresh linen.

“I’ll be right back,” he gestured you to the living room and went down the short hall to closet at the very end.

You ventured past the couch as you looked around. There was a degree hung on the wall and you went closer to read it. You heard him searching the closet as you raised your brows at the framed certificate.

“Got it,” he entered and you turned away. “Ah, yeah, they disbarred me when I was charged but ah, well, it’s something to work towards. The old me.”

You bit your cheek as you stepped away from the wall and he beckoned you to him. He had you sit on the couch with your arm up as he pulled a chair close. He unwounded the beige bandage and placed the end against your wrist. He began to wind it around your arm and hooked it between your thumb and index. You watched him work and it calmed you. He pinned the loose end and placed your hand atop the cushioned arm of the couch.

“There.” He said as he sat back. “How’s it feel now?”

“A little better,” you pulled your hand into your lap. “Thank you.”

You stood awkwardly and played with the pleat of your skirt. “I should probably go.”

“If you want to or… I have some wine. It might help with the pain.”

“Oh?” You weren’t much of a drinker but you didn’t want to be rude.

“It was a gift from my parole officer since I can legally drink now. He said it better last me the next year but I haven’t even opened it. Don’t really have a reason to but… so you want a glass or should we say good night?”

You scrunched your lips and thought. You felt as if you owed him; for the night he chased away the mugger and then the park and now this.

“Uh, sure, but just a little. I don’t drink much.”

“No problem,” he stood and you sat back down.

He went to the kitchen and you listened to the clink of dishes and click of the cabinets. You looked down at your wrist and moved your fingers. Your wrist hurt a lot but the bandage alleviated some of it.

“I realised I don’t have any wine glasses,” he said as he approached, “So, I hope you don’t mind wine in a mug.”

He handed you a cup and sat down with his own. Yours had flowers around the rim and his read ‘Best Dad Ever.’

“Got ‘em from the Good Will,” he chuckled, “I’ve been meaning to replace them but you know, work.”

“Yeah,” you raised the cup and tasted the bitter red. You wrinkled your nose and he gave a low snort.

“Yeah, I never really liked cabernet but it was a gift,” he said and took a drink himself. “So what kinda work do you do?”

“I’m just a temp.” You tried another mouthful and nearly choked.

“Like office work?”

“Yeah, a floating secretary. Nothing special.”

“Mmm, yeah, I got a job down at the factory. Another favour from my parole officer but it’s not bad work.”

Your lips slanted as you thought. You didn’t say much but your face was good at filling the silence.

“What? Go on, ask it.” He leaned forward with elbows on his knees as he took another gulp.

You mirrored him and swallowed the sour wine. You wiped your lips with your sleeve and crossed your legs. “You said you were a lawyer before, isn’t it kinda… I dunno.”

“It’s different but it’s better than prison.”

“Yeah, I guess it would be.”

You looked down as silence laced the air and you didn’t know what else to do but finish the wine. You could leave then. You drained the cup and set it on the round table next to the arm of the couch. You blinked as you felt the buzz of the alcohol already.

“It might just be me, but that was strong,” you said.

“No, it is,” he put his mug down too, “like thirteen percent or something. I think maybe he was trying to sabotage me.”

You tried to laugh but it came out an awkward sniffle. You tapped your foot as you tried to think of what to do or say. 

“Well, thank you but I think I should--” You stood so fast you got dizzy and nearly fell back as you held yourself up against the couch arm. “Whoo, okay, I’m going.”

“Yeah, alright,” he stood too. “It is late, I guess.”

“Mhmm,” you focused on your footsteps as you passed him and he followed you to the entryway. You took your purse and faced him. “Thank you.” You held up your wrist. “I owe you.”

“Well, I wasn’t gonna say it myself but… you can repay me with one little thing.”

“Oh?” You pushed the strap of your purse up your shoulder as you slid your feet into your flats and swayed just a little.

“Finish the wine with me. I’m free on Saturday, we could order dinner and maybe watch a movie.”

You pouted in surprise and your eyebrows shot up. “Well, I…”

“Friends.” He said quickly, “That’s all. You pick the movie and I’ll bring the cabernet.”

You sucked in your lip and thought. He hadn’t done anything wrong to you. He had done more than he should have for you. And you were being stupid. He was older than you, certainly. The short greys poking out at his temples betrayed at least forty years and he was just another person trying to get by. 

“Okay, I can do Saturday. I work till five, just a half-shift.” You explained. “Should I meet you here or?”

“Yeah, we can do it here.” He touched your shoulder and his hand slowly slipped down your arm. He reached past you and turned the knob and pulled open the door. You moved closer to avoid it hitting you and smelled his woodsy cologne. “Have a good night.”

“You too,” you backed through the door clumsily, “thanks.”

“Saturday.” He pointed at you and then his temple, “Don’t forget.”

“I’ll… try.”

You left him and felt him watching you until you reached your door. You didn’t look back as you let yourself in and locked it behind you. You heard his own shut and let out a breath. What were you doing?

🌆

You couldn’t forget your promise to Andy. You never made plans. You were content to be alone and watch old reality tv shows and forget about your responsibilities. You hoped instead that he might forget and spare you another awkward encounter. You were never a social butterfly and conversation was like pulling teeth. It wasn’t that you didn’t long for companionship, it was that it was so impossibly difficult.

But he was waiting for you. As you passed his door at 5:46, he opened it and nearly had you jumping off your feet.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry.” He said, “Just a friendly reminder.”

“Yeah, I just need to get changed,” you fidgeted, “fifteen minutes, okay?”

“Take your time,” he smiled, “any thoughts on a movie yet?”

“No,” you cringed, “sorry.”

“Go on. I’ll be waiting. You can let yourself in.” He closed the door and you went onward to your own.

You pulled out your most comfortable jeans and a shirt that wasn’t too formal or casual. You changed and fixed your hair a little and switched your socks for less sweaty ones. You slid on some shoes and reluctantly left your apartment. You went to his and knocked before you dared to enter.

“So, uh, I know I said take out,” he called from the kitchen as you inhaled the scent of garlic, “but I got a bit carried away.” “Andy,” you kicked your shoes onto the rack and crept down the hall. “You didn’t have to--”

“I haven’t cooked like this in ages. Oh, and,” he turned as you peered in from the doorway and turned back with two wine glasses poured to the brim, “I got real glasses.”

“Wow, uh…” You took the stem and carefully held it so as not to spill.

“So how was work?”

“Slow.” You answered honestly.

“Saturday’s usually are,” he turned back and stirred the frying pan. “I’m almost done so why don’t you go look for something to watch and I’ll be out with dinner.”

“Okay…” you voice trailed away nervously. He wore a tee that exposed the rest of the tats that stretched up his muscular arms. You couldn’t help but stare at the skull that seemed to look back at you.

You went to the couch and sat in the corner. You sipped the wine and it still burned your nostrils and tongue. You set the glass down carefully and turned on the television with the remote. 

You curled your legs up under you habitually and flipped through the titles. No rom coms, that’s awkward, and no horror movies or he’d pull that old high school trick. Maybe a war movie? Oh wait, that one’s about lawyers, that would be good. Or it might make him sad. Hmmm.

You settled on a superhero movie and waited with the intro paused. He appeared shortly with two plates and set them down on the coffee table as he sat beside you on the couch and pulled it closer.

“Nothing too special. I made my own spaghetti sauce though, so much better than the jarred stuff.” He combed his hair back as he set out your cutler with a napkin. “What are watching?”

“I’ve never seen this one,” you said as you hit play and the title flashed up, “Have you?”

“Oh, I don’t really watch that stuff but hey, never too old to start.” He picked up his fork and leaned forward. “Hope you enjoy. I might be a bit rusty. My-- People tell me I put too much garlic in everything.”

“I’m sure it’s great,” you pushed your legs over the edge of the couch and sat forward. You took your cutlery and carefully spun the noodles.

You were thankful for the loud crashes of the movie’s opening scene as it meant you could eat and not have to talk. The spaghetti was good and compared to your usual quick and easy meals in a box or can, it was gourmet. When you finished, you wiped your mouth and took a long gulp of the wine without thinking.

You sat back as you grew engrossed with the superheroes origin story and nearly forgot about Andy until he got up to clear the dishes. You offered to pause and he bid you to keep on. He was back in a moment and leaned back beside you. You squirmed and reached for your wine again. The taste was less stringent with each sip.

As the hero readied to face the villain, you emptied the glass and hugged yourself as a warmth glowed in your veins. You felt a hand on your leg as your eyelids drooped and you slumped into the couch. You could still feel the fingers as your fly was unzipped and you groaned as your limbs would not obey you.

The noise of the final battle faded and a heavy weight settled between your legs as tickles lined your neck and jaw, a final hungry kiss on your lips sealing your consciousness.

🌆

Andy’s POV

The wine was potent but Andy was sure to add a little extra kick. Her nerves kept her drinking the dark cabernet and she couldn’t taste the crushed pills through the acidity. He could taste the fermented grapes on her lips though and she moaned beneath him as he rolled her shirt up her torso.

He sat back to make sure she really was out. He snapped his fingers in front of her face and tapped her cheek. She mumbled but only lolled her head. He was done being patient with her. She was so shy it was enraging. He did everything he was supposed to do and she still wouldn’t even look at him. Oh, but she would feel him.

He ran his hands along her figure and basked in the warmth of her skin. How long had it been since he’d felt a woman beneath him? He didn’t like to think like that; didn’t like to remember the past and all he’d lost. He was trying to rebuild and this was the first step.

His hands settled on her stomach. It wasn’t flat and it was bit squishy, he liked that. He closed his eyes and pictured how it would grow. He would be a father again, and a husband. He would be the man he once was.

He shuddered and opened his eyes. He stripped her shirt off completely and bent to catch her nipple in his mouth as it spilled from her bra. He reached around her to unhook the bra entirely and yanked it from under her. She twitched but could not wake as he sucked at her tit and then the other.

He recalled that night on the street when he chased off that other man. It wasn’t the first time he saw her, in fact he had followed her to the store. She didn’t notice him slip in behind her or that he paid for a magazine he wouldn’t read. He remembered how he resisted that night. How he wanted to put her against that wall and finish it then and there.

Her pants slid down her legs easily as he backed off the couch. Her panties tasted like her as he pressed his mouth between her legs. He slung her knees over his shoulders and nuzzled her through the cotton until she soaked them entirely. He pulled them aside and continued to coax her. She came as a ripple flowed through her body and he drank up her unconscious excitement.

He tore her panties down her legs and looked down at her with heavy, hungry breaths. He read that women were more likely to conceive if they were aroused. He swiped his shirt over his head and undid his jeans impatiently. He was incredibly hard and he needed her around him.

He bent her legs, one leaned against the back of the couch as the other hung over the side. He dragged his fingers along her cunt and growled. He shoved his fingers into her and spread them. She was so tight it made him throb.

He pulled out and grabbed his dick. He pressed his tip against her clit and rubbed circles around it. She muttered again and turned her head but he wasn’t afraid of her waking. Even if she did, she couldn’t stop him.

He positioned himself against her entrance and pushed his tip just inside. He gasped and bit his tongue. He could’ve cum at that. He snapped his hips against her and her whole body jerked as he reached his limit. She gurgled and he thrust again.

She clenched around him, her walls hungry for him. He rocked his hips into her and watched her squirm, her eyes flitting back and forth behind her eyelids. He bent over her and pulled her arms above her, holding her hands together against the arm of the couch. He fucked her hard as the entire couch jolted beneath their bodies.

“You like that?” He whispered in her ear. “Huh, this is what you wanted. What you were so afraid of.”

He grunted and bucked even faster. Her body reacted to his and as she came, her juices added to the noise of his intrusion. His flesh slapped against hers loudly as the movie’s effect faded into the background. He grabbed her chin and watched her sleeping face as he pounded into her.

“You want it. You want me. You want me to fill you up.” He snarled. “You want my baby inside of you. You want to grow for me.” He sucked on his tongue as his body began to tense. “I’m going to fuck my baby into you, you bitch.”

He buried his head against her neck and bit into her flesh as he came. He shook on top of her as he emptied inside of her and slowed. He whimpered as he stopped his hip and lingered inside of her. He sighed and panted as he fell limp over her.

“Don’t worry, we’re not done.” He promised her deafened ears.

🌆

You were sore and stiff. You were trapped and suffocating. As you rose back to the surface, you felt the weight over you and began to panic. Your thighs were raw but numbed and your core felt hollow. You tried to remember more than the taste of wine but it was all a fog.

You opened your eyes and felt along the shoulder against your chin. The tattooed skin smelled of sweat and you could barely move beneath Andy. As you tried, you felt him inside of you and squeaked. Then the real panic began and you couldn’t breathe at all.

You beat on his shoulders and he grumbled. You felt him growing inside of you and you flailed against him.

“Please, please, get off.”

He shook his head and raised it slowly. He sat up but brought you with him as he kept you around his hardening dick. He held you in his lap and watched you struggle with his tired eyes.

“What’s the matter, honey?” he asked languidly.

“What did you--What are you doing?” You shoved against him and yelped as he tilted into you from below.

“What did I do? Oh, you don’t remember?”

“Don’t remember? Let me go! Please.” You whined. 

“Come on, don’t be like this. You asked for it, honey.”

“Wha--”

“Oh, you really are a lightweight,” he whistled, “you said you wanted me. You practically begged me to fuck you.”

“I didn’t-- I--”

“Well, what do you remember?” He purred as he subtly rocked into you. “Huh?”

“I don’t--I can’t remember.”

“You really going to do this to me? Act like you never wanted it? Like I didn’t try to resist you, honey, but you wanted it so bad.”

“No, I…” you stared at the tattoo across his chest.

“Look at me,” he gripped your jaw and your eyes flicked up to his. He thrust into you as far as he could and you yelped, “Tell me you don’t want this.”

He bit his lip as he continued to fuck you. Your thighs clenched around his but you couldn’t escape his grasp.

“You look at me when I fuck you, huh? Yeah, look at me.”

You covered your face and he pulled your hands away. He twisted your arms behind your back and sped up as he bound you against him.

“It’s alright, honey, I already filled you up nice and good,” he cooed, “This. Is. Just. For. Good. Measure.”

He spoke between shallow breaths and your own heartbeat picked up. Your eyes welled as you couldn’t resist the waves and you came with a pathetic mewl. He pulled you close and turned his face up to kiss you. He nibbled your lip and growled as he came inside of you. 

You closed your eyes and waited for him to stop. When he did, he wouldn’t let you go. You fell forward and hung your head beside his as a sob lodged in your throat.

“It’s alright. It’s what I want.” He caressed your lower back, “You’ll want it too. You just need time.”