#i hope it really does smell like twinkies

[squishsquishy]

>> dainty.nugs

[alimaybankkk]

∞ 𝖋𝖎𝖌𝖚𝖗𝖊 𝖊𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 ∞

summary: are drunk words sober thoughts? your drunk self thinks so. after an argument, jj breaks up with you and it haunts you until you decide to take action on figure eight.

warnings: mad angst, addiction

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

————————————————————————

i miss the way the light danced in his eyes. they twinkled only when i looked at them or when i wiped tears from them.

no one else saw jj maybank as a kind soul.

“he’s nothing but a fool.”

“he hits and then he runs.”

“jj maybank is a criminal.”

but i did.

i still do.

perhaps if i never drank that extra drop of beer would i have kept him in my life. but i sipped hard that night at the kegger, going to mouth nothing but mistakes to the only boy in the world that catered to my needs.

sure, jj was a criminal. but i was too. we were criminals together. our favorite rule to break was ‘no pogue on pogue macking.’

but there was pogue on pogue,

and there was macking.

* i’ve laid every night of my life since that night of the breakup in my bed, wishing i was spending it with jj.

it does feel like he hit and ran. he ran, ran, ran away from me as soon as i said those old words to him.

they replay in my head every day.

“𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐲, 𝐣𝐣. 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐢 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.”

and every day i hear those words in my head, cringing every time at just the thought.

he’d raised an eyebrow.

“𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤.”

i’d giggled, putting a hand to his cheek and staring straight into his eyes.

“𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬.”

but those drunk words were not any sober thoughts of mine. i still don’t even know where they came from.

jj had nodded, thinning his lips.

“𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢 𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐟𝐟. 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐦.”

i pinch myself. stop thinking about it.

“𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐨.”

then i had turned to walk away, stumbling and tripping on the sand.

“𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤. 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐝𝐨. 𝐰𝐞’𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞.”

“damnit, damnit, damnit!” i scream, punching my pillow and cursing as tear cloud my eyes.

there is nothing i want more than jj. i miss his smell, his touch, his hair, his eyes and his lips that would kiss mine in the middle of the night and the lips that would tell me i’m beautiful.

i sob into my pillow, picking the wall. “how the fuck could i do this to myself? what is wrong with me?”

i turn on my phone. no messages from my best friends since the breakup.

it’s pretty evident they took his side, leaving me to wallow all alone.

but i’m going to change that.

* i pace on the sidewalk, stepping beside the twinkie as it pulls up.

i cross my fingers, hoping jj is not inside.

he isn’t.

sarah, kie, john b, pope and cleo step out with concern.

“hi,” i say awkwardly, expecting angry faces. they just seemed nervous.

“hey,” pope responds, scratching his neck.

“can we talk?”

they all nod, walking over to a bench right next to a neighborhood. i follow them.

“um,” i start, taking a deep breath. “i guess jj probably told you about what happened..”

they nod. john b sighs. “he told us everything.”

i bite my lip. “and just saying, you have every right to judge that i’m in the wrong.”

cleo shrugs. “i don’t really care. i just miss us being friends again.”

“i do, too. but i know you guys would choose jj over me.”

there is no protests. it’s just silent awareness. sarah steps up. “i’m sorry.”

i shrug. “whatever makes you happy, you know?”

pope swallows. “listen, i don’t want things to get better. i really do! it’s just… jj hasn’t been so reasonable.”

“i’m a bitch,” i mutter under my breath. “what’s he doing?”

“alcohol. weed. the usual. just… overly more constant.” kiara says.

“shit!” i cry. “damnit!”

john b frowns. “it’s taken a toll on you, hasn’t it?”

i nod. “yea. i hate myself so much. i just… i think i need to talk to him, y’know?”

everyone tries to get words out, but it’s only spluttering. pope is the only person to make a slightly coherent sentence. “it might be-be—um. best if you didn’t?”

“where is he at right now?”

john b sighs. “um, figure eight.”

“tonight’s midsummers. he’s going, right?”

john b nods. “he’s going. but i’m not sure if he’ll listen to you.”

i bite my lip. “the only way for me to get in is if kiara invites me.”

kiara turns her head. “i don’t know. i don’t know if i should.”

i grab her hands. “kie, come on! we’ve been friends since first grade. you HAVE to do this for me if you want to have that friendship back again.”

she freezes, then she sighs. “does anybody have a pen?”

i grin as pope reaches into his bag and gives her a pink ball point and she grabs a post-it note. she scribbles something out for a second and then hands it to me.

𝒊, 𝒌𝒊𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒂, 𝒊𝒏𝒗𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒚/𝒏 𝒚/𝒍/𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒊𝒅𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒔.

i hugged her, lifting my foot. “he’s working, right?”

she nods. “and wear a cute dress to make your ass look good. you know he used to fold over that.”

i try not to laugh, but i fail, slapping her on the back.

* sarah had come over to help me get ready.

i raise a necklace to the height of my shoulders, and then another one to the height of my shoulders. “which necklace? gold or silver?”

“with that red dress?” sarah asks, combing her hair out. “definitely gold. what are you even thinking?”

i sigh. “sorry, i’m not exactly a kooky fashionista. none of these kind of events have ever been offered to me. i’m a little nervous.”

she raises an eyebrow. “for being around kooks or being around jj?”

i giggle, turning around so sarah can put on my necklace. “and the dress? how does it look?”

i hear an exhale from behind me. “your ass looks good. jj will NOT handle you tonight.”

i suppress a laugh, hoping she’s right.

* i stand on the balcony with sarah who is biting her finger nails. “there he is.”

she points him out and my gaze follows. he looks so pretty.

i’ve never seen him that dressed up. i’ve never even seen him dressed up before, actually. he looks uncomfortable until he spots the bar, immediately turning to grab a drink.

my breath gets stuck in my throat and sarah has to slap my back before i breathe again. “you good?”

“yeah.. yeah, it’s just…” i stop myself. i can’t tell if it’s how he looks—breathtaking—or the way he chugs down beer after beer.

“he’s been doing that since the kegger. went straight back to the guest room at the chateau and just chugged.” sarah tells me.

i force a smile. “are you trying to make me feel guilty?”

she shrugs. “it’ll most likely be the only way for you to go down there and get your man.”

“i will. just give me some time.” i say and walk downstairs.

i avoid, at all costs, the bar. i even go near the bonfire and talk to some random kooks i’ve never heard of before finding kiara.

she’s dancing. she’s dancing with a random guy i’ve never seen before who really seems to like her. a little too much.

i gasp and pull her out of the crowd, bringing her into a little hallway. “kiara, what do i do?”

she squirms. “damn, firm grip!”

“how do i talk to jj?”

she shrugs. “just say any word and he’ll want to talk to you. you know how droolly he gets when you wear that dress.”

i bite my lip, trying to hide my smile, but i fail. “go. go dance, i’ll find him.”

she does so, running back inside to the man she was dancing with before. i straighten my dress with the sweaty palms of my hands before making my way to the bar.

i wish, for some reason, that this was a masquerade ball. anything to hide my face would be great. i spot a plant on the ledge of a table and grab it, hovering it over my face and continuing to walk.

i reach jj, who is smoking a joint right in front of me. i frown and grab his hand. he stumbles as i pull him away from everyone else.

still pulling him away from everyone else, i hear him chuckle. “there’s no need to hide your face, y/n, i can tell it’s you.”

i freeze and drop the pot as it shatters. i turn to him. “jj, can we please talk?”

he shrugs. “talk away.”

i take a deep breath. “jj, you are all that matters to me. i’ve spent every night since our breakup sulking in bed and only today have i decided to do something about it. figured out you’d be here and i did everything to see you because i learned that you’ve been drinking and—”

“who told you that?” he interrupted, clenching his jaw.

“the… the pogues. sarah really confessed to it, though.”

“damnit, y/n,” he groans. “it’s an addiction; it’s all because of you.”

i gasp. those are surely the worst words i have ever felt.

“maybe i am just like my dad, now, right?”

“jj,” i say, tears filling my eyes. “i was.. i was drunk, okay?”

he shrugs. “drunk words are sober thoughts.”

“damnit!”

“jj, please. you are all that matters to me; if not more. it hurts so bad. i have not gotten a full three hours of sleep since that night and it hurts so bad to do anything for myself. i cry for you, jj. i cry every night, remembering the words that i said.”

he had started crying now, too. “you ruined me!”

“jj, jj…jj.” i repeat, trying to find the right words. “i know. i’m going to help you, okay? i will do NOTHING but help you.”

he sobs. “i really am just like my dad.”

“you’re nothing like your dad. he’s terrible, okay? and you’re not. you could never be.” i pull him into a hug. i kiss his bicep, hoping he hugs me back.

reluctantly, he wraps his arms around me and kisses my head. “i’m so sorry. i’m so sorry i was so quick to get rid of you. i am so sorry i tried so hard to move on.”

“i’m sorry i got us into this mess,” i say, finally looking up at him. he lets out a sob once more before pulling me into a kiss.

“i was never mad at you,” he says, “that whole time, i only wanted you back. but i didn’t think you loved me anymore.”

“i do, jj,” i say. “i love you so much.”

“i love you, too.”

“and even though we’re not from figure eight, i will love you for what figure eight represents.”

he cringes and laughs. “i kinda get what that meant, but it was hella corny.”

i sigh, taking in the smell of him. this is definitely the happiest i’ve ever been.

[sleepynegress]

Like I said zawe is lucky and Tom hiddleston is the best and hes sexy you need glasses

Ahhh them. I'm gonna answer this nicely in hopes of maybe helping with growth? Love isn't "luck". What is initially physically attractive to many? Is often determined by what society tells you is.

I've been fortunate enough to have lived long enough to see "beauty standards" change. I remember when people didn't want BBLs or curves. I've seen the cute TikToks where moms would show their teen daughters the "hot guys" from back in the day and the girls would just go "Eww!". Figuring out what you really want, or don't, often comes with experience; the variety of people you get to be around and care for in life, and how open you are. Often "pretty" people become ugly through their actions, vice versa, and everything in between...

It's a whole package thing. In my deep MCU days, Tom didn't cross my radar because he came off as feeding on the attention and fame. I mean he was cute back then but in a twinky way, IMO. Boyishness makes me want to mother you, not think you're hot. But for the younguns I get it. The housewives? My lip is curling up and I'm side-eyeing a bit... at least for back then. Plus his fandom came off like too many I've encountered that treat white men and their characters like they are infallible, but need protecting somehow?.... Again it added to that little boy sense of him. Since then, (in my parasocial speculations), he's acquired some wrinkles and wisdom and learned that what he thought he had in all that Hollywood attention, wasn't "real" and now he actually does seem attractive because he's a grown man, now. Now, it's if Gene WIlder and Lee Pace could have a middle-aged baby, it would be Tom. All those things that drew such a following back then came off as performative and people-pleasing to me. The lack of boundaries, the talking over people, and going on and on... My grandma would have said he was smelling his upper lip. He was academically intelligent but often came off as socially naive, IMO, and I think most could infer the most naive stumbles he made in that era...*ahem* Zawe was one of many Black women from before I knew of Tom who I rooted for in the industry. ... Many of whom, you don't see much anymore, sadly. But the difference in their journey IMO & her accomplishments w/o the money, gender, and racial privileges her partner has, says a lot about the kind of character Zawe possesses. Again, parasocial! ... but I see a man who encountered a grown woman not enamored by or deeply entangled in the industry but had carved out her own path despite lacking all those things the industry demands you have to have, to succeed. A smart person would be impressed by that and her authentic kindness, sense of humor, intelligence, and joy in what she does...on top of being what he likes physically (we not gonna act like that man does not always ping or have the best onset chemistry when a leggy woman is around).

He's a leg-locked king (apologies or you're welcome for the imagery). He seems to be a gentleman and Zawe is not one of his little fangirls. They come across as equally enamored, and grown, and I would like to think they have a healthy loving partnership. Which makes them both extremely lucky.

[valeskakingdom]

since we were talking about candy in the groupchat, what about jerome and reader being at the circus or a festival and reader insisting on trying every candies and snacks? or maybe that would be jerome? haha (of course, ignore if you want to! :))

No it's alright! I think I do it before Jerome became crazy tho. Still I think I mention the abusive relationship and the big hatred Jerome feels for her. Get ready for a little surprise ahaha!

This time it's a very short one tho (my opinion)

Credit: @daily-joker

Jerome x Reader

Warnings: short mention of violence and abuse, otherwise none

Word count: 2139

It was 4ish in the afternoon.

You were excited - finally you see your lover again: the ginger circus boy Jerome Valeska. He meant everything to you, you couldn't without him. In your opinion you and him had almost the perfect relationship. You've never argued, you supported each other, helped each other... It was magical. Both of you, Jeromeor you, could never think it. You and arguing? About what? There was nothing to argue about. You know he would never cheat on you, nor would you. Your feelings for each other were way to strong.

But yes, as you've heard - your relationship was almost perfect.

The crux of the matter were your habits. You lived in a small apartment near the Narrows with a non exciting view to the outside - you just saw damaged houses, trash filled the streets, and just a few people walked outside.

And Jerome - he lived at the circus. Always travelling, always far away from you. Just at the beginning of spring you were able to see him, otherwise you were required to send letters - and you did it, day by day until you both knew everything about each other. You knew, he didn't like the circus - mainly because of his mother Lila Valeska, the snake dancer. In your opinion, she was a whore who abused his own flesh and blood. She was beating Jerome, yelling and punishing him for nothing. It made you cry, thinking your love of your life was living in such horrible conditions. Several times you offered him to live with him but he always declined. He said if he left his mum would find him and kill him. Then you offered him to move to the circus but even that he declined. He said he couldn't forgive himself if his mother laid a finger on you - kind of understandable.

***

You made your way quick to the circus. You didn't want to waste your time, you couldn't wait any longer to see you. You wanted to hug him, kiss the shit outta him, wanted to smell on his cologne that smelled like a mix of candies and the classy men perfume. It satisfied all your senses, you were literally addicted to it.

After you quickly parked in front of the circus, you made your way fast to enter it. You didn't even need to buy a ticket, every artist knew you as Jerome pretty little doll. That was the nickname he usually gave you when he was non stop talking about you.

On the entrance, you saw the Ringmaster seemingly looking for something. His head permanently moved from one side to another and he had a questioning look on his face. It changed though as he saw you. A little smile went over his face and waved at you, he had some empathy for you which was not natural.

"Great to see you (Y/n)."

"Thank you," you gave him a warm smile "Was just looking for Jerome."

"Might be in his trailer. Probably arguing with his mother again. I heard them yelling." He shrugged clueless.

You just sighed in response, you knew what that meant. You'd find Jerome being beaten up in his room, his pretty face was covered in bruises and he'd try to overplay everything although he'd love to cry into your shoulder.

Immediately, you made your way to his trailer, almost running. You hoped he was fine and nothing that bad has happened yet.

Your feeling was wrong.

You saw him sitting in front of the trailer. He was crawled into himself like a little girl that was scared of getting punched but one of its parents again - what a cliche.

You couldn't see whether he was crying yet or not - you just hoped he didn't.

You hope was all gone as you came nearer, you heard him sobbing and sniffing. Fuck, you thought. Your felt sorry for him, you couldn't stand him being so sad. It made you sad, you just wanted to cry. You couldn't see him like that. Your heart felt heavy, breathing became a burden, pins and needles were all over your skin, tears were built up in your eyes at you were trying to hold back.

"Jerome-" Your breathe hitched as he looked up at you - his eyes were puffy and red from crying and his face...oh lord. He had a black eye, a red swollen lip with a bloody cut You almost didn't date to ask. You knew he didn't like taking about it "Wha-what has happened?"

"Had a little argument with my mum and her one off bozo." He shrugged sniffing and looked at the ground.

You couldn't understand Lila, you couldn't understand anybody who ever abused someone like that. Did they have fun destroying someone's life?! Did she love seeing her son hurt?

Saying nothing you took a seat next to him. You took his hand tangling your fingers in your and rubbed circles with your thumb slowly as you rested your head on his shoulder. You tried to calm him down with that. You knew words were useless. You could start this typical encouragement like everything's gonna be better bla bla. You and he knew it was not true and making him falso hope wouldn't help at all.

You both said nothing for a while. You gave him time to clear his head that he could calm down. You didn't want to annoy him with any stupid words or thoughts as well.

"I wanna kill her." Jerome said all of a sudden "She should feel the pain she causes me."

You gulped in surprise. You've never heard him saying like this before, he sounded so serious about it what kinda scared you. Was he serious about it? No he wasn't, right? Jerome was too adorable to be a criminal. He was surely just upset about the stuff his mother does to him and he doesn't know what he's sayinh.

"I just can offer you to stay with me, Jerome. You'd be save, no mother, no violent bozos. There'd be just you and me."

"Soon I will. I promise." He wiped his tears from his cheeks.

"Just say a word and I help you packing." You just kissed his cheek give him a little smile. It was the first time he said this. Now you were assured he really wanted to do all these things you've planned once: Living together, a wedding, kids.

Jerome looked at you now. His gaze met yours, a small smile was built up in his actually face. He was relieved. He was thankful you offered him a place to say although the he permanently denied it. He was thankful to have you by his side. You were his only supporter, and the most intense one.

"I love you," Jerome grabbed your cheeks softly and pulled you into a deep kiss. You couldn't help but smile as your lips touched softly.

"I love you, too." You said against his lips with a smile making him smile, too. You were thinking now. What could you do to make him feel better? Sex was no option for you - well, not right now. You wanted to give him the feeling of freedom, that he could do what he wanted or that he could be a normal teenager like you. You wanted to do something stupid with him. Something like buying tons of food like trying to win the biggest soft animal or taking silly photos of each other. You just wanted to see him happy again.

Then you had an idea.

You grabbed his hand and pulled him after you while you both stood up. Probably that was gonna be one of your most stupid ideas but it was fun. It was childish. Maybe he would even call you dumb but you didn't care. You just wanted to make him love and letting him forget all his problems.

"What are you doing?" Jerome frowned as he wiped the last few tears out of his face.

"I wanna cheer you up, silly." You giggled and kept walking "Have you ever eaten every sort of candies here Or every snack you can buy here?"

"What?"

"Yes or no?"

"Uhm...no? What are you-..."

"Time for changes." You smirked "We now go buy every single candy and every kind of fast food they offer here. Then we go out anywhere and eat them all up and vote what's the best and the worst one."

"Are you serious?" Jerome asked on disbelief.

"I'm anything but joking." You stopped walking giving him a stern look "So you're in?"

"I don't know," Jerome shrugged with a sigh "I'm just not in the mood for anything."

Instead of saying something, you pulled him into a tight hug and buried your face into the crook of his neck. At first, he didn't hug you back, just stood there; sad, unmotivated, pissed. You didn't mind about it. You could understand how he felt. Being beaten up and insulted almost every day had to be horrible. It was a living hell.

After a few minutes though, you felt Jerome slowly wrapping his arms around. His head was leaned against yours, one of his hands was placed on the back of your head and his fingers were tangled in your hair. You felt how he pulled you more against him. He needed you, more than before - more than anything right now.

"I hate seeing you like that, Jerome." You mumbled "I just want you to be happy or at least forget all these bad things for a moment. I know it's hard, but I just wanna help you, okay?"

"I know...thank you for that." Jerome kissed your head, then looked at you giving you a little smile making you smile, too.

"Anytime for you," You pecked his lips "So...does that mean you're in?"

"Do we really have to eat all candies?"

"Yes! That's the fun on it," You chuckled "How about we rate the candies? Criteria are taste and consistence. C'mon that'll be fun!"

"Fineee." He rolled his eyes with a slight laughter. You were glad. You were glad seeing him smiling, hearing him laughing a little. His eyes weren't full of tears anymore, he didn't look sad not like he was about to have a nervous break down. He looked like the funny and happy Jerome you got to know.

***

"What about Twinkies?" You ask as you and Jerome took a bite in it as you both sat n the back seats of your car. You really did it. You bought every candy that existed at the circus. Pop tarts, Nerds, Sour Patch, Twizzlers...everything.

In your eyes it was a good idea doing that. Not because you were obsessed with candies, you just wanted to distract Jerome - and it worked. He was laughing more, he was making jokes, making you smile. Exactly how you wanted it.

"I would say...hm...taste is 7 out of 10, consistence 8." Jerome said thinking "Makes 7.5"

"I agree," You said giving him the cotton candy "Now let's try this." You both took a bite in it.

"Taste is 8 out of 10, consistence is...6."

"Really? Just a 6? It's an 8 as a minimum." You frowned in disbelief. He can't be serious, can he?

"It's too fibrous."

"Well, that's the sense of cotton candy." You rolled your eyes "You aren't a cotton candy type, are you?"

"I just don't like this one. Its just made bad," He grabbed the pop tarts opening them "Now let's try these." And again you both took a bite in it.

"Fight me but 10 out of 10! Both criteria!" You insisted instantly.

"Agreed." Jerome nodded "I think they are my favorites."

"Hm," You pursed your lips thinking "I can't decide between Twizzlers and Pop Tarts." You really couldn't. You loved the frosted chocolate in Pop Tarts, and oh the cookie! The cookie was amazing. But Twizzlers... You loved the strawberry flavor. It was perfect! Not too sour, not too sweet, not bitter. Both were your favorite flavors.

"Let's try them again." Jerome eagerly grabbed the Twizzlers pack and ate some "Definitely Pop Tarts."

"Are you sure? They are both so... delicious and-..."

"I'm more than sure," Jerome interrupted me with a slight chuckle "Trust me, Pop Tarts are the best."

"Okay fine, Pop Tarts are the winner." You smirked eating up the rest of Pop Tarts. You admitted, he was right. Pop Tarts ARE the best.

"By the way," Jerome started scratching his head "Thank you."

"Anytime." you smiled kissing his soft and red lips. You accomplished what you wanted - he was happy again because of your silly idea "And next time we rate fast food."

"I'm in."

[collecting-stories]

Boyfriend - JJ Maybank

Request: hii may i request💛 jj maybank x pogue!reader | reader is one of the prettiest, sweetest girls in the obx and one day some touron gets angry at her bc she rejected him and called her worthless, ugly, a slut etc and hurts her? then the pogues find out and get super protective, especially her secret boyfriend jj👀

A/N: This is literally like one of four ‘reader is assaulted/hurt’ requests.

Outer Banks Masterlist

✳︎ ✳︎ ✳︎ ✳︎

While a party was usually something you looked forward to, especially since it meant spending the night with your friends, tonight the boneyard was the last place you wanted to be. A party at the Chateau usually meant just pogues and whenever you crashed a kook party with Sarah or Kiara it was exactly that, just kooks, but a kegger at the boneyard always brought tourons around too.  

There was nothing wrong with the vacationers aside from the fact that they were pushy and assumed everyone else was looking for the same thing they were, a hookup. You weren’t, especially not tonight. You’d gotten to the party late and alone and all you were looking for was your boyfriend.  

You and JJ hadn’t told any of your friends that things had taken a ‘more-than-friends' turn after a party at the Chateau three weeks ago. Still a new relationship, neither of you wanted to hear your friends’ commentary on your choices. So you agreed, keep it quiet for now, which was why you hadn’t just arrived with him earlier.  

“Hey, you look a little lost.” Someone commented and you turned to find a guy standing there sipping out of a red cup. He looked around your age, maybe a little older. Tall, blonde, a little more built than you preferred.  

You nodded, glancing over your shoulder again, trying, at least, to spot the keg or John B. “Just looking for my friends.”

“You on vacation?”

“No.” You shook your head. This guy clearly wasn’t one for hints and you were trying not to be rude in case he decided not to be friendly but you dealing with some clueless touron was the last thing you wanted to do that night.

“No? So you get to live here all year long?”

Obviously. You wanted to roll your eyes at his stupid comment. “Yeah, all year.”

“That checks, I bet you look incredible in a bikini. I’d love to live here all year just to see you.” He said, stepping a little closer to you.  

Unable to resist, and hoping to god that this kid could take a more blatant hint, you replied, “my boyfriend definitely does.”  

“Boyfriend huh?” He asked, the way someone does when they don’t believe you.  

“Yeah...that’s who I was looking for.”

“Thought you were looking for your friends.”

“My friends, yeah, and my boyfriend.” You replied, repeating the word for good nature. God where was JJ when you needed him.  

Even at parties like these and even before you were together, he seemed more than capable of finding you no matter where you were. He would just appear next to you as if he had some spidey sense about you.  

“You’re fucking with me.” He said, practically laughing.  

Another scan of the party as you tried to find any of your friends, or just anyone who knew you, as you replied, “uh, no. I have a boyfriend.”

“You don’t look like the type.”

“What do you mean?”  

“You are not hot enough to have a boyfriend.” He replied. So the line about you being attractive was a lie. You knew that shouldn’t bother you given how gross this guy was being but you had to admit you were a little hurt that he thought you weren’t attractive enough to have a boyfriend.  

“What?” You stepped back and he moved in closer, putting an arm around your shoulders. You tensed at the sudden contact.  

“Come on baby, you don’t have to lie to me just to play hard to get. I’m just looking for a good time. You’re not gonna find better.” He said, face so close to yours that you could smell the alcohol on his breath.  

“Listen, I already told you I have a boyfriend, please, leave me alone.” You pulled away from him, trying to distance yourself. Just as you moved out of his grip he grabbed your hair, pulling you back toward him and making you stumble to keep your balance.  

“Let go.”

“It’s okay, baby, I’ll play along.” He said. “Keep you company till your imaginary boyfriend shows up.” He laughed, his other hand gripping your hip. He’d obviously dropped his cup.

“I do have a boyfriend.”

“There’s a lot of shit I believe but there’s no way somebody is gonna date you. Don’t lie baby, you’re just a fat, ugly, whore.”  

“Let me go.” You tried to move but his grip on your hair tightened. His other hand moved from your hip to the waistband of your jean shorts.

“Damn you really are fat, how long did it take you to squeeze into these.”  

“Please,” you heard your voice crack and wanted to curse at yourself. Couldn’t you just keep your composure for once. What were those self-defense moves that Kiara had taught you. God you couldn’t remember a thing, “please, just let me go!”  

“Hey!”

You shut your eyes at the sound of JJ’s voice. Your neck snapped back as he was pulled off of you and all the sudden someone was grabbing you and pulling you away. You opened your eyes to see that John B was holding you and JJ was standing over the touron that had been threatening you. He had seen you just as the guy put his arm around your shoulder and by the time he made it up to you he heard him, loosing it at the sound of you asking him to let you go. JJ had grabbed the back of the guy’s shirt and threw him to the ground before getting on top of him.  

“The fuck is the matter with you!” JJ shouted, punching the guy in the face, “I better fucking never see you around again!”  

“Jay, man,” Pope called, reaching for JJ’s shoulder to pull him away. “He’s on the ground.”

JJ let Pope pull him away, the guy scrambling to his feet and taking off. JJ looked over at you and then at his best friend, “that fucking douche put his hands on my girlfriend!”  

“Whoa what?” Kiara asked, looking between you two.  

John B looked passed you to Kiara, “not the time.”

“Right, sorry,” she muttered before reaching out for you, “are you okay?”

You nodded as JJ stepped over to you, John B letting you go so that JJ could put his arm around you. “Are you hurt?”

“No. No...I just, I just wanna go home.” You said.  

John B laid his hand on your back, rubbing up and down reassuringly. JJ kissed the side of your head and Kiara moved so she could meet your eyes, “do you want us to go with you?” She asked, “we can leave.”

“I don’t want you guys to-”

“There’s no way in hell we’re leaving you alone.” JJ said, “we can go back to the Chateau.”

“I’ll get the twinkie.” Pope offered, Kiara and John B going with him to retrieve the bus while JJ stayed with you, walking up the beach with you.  

“I should’ve been watching for you-”

“JJ, there’s no way you could’ve known.” You replied.  

“Yeah well, it’s never gonna happen again.” JJ promised, watching as Pope pulled up in the bus.  

-

Taglist: @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife  @freckled-and-daydreaming  @chasefreakinstokes@millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @damonsalvawhore27 @dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox@belledutchess @poguelifeeee @faded-blue @parkerpetertingle @thebookwormlife @summer-clouds-and-long-days @jellyfishbeansontoast @minigranger @hoewkeye @love-someone-special @tiredfeels @strangerthanfanfiction713 @the-only-nana @tomzfrog @mozz-are-lla@vindictive-hearts @poguestyleskye @ssprayberrythings @jenahbell@beautyandthebleh @gothackedalready @teenwaywardasgardian @sarahcxmeron @haha-fuck-you-thot @stillbelieve398-5 @rewindlr @queenniccimicci @kissessforharryyy@thedarkqueenofavalon @alytavzla @bqmblebee @linniep @nerdypartytrashpsychic@xxchxrryxx @spencer-reid-is-a-cutie @mirjanak @danielladreaming @obx-saltlife@youngestxhearts @spnobsessedmemes @wowitswondergurl @celestialmaybank @mybnkjj@pineappleandcherries @mysterious-adventurer @justawilddreamerchild @rhyetaylor62@calm-rejects @balletandyuzu @oh-annaa @aiifandomsunite @x-lulu @ceruleanjj  @wicked-laugh @obxwriterfan @allie-mcginn @pcterparxer @literarycharleton @khiaraaa-in-spacee@crushe-s @teamnick @daydreamlilys @collectiveuniverses @activist-af @mdgrdians@buckys-sunflower @vindictive-hearts @copper-boom @talksoprettyjjx @5am-cigarette@smiithys @dontjinx-it @outerbanksbro @mysticsthinking @heavenlymama  @rudy-pankow-needs-an-oscar @babymatilda @raekenliar @jolomez @timotaychalabae  @summerkaulitz @lemur46 @haute-shawn 

[snickletastic]

Tim Drake’s Online Dating Profile

Name: timothy jackson drake

Age: 18

Gender: male

Status: single

Occupation: student

Hair: black

Eyes: blue

Height: 5′7

Weight: 140 lbs.

Nicknames?: timmy, timson, timmy-toos, timbuktu, timbo, replacement

Favourite Colour?: red, probably

Favourite Smell?: mint, coffee, chocolate, muffins, vanilla, anything sweet

Favourite Food?: hate me all you want! hawaiian pizza is delicious you heathens!

Favourite Drink?: coffee and gatorade. well, not at the same time. on second thought, i’d be willing to try it...

Do You Smoke?: nope

Do You Like Animals?: obviously! pandas rock!

Do You Believe In Love At First Sight?: you know, i’ve never understood this question. what does this even mean? is it hypothetical? metaphorical? is love even real? these are all concepts. as a matter of fact, i read a conspiracy once..

Have You Ever Been Arrested?: no! nope! not me! nooo sirree. 

Have You Ever Had Sex?: virgin is my middle name.

Hair Colour Preference?: i don’t even care if you have hair, dude

Tall or Short S/O?: it doesn't matter to me 

What’s Your Zodiac Sign?: aquarius

Favourite Disney Movie?: wall-e. hands down. 

Favourite Movie?: i loooove movies! the matrix, star wars, spirited away, citizen kane 

Favourite TV Show?: maybe dexter or mad men

Favourite Dessert?: ice cream, twinkies, cupcakes, pie, chocolate, jello,

Favourite Candy?: skittles and jolly ranchers

Favourite Band?: coldplay

Guilty Pleasure Song?: okay you gotta admit, that yummy song by justin bieber does have a ring to it

Favourite Insult?: ever since i heard the word “snollygoster” it has been living in my head rent free

Favourite Dog Breed?: i like those basset hounds with the super duper long ears 

What Traits Do You Look For In A Person?: 

someone witty who can keep up with my family. intelligence is a huge must, if you like to read books then that’s even better. a person who likes board games or conspiracy theories or video games would be so fun to be with. the most important thing, though, is a kind soul. that sounded really freaking corny.

Do You Have Any Siblings?: 

i think it’s like...3? maybe 4 brothers? a couple of sisters here and there. it’s hard to keep track of sometimes. let’s see,,,dick, jason, duke, damian. then, steph and cassie. wait...is steph considered my sister? ...that’s...worrisome...i.. have to go make a call...i’ll be right back.

Where Do You See Yourself In 10 Years?:

i just hope im happy.

masterlist

[outerbankslut]

Sorry... Pope Heyward

Summary • After a fight between the Kooks and the Pogues you go to your friends to apologise but Pope’s not having it.

Warnings • Swearing? Maybe but I can’t remember and I cba to go back through. Mentions of violence (in the fight). If there’s anything else let me know :) JJ smoking as usual.

Word Count • 1.7k (Imagine)

Masterlist

(GIF isn’t mine, let me know if it’s yours)

    THE NOISES OF the cars engine knocked you out of your daze as you drove down the paved, sweltering streets of outer banks. The houses you passed a second ago were filled with perfectly trimmed bushes, the building decked in marble and stone with backyards for miles and a pool to finish it off. Whereas the houses you passed now were smaller and wooden, looking fragile almost. Lots of the yards were messier and lazier but they didn't have personal gardeners or the time nor money to do it themselves generally. It made your heart clench as you thought about how just a mile back you were living luxuriously while people over here slaved away to earn everything they owned. They weren't handed it like you were.

You were on your way to the cut to see your friends. But not for a casual hangout. You needed to see if they were okay. After the events of the night before you couldn't be sure what happened after you left.

Rafe has been involved in a fight between all the Pogues including you. No surprise there. He’d been the instigator of it all. It had broken out just you were all planning to leave and then the Cameron boy and the rest of his country club friends came over and joined in somehow finding fun in hitting and punching people due to the entitlement blinding their eyes from the truth that they were the same. Well maybe not personality wise in any way at all. But you were all human beings and yet you were pitted against each other from the day you were born. Only some succumbed to the amounting pressure of their kook or pogue parents to stay away from the other side others realised how petty and stupid it was.

It was always like a scene from west side story when the two groups were mixed and it never ended well. It usually left you to pick up the pieces of their messes. Or any mess of your brothers really. It had always been you. You taking responsibility for anything he did. Whilst he would go disappear and sniff a few lines before making his triumphant return you would be mending what he broke or taking the blame. Being younger than him didn't help with him manipulating you as a child. Rafe broke a vase and suddenly you broke the vase. Rafe stole money from dad since he blew his allowance on coke and alcohol and instead you stole the money. It had always been that way and by now you were used to being left in the wake of your brothers tyranny.

You always felt responsible no matter what happened. The events of last night where stuck in your mind like super glue and the guilt was filling up your lungs. It wasn't your fault. But at the same time it was. You didn't stop your brother, you let your friends get hurt by him. And they must hate you. Probably wish you'd never been let into their group.

The tires of your car screeched to a halt beside the Twinkie which occupied the space outside of the chateau. It was eerily quiet until you stepped out onto the grassy and muddy ground and heard muffled laughter from inside the wooden walls of the small fish shack. You could smell the after effects of a joint wafting through the air. No doubt it was JJ.

Once you entered the chateau the small creak of the screen door was enough to gain the attention of all the Pogues who glanced up at your presence. Only then did you see what was leftover from the fight last night. Kie looked at you with a small smile but you could see the light grazing on her cheeks and her hands that held the wooden neck of a ukulele. But yet she still seemed happy to see you. And then JJ who sent you a lazy smile as he inhaled more of the joint between his bruised knuckled fingers and the smoke covered his purple and yellow and green painted face but only for a second. Then John B who held a beer in his hands but you could see the blood surrounding his split lip and small cut above his black eye.

None noticed your small frown or look of quilt swarming you except from Pope who stared intensely and lingered on the downturning of your lips as you turned and caught his gaze. You could see the small cut beneath his chin and no doubt just like the John B and JJ he accumulated bruises on his stomach or arms. But he was wearing his shirt buttoned up whereas JJ laid shirtless and John B stood with his shirt open.

It hurt you the most seeing Pope. The multiple bruises and cuts adorning his normally smooth and unharmed skin. They were because of you. When Pope moved in front of you stopping you from receiving the backhand Rafe sent your way as you berated him to stop. He was the reason you weren't hurt. And you were the reason he was hurt.

Pope looked at you oddly as you just stood there letting out a sigh.

"Y/N?" He asked, his eyebrows furrowing in question. When you didn't answer again he stood up and walked over to you where you stood with your hands threaded together and rubbing in anticipation. "What's wrong?"

"I-I wanted to apologise to you last night."

The rest of the Pogues had turned their attention to you, JJ even stopped smoking for a second to listen. Your eyes were down trained on the wooden flooring as you spoke. Popes furrowed brows deepened as he looked at you slightly bewildered that you thought you needed to apologise.

"I'm sorry he hurt you guys. It was all my fault and I should have stopped him but I didn't." You let out a dry chuckle. "All of you got hurt and yet I'm perfectly fine." You shook you head and sighed. "But I'm really sorry."

Despite the nice welcoming from your friends you still had the deep rooted fear they would hate you after last night but the looks on their faces held sadness or confusion rather than anger or disdain.

Pope had seen you do this before with the group. Whether it be a Pogue and Kook fight or just a small thing when he'd been around your house, like accepting responsibility when Rafe forgot to pick Wheezie up from her ballet class or the time when you'd apologised profusely for Rafes mistreatment of JJ at his job at the country club. But most of those times he'd believed it to be a small courtesy of just being related to the problem or saying it like when you say you're sorry for someone's loss but it wasn’t like that with you. At least not this time.

You were apprehensive to look up to meet his but when you did you saw the boy let out a small scoff and you were ready for him to yell at you to leave and never come back.

"God! Stop apologising for other people! You're not the shitty one!" The Heyward boy exclaimed blowing a fuse which surprised everyone when Pope was normally the calm and collected one. Not all the time. But most.

And he wasn’t angry towards you but toward Rafe and even the smallest notion that what he did laid on your shoulders. You simply blinked in his direction not sure what to say at his outburst.

"Pope—" You started saying before you were cut off by the boy throwing his hands in the air.

"No I can't take it any longer. I can't watch you blame yourself and apologise for the punches Rafe throws or the shitty things he does. He's a bad person and you are not him. I don't give a damn if he's your brother, okay? Y/N you've never done anything wrong in your life and yet you keep apologising for everything he does. It's not your fault. I'll tell you a million—scratch that a billion times if I have to."

And once again you blinked but this time blinking away the glossy liquid in your eyes hoping to clear your vision. It was a different feeling having someone tell you it wasn't your fault for once. Popes eyes stared passionately towards you as you held his stare. You felt comforted just the the deep ebony colours of his eyes that focused on you.

"I still left you guys though after. I didn't stay and help." You told them and Kiara stood quickly, abandoning the instrument on the couch and placing a hand on your arm. You felt yourself sniffling. Pope moved his hand as well but lightly placed it in your own moving his fingers over your palm in circles soothingly. Letting you know he was there. Pope and you had definitely always been the closest in the group. If you ever needed someone Pope was always there. Whether it was someone to cry on or rant to, he was always there. And he definitely cared a lot about you as you did him.

"Hey, Y/N. You still tried to help us. That’s what counts. And we get it was overwhelming. We don't have to deal with psycho brothers. No offence." Kie spoke softly and you chuckled lightly at her comment through small tears that you were quick to wipe away.

"Yeah, Rafe is his own person and technically an adult he can take responsibility for his own shit." JJ spoke as he stood from his space on the couch joined by John B behind him.

"I still don't understand how the two of you are even related."

You shrugged a small smile growing on your lips that Pope noticed. "Me and Sarah both wonder that. A lot."

They all let out small laughs before Pope pulled you in for a hug and you nestled your head into his shoulder at his warm and enticing hold. He smelt of musk with small hints of aftershave and salt water. But most of all he smelt of home. Somewhere that would always be inviting and your one true solace from the world.

Note • Got my writing mojo back, kinda. And I used a prompt for this which helped a lot as well maybe too much. But uh so funny story I said it could make a cute blurb and one thing leads to another and I’ve written 1.7k words oopsies. I rambled too much and it’s trash and it’s also 2am so forgive me. But I need help I write too much unnecessary details in my fics and it makes it so long and probably boring. Anyway it’s✨trash✨but I hope maybe you enjoyed.

Join My Tag List Here • @starlightstarkey @rafecameron @starksweasleymain @jjsredhat @scandalousfemale @sguymon21 @bricksatanakinswindow @futuretaxcheat @wannabeslut @ad-infinitums @outrebanx @pit-zuh @pankowrudeth @jiaraendgame @outerbanksbro @copper-boom @alternativehp @brie-gr3y

[vivilove-jonsa]

Fluff/Angst Prompts #64 “What happened back there?”

This one is for @patritxi but Tumblr decided to eat the ask on me earlier :/  It’s my first attempt at this genre but I hope you’ll enjoy it.  

**

“What happened back there?”

“Apparently, we weren’t the only ones with the munchies tonight,” he deadpans.  Leave it to Jon to be so casual over running into a nest of Walkers during their supply run.

“You froze up.  You never freeze up.”  

When faced with the zombies that inhabit their concrete jungle these days, Sansa’s kind of 40-40-20 when it comes to flight, fight or freak out.  But Jon…well, it might take a week to draw him into a conversation sometimes but he never balks when it comes to action.

His back’s to her but she can see the way he tenses.  “Check Ghost for me.”

Sansa rolls her eyes but tends to the dog, methodically inspecting him for any signs of a bite.  She’s smiling before long as a big white tail keeps thumping against her side and she gets a wet snout stuck in her face more than once for a kiss.  

“You’re a good boy,” she murmurs, grateful that Jon had found the dog and convinced Robb that they should keep him.  His keen hearing and sense of smell has warned their group of danger more than once.  “I’ll share my dinner with you.”  

Ghost licks him chomps and she can hear Jon chuckling.  He’s been checking over their weapons in silence. That’s his job every night, among several.  

Sansa has a few jobs but not as many as the others.  Mostly, they tell her that her job is to stay alive.  And sing.  Jon had once casually mentioned he likes it when she sings if they’re feeling relatively safe.    

“We’ll stay here tonight.”

“Robb will worry.”

“He will but I told him we might have to shelter in place if we ran into any of them while looking for food.  It’ll be safer out there when it’s light again and he’ll forgive us when we bring all this back with us.”

“Okay.”  Sansa pulls out a can of the tuna they’d found at the abandoned grocery mart earlier, the one that had turned out to not be completely abandoned.  “Think these packets of mayo are alright?” she asks next, rummaging through her rucksack.

Jon opens one and gives a sniff.  “Yeah, they’re fine.”

“Tuna salad for dinner then.”

“Delicious.”

“Disgusting.  I hate tuna salad.”

“Too bad you didn’t pick up something more to your liking then,” he says when she passes over the box of stale crackers to go with the mixture of tuna and mayo.  “At least you got those twinkies for us to share.”

“Who says I’m sharing my prize catch with you, Snow?” she sniffs, enjoying his rumbling laughter in reply.

He leans into her as he eases his way down onto the cot they’ve set up in tonight’s hideout.  “You’re sharing because you love me, Stark.”

She does.  She’d never expected to love Jon Snow, not this way, but she does.  It makes her stomach flip and her toes curl up.  

It’s been two hundred and seventeen days since the world went haywire and there’s been a lot of adaptions to make in a short amount of time. Walkers are the worst this new world has to offer.  

And Jon coming back from Castle Black has been the best and most unexpected.

Straight out of school, he’d joined up and Sansa had been too busy with her studies and social life to care.  

But when everything went to shit, Jon returned and their little pack of survivors, twenty-three including Ghost, were much better off because of it.  Robb’s the nominal leader by agreement but Jon’s training and knowledge makes him invaluable.

Sansa’s never seen him falter in the face of danger…until earlier at the grocery mart when the Walkers had started coming down the aisle towards them.

She’s not much of a shot.  She doesn’t like using guns to be honest.  Getting picked to come along with Jon on this supply run hadn’t frightened her though because she was with Jon and she always believed he’d keep her safe.  Tonight though, she’d been the one to clear a path and get them moving with Ghost’s help.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly as they drink their tepid bottled water after the tuna salad, crackers and twinkies have been eaten.  “I’m sorry about earlier.”  

“Don’t be sorry but…what happened back there?”

“The red head. I froze when I saw her.”

Sansa tries not to look at them, tries not to think about how they were once people like her.  It makes it easier.  

“Did you know her…before?” she asks, suddenly recalling that his first girlfriend back in school had been a redhead.  Ygritte.  

She’d stumbled upon them kissing once in her parents’ basement, ages ago when she’d been a kid and didn’t think twice about Jon Snow.  She thinks more than twice about Jon Snow now.  She thinks about him all the time.  She doesn’t want to think about him mourning a lost love when he’ll be holding her close on this cot tonight.  Her tuna and twinkies aren’t settling so well.  

“No.  I just saw the red hair and…”  He swallows hard and she’s convinced he’s remembering Ygritte until he takes her hand and says, “I thought of you.  I thought how I couldn’t stand to…if something happened to you and…”

Her heart gives a flutter and a smile is twitching to be seen. They’ve touched each other, slept side by side several nights now, offered comfort in the form of hugs and even kisses when that seemed to be needed but never really addressed this thing between them.  With everything else going on, it seemed like too much to acknowledge that they were becoming a couple.  

“You don’t have to worry.  No bites, see?” she says lightly, holding out her arms and then pivoting to pull her hair up so he can see all of her neck.  “You’re still stuck with me.”

He puts his hands on her waist, his dark grey eyes sincere when he tells her he wouldn’t have it any other way.  

That flutter keeps doing its thing.  

He kisses the nape of her neck and says he’ll take first watch.

“No watch tonight.  Just rest. Lay with me.”  

Jon’s stubborn at first but she wins this battle.  Dawn’s not too far off and they can return to the others. Ghost is snoring but Sansa knows he’ll warn them of any danger.  For tonight, they’re alone except for one sleeping dog and…

“Did I tell you what else I found at that store before we were so rudely interrupted?” she asks him.

He’s been slowly caressing her tummy and her sides, his breath evening out as he holds her.  “No, what?”

She twists to face him and likes the way his eyes flash when she answers, “Condoms.”      

[nobody-wants-ice-cream]

Everything Wrong With The Umbrella Academy. Episode 2, Run Boy Run.

Link to the first episode!

Same disclaimer as last episode: This is all in good fun! I wanted to do a really nitpicky re-watch of the series and found some really cool and interesting things I didn’t notice before. This is meant to have a Cinema Sins-esque tone. However, I did take off a lot more sins than Cinema Sins would have because I do genuinely like the series and the people that made it possible. So all of the good things got one sin off and all the bad things got one sin added. This is a really long post, so grab some popcorn. If there’s anything that I missed, feel free to add it!

Run Boy Run 

Grace started the Herr Carlson record before the kids even arrived. How are they supposed to learn if they miss the first few seconds of it?  What is the point of the record if they’re not even around to hear all of it?+1

The kids all have their hands on the chairs except for Five, showing that he will do something out of the ordinary. -1

Diego is causing property damage to Reggie’s chairs and Reggie allows this. Be consistent, show! Is Reggie lenient or strict? You could make the argument that Reggie doesn’t care about the chair because he’s rich. In that case, sinning for capitalism.+1

Klaus is already into drugs at the age of 13. We can see him rolling a blunt, and doing it quite well, presumably. +1

Ben is straight up allowed to read at the table. So then what is the point of the record if the kids don’t have to pay attention to it? +1

The kids expressions when Five stabs the table. The ones that we see are pure gold. Especially Klaus’s. Well done Dante Albidone. -1

Diego’s side eye when Five starts arguing with Reggie. This is the perfect expression for “my sibling is about to get in trouble”, so props to Blake Talabis. -1

Vanya’s side eye is also good. TJ McGibbon did well. -1

We see Five jump faster than a bullet, but he’s significantly slower when jumping across the table. +1

Reggie is a dick to Five, who just wants to explore his powers. We know that it’s dangerous because we see Five getting stuck, but Five doesn’t think that that is really a possibility. Reggie only talks in confusing ice and acorn metaphors. +1

Five’s face when Reggie presents the ice and acorn metaphor. -1

Vanya and Allison both give Five a look in this scene. This is what makes Five hesitate. Two of his siblings tell him it’s a bad idea, but he does it anyway because he’s a stubborn bastard. +1

Grace’s face drops when Five starts running out the door. Allison and Vanya also look absolutely horrified. -1

“Run Boy Run” is a little on the nose. Especially once you remember that The Boy is Five’s hero name in the comics. +1

No one cares that a 13 year old popped into existence out of nowhere when Five starts traveling into the future. +1

Easter egg! There is an ice cream cart outside the academy. If you’ve read Dallas, you know why I think that’s significant. Also, it happens to be my icon. -1

Five’s look of complete disbelief and horror when he is faced with the apocalypse for the first time. -1

“Vanya! Ben!” This has created a lot of curiosity in the fandom. In the comics he left before they were named, but in the show it looks like he chose to keep Number Five. Why? +1

The apocalypse looks very believable. -1

Title screen umbrella! -1

The awesome scene with Ellen Page and Aidan Gallagher continues in the next episode. -1

Where would Five have heard that rumor about Twinkies having an endless shelf life? It’s not like he was very exposed to pop culture as a kid. +1

Vanya doesn’t keep her Violin in the case. She leaves it proped on a chair, which is basically begging gravity to come and fuck up your instrument. +1

Five plays the pronoun game and doesn’t tell Vanya about Dolores. +1

The last thing Five heard for 40 years was Reggie’s stupid metaphor. That’s a sin for the metaphor and a sin for Five’s pain and suffering. +2

Vanya gives someone with a thirteen-year-old’s liver a few shots worth of hard liquor in a tall glass. +1

“You think I didn’t try everything to get back to my family?” This quote is Five at his core. It shows his exact motivation. Aidan Gallagher really could have screwed up with this line because it’s so raw, but the delivery doesn’t suck. Well done. -1

Is that liquor real? Aidan Gallagher’s face suggests that it is and he only takes two sips of it. Also, Five takes a sip when it’s just a bit, pours more, then takes another sip, and doesn’t drink any more of it. Sin for showmakers possibly giving a kid real alcohol and sin for Five only taking a sip after pouring a lot out. +1

However, if the alcohol is fake, which I really hope it is, sin off for Aidan Gallagher’s acting. -1

Five expects Vanya to believe his crazy apocalypse story. I had a hard time believing it when we were shown flashbacks as the audience. It wasn’t until they brought in the Commission that I actually believed it. If Five had explained the Commission, just like he did to Luther, then Vanya would have had an easier time believing him. +1

Vanya calls Five crazy and then expects him to not be hurt and want to stay in her apartment. +1

Vanya takes the pills after an emotionally charged scene. Pills-foreshadowing. -1

Five’s hands are shaking when he’s looking at the eyeball. This shows both his uncertainty, with this being his only clue, and shows that he is unwilling to leave his sister again even after she called him insane. -1

Mary J. Bilge. -1

The Lunar Motor Lodge has rates by the week, day, and hour. The Commission is super sleazy for putting Hazel and Cha Cha in a place that also rents by the hour. +1

Hazel and Cha Cha are an underrated duo. The “It smells like cat piss” dialogue is honestly really funny. -1

Obvious villains are obvious. I know they’re meant to be obvious, but it doesn’t change the fact that a show with a lot of subtlety just kind of thrust Hazel and Cha Cha in there with no subtlety at all. +1

Hazel stores the briefcase away and throws a screw, foreshadowing that this will be an important detail later. -1

No one, including police, notices the blinking and beeping, neon green tracker. +1

Patch is sort of right. Five made a jump in the middle of two of the local hires, which caused them to shoot each other. -1

“The guy had an eclair and the kid had coffee”. Patch’s side eye says that she thinks Agnes is getting her story mixed up. If we didn’t see what happened, then the audience wouldn’t believe Agnes either. Great acting Ashley Madekwe. -1

Agnes doesn’t stay in the back room. She crawls out so her head can dramatically pop up over the counter after Five leaves. This is a stupid decision on Agnes’s part.+1

Agnes is seen handling American money. Somehow we as a fandom didn’t notice this. Klaus also uses American money to buy drugs later in this episode. Sinning the showmakers not specifying which state at the very least, but reluctantly because I know that’s a reference to the comics. +1

“What other detective”. Camera cuts to Diego exiting Griddys. -1

Diego is a vigilante. What he is doing impedes the law. In this instance, we want him to stop Patch’s investigation because we know that the answer leads back to Five, which would be bad for the plot. However, Patch’s annoyance suggests Diego has done this to her before. How many murderers have gone free because Diego intervenes in Patch’s cases? +1

Diego did not consent to being searched and having his personal belongings taken. +1

Ebay exists but there is no internet or smartphones. What? +1

Diego thinks that this looks like a botched robbery. No way in hell does this look like a robbery of a doughnut shop in any universe. A bank robbery, yeah sure, but not a doughnut shop. What kind of doughnut shop has the kind of money that requires multiple guys with very large weapons, Diego? +1

The way Patch is described to Five by Diego in a later episode does not match the personality she actually has. +1

A whole crowd of people had nothing better to do than to watch the cops investigate a murder scene in a densely populated city. +1

Is Luther hitting his head after he wakes up a character choice? He does it again with the model airplane. After the low ceilings on the moon for four years, you would think that he would learn to duck. +1

Emmy Raver-Lampman gives an amazing performance when talking to Luther about Claire. -1

Allison has multiple posters of herself in her room. I am sinning for her younger self’s narcissism. +1

However, this narcissism goes hand in hand with Allison as a character. Props to the set designers for making these posters and hanging them up. It adds detail to Allison’s room and really shows who she was as a character. -1

“When Claire was little I used to read her books about the moon. I’d tell her her Uncle was living up there” Allison doesn’t remember that Luther was on the moon and therefore shouldn’t know about her divorce in the first episode, but says this in the second episode. +1

Luther looks so genuinely happy at being Claire’s personal superhero. -1

The ghosts torturing Klaus. +1

That fucking animal print thing Klaus is wearing. +1

Robert Sheehan is very, very attractive. This makes up for the monstrosity Klaus is wearing. -1

“You know you talk in your sleep.” “Oh there’s no point. You’re out of drugs” I love Ben as a character so much. -1

“Shut your piehole, Ben. Said with love” smooch. I love this line. -1

“I’ve got a crazy idea. Why not try starting your day with… a glass of orange juice or some eggs”. Justin Min’s delivery of this line kills me every time. -1

Pogo is really vague about why the papers in Reggie’s box are important. If he said something about the papers detailing the Academy’s powers in explicit detail, Klaus would have tried harder to get them back. +1

We don’t see Klaus pull out the Red Journal in episode one. +1

“Liar” “Drop dead” “Low blow”. This is an iconic interaction for a reason. -1

Pogo knows that Klaus can talk to ghosts, but remains offended when Klaus tells a ghost to shut up. +1

“Really awful, terrible, depressing times” Reggie is a dick to his children. +7

Vanya sleeps with the door to her bedroom open, even though we saw her close it. So she must have gotten up to open the door and didn’t notice Five was gone. +1

Where did Five go all night? Did he sleep back in the Academy? It couldn’t have taken him this long to get to the MeriTech building, so what happened to him? He changed to a clean uniform, so presumably he went to the Academy, but why did the show vague this? Did he walk into a department store and buy/steal a clean shirt?+1

Only the plot relevant person notices Five. The front desk girl doesn’t question why he’s there. And that is her literal job. I would know, I run the front desk at a medical office. If you don’t greet the patients then you’re not doing your job, front desk girl.+1

“Must have just [click] popped out.” iconic.-1

Five decides that violence is the best course of action to get the information he needs, directly contradicting “I know how to do everything” +1

The 1938 fingerprints may be Five’s. However, police usually discard this kind of evidence because there is a very reasonable doubt. Not to mention that anyone could have touched the knife. It’s a public place. Forensic evidence is not as reliable as it is portrayed in the media. +1

Diego is an asshole to everyone, but especially to Patch. She’s right, Diego is obstructing justice. How many murderers have gone free because Diego interfered in an investigation? +1

Diego’s boiler room is way too big to be a boiler room. +1

Luther’s reflection in Diego’s mask shows that Luther wants to know what it would be like to be number two instead of number one. Luther can’t lead for shit and subconsciously wishes that he didn’t have to. -1

With an aerial shot of the Academy from the outside, we can see that Reggie never bothered to take the laundromat sign off the mansion or that Reggie sold ad space on the mansion exterior. +1

Reggie is a dick to animals. See: the animal skeletons and the taxidermy. +1

Part of the mansion is painted an ugly neon green for no reason. +1

“Sorry I left without saying goodbye”. The “both times” is unspoken. -1

Vanya apologises for calling him crazy and being dismissive, but still suggests he needs mental help. He does, but maybe suggest it later when he isn’t convinced you think he’s insane? +1

Five lies to Vanya about something stupid. If he said that he was having Klaus help him with the apocalypse, I don’t think she would have minded. +1

Why does Five have so many toys in his room? Including a baseball? +1

Klaus comes out of the wardrobe as loudly as possible. The mansion does not have sound proofing (see: I Think We’re Alone Now dance party). There is no way in hell Vanya didn’t hear him. +1

This is the last time Vanya and Five interact. +1

Five’s room is more childish than a thirteen-year-old’s room should be. It honestly looks like he was the favorite because his room has so many toys in it. Like Reggie wanted to win his favor or something. Sinning for the weird set design choice and for Reggie being an asshole. +1 

The fake circumstances in which Five was born in their cover story gives me immense joy. -1

In one camera angle, if you look carefully they cut two takes of “what a disturbing glimpse into that thing you call a brain”. In the one where we can’t see his face properly, Aidan Gallagher is openly smiling. Corpsing. +1

Robert Sheehan is funny. -1

Syd the tow truck guy doesn’t really look like Sean Sullivan (actor that plays adult Five) enough for Cha Cha, a trained assassin, to not see that he isn’t their mark. +1

Hazel eating a sandwich in this scene. Also the “Italian for dinner line”. -1

And Cha Cha sees the differences between Syd and Five later! +1

“Time travel’s a bitch” “Especially without a briefcase” There's other time travel methods than briefcase or being Five? Elaborate. +1

Patrick is a dick to Allison. We understand why later, but really Patrick, you’re going to be an asshole when her father just died? Don’t get me wrong, Reggie abused the hell out of her, but still! Patrick should have let Allison talk to Claire. +1

Vanya tries to comfort Allison even though she knows nothing about the situation other than that it happened. She’s never even met Patrick! +1

Allison is clearly trying to get away from this conversation with Vanya, but Vanya presses on. +1

“Well if I wanted advice, Vanya, no offence, it wouldn’t be from you”. This is why Vanya doesn’t take Allison’s advice about Leonard. Also, Allison is a dick to Vanya. +1

This scene with Allison and Vanya is interesting. Allison is projecting her pain and taking it out on Vanya, who really should have seen and heard what happened enough to leave her alone. Both of them are the bad guy here regardless of how you slice it. I am sinning the show for this moment because they really tried to villainize Allison for this scene, but she does have some well thought out points and is in an emotionally compromised state. Or in other words, the fight between Allison and Vanya is stupid. +1

Grant/Lance/whatever gave Klaus and Five valuable office time. Doctors do not have time for this sort of crap. Shouldn’t this guy have patients? +1

Aidan Gallagher looks to the actor playing Grant/Lance/whatever as if he’s waiting for him to say his line. I see this all the time with younger kids in theatre, but they can get away with it if their character has a reason to look at that character. That being said, Five would have no reason to do this.+1

The sound effect that plays when Klaus slaps Five is really out of place. +1

Seeing Robert Sheehan slap Aidan Gallagher. -1

Klaus pauses as if he’s listening to Ben before he picks up the snowglobe. -1

The snowglobe. Robert Sheehan pretending to be Klaus pretending to be Five’s crazy dad. Acting. -1

Five looks like a proud grandfather when Klaus gets Lance to show them the records. -1

Five doesn’t pay Klaus for that brilliant acting. Also, how was Five planning to give Klaus $20. He doesn’t have any money nor do we ever see him with money. Five is a cheapskate. +1

Klaus calls Five “old man”. I thought that was just a fandom thing lmao. -1

“You must be horny as hell”. Great Klaus line, but super weird that he’s saying it to someone that looks thirteen. +1

Klaus is wearing the shirt that goes with his nicest outfit underneath Reggie’s pinstripe suit. -1

“Goodbye Dolores”, a song from the soundtrack, starts playing when Five starts talking about Dolores. This is good placement of that song because we later learn that he left her in the apocalypse when he left to work for the Commission. -1

Five is a dick to Klaus. Klaus is really trying to connect with his long lost brother, but Five jumps away. +1

That taxi driver doesn’t freak out and cause a car accident when a random kid appears in his car. +1

Also, how did Five pay for that taxi? Did he jump out of the moving vehicle too? +1

Leonard is so obvious from the start. So charming that he’s slimy. +1

Vanya can’t see this and is actually attracted to him. This may go back to that conversation with Allison when she asks if Vanya has ever been in a relationship. For all we know, the answer is no. +1

Leonard took three years of German in prison. I don't think American jails are that nice. +1

Leonard picks up another person’s instrument without their consent. As a musician, this is very, very painful. +2

Diego is paranoid, but also observant as fuck. -1

But how did he get his weapons back from the police? Are knives open carry in whatever state this is in? There are some states where Diego’s harness would be legal so it’s possible. I’ll have to look into this. Sinning the show for being vauge as fuck. +1

Luther didn’t notice the boiler room door open. +1

Diego throws weapons on his siblings. +1

Reginald Hargreeves died March 21st. The funeral is on March 24th. This is way too soon. It should have been a week or two not two days between the date of death and the funeral. Especially considering Luther suspects Reggie was murdered. And if you say that Reggie, Pogo, or Grace bribed them, then I’m sinning for bribery.+1

Diego eats a raw egg. Salmonella headass. +2

David Castaneda eats a raw egg. Why did you make him do this? It adds nothing to the character other than making Diego look dumb as hell. +1

Vanya interrupts her student while he’s playing and doing well. Whenever my teacher does that I get a minor heart attack. +1

Leonard is already lying to Vanya. He manipulates her by saying his Dad was into music and that's why he’s taking violin lessons. +1

An actual place named “Bricktown” in a place called “The City.” Sigh. +1

It is four o’clock when Leonard takes his lesson, but then after the lesson we cut to night time. What happened in those couple hours, show? Are you really saying that these characters did nothing interesting for all that time? +1

Emmy Raver-Lampman clearly isn’t smoking. Which is fine because she’s a Broadway actress and needs her voice/lungs for that part of her career. It’s weird because it shows that Allison isn't smoking. +1

Pogo scolds Allison for her language. Allison is an adult, Pogo. +1

Klaus made a drink at a young age and Reggie didn’t stop him. Or talk to him. He recorded Klaus drinking, but didn’t care. +1

The showmakers show us Allison’s face for dramatic tension instead of showing us the tape. This was a good choice and I feel it helped the narative.-1

They show a sign “Gimbel Brothers Seniors Tuesdays 10% Off.” after Five walks by. -1

The most awkward and dopey smile in existence when Five finds Dolores. -1

They play “Goodbye Dolores” after he finds her. That could have worked if they transposed it to the major key. Hello Dolores. +1

“Goodbye Dolores” transitioning into “Don’t Stop Me Now” by Queen. -1

This action sequence is great. -1

Hazel’s wrist splint. -1

Five cuts Cha Cha with a trowel. -1

The dual screen thing is cool. -1

Five literally jumps over a stand and somehow doesn’t get shot. Hazel and Cha Cha have Stormtrooper aim. +1

How did Hazel and Cha Cha leave? You would think the police would notice someone leaving through the back. +1

Similarly, how did Five and Dolores get out of this? Did he wait until he could jump and teleport outside the store? Can he teleport that far? +1

How did Diego get another police scanner so quickly? Unless that’s the scanner Patch confiscated? +1

“I gotta show you something” +1

Once again, Five should be a lot sweatier. What are these magic, sweat absorbing things you can buy in a department store and where can I buy them? +1

Five sees an eyeball and immediately picks it up for no reason. He doesn’t even know that’s Luther’s body yet. He just picked up an eye for no reason. +1

Five as a thirteen-year-old boy saw his siblings' dead bodies. Sinning for trauma. +1

Aidan Gallagher portrays this trauma well. -1

Overall Review: 

I love this episode and had a hard time finding things wrong with it. I genuinely like this episode and I think that it could have stood alone as the pilot. 

Some acting things I noticed, David Castaneda, John Magaro (Leonard), and Ashley Madekwe were the standouts this episode. All three brought something interesting to the table this episode and I look forward to re-watching their scenes. I wish Madekwe and Magaro all the best as I know that they probably won’t be returning for season two. 

The plot thickens! Hazel and Cha Cha were introduced in a very obvious way compared to the subtle way they introduced Leonard. There is a reason I adore this episode, and it’s not just for Klaus slapping Five (though that is part of it). 

Total: 52

Sentence: We saw Diego eat a raw egg. That’s punishment enough for this episode. 

[jay-and-dean]

I don’t need you  Chapter 5 : Home

Dean x reader

Summary : She’s a warrior, she’s a loner. Nothing can stop her, nothing ever had. She doesn’t need Dean, does she ?

This is a request by @magssteenkamp​ that I decided to turn to a serie, see the original request on the serie Masterlist.

Serie Warnings : Swearing (duh). Mention of death. Smut, probably all kind from rough to fluffy, I’ll precise in the chapters if there are specific warnings. Fluff. Angst of course.

Chapter warnings :  Swearing. SMUT, unprotected sex (you are smarter than this !) and I don’t know... a hint of angst and fluff ?

Words : 3.4 k (Yeah, I know... but smut...)

Note : I’ll try to stick to the 3k rule, like for Rescue You

If everything goes as planned, you’ll get one chapter every wednesday (Thanks to @magssteenkamp, I call it WednesJay, lol. Sorry okay, I shut up).

***Want to read more ? => MASTERLIST***

*** I don’t need you MASTERLIST***

_________________________________

5.      HOME

 Dean’s Pov

             She doesn’t say a word.

           Her pale face turned toward the car window, I can see how bad she’s trying to stay strong. If only she knew she doesn’t have too. I will never think she’s not, this woman is among the toughest person I have met, and nothing will change how I see her.

“Y/n…” I say cautiously, my hands tight around the wheel. “Can you tell me what happened ?”

She turns to me, her tired eyes piercing me, she clears her throat and takes a deep breath.

“I… woke up surrounded in flames. They found me, they found my address, my work… And they decided the war wasn’t over” her voice is calm but her body is tense. “I passed out after…” she stops, looking down.

“Yeah…” I just say to encourage her. “I’m glad you woke up in time.”

“They don’t have magic fire so the flames were eating the entire building, people will lose their home, or be hurt or worse…” she turns to stare absent-mindedly at the road. “Then I thought… If they found my apartment, they found my identity, so I ran to the bar and it… They locked the doors from outside and set it on fire. Joe was working this night, Lina too… Because of me, the main hunter shelter of center city burned, with the hunters in it.”

“It’s not your fault” I state, knowing this won’t reach her heart ; I heard that a thousand times myself, and never believed it.

“And the cops, they will make the link” she continues, ignoring my words. “I’m used to hide, but not both from monsters and the authorities.”

“They won’t find you, I’ll make sure of that.”

           She doesn’t answer but her stomach gurgles loudly.

“When was the last time you ate ?”

“I don’t know… Two days ago or something like that” she opens her hand to stare intensely at her palm. “I didn’t call you right away… I wanted to get through this myself but…”

“Hey Y/n, you can’t do this alone, no matter how… well badass you are. You need a team. I am your team now… We are. And you need to eat.”

“I have nothing left, Dean, not a cent, not a toothbrush, and all my work is gone” she sighs.

“I have fake credit cards and a home I don’t have to pay. Sweetheart, let me share.”

             I turn right, to that mall big ads praise for a few miles now, trying to make believe you could find everything that could built your happiness here.

In our case, maybe that’s actually true.

While she gets out of the car, her hands around herself, looking to the entrance in a frown, I grab my bag on the backseat, and find the green jacket I was looking for.

“Here” I state, giving it to her.

She hesitates but takes it in a sigh after a look to her corset, and the goosebumps on her skin.

“Thank you, Dean…”

I smile.

I know it’s a pretty awful time to smile but I can’t help it, being able to take care of her just makes me happy somehow.

           This place is huge, colorful, noisy, and I’m pretty sure she hates it as much as I do. But we need a few items.

“Take this” I say, handing her one of my fake credit cards. “First we eat something, then we go buy the things you need to stay with us a few days or weeks” I state, not giving her any choice to decline my offer.

           She just nods, biting her lips. She’s not used to ask for help, and I can see how uncomfortable that makes her, so I try to act as casual as I can, even with my heart pounding in my chest because of that pain I feel for her… and that persistent desire.

           In the little diner inside the mall, a loud group of teen and a tired waitress. Y/n’s steps are unsure, and I can only imagine how exhausted she is.

           The waitress doesn’t even look at us when she approaches, and Y/n doesn’t look up, her eyes on the table, a hint of shame in her eyes, something I hate deeply.

“I’ll take a bacon cheese burger and a coffee please” I say, hoping she would know what she wants, but of course, she mutters something about only a coffee. “Two bacon cheese burgers, please.”

She lifts her eyes on me and sighs.

“I’m not eating alone” I shrug.

           She eats pretty slowly, and by the time she reaches the pickles in the middle of it, I’m done with mine. I try not to stare at her but everything she does, every move, is fascinating to me. She licks her fingers, she’s not doing it on purpose, cautiously trying to eat cleanly… and it’s even better.

           Eating gave her a little strength. I’m sitting on the chair of the store, waiting for her to choose a few panties, jeans, maybe a t-shirt or two. I can see she only picks necessary things even though I repeated her several time that it was not, technically, my money.

           Going through my phone, I read the articles about the fire, but nothing is more detailed than what she said for now. They don’t seem to have made the link to her yet, or at least, the media don’t know.

“I’m done” she appears in front of me, a bag hanging in the end of her arm, my jacket too big for her, hiding her hands, the shoulders seams falling too low on her arms.

“Do you need anything else ?” I ask, getting up.

“I guess you have soap at home, considering you don’t stink too much” she gives me a corner smile and it warms my heart.

             She’s fighting sleep. I try all I can to make her feel comfortable, but she is still fighting, her eyes struggling to focus on the road.

“You can sleep” I state, my voice hoarse for saying nothing for a long time.

“I know” she smiles kindly.

“Do you want to stop for a few hours ? I could use a little rest too you know.”

She turns to me and frowns.

“You drove seven hours in a row, and you’re driving back… You must be exhausted” she whispers. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m okay sweetheart” I chuckle at her concern. “There must not be a lot of motels around here, but I’ll find one.”

She looks down and smiles, nodding for herself.

“What ?” I ask, intrigued.

“It’s stupid” she tries to sweep my question away but my whole face insists, so she surrenders. “When I was… When I had no home, I used to dream that you would… show up, and that I could share a motel with you” her smile fades and I swallow. “Because it was so much better than the street…”

“I’m sorry I never showed up before” I state very seriously but she starts to chuckle to make that moment fade.

“I actually never went to one, it will be a first” she smiles now, her mask back in place.

             She puts the store bag on the bed and looks around.

“I’m officially a Supernatural character.”

I smile, entering behind her.

“I’ll take the other room” I say looking in my hand for the right key. “I’ll go buy food, you take a good shower…”

When I’m about to go out, she stops me.

“Dean ?” I turn around, instantly high on her voice saying my name. “Can you lend me a knife or a gun while you’re gone ?”

 Reader’s Pov

             I sit on the bed, trying to take in everything that’s happening, staring at the ugly decoration, waiting for him in my brand new sweatpants. I never wore this kind of pants before, but I never lived with someone, so I figured I couldn’t sleep in my underwear as I usually do.

           The shower really helped, and now I use Dean’s shower gel, it seems that the entire room smells like him. I look at the green jacket and take it in my hands, playing with its collar while I list the events in my head. Playing the scenes over and over, like it could give them a sense.

           My phone rings, and I look at it, plugged on the nightstand. It’s a number I don’t know so I just stare at the screen, not making a move.

“Did you know” Dean says, suddenly entering the room with a white plastic bag in his arms. “That this shithole doesn’t even have a store ! Only a Gas station !”

My eyes follow him, amazed by this way he has to move, so Dean, like it was described in the books. I get up, tugging at my brand new black t-shirt, to help him with whatever he found.

“So on tonight’s menu, Madame… Coke, chips” he gets everything out of the bag naming them one by one. “Twinkies… this thing, whatever it is, Cheetos, M&Ms… and that.”

“Yummy” I chuckle, frowning at the packs in front of me.

“You need to sleep” he states. “I’ll be in my room.”

“No” my voice is a little too enthusiastic. “Maybe we could eat together before you go to sleep…”

He smiles.

           This is a simple smile, but it makes my heart miss a beat because of how pure it is. His wrinkles highlighting it with the charm of his age, wearing every adventures he lived like crowns of bravery.

           He’s not the young impetuous wolf he was in those books anymore, he grew in the best way possible : nobly.

           And still the afraid little girl inside is exited to meet her superhero, because he really is exactly that.

           I can’t let myself be blinded by that smile… Life doesn’t work like that.

“I swear this stupid town, not even beers ? Come one !” he grunts, putting all the packs on the bed, before sitting on it. “Can’t wait to be home.”

I sit next to him, enjoying the sight of his large, manly hands grabbing those tiny M&Ms to stuff his mouth with it.

“Tell me about your home” I say, crossing my legs.

He turns to me, a serious look on his face, searching for his words.

“It’s my very first home…”

“Yeah” I nod, remembering the books I read a hundred times.

“It’s huge” another, tinier, smile. “And it’s legacy…”

           While he explains how he got the key to that bunker, I nibble on the little balls of chocolate, trying to keep my mind off the deaths I caused, and fighting the urge to yawn, because I really don’t want him to think he has to leave right now. I’m exhausted, but I desperately want him to stay.

           His story is fascinating, and for me, it is a fairy tale. Discovering you own a place like this, after a life of roaming… It was the best my brave hero could get after the end of the books. I spent my life trying to build a home for myself but maybe I just don’t deserve one.

           Like I don’t deserve that friendship Dean is offering me so naturally, his whole tall body spread in the bed so casually, as if we had been close for years. His long legs crossed, heavy shoes on the mattress, his elbow holding him up, turned toward me, bathing me in those legends that belong to him with such a simple trust.

           Flashes of my phone call to him fight to come back, and the more I try to chase them, the more I remember my body craving, clenching around my own fingers in frustration.

           And it’s already too late.

           I’m suddenly too aware of his arms muscles flexing to grab the chips, of the leather belt at his waist, resting on the little piece of skin showing there, of the perfect line of his jaw and his delicious smell.

           There is something about Dean Winchester. Something that has nothing to do with this deep respect I have for him, with the fascination I feel for a hunter so legendary, with that trust I could give him way too soon and the one he is offering me without any question…

           It is something physical that I never thought I would feel. Sex, for me, was always a way… A way to pass time, not be alone, let go some stress, forget, or even manipulate –even if I’m not proud of this one-. It was never a need.

           Dean makes me want, that’s annoying enough. But the bastard makes me need.

           I have to get rid of that, before my brain mixes it with this stupid hero myth it created, and start confusing want with feelings. I really don’t need feelings…

           I put the M&Ms down and lick my lips.

Get rid of that need.

Take what I want and make him fall from his pedestal.

“Dean…” I cut him in the middle of the British Men of Letters story, and he looks up at me while I sit up.

If he doesn’t want that, he’ll make a sign or say a word, but I heard he’s still pretty fond of one night stands.

           In a deep sigh, I loose no time, and get closer to straddle his lap, the simple gesture of spreading my thighs above him, without any contact, starting a fire inside me.

“Y/n…” he groans low, his pupils dilating right away and his face changing radically, from a friendly puppy to a wolf in a split second.

           His hands firmly grab my waist, the pure strength irradiating of him already making me drip in anticipation.

           I bend and, for a second, I see he’s ready to kiss me. But I won’t kiss him. I won’t indulge in giving him this tender gesture, something that might let him think this is anything more than sex.

Kisses are too important.

My lips find his neck instead, and I sensually roll my body on his while they start to suck at it.

“Y/n” he lets his head fall on the pillow and lifts his hips a little, pressing his crotch between my legs in a help back moan.

“That phone call left me craving for the real thing” I murmur in his ear.

“Me too…” he groans, his fingers digging in my thighs harshly. “You have no idea…”

           I finally sit on him, fully enjoying the hard feeling of his too full jeans on my folds, starting to rub through the fabric, desperate to finally feel in there.

“Fuck, don’t tease me” his voice is hoarse, veins showing on his neck that I want to kiss.

           But kiss is too important.

           So my hands find his belt, and while I open it, I stare at his mouth, agape and plumb, and at his chest going up and down.

           The second the belt and the button of his jeans are open, he lifts his hips to wriggle and push it down with his underwear, just enough to free his cock.

           I want to kiss it too… And its veins are calling me like the veins on the side of his throat. But instead, I wrap my hand around the velvety skin and lick my lips, guiding it to my still covered entrance, just to tease both of us, his precum joining the wet stain between my legs.

“The real thing, Sweetheart” he grunts, unable to keep himself from pushing up in my hand and against me.

           When I move again, it’s only to take my sweatpants and panties off, immediately straddling him again.

“Fuck yes” he moans, his piercing eyes between my legs, and his lip between his teeth.

I’m high.

A drop of my own juice falls on the head of his cock heavily, and I know I’m already panting but I don’t really care.

           Taking his length in my hand, I lift my hips, starving for him, and push the head to my entrance.

“Shit” I gasp, feeling my body resist just a little before it swallows the first part of him hungrily.

“Oh God, Y/n…” he cries out, short nails digging in my sweating thighs.

           It only takes me a few seconds to welcome him entirely, stretching myself faster than usual because of how wet and eager I am. And when I do, I don’t lose a second.

           Placing my two hands flat on his chest, I start rolling my hips, grinding, and finally bouncing up and down in haste, unable to get enough of the feeling of him so deep inside of me, twitching hard and stretching me with no mercy.

“Sweetheart, easy…” he pants. “Or I won’t l-last long.”

But I’m too far gone, and I want him to come so bad.

In my high, I start needing things I never thought I needed : I want him to let the wolf out, to push me down on that mattress and take everything, to force a kiss on my mouth, to make my defenses shatter…

“Fuck… Dean !” I moan loud, my stretched out arms still keeping me from being too close to that temptation that could break me, too close to that dangerous man.

“Yes… Yes… Fuck…” he praises, now closing his eyes tight, his daring huge hands going under my shirt to hold my waist, his thumb digging in my ribs.

           And, surprising him totally, I come first ; hard and brutally in a desperate groan.

“OH MY… F-F-FUCK” he cries out, feeling my walls strongly clenching around him and my restless thighs crushing his hips.

Grabbing me fiercely by the neck, he makes my lips crush on his, almost making us break some teeth, while he empties himself deep inside of me, not really kissing me, but panting and biting my lips and moaning with his jaw clenched.

           This is the hottest thing that even happened to me, and my orgasm becomes so long I’m afraid I might pass out… My face now buried in his neck, I hold on to his shoulders.

             Then nothing. Silence and heavy breathing ; his hand lazily stroking my back slower and slower.

           I wait a minute before I grab his softening cock to take it out in a hiss… and a few more minutes before I dare looking up.

           He is asleep.

           I smile for myself, adoringly admiring his face, and take a deep breath.

You had it. It’s over now.

           I get up slowly, and grab my pants, along with the key to the other room, looking one last time to him.

I really hope it’s over now.

             He didn’t say a word when he came to my room to wake me ; and he didn’t say a word in the car during the four hours drive left to reach the bunker. He gave me the rest of the snacks from yesterday with a smile, a coffee in a plastic cup, and put some music on…

             By the time he enters the garage, my heart is beating fast. I’m nervous for so many reasons, overthinking everything.

Hoping it wouldn’t damage our young friendship. Hoping I won’t feel like I felt in the shelters I tried a long time ago. That I won’t be a burden, that I will have my freedom, that I will find the vampires that killed the closest I had to friends, that I will win this war…

           When I enter the bunker for the first time, my breath gets stuck in my chest, and my eyes can’t take everything.

This place is a palace, and the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

           And when Dean kindly offers me a visit, I understand the true value of it, and I have to hold back my tears :

It is not its size or its warmth that makes it a true home. It’s the perfect details that are witnesses of the life going on here.

It’s the glass that someone forgot on the table, the phone charger lazily dangling from the wall, the smell of coffee in the kitchen, the flannel on the chair of the bathroom, the toothbrush stain in the sink, Sam’s smell coming out of his bedroom, the post-it that says “Jody bday Friday”, the initials carved on the library’s table, the pie in the fridge…

And Dean’s voice. Dean’s voice calling me to show me the control room.

His voice so new to me, and yet so familiar.

That’s what makes it a home.

And I wish I was legacy, that it could be my home too…

________________________

***FEEDBACK IS GOLD***

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[thattimdrakeguy]

Why DC can't see that TimKon has the natural chemistry... they would be so good together

I think they do and that’s why they’re best friends, but at the same time they don’t seem to be the type of people that always care about representation and all that.

Bendis does, he’s made characters of color, revealed Bobby Drake as gay after decades of speculation, and stuff like that, but it’s not a decision he can just make. It’s something that has to go through some more important fella or gal first.

So if someone’s in the way of that he can’t help it, and Didio is in the way of that, because in interviews he says he’d rather make new ones than turn old characters gays, and I get that sentiment in some ways.

I’m not an “all gay everything” type of dude, but some characters are such a natural fit for it, that honestly it’s not that big of a deal besides people who want to pretend there is one.

Making a character like Superman gay right now would be weird. He’s been with Lois with such a confidence about who he is that id be weird, but pansexual? There you might have a case.

An asexual Batman who just puts on an act as part of his “Brucie” disguise. You might also have a case with that.

Conner being gay? Not really for me. I see a lot of “HE DRESSES GAY”, and while it’s mostly from gay people themselves (or so I hope) just having fun with stereotypes, he seems so cock sure of his interest in women that it’s past the point of just an act, but bisexual and not aware? There’s an argument.

That twinky third Robin Timmy Drake who’s constantly having crushes for reasons like smells and name, while still acting like he has a weakness for women? Sounds like he’s trying to convince himself to me. Probably gay.

Personally i don’t think it’s that big of a deal since we’ve learned more about sexualties within the last few decades. These are characters created in a time were anything not straight was a disease or disorder of some sort, and not normal. We’ve moved past were these characters were created in society. It’s okay to move with the times as long as you keep these characters who they actually are, and honestly sexuality doesn’t define a lot of comic book characters that much.

If there’s ever been a place for a large variety of interpretation over a character it’s in sexuality.

Once you publish your work it becomes up to the reader and how they interpret it, and I don’t mean “this clearly insecure person is obviously confident”, because then you’re just making stuff up, but if you read a character, even if they’re with a girl and they’re  boy, and there’s just a sense that this person isn’t actually straight because you can relate your experience with their’s and you see something, so you think they’re gay?

They’re just gay then.

That’s how interpretation works.

If you read a story and someone’s nice even though logically they should be mad. You can either interpret them as getting over it, or they’re secretly mad and pretending otherwise, if the work itself doesn’t go too deep into the moment can’t you? Why they’re like that is up to you and how you read that moment at the time you read it.

Now obviously that doesn’t fly well with everything in a logical way, people like to stretch stuff to fit what they want. I’ve seen people say that a character that emotional abuses people, and clearly has an understanding of emotions has Asperger’s, which I found a little insulting, because they wanna say they didn’t know better, when clearly they did and just didn’t care.

I’ve also seen people take the same character, who’s stared at girl’s boobs, and showed off cars just like how a young boy learning he likes girls before he realizes it yet does, and they wanted to say he was gay and had an attraction to a boy he kidnapped and abused, despite how he constantly showed he didn’t even have an interest in them as a person.

You can’t be offensive with it, like saying Conner’s obviously gay because of how he dresses or my previous example with interpreting someone who clearly doesn’t have Asperger’s because their blatant behavior shows otherwise as someone who does to excuse their bad decisions, or just say they’re gay because “blah blah” when there’s so many signs to the opposite.

There’s a certain limit where interpretations becomes offensive or forced, and official comics should never go off of the offensive or forced interpretations, but if their is enough room there, where it isn’t obviously horrendously forced:

I say DC can go for it.

However this doesn’t mean I think they’d make the right choices. They’d probably go offensive with it. I don’t have good trust in DC, but still.

There is room for it, and honestly they wouldn’t be changing who characters are. They’d just be more specific with who they are.

[dioni5555gaspr]

JAIMELIN AND MADISON

A Short Story By Dionicio Gaspar

CHAPTER 1

It’s the middle of December.

On one evening, two beautiful young women are driving around a snowy highway, just outside of Omaha, Nebraska. These young women are Jaimelin Jensen and Madison Myers.

While driving, the girls are listening to International Feel by Todd Rundgren on the radio as there was no Christmas station to listen to. The girls were not impressed with the song they’re listening to. Madison quickly changes the station once the song was finished. There was nothing to listen to.

“God, I fucking hate old people’s music. Where are the goddamn Christmas stations?”, angered Madison. “Apparently, this is the only station we can find.”, Jaimelin replied. This angered Madison even more, “Are you shitting me?! Fuck!”

The girls continue to drive without any music. There’s nothing but silence.

While driving, the silence is broken as a sound of a siren coming from the distance. It was a police car.

Jaimelin sees the police car from her rear view mirror, “Aww, shit!”

“What?”, Madison takes a peak at the back of the car and sees the police car. She begins to panic, “Aww, fuck!”

CHAPTER 2

As the girls pull over, Madison continues to panic while Jaimelin remains calm. “What do we do? What the fuck are we going to do?!”, Madison screams. Jaimelin slaps Madison to shut her up as she can’t think, “Just shut the fuck up and let me do the talking.”

The State Trooper approaches to the driver seat window. He begins to tap on the glass.

Jaimelin pulls down her window. “Can I help you, Officer?”, Jaimelin asks while still remains calm.

“Mam, I’m going to need to see your license and registration, please.”, the Sate Trooper asks.

“Of course.”, Jaimelin replied. She quickly searches in her purse for her license. Madison helps her to find the registration in the glove compartment.

While searching in the glove compartment, Madison begins to hesitate as she notices a gun in the glove compartment. Jaimelin yells at her to wake her up. Madison quickly grabs the registration and gives it to Jaimelin for the State Trooper.

As Jaimelin gives her things to the State Trooper, he takes a glimpse at them, then to the girls. “You want to why I pulled you two over?”, the State Trooper asks. “Uh... Was I speeding?”, Jaimelin nervously replied. The State Trooper quickly answers, “One of your tail lights are broken.” Jaimelin is quickly relief and begins to go with it, “Oh, no! I totally forgot about that. I promise you, I’ll get those tail lights fix as soon as I can.” The State Trooper believes Jaimelin and gives back her things. “I’ll leave you with a warning. You have a good day, mam.”, the State Trooper walks back to his car. Much to the girls relief.

As the State Trooper walks back to his car, he hears a loud banging noise coming from the trunk of the girls’s car. “Hold it!”, yelled the State Trooper.

As the State Trooper walks back to the girls, Madison quickly panics and grabs the gun out of the glove compartment. The State Trooper approaches to the window, “Mam, I need you to open the- POW!” Madison shoots the State Trooper from her seat. Madison steps out of the car and continues to shoot the State Trooper.

Jaimelin steps out of the car to stop Madison. “What the fuck are you doing?!”, angered Jaimelin.

“This asshole was gonna find out that we kidnapped this little piece of shit and I told him to shut up, but he never fucking did!”, said Madison furiously.

The girls approach to the trunk of the car. Once they open the trunk, a nude male victim jumps out as his hands are tied up behind him and a bag is covering his head, with a muffled voice as his mouth must’ve been taped. The Victim begins to run off to the snowy field.

As the Victim runs off, he keeps tripping and falls to the ground. The girls watch and laugh at his humiliation. The Victim takes one last fall and stays on the ground as he can’t handle the cold. The girls chase after him and brought him back to the trunk.

“Great!”, yelled Jaimelin. “What?”, Madison replied. “What the hell are we gonna do with that guy?”, Jaimelin points at the dead state trooper. “Leave him to me.”, said Madison.

As Madison drags the dead state trooper to his car, she then approach to the police car’s gas tank. She placed a piece of cloth in the gas tank and takes a lighter out and put the cloth in flames. She then quickly ran back to the car with Jaimelin.

“Drive.”, said Madison. “What did you do?”, asked Jaimelin. “Just fucking drive!”, Madison furiously interrupts.

As the girls quickly drove off, the police car explodes into flames.

CHAPTER 3

An hour has past.

The girls kept driving and driving. Until, they found an old house in the middle of the road.

The house belongs to an old man who lives alone.

BANG! BANG! BANG! The sound of the front door is banging. This starts to annoy the Old Man as he walks down the stairs to his front door. “Alright! Alright! I’m coming!”, the Old Man yells to his annoyance. As the Old Man opens the door, he sticks his head out of the door and sees the girls. “What do you want?”, the Old Man asks.

POW! The sound of the gun fires at the Old Man in the belly. It was Madison who shot the old man. Apparently, this made Jaimelin furious, “What the fuck, Maddie?!”

The Old Man groans as he’s still alive. POW! Another shot at the Old Man from Madison, this time at the head. Jaimelin is even more furious.

“Maddie?!”, angered Jaimelin. Madison ignores her. “Give me the gun.”, said Jaimelin. “No!”, Madison replied. “Give me the fucking gun!”, Jaimelin furiously repeats. Madison refuses. Jaimelin punches Madison in the face, she falls to the ground, resulting her to drop the gun in the process. Jaimelin quickly grabs the gun and points it at Madison. “Listen hear, bitch!”, Jaimelin yells, “You’re gonna help me to get Dan’s ass in here and then you’re gonna help me to clean this shit up!” “Fine!”, angered Madison.

As it reveals that the victim was an old classmate of Jaimelin back in high school, Dan, a young Hispanic man, who was also a social outcast. She felt offended after Dan tries to impress her with an emotional YouTube video of him love strucking on her, called Lonely Boy. Dan hoped it would get her affection by referencing the style of Wes Anderson in the video because he was a film buff, but it was the use of her picture in the video that really offended her. This left Dan heartbroken as he realized that Jaimelin doesn’t watch movies. This would later spark a feud between the two in a form of a prank war. Dan would often vandalized Jaimelin’s car by shoving Twinkies in her exhaust pipe, slashing one of her tires, cutting her brakes, and filling her gas tank with chocolate milk. Jaimelin would often put disgusting things in Dan’s locker such as putting a dead raccoon to make it smell bad. She would also find some ways to get him in trouble such as secretly put a realistic toy gun in his backpack causing him to get suspended.

Then one day, for some reason, Dan never came back to school. Jaimelin would’ve been relieved, but she still has a grudge against Dan. In order put an end to this prank war, she must do the unthinkable. By murdering him. She and her best friend Madison, who hates Dan more than Jaimelin, had planned this for a while. It even took after graduation that they need more time to plan. 3 years later, winter came and they finally proceed as planned. Although, no one else, other than Dan, were supposed to get killed.

As if the girls had already messed up, the worst has yet to come.

CHAPTER 4

After the girls disposed the body of the old man and cleaning up his blood, they begin to deal with Dan.

Dan, who is locked up in one of the bedrooms of the house, is tied to a chair. His head still has the bag covering him.

The girls enter the room. Jaimelin takes out a pocket knife.

“Hello, Dan.” Jaimelin slowly approaches to Dan. “I told you to stay the fuck away from me. But you never listen.” Jaimelin grabs the bag from Dan’s head. “And now...”, Jaimelin quickly removes the bag from Dan’s head, “...you’re fucking dead!” As she’s about to stab Dan, only to hesitate as she noticed something unfamiliar with Dan. It’s not Dan.

“Who the fuck is this guy?!”, yelled Jaimelin. “What are you talking about? It’s him.”, Madison replied. “No! No, it’s not him!”, Jaimelin furiously yelled. “Wait, what?!”, Madison yells. Madison takes a closer look on the guy they kidnapped. She sees it’s not Dan.

As the girls remove the tape out the victim’s mouth, he tells them: “I’m not Dan, you stupid bitches! I’m his older brother, Ned!” “WAIT, WHAT?!”, shocked Jaimelin.

Jaimelin was furious. “What the fuck did you do, Maddie?!”, she yelled at Madison. “I did what you fucking said!”, Madison angrily replied. “Did you check it was him!”, Jaimelin continued. “No, we were on a fucking rush!”, Madison replied. “Goddamn it!”, Jaimelin furiously yelled. “But I have to admit, he does look a lot like Dan.”, said Madison. “We get that a lot. It’s so fucking annoying!”, Ned angrily replied.

“And let me ask you something. Did Dan ever tell you about me?”, said Ned. “No, that little shithead never mention anything to me!”, Jaimelin angrily replied. “Did you even bother to ask?!”, Ned angrily said. “Fuck no!”, Jaimelin angrily replied. “Dan was a fucking pussy! He deserves to rot in hell!”, Jaimelin continues, “Even since he got kicked out of school three years ago, it wasn’t enough to get rid of him!” “What do you mean he got kicked out?”, Ned is confused, “He didn’t get kicked out.” “Wait, what?”, Jaimelin is confused. “When was the last time you saw Dan?”, Ned annoyingly asks. “Since May at that time?”, Jaimelin confusingly replied. “Wow, you guys are so fucking pathetic!”, Ned yells. “What the fuck are you talking about?”, asked Madison. “He graduated at that time, you fucking morons!”, Ned yells. “No, he got expelled!”, Jaimelin yells. “He got suspended for a short time and then he went to therapy because he was depressed!”, Ned yells. “So you’re saying Dan was a senior?!”, asked Madison. “Yes! Did you really think he was that young!”, Ned continues to yell. “Wasn’t he like 14? 15? Because he was shorter than us.”, Jaimelin asks. “He turned 18 at that time!”, Ned furiously yelled. The girls are horrified and much to their confusion.

“So where the fuck is Dan anyway?!”, Madison angrily asked. “He went out walking to a nearby store from our house!”, Ned angrily replied.

“Maddie? I want a word with you.”, said Jaimelin. She then takes Madison to another bedroom. They begin to argue, while Ned, still tied to the chair, hears the argument from the other room.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Maddie?!”, Jaimelin yells from the other room. “Hey, none of us knew Dan had brother! I mean, how the fuck are we supposed to know about that!”, Madison yells, “You know, this all your fault! All of this happened is because you wanted to kill Dan for that goddamn YouTube video!”

As the girls continue to argue, Ned tries to escape as he tries to untie himself from the chair. He ends up falling to the ground while trying to escape. This caused a loud noise and the girls immediately check up on him.

“Aww, jeez!”, yelled Jaimelin.

Ned looks up to the girls from the ground and begins to cry. “Look. Whatever Dan did to you guys, I have nothing to do with him. Just let me go. Please.”, Ned begs.

A moment of silence occurs.

The silence breaks when Madison punched Jaimelin in the face and takes the gun away from her and shoots Ned in the head.

Jaimelin is horrified. “What the fuck, Maddie?!”, Jaimelin went furious.

Madison points the gun at Jaimelin. “Shut up! Just the shut the fuck up!”, Madison finally loses it. “I can’t fucking take this shit anymore!”, Madison continues.

“Maddie, just calm down. I know you’re tired...”, said Jaimelin. “Shut the fuck up, you stupid bitch!”, Madison angrily interrupts. “I was so excited to that we get to kill Dan. But you never fucking told me that the little piece of shit had a brother! I mean, what the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“I didn’t know!”, Jaimelin replied.

Madison continues pointing the gun at Jaimelin. “You know what your fucking problem is, Jaimelin?! You’re a fucking moron! A fucking cunt! A pathetic little bitch who doesn’t give a shit about anyone but herself! I mean, how stupid are you?!”

Jaimelin sheds a tear.

“You never liked Dan because he was a fucking loser. He always talks about movies that we never even heard of, which is fucking annoying! Yet you don’t know anything else from that little perv!”, Madison angrily continues.

“Maddie, please...”, Jaimelin sobs.

“This is all your fault!”, Madison interrupts. “This whole shit is all your fault! All of this is because of you!”, Madison points the gun closer to Jaimelin’s face, “It would’ve been easier if you just done this by yourself.”

A moment of silence occurs.

Unaware to Madison, Jaimelin slowly takes out her pocket knife from her back pocket and holds it behind her.

“You’re right.”, said Jaimelin. She quickly stabs Madison in the arm. POW! The gun goes off from Madison’s fingers, while she screams in agony. Jaimelin then takes the knife out of Madison’s arm then stabs her in the throat. “I should’ve done this without you, you cunt!”, Jaimelin finally loses it. She removes the knife out of Madison’s throat, causing Madison to fall to the ground as she bleeds to death. Jaimelin continues to stab Madison multiple times as she’s full of rage.

“You bitch! YOU BITCH!”

CHAPTER 5

Unaware to Jaimelin and Madison, two policewomen Donna, a Filipino-American woman, and Malory, a Korean-American woman, went out to search for Dan’s brother.

Donna is happily married and a mother of two children. She’s also seven months pregnant.

Unlike her partner Malory, she’s very hard working and always have Donna’s back.

After the girls broke into Dan’s house and ended up kidnapping Ned instead, the two policewomen were called in as Dan’s sister was also home during the break in. She was hiding in the bathroom. Dan’s sister tries to stop the girls by wrecking their car with a baseball bat, causing her to break the tail lights. She even caught the license plate number from the girls car.

While on the search, the two policewomen discovered the burnt car of the state trooper on the highway that the girls took. They were both horrified.

While on the road, the policewomen found the house that the girls stayed, with their car parked in front.

As they searched around the house, the two policewomen discovered the bodies of the old man, Ned, and Madison all wrapped in bed sheets. The bodies were piled up in front of the house.

While searching in the house, there was no one.

SCREECH! SCREECH! The sound of something metal can be heard from the distance.

Donna and Malory search where the noise was coming from.

It’s coming from the tool shed, next to the house. It was Jaimelin. She’s trying to pull out a wood chipper from the tool shed.

The policewomen pull out and point their guns at Jaimelin.

“Freeze!”, yelled Donna.

Jaimelin slowly turns at the policewomen as she’s just got caught.

“Hands up!”, yelled Malory.

Jaimelin slowly raises her hands... then she runs away.

“Hey! Hey!”, yelled Malory.

The two policewomen starts chasing Jaimelin through an open snowy field behind the old man’s house. Due to Donna’s pregnancy, she’s slowing down. Lucky for her, Malory has her back as she manages to catch up to Jaimelin.

As Malory chases Jaimelin, she fires her gun at Jaimelin. First shot goes off, she misses. Second shot goes off, she miss again. Third shot goes off, it finally hits Jaimelin in the leg and she falls to the ground.

Malory catches up to Jaimelin and begins to handcuff her.

Jaimelin begins to wail as she’s being cuffed. The louder she wails, the sound of her saying that she made the biggest mistake of her life.

After getting handcuffed, Jaimelin gets dragged into the police car with Donna and Malory driving her back to Omaha. She’s completely shattered.

Donna stares at Jaimelin as she begins feels bad for her.

“I assume that was Madison in that pile. Right? Along with Dan’s brother and whoever was living in that house.”

Jaimelin stays quiet.

Donna continues, “I got a chance to talk with Dan yesterday.”

“Will you shut up about Dan!”, Jaimelin interrupts. “He’s a fucking pervert!”

“Hey! Watch your fucking mouth!”, Malory yells at Jaimelin. “Easy, Malory.”, Donna calms Malory down.

“He told me he knew it was you and Madison because of an incident back in high school. A YouTube video, wasn’t it? And you wanted to get back at him. He told me the whole story. About you. The feud. Everything.”

Jaimelin continues to stay quiet.

“He told me he was depressed after that incident. Even after he graduated, he also says that it kept haunting him. He regret that incident because he made a mistake. You want to know what it was? Not knowing you that well. He told me he doesn’t think straight whenever he tries to accomplish something or make a decision. He was scared of everything. He was scared on making friends. He was even scared to try to tell his feelings for you. He never intend to hurt you. All he ever wanted was to make friends. He told me he always wanted a girlfriend. But it’s not always easy. He always second guesses everything and it led him to screw things up.”

There’s only silence.

“Jaimelin, everyone makes mistakes all the time. But what you did was horrible. You got your friend involved and you two made a mess with Dan and his whole family. How would you explain that to him?”

“It’s his fault.”, Jaimelin replied. “He never told me had a brother... or a family.”

“Did you asked?”, said Donna.

“Why does that matter?”, Jaimelin replied. “All he gives a shit about is movies.”

“What’s wrong with watching a movie?”, said Donna. “I watch movies with my husband all the time. Sure movies are enjoyable, but there are movies you can relate to.”

Jaimelin is confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well, a movie is a fantasy. Everyone wants to live in there own fantasies. But this is reality. Whatever you said to Dan back in high school, it must’ve woke him up from his fantasy and back to reality. And I can see he’s completely heartbroken because of you. The way I see it, it could be both of your guys’s fault.”

“What?”, angered Jaimelin.

“I mean, it sounds like he tried to do something good for you, but you rejected him. Which makes things worse for you two.”

Jaimelin begins to look at herself. She finally sees what she has done.

There’s only silence.

“It’s getting quiet.”, said Malory, “Do you mind if I turn on the radio?” “Go ahead.”, Donna replied.

As Malory turns on the radio, Hush by Deep Purple blasts. Jaimelin wakes up to reality as the song continues to blasts.

The three of them continue to drive back to Omaha as another day in a nice Nebraska town turns into hell.

THE END

[frangipanidownunder]

Threads: fic

This is for my anon who asked for some season 11 hurt/comfort angst a while ago. And also for @reasonandfaithinharmony who wondered what went through Mulder’s head after he found out that Scully was in remission. The fic is long so it’s under a cut and it does cover a lot of ground, timewise. 

When Samantha broke her collarbone, Fox had done what his mother asked and grabbed the pale shawl draped over the high-back chair at her dressing table. In the light it seemed to glisten. It was silky soft between his fingers, sliding through his grasp until he felt the tassel strands. He threaded it back and forth through his closed fist, developing a comfortable rhythm as he walked back to the hallway where his sister was howling. Reluctant to part with it, he wondered why his mother felt the need to wear something so exquisitely beautiful just to ride to the hospital. It was only when she wrapped it around his crying sister’s shoulder to hold up her arm that he realised it was to be a sling. Under the red gaze of his father, he felt so dumb, blinked away the sharp stab of tears.

His gut iced with guilt. He’d helped Samantha up on to the rope swing. He’d teased her about not going high enough. Later, his mother gave him the shawl to hold while they went for x-rays and he scrunched it to his face, inhaling the smell of her perfume to cover the cloying taste of hospital antiseptic in his throat.

***

Scully had woken uncharacteristically late. She’d missed the first coffee of the morning. He’d checked on her a few times but she lay curled on her side with the covers hiding her face. When she did join him, she complained of feeling achy and cold.

              “Your face is a little flushed,” he said, buttering her toast.

              She pushed the plate away and sipped her coffee. “I’m not really hungry.”

              “I’ll grab the groceries. You go back to bed.”

              Her gentle snuff told him that she might just do that and he dropped a kiss on her head. She coughed quietly into her hand and he plucked a tissue from the box. She smiled up at him with red-rimmed eyes and pressed it to her nose. He thought of the shawl, something he hadn’t remembered in years, and as he drove down the gravelled path he wondered where it had ended up. He imagined it folded into a box along with his mother’s perfume dispensers and the ornate gold brush and mirror set. Items too personal to either sell or to keep on display. Those boxes were probably in the attic, decorated with cobwebs. He thought he should do something about that. Get up there with Scully one weekend and clear it out. Maybe, he mused as he pulled into the parking lot, the attic was like the mind. Too much clutter wasn’t any way to live.

              During the night, Scully’s coughing grew worse. She shivered next to him but her skin was on fire. Her breath was bitter as she struggled to breathe, rolling from side to side to get comfortable. Through chattering teeth, she self-diagnosed flu – the sudden onset, the fever, the muscle and joint pain. He wanted to take her to the emergency room but she shook her head before hacking into her pillow.

“Sleep,” she whispered. “Just let me sleep.”

In the morning, her chest rose and fell with each shallow inhalation and the rattling wheeze had him dismissing her weak protests in favour of driving her to the hospital right then. She sat in the passenger seat barking out coughs as the scenery passed in a blur as ghostly-grey as her skin.

The waiting room at the ER was stuffed with people. Vomiting babies and old men clutching their chests were promptly triaged. The drunk and drug-affected were left to yell and abuse. Middle-aged FBI agents sat on the floor.

“Scully, who do I need to arrest to get you seen?”

Her head sank further into the crook of his shoulder so that her chin dug into his collarbone. He pulled her hair away from her face and she coughed so hard that she couldn’t gulp in enough air between rounds. She slumped across his chest, letting out a soft gurgle.

“Nurse! Someone! My wife needs help.” He laid her across his thighs and thumped his fist against the wall behind him. “Now!”

***

He was allowed to visit Samantha after her surgery but there were no chairs to sit on. His mother was sleeping in the only one. His father had pushed him through the curtains and walked away, muttering about how he couldn’t stand hospitals. Just standing there, behind the curtain, made him feel powerless. There was a busyness to the place, a hum of activity outside, but inside the small patch that was his sister’s cubicle there was a muted stillness. It made his own body thrum with a need to move. Yet he was stuck to the floor, unable to work out what he should do. Talking seemed so fruitless.

              “Fox, did you bring me anything to eat?” He looked at his sister, pale against the starched pillow, her arm balanced in a fresh white sling. There was a tray across her lap containing the cold remnants of meat and vegetables. “The food here is disgusting. Mom said you’d bring me some Twinkies.”

              He shook his head and held out his hands. “Dad didn’t tell me.” Their mom twitched in her sleep, sending her purse falling to the floor. He picked out her wallet and took some coins. “I’ll go find something.” At least he could feel useful.

              When he came back with an armful of candy bars, Samantha was asleep and his mother was straightening the green blanket at the foot of the bed. She looked down at the packets in his hands and tutted.

              “She’ll be home tomorrow. But there’ll be no more horseplay, do you understand? Your father is very disappointed. We both expect more from you, Fox.”

***

The doctor glanced over Scully’s chart and hooked it back over the end of her bed. Skinner followed him out of the room and left Mulder in the weighty silence of a room where, once again, Scully’s life hung in the balance. Pneumonia.

              His nails dug into the sagging skin on his cheeks as he balanced his elbows on his knees. An all too familiar pose. Time passed in unrecognisable beats meted out with each pulse and bleep and wheeze from the equipment keeping her alive. Somewhere in his fatigued brain he figured she was owed a longer life, given all the air that had been pumped in to her lungs previously. He couldn’t muster up the energy to even snort out an ironic laugh. What he wouldn’t give for a roll of her eyes and an impatient, ‘it doesn’t work that way, Mulder.’

She told him once, with a flirty tap to his tie, that she was immortal. His willingness to believe in anything had long since departed. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to grab at that younger man, that over-confident fool who trusted no-one and everyone at the same time. All that he succeeded in doing was grasping hold of unwanted memories.

***

His rage when he saw her, uncovered on that gurney, eyes taped shut, was white-hot. It burnt through his veins so that he couldn’t process rational thought. Later, after the humiliation of being physically removed from the room, that rage pulsed through his blood dosing out a regular reminder of what he had to do. If she died, if Scully fucking died, because of his quest, he would go out all guns blazing, taking anyone and everyone with him.  

              He remembered that feeling being so powerful that he found it suffocating. It was a weight in his chest, pushing outwards and inwards with enough pressure to make him feel that exploding or imploding were equal possibilities. He could have ended Cancer Man’s life with single shot, but he’d prickled at Mulder’s gossamer conscience with his ‘you can kill me now but you’ll never know the truth.’ He could have turned that gun on himself.

He could have stayed in his apartment and delivered terminal intensity. Instead, he sat at Scully’s bedside and waited in the strange silence of her room. Sometime during the night, a nurse brought him a blanket. A heavy knitted one with a satin edge that he rubbed between his finger and thumb until morning.

The apartment was as wrecked as his soul. He sunk to the floor and wept like he hadn’t since the Christmas of Samantha’s disappearance, when her absence that day was louder than her presence had been.

He’d given up. He’d poured out his soul to Scully as she lay in there. He’d denied it for too long. Melissa at least had the grace to accept the obvious. She was dying. Scully was dying.

But that was too late, wasn’t it? Now, it was the safest thing to do. To admit to someone how you felt when they were never going to respond. Just like telling Samantha he loved her and missed her when she’d gone. Just like his father saying he still loved him as he was walking out the door.

When the phone rang, his heart flipped in his chest then plumbed to the depths of his guts. Even though clinically she might have been considered dead, until that moment, Scully was still that naïve, sceptical, eager young woman who’d crept into his heart and refused to move. Hearing the dreaded words meant she’d be locked there, forever young. In the microseconds it took for him to decide to answer the call, he’d mentally flicked through all the times he wished he’d just taken her in his arms and kissed her instead of debating with her, dismissing her or ditching her; he’d wished a thousand times over that he’d sent her away after that first case; he’d ploughed through the different hair styles, suits, smiles she’d worn. He’d wished he’d never met her.

“I’m here,” he said. But he wasn’t. He was already thinking of who he could take down with him. He was checking out. He was dying.

***

The thing about hospitals is that they hold in life and they let it out. Births, life-saving surgeries, miracle recoveries, code blues, morphine overdoses under the guise of keeping a patient comfortable, priests offering consolation through the last rites. They hold in grief and they let it out. Mulder was suspended in that dichotomy too. Holding in hope and letting it out in fearful fits of rage. There was no change in Scully’s condition. As grey dawn seeped through the grey window blinds, no change seemed good; as midnight crept past with the bleep and rush of the machines breathing for her, no change was untenable.

              Sometime during the third night a nurse covered him in a heavy warm blanket. The days were getting shorter, colder outside, he supposed. But time has a way of contracting around you, when your heart is being slowly crushed. He twisted on the seat and the blanket slipped. He brought it up under his chin, tried to find a position that didn’t cramp his back and neck, ran the ribboned edge between his fingers as he watched Scully’s face, looking for nuanced differences in her lips, her eyes, her cheeks. Her arms were untucked and it hit him that she might be cold too. He pulled himself out of the seat, let his blanket fall to the floor and called for the nurse. While he waited, he knelt next to her, holding her hand. The weight of it all, the constant dread, the lack of sleep, the helplessness, pushed his head down, and his hot tears flowed as his lips settled on the back of her hand.

              Skinner ordered him home. Drove him there.  

              “I’ll go back, you sleep. I’ll call you if there’s any change. If you don’t hear from me, I’ll pick you up at four.” He laid a hand on Mulder’s shoulder. “Eat something too.”

Mulder had long since come to recognise this as Skinner being caring. He showed his heart by being practical. He and Scully were quite similar in some ways. Scully would have done the same, the food, the rest, all the things the doctor orders. But he was not the one who’s sick. There was no way he was going to lie in their bed, their comfortable but empty bed, and sleep while his wife is on a hospital gurney.

              He climbed to the attic, rubbing the back of his neck as the dust motes danced in the slant of sunlight from the small, square window. On his ascent he was of a mind to tidy, throw away the mess, clean up his life. But sitting among the crates and piles and oddities he was in a mind to preserve. It was like the hospital, he thought. Holding in and letting go.

It took him a while to understand he was looking for his mother’s shawl. The human brain is undoubtedly a complex organ, but the human mind is unfathomable. Scully was suspended in some otherworld, so sick her body had shut down, but he was looking for his long-dead mother’s shawl. If he were to analyse his own psyche he would probably conclude that the item was a shield, a way to wrap something nostalgic and comfortable around his body to block out the fear of losing Scully. His fingernails were black with grit and dust, his muscles bunched in his shoulders sending a throbbing pulse down his spine. He opened crates and shoe boxes and plastic tubs. He found books and files and greetings cards and photos. He chuckled and he wept. But he didn’t find the shawl.

There were boxes high on a shelf. He moved the step ladder, disturbed a mouse that scurried into a shadowy corner. He checked his cell again. Nothing. The waiting was always the worst. Time, such a feature of his life, stretched out to fill dark places. When she had the seizure last year, he didn’t have to wait too long for her to wake, but there had been too many other hours wasted in that suspended, desperate place. He pulled down the first box and it tumbled out of his grip, landing with a dusty crash on the floor. The first item that spilled loose were medical records and X-rays. And just like that, he was back at her bedside, kneeling on that cold hospital floor, sobbing silently around her hand.

***

Her face was beyond pale, red-ringed eyes sunken into her head, cracked, dry lips. She looked like one of the creatures they’d spent years chasing only to have them disappear into the shadows. She could have been a phantom, a ghoul, a spirit. But she wasn’t. She was flesh and bones, stricken with a deadly disease and she was disappearing in front of his eyes. He was supposed to be dead. He was the one who had disappeared into the shadows, had slipped into her room to see her, to talk to her. To talk, once again, when it was too late. His habit of opening his heart when all was lost had struck again. He wept against her hand as though his tears could enter her body like a lifeforce. His teeth scraped her skin and it tasted papery, flaking against his lips. Peeling her life away.

              He didn’t know how long he’d been there, pressing her hand to his mouth, sobbing. But he knew his futile tears, hot rage and self-hatred needed to be channelled. Her death would invade his body like the cancer had hers, it would live in his veins and destroy him but it would also give him power to act. To end the blind quest he’d been on.

              As it turned out, all that incandescent anger seeped from his pores when he heard the news of her remission. The chip worked. He sat at her bedside as she told him how the doctors were mystified.

              “I can’t believe it,” he said.

              She wrapped a thin arm around his neck and pulled his head to the crook of her neck. Her bony frame dug into his face but he didn’t care. He felt instantly lighter, muscles unclenching, nerves flittering back to life. The numb edges of his being sharpened like her chi had flowed into his veins. They fused at that moment. She clung to him, clawing at his back as she sobbed. He clutched her body to his wondrous at the joint beating of their hearts. A miracle.

And it didn’t truly sink in for days. He walked around light-headed, repeating the mantra ‘she’s in remission’ over and over. It sounded surreal. His brain knocked against his skull when he repeated the words, causing him a fleeting lapse in consciousness. The very idea of her being healthy and whole felt like sighting a UFO or cryptid; it left you feeling buzzed, body pulsing with energy and yet there was that slight element of doubt. What if it were fake?

For nights, he slept with a tee-shirt of hers that he’d taken home with a bundle of other clothes to wash for her. He hadn’t washed it, instead slipping it under his pillow to inhale the scent of her, a reminder of her return to him.

 ***

The files and X-rays didn’t fit back into the box the way they had before. He struggled to slot the boxes back onto the shelf. He pushed and slid and rearranged but all he succeeded in doing was unsettling more thick and tangled cobwebs so they covered his hair and made him cough.

              He slumped to the floor and stretched his legs before him. He’d recovered nothing of value, nothing that he was looking for. He had simply accumulated a mountain of stuff to throw away. But he knew he wouldn’t. Holding on. That’s what he was impelled to do. He set his head against the wall desperate to sleep but resisting it for fear of slipping back into the miasma of memories that shadowed his mind. He reached his arm sideways, hairs sticking to the brickwork. He tapped against a box that was pushed against the wall. The lid slipped off and he walked his fingers up the cardboard and inside. Photo frames, something cold and metallic, intricately patterned, a trinket box maybe? A soft, cool padding at the very bottom, sleek to touch. He wrapped it around his hand. The shawl. He knew it before he saw it. It slithered out of the box and he pulled it to his lap, letting its heavy weight fall through his hands as his weeping echoed through the attic.

              His phone buzzed in his pocket, startled him. Skinner.

              Scully was sleeping again by the time he got there, but she’d woken briefly earlier.

              “She knew who I was,” Skinner said, patting Mulder on the shoulder as he sank into the chair next to her bed. “She’s going to be okay, Mulder.”

              Her hand fitted into his palm perfectly, made to measure. He nodded up at Skinner, watched him leave, listened to the sounds of the room. He watched the rise of her chest, stronger now. The way her mouth flickered at the edges, her eyes fluttered under her lids. She was dreaming. He hoped fervently that it was a happy dream, a safe dream.

The shawl rested on his lap and he looked down at it, silvery strands glittering in the soft light. He thought of his mother, his father, his sister. The way grief was woven through his life, like the threads in the shawl. But every now and again, there were brighter moments, the silvery strands that made life worthwhile.

Scully shifted, her head turning to face him. She opened her eyes, blinked slowly. She sniffed quietly as he moved forward, noses bumping. Her voice was stuck in her dried-out throat so he got her some water, held the paper cup to her lips, lifted her head from the pillow. She sipped and it looked like it hurt.

“I’ll get the nurse, Scully,” he said but she gripped his hand and pulled him back down. The shawl fell to the floor. She saw it, brows crinkling. He shifted the chair closer to her, scooping up the shawl and burying it in the gap between the bar of the bed and her body.

“It was my mother’s,” he said and she closed her eyes. Her arm moved slightly so that he was sure she could feel its softness. She strained to open her eyes again, move her mouth to respond. He laid two fingers over her lips and shushed her. A tear slipped from her eye, her fingers stroked the shawl, letting the fringing slip between them.

“Sleep now, Scully,” he said. “I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

[blessed-but-distressed]

#FindEmmaSwanAFriend

Feeling left behind by her more successful, settled friends, Emma Swan moves to Scotland on a whim. Sure, she’s winning at Instagram, but something is still missing from her new life. Fortunately, her friends back home are on it. #FindEmmaSwanAFriend goes viral. Enter Killian Jones, reluctant columnist, who is on the hunt for his newest subject, and may just have found her. CS AU

also on ff.net and ao3

Tagging: @katie-dub , @wholockgal , @kat2609 , @whovianlunatic, @optomisticgirl, @ladyciaramiggles, @the-lady-of-misthaven, @emmaswanchoosesyou, @ilovemesomekillianjones, @biancaros3, @cigarettes-and-scotch-whisky, @ms-babs-gordon  @ab-normality, @andiirivera, @fangirl-till-it-hurts, @onceuponaprincessworld , @natascha-remi-ronin and whoever else asks me.

A/N: Yep. It’s been forever. And to add insult to injury, this is only Part 1 of 2. But umm... yay content?

***

SOS. My boss is wearing a powdered wig, and a guy in US flag speedos and nothing else just spilled punch down my dress. ES

What's this? A damsel in distress? Sounds like a perfect opportunity for a certain bearded gentleman to swoop in. One with cocktail knowledge and combat experience. Where is dear Rambo tonight? KJ

Don't call him that. And he's in Belfast, doing research. You know, like academics are supposed to do? ES

Ah, yes. Research. I've heard of it. KJ

That's it? No daring rescue plan? We have a code T here. ES

Code T? KJ

T for Transparent. As in, my dress. From being soaked through with punch by that asshole. Am I painting a clear enough picture? ES

I assure you, the image is extremely vivid. You might've led with that. Where is this damnable affair taking place, again? KJ

***

Emma

It wasn't that Emma was ashamed of where she came from. Not exactly. Recent election results aside, she had to acknowledge she hadn't ended up teaching American History by accident. Even when her country frustrated her, you had to admit, it was never boring. It was just...

She'd never been a foreigner before. Not really. A week in Cabo. That time Mary Margaret had forced her to third-wheel on a couple's ski trip to the Laurentians. Because that wasn't awkward at all.

But if she'd thought her American-ness would be a novelty in Scotland, she'd been seriously deluding herself.

Between the onset of summer vacation, the Instagram-worthy architecture and the enduring appeal of Jamie Fraser, there had never been more Americans in Edinburgh than there were at that moment. The Outlander Effect, they were calling it.

And Emma couldn't exactly miss them. They were everywhere, and not just herding en masse down the Royal Mile. On the bus. Crowding into the Jinglin' Geordie on Open Mic Night. Talking group assignments in the Starbucks line. Hell, a lot of her own students came equipped with homegrown accents, her class allowing their studies to mesh seamlessly with the syllabus back home.

Most encounters were pretty jarring. Like listening to your own voice played back on a recording.

Do I really sound like that?

She hoped not.

Did it really take me that long to figure out it isn't pronounced Edin-burg?

No comment.

Do I really have trouble translating common anglicisms?

Only sometimes.

Usually when they came out of the mouth of someone like Will Scarlet, and she couldn't tell if he was using some highly localized Derbyshire dialect, or if he was just fucking with her.

Sure, Killian tried a little too hard to sound like some kind of dashing 17th-century buccaneer most of the time, but at least it was still recognizable as a form of English. With Will though, she could never really be sure.

Still, after nearly a year, she liked to think she had a handle on things. She could order a 'Laphroaig' without completely mangling it, and knew enough to keep an umbrella on her person at all times. And if and when her cravings for American snack foods struck, they were being plenty satisfied by her local Sainsbury's, who kept one shelf fully stocked with all of the Twinkies, Peanut Butter Cups, and Lucky Charms a girl could ever wish for.

So when her Head of Department was looking for volunteers for their annual Fourth of July barbecue, Emma had to admit she did try to get out of it.

It was her own fault, really. It was summer. She should've been sunning it up in the Algarve with the rest of her colleagues, day drinking, and returning her skin tone to a less deathly pallor. Instead, she was the sucker who'd been roped into teaching Summer School classes to a revolving door of international students, who were keen to let some of the school's reputation rub off on them, without the three or four year commitment. Every three weeks a new lot arrived, and Emma's life descended into Groundhog Day as she repeated her lectures anew, reliving the same debates and excuses on a constant loop.

So she only had herself to blame when the department head went looking for warm bodies, that hers was the only one still lingering in the corridors.

"Great!" her boss said, clapping her hands together. "Don't forget to wear something festive!"

Festive.

There was no way this wasn't going to be a disaster.

***

The damsel in distress line might've rankled her, but she had to hand it to the guy, he came through.

Fifteen minutes after she'd barricaded herself in the bathroom after The Fruit Punch Incident she was summoned curbside, arms still determinedly crossed over her chest, to where a black cab sat idling, an incorrigible Englishman leaning against it holding up a leather holdall.

"Does Elsa know you went through her closet?" she asked, eyeing the bag.

"Who do you think paid for the cab?" he grinned.

Emma really needed to send that woman a fruit basket or something. Did people still do that? Send fruit baskets? Elsa would know. She probably went to one of those fancy Swiss finishing schools, where you learned shit like that.

The bag even smelled expensive as Killian handed it over, his eyes dropping for the first time to properly take in her ruined outfit, and lingering.

"Don't even say it," she warned, as he fought to suppress a grin.

She was never wearing a white sundress again. Ever.

"If anyone could pull it off..." he began, but a warning finger cut him off.

The picture of innocence, he raised his hands and stepped away. Which was precisely the moment Emma realized they were not, in fact, alone.

"In a spot of bother, milady?" came the cheerful greeting from the figure still wedged into the backseat of the cab, waving at her.

Robin. Attractive single Dad Robin, with the Oxbridge accent, criminal mastermind father, and good sense to keep his eyes averted.

"What the hell?" Emma hissed under her breath, whacking Killian in the shoulder. "Are we charging admission for my humiliations now?"

"Easy, lass," he said, rubbing the spot where she'd hit him. "I was out with Robin when you texted. I was hardly going to leave him on his own, now was I? Not very good form."

She glanced back to where Robin sat, whistling to himself, then back to Killian. "Oh, so now you're the honorable one?"

"What's this?" he scoffed. "An attack on my character? And after I've orchestrated such a dashing rescue? A fair maiden in distress and I'm on the spot."

The indignation would've been a little easier to swallow if his grin hadn't been quite so… wolfish.

"Yeah, right," Emma said with a roll of her eyes. "Like this isn't making it into your column."

He didn't deny it. He didn't need to. Just offered her a clumsy wink, and motioned to the building before them.

"One good turn deserves another, don't you think?" he suggested, and Emma's stomach dropped. "How does one merit an invitation to an exclusive gathering of expatriates, exactly? Do they check passports at the door? Make you recite the Pledge of Allegiance?"

He held his prosthetic over his heart, and affixed a solemn expression.

"Wrong hand, asshole," she said, grabbing his wrist and tugging his hand back down by his side.

"Probably for the best," Killian shrugged. "I confess I don't actually know the words. Does the School of Rock version count?"

"You seriously want to go up there? You know they're celebrating their independence from the English, right?"

"I'm a journalist, Swan. An arbiter of truth. Would you really deny me the materials I need to make an honest living?"

"You're a hack," Emma grumbled, clutching the bag of clothes to her chest.

"Aye, that I am," Killian agreed, dropping his voice at least an octave. "But a rather dashing one, don't you think?"

So this is how Killian Jones got what he wanted. The ol' razzle dazzle.

It wasn't entirely ineffective. With a huff of annoyance, Emma walked over to lean by the window of the cab. "What do you say, Robin? Want to see my countrymen cut loose and fight about politics?"

He tilted his head, considering her offer. "Do you really put marshmallows in your sweet potatoes?"

"Different holiday. But yeah, we do."

"Alright then," he said, gathering up his belongings where they were strewn across the back seat. "I'll be there presently."

Rapping her knuckles against the side of the cab, she turned back to Killian, who was looking unbearably pleased with himself. Even more than usual.

"Lead the way, lass" he declared, with an exaggerated bow.

"It's a little too late to play at being the gentleman, don't you think?" Emma pointed out.

"Oh?" he asked, his gaze unnervingly direct. "And why is that, Swan?"

If he was trying for intimidation, then he really didn't know Emma well enough. Instead, she simply turned to lead the way back up the stairs to the front stoop, bag swinging by her side. "I'm just saying…" she replied in a sing-song voice. "A gentleman wouldn't have looked."

***

When Emma pictured a Fourth of July barbecue, she pictured hot dogs, hyperactive neighborhood kids with water pistols, and sunshine. The Edinburgh version was something very different.

For one thing, it was not a family affair. For another, she doubted you could even really call it a barbecue, when there was no grill in sight. And unfortunately, for Emma, the party was still in full swing when she returned after her costume change, all of her dreams for a quick getaway evaporating along with the last of the punch.

If anything, the numbers had swelled with a sea of Uncle Sams and Lady Liberties spilling out into the garden, wine glasses in hand. If Emma hadn't already realized the gross pay disparity between educators and administrators, the garden would've really sealed it.

You couldn't swing a Heriot Row townhouse on Emma's salary. Hell, you couldn't even swing a Heriot Row parking space on Emma's salary. Yet somehow, the university muckety-muck who'd been bullied into hosting this little soiree didn't seem to have that problem.

At least the booze was free.

Emma looked longingly over at the refreshments table, but gave it a wide berth. The last thing she needed to do was ruin her borrowed sweater. It was a little on the tight side, but she did appreciate its fuzzy warmth. Even as she wondered if Killian had purposefully picked out the preppiest sweater he could find, or if she was just cursed.

"Hey," came a call from her left. It was a guy in a Captain America outfit, with none of Chris Evan's dimensions. "Ivanka, right?"

Emma looked down at herself, wondering if that was the name of the designer. "I'm sorry?"

"You're dressed as Ivanka Trump, right? Nice."

He was gone before she could deny it, and she glanced back to the gilded mirror in the hallway in alarm. With her hair recently straightened, she had to admit to a passing resemblance. If you squinted.

Oh god.

She had to find the boys and get them out of here, before she was pilloried as a Republican infiltrator.

She scanned the crowd, but the only person in a leather jacket she saw was channeling Maverick from Top Gun. Frustrated, she headed out into the garden, where she spotted Robin, cornered amongst the shrubberies by a very determined looking woman in a Wonder Woman costume.

Was Wonder Woman even American, technically?

Whatever the debates on her true origin, Emma had to admit the woman pulled off the look, even if the cleavage spilling out from the neckline of the outfit was a wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen. She was fully fixated on Robin, her fingers trailing up and down his arm, laughing at one of his anecdotes.

As she walked by she shot him a questioning look, in case he needed an assist, but he just gave a wink, and started in on a new story.

Hot Single Dad Robin still had it. And something told her he wouldn't be up for any plan that involved cutting out with her early.

Heaving a sigh, she liberated a Coors Light from an icebox and took another turn around the garden.

"Ivanka?" Another woman asked, her look practically accusatory.

"Elle Woods," Emma blurted out. The sweater was baby blue, not pink, but it was the best she could come up with on the fly.

Hurrying away from that interaction, she rounded a pillar and finally came upon her quarry, sitting alone on a bench beside a gurgling water feature.

"And here I thought you'd be the life of the party," Emma said, snagging the space beside him. She gestured towards where Robin was getting half his face mauled off by Wonder Woman. "Was every other member of the Justice League taken?"

She was rewarded with the ghost of a smile, but his gaze was still fixed ahead, not really seeing, as he rolled an unopened bottle of Budweiser between his fingers.

"You okay?" Emma asked, taking the bottle from his hand and removing the cap with a well-placed tap against the side of the bench.

"Where'd you learn that little trick?" he asked, ignoring her question as he accepted the open bottle.

"A bus shelter in Framingham, Massachusetts." It was more detail than he was expecting, and she nearly laughed at the sudden brightness in his eyes. "It was my first beer. You kind of remember stuff like that."

"You has your first beer in a bus shelter in Framingham Massachusetts?" He repeated it back, like there was something especially weird about that.

"Yeah. I was 14, and in between foster homes. Stole a six pack from the Stop and Shop after the clerk told me off for browsing the magazines. And then some old army vet at the bus shelter showed me how to take the cap off against the side of a trash can."

He furrowed his brows. "You're trying to get me to open up by revealing things about yourself. Which you never do."

"Maybe," Emma offered, taking a swig of her beer. "Is it working?"

He took a long sip on his own bottle, made a face, and then settled it back into his lap. "You mentioned a brush with the law, as a teenager. I'm assuming that wasn't for underage drinking at bus stops?"

Emma grimaced. "Not so much. Possession of stolen goods, with intent to sell. I got lucky. The watch I had on me was worth just shy of $500. They knocked it down to a misdemeanor and I got probation."

"You stole a watch?"

"No, my skeezy boyfriend stole a case of watches. I just happened to be wearing one when he called the cops to frame me while he took off to Canada with the rest."

"When he what?! Please tell me this wanker is dead in a ditch somewhere." Emma had to admit, she didn't mind his tone. Like he might go out and finish the job, if need be.

Emma shrugged, picking at the label on her bottle. "Probably. I never saw him again after that."

"So that explains it," Killian huffed.

"Explains what?" Emma asked, preparing to get defensive.

"Your Walsh fellow's appeal. I'm guessing he wasn't the larcenous type?"

Oh. Not even remotely.

"Yeah, he was the kind of guy who washed out his jars before he put them in the recycling. He was kind of the anti-Neal."

"That was his name? Neal?"

"Neal Cassidy," Emma sighed. "And yes, like the writer. He had it changed when he was 18 as a Fuck You to his Dad."

"Well, he sounds like a right tosser."

Emma snorted. "Yeah, pretty much."

"And not all that clever, if he thought losing you for a case of watches was an even trade."

That had Emma looking up, sarcastic retort on the tip of her tongue. But instead of making fun, Killian's expression was deadly serious, eyes meeting hers directly. Like he actually meant it. Emma's gaze flicked back to the label on her beer, nearly entirely peeled away by this stage, and fought to keep her face level.

"You think so?" she asked, her words coming out less jokingly than she intended.

"I do."

It was the answer that had her looking back up again, a frown forming. "Killian, I-"

"You're worth at least two cases," he added. "Maybe three. I mean, what are we talking here? Cartier? Rolex?" His eyebrow was raised again in that familiar roguish way.

Emma let out a breath, and extinguished the tiny flame that burned somewhere inside her stomach. Friends, she reminded herself. They were friends.

"You're hilarious," Emma replied deadpan. "And if we're going to continue sharing, I really need something stronger than this," she said, tipping back her head and draining the last of her bottle.

"When I was looking for extra chairs earlier, I think I saw a wet bar in the study. Fancy a dram?" Killian asked, rising to his feet.

"Oh, so you're journalistic snooping does come in handy sometimes?"

"More than sometimes," he said with a grin that would fell a lesser beast. And suddenly Emma wasn't so sure the flame was truly out.

Later, she still couldn't recall whether he'd held out a hand to take her empty bottle, or to help her up. All she knew, was as they moved from the garden back to the party proper, she had Killian's hand in hers.

***

Reasons Not To Push Killian Jones Up Against The Nearest Wall And Have Your Way With Him:

1. Hello, work event. Have some goddamn professionalism.

2. You're wearing Elsa's clothes. Don't make this weird.

3. You like him, and never talking to him again would suck.

4. He would definitely allude to it in his column, and you would have to emigrate. Again.

5. Graham. Oh, fuck. Graham.

***

The upstairs study was everything you'd expect from an overpaid university administrator. Soft red leather furnishings. Framed certificates covering an entire wall. A solid oak desk that could, hypothetically, bear the weight of two people at once.

And, oh yeah, the promised wet bar.

Emma was not, nor had she ever been, a cheater. And even if she and Graham were still only in the "getting to know you" phase of tentative texts and PG-13 cocktail hours, she knew betraying that would still be a shitty thing to do.

So when Killian offered her the glass of whisky, she didn't do what she wanted to do, which was down the lot and drag him towards her by the collar. Instead, she sat on the red leather couch as far from him as possible, and held the glass in front of her like a shield.

"Reminds me of your jacket," he said with a smile, letting his hand glide against the upholstery. Emma's skin still tingled from where his hand had gripped hers, so unused to foreign contact.

She took a gulp of her drink, and let it burn down her esophagus in penance for her crimes. Only once she'd regained sufficient control of her hormones did she speak.

"So, are you going to tell me what's been up with you?

"Up with me?" Killian replied, his oh-so-innocent look oh-so-unconvincing. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Oh, I don't know," Emma said, rolling her eyes heavenward. "The sudden phone emergencies. The brooding. The black eye. You've been different lately. Kind of… subdued, for you."

In answer, Killian drained what was left of his glass, and turned to face her. "Perceptive, aren't you, Swan?" He didn't sound happy about the fact.

Emma shrugged, taking another sip. "You can't kid a kidder."

He considered that, finger tapping absently against the side of his glass. "Perhaps not. Very well then. The truth: The magazine is broke."

It wasn't what Emma had been expecting. What had she been expecting? A secret drug habit? Abusive new girlfriend? Fight Club?

"Broke?" she repeated.

"Utterly. But instead of accepting the inevitable, and bowing out gracefully, my brother, well-intentioned idiot that he is, decided to take what was left in the coffers and make a few wagers."

Emma's heart sank into her stomach. "He didn't."

"Oh, he did. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, apparently. Lost the lot. Bloody prat. Thought he'd come back a conquering hero. Instead he's having to dip into his own savings to keep the whole operation afloat until he can find a way to pay back his bookie."

That explained the black eye.

"And no one knows about this? Don't you have accountants or something?"

"There is a fellow, Tim, who's been covering for him. Let him take out the entire balance in the first place, didn't he? So now he feels equally culpable. So there's Liam. Tim. Me. And now you."

"Elsa doesn't know?"

"Not in so many words. She isn't bloody stupid though. He's been decidedly distracted on the homefront. Probably thinks he's having a mid-life crisis or an affair or something stupid. Would be easier to just tell her, but the problem is, he knows if she finds out about it she'll feel obligated to help."

"Well, that would be a good thing, right? No more, uhhh…" Emma waved a hand over her eye.

"Well, when Elsa's parents died, they left her a good deal of money. Most of it went towards the house, and setting up her sister in New York, but there's enough left to get Weaver off his back. Problem is, my brother's pride would never let him accept it. And then there's the matter of Elsa's aunt."

"Elsa's aunt?"

"She owns the magazine. And let's just say, she's not quite as err… understanding as Elsa can be. If she gets word of it, there'll be criminal charges."

"Fuck."

"Fuck,' he agreed, leaning forward in his chair to pour himself another whisky.

"And you've just been carrying this all around on your shoulders for what? Months?"

"But what magnificent shoulders, wouldn't you say, Swan?" The grin was almost leering, but not in a good way. More in a defense mechanism kind of way.

"Don't do that," Emma chided, leaning over to smooth the wrinkle above his brows with her fingers. "Just be you."

"And how is that?" He asked, with a look of such genuine curiosity that her hand paused somewhere in the region of his jaw.

"Same as me," Emma shrugged. "A little fucked up. A little scared."

She leaned forward then, and placed a kiss on that same spot above his brow.

Maybe it wasn't where she'd wanted to kiss him five minutes ago, but it felt right. She heard him inhale sharply underneath her, but she didn't immediately break contact. Not until his face relaxed, and his arms came up to wrap around her waist.

She let her head fall onto his shoulder, and his on hers, breathing each other in. Comfortable fucking silence.

Only when her phone started chirping in her pocket did she pull away at last, steadying herself on his shoulders. "You're going to be okay, Killian Jones. You and your fucked up family."

The grin was wry, but it was real.

"You going to get that?" he asked, ducking his chin down to where they were practically intertwined. Probably best not to add vibration to the mix.

She fished the phone out of her pocket, and checked the caller ID.

August.

He never called. He sent ten page letters typed up on his pretentious vintage typewriter, but he never called.

With a look of apology, she peeled herself off of Killian's lap, and hit accept.

"August? Is someone dead?"

"Em! Where are you?" Wherever he was, he sounded cheerful. And just a little bit drunk. Well, it was the Fourth of July.

"Where am I? I'm in Scotland, where I'm supposed to be. How much have you had to drink?"

"Nooo," he corrected, words slurring a little. "I mean, where right now? Someone in your department told me you were at this party. But no one remembers seeing you. Are you here?"

Emma's stomach lurched. "Party? You mean, in Edinburgh?"

"Of course, in Edinburgh! The party I'm at, it's at… hang on," his words muffled as he conferred with nearby partygoers, "17 Heriot Row?"

Oh. Fucking. Fuck. Fucking August and his fucking surprises.

"I'll be five minutes. Stay right where you are."

Feeling the color drain from her face, she ended the call, and tucked her phone back into the pocket of her borrowed jeans. "We need to get downstairs. I need to-" She looked around for a mirror, but there were none in the vicinity. Of course.

"Lass?" He had her by the elbow, holding her still. "What has you all a-flutter?"

Emma pinched the bridge of her nose. "You remember I mentioned my friend August?"

"Knee still creaks when it rains, August?" The boy did have superior recall. "Novelist August?"

"Yeah. Anyway, he's downstairs."

[stylinsonlibrary]

FASHION AU FIC REC: fics where Louis, Harry, or both are involved in the fashion industry in some capacity.

Just For Me (9k) Harry is a supermodel with a fake boyfriend. Louis is the captain and star forward of Manchester United with a fake girlfriend. They should have no problem having a completely platonic lunch between friends.

(They do.)

i'm stuck to your shoe, let's run (9k) Louis hates his job and Harry really lives up to his last name. (or, Louis sells men’s shoes, Harry is a rather famous fashion blogger, and they’re brought together by a gaudy pair of boots.)

Just Walk My Way (10k) Louis is a Victoria's Secret Angel, and Harry is the main act of the night.

Paper Houses (11k) “Who is that?” He hisses.

Zayn holds up a hand to stop Louis from speaking any further.

The voice on the other end of the phone continues. “Then, he saw a photo of him on Insta with his little sister and brother, and he was so gone, dude. He basically demanded that I find Louis for him! And he’s never demanded anything from me ever !”

“Pshhhh, Louis’ been jerking off to Harry for years--”

Louis dives from his place on the couch to sprawl across Zayn’s desk, snatching the phone up. There are loud noises coming from the other end of the phone as Louis shouts into it. “Who is this? Zayn has no idea what he’s talking about--”

Someone on the other end has begun shouting into the phone at the same time. “I never demanded anything--” When model Louis Tomlinson admits to having a celebrity crush on a very famous actor in an article in GQ magazine, he has no idea it will lead to anything. He definitely never suspects he will fall so hard and so fast for Harry Styles. When reality begins to interfere, their relationship is put to the test.

Tease (12k) AU. Louis Tomlinson, actor and movie star, is wildly in love with his boyfriend, supermodel Harry Styles. Their relationship is lovely and unlike any Louis has ever had before, which makes the surprise of Harry's newest interest that much more intriguing.

If You Ever Want To Be In Love (12k) Louis is a model. Harry is an up-and-coming singer/songwriter. They haven't seen each other in nearly two years.

You're Either In Or You're Out (12k) Louis' tone is maybe a bit harsher than necessary, but he still stinging from the suggestion that he was staring at Harry. Sure, the way his legs are encased in those skinny jeans is mildly intriguing. But Louis is here to be the next Top Designer, and he'll be damned if he lets a pretty boy with a sinful mouth get in the way of his dream. Especially if that sinful mouth is spewing phrases like bohemian pantsuit. Honestly.

Or the one where Louis tries out for Project Runway, Harry is his stupidly gorgeous competitor, Liam is Tim Gunn, Zayn is the supermodel host, and Niall is the guest judge who knows nothing about fashion.

Overwhelming (13k) He groans and squints at the feet of whoever he’s bumped into. All he sees is a worn pair of tan boots that lead up into a pair of long, long legs. He sits up, sighing, and rubs at his eyes; there’s a hand in front of his face so he grabs it and allows this stranger to help him up.

He blinks once, twice, and can’t believe his bad fucking luck, because of course he slammed his entire body into a pretty stranger. Not only that but—he smells the air once to confirm his suspicions—a pretty, sweet-smelling, alpha stranger. Fantastic.

Pretty stranger opens his mouth. “I didn’t concuss you, did I?”

Louis is an omega attending university to get his degree and most definitely not waste his time with unimportant things such as finding a mate. Harry is the alpha who manages to unwittingly mess up that plan.

More Than Anything (13k) Being able to see through the eyes of your soulmate may seem like a dream come true to many, but reality proves a little more complicated. For two young boys it's all they could ever wish for but as time passes by they come to realise that there's no pain quite the same as longing to have someone who just isn’t there.

Put It All On Me (15k) "Yeah, yeah, give it to me, that's it, spread your legs a bit, there you go."

The camera follows Louis as he does. Maybe if the modelling thing doesn't work out, he could try the porn industry. Then again, he's a bit too stocky to be twinky and a bit too twinky to be anything else. He likes that about himself, though. Well, directors and photographers like that about him. He could pull off pretty and edgy, could do GQ in the morning and a perfume commercial in the afternoon. Right now he thinks he could pull off anything, because it's Harry fucking Styles directing him.

Or, a Top Model AU where Louis is accidentally there to make friends, not become Britain's Next Top Model. (Also Zayn is the supermodel host.)

Found My Missing Piece (16k) “@harrystyles followed you.”

“@harrystyles liked your tweet.”

“What?” He whispers in astonishment, because there’s no way. But he clicks on Harry’s profile and sure enough, the little grey “follows you” appears by his name. After taking a second to just stare at the screen, he quickly takes a screenshot and sends it to his sister. Lottie is one of the few people who would understand his shock. Niall would certainly just make fun of him for it.  

Louis and Harry are both fashion bloggers. Louis' been following Harry for years. Harry and his blog really gave him the confidence and the push to make his own. His sister and best friend have been making fun of his silly little crush on him ever since. But that's all it is, a silly, harmless crush because there is no way Harry knows who he is. Or does he?

swimming in a champagne sea (16k) Louis is a supermodel. Harry is a celebrity photographer known for capturing the brightest up and comers in their most candid moments. They meet at London’s most exclusive New Year’s Eve party.

An alpha/alpha fic filled with confusion, banter, Ubers, and glitter

Make a Dime Go One Hundred (17k) “Hey, Haz,” he says, encouraged in equal parts by the weed and the cocoon they seem to have created around themselves. “Do you think you could trust anyone enough to have full control over you?” he asks into the night, hoping his sentence won’t break their bubble. It doesn’t, if the way Harry’s eyes meet his is any indication.

“What do you mean?” Harry’s voice is barely above a whisper, rough from the singing they had done earlier. Louis wants to keep this memory forever.

“You know, if someone wanted to, uhm,” he coughs, “to tie you up, or blindfold you.”

Friends to Lovers AU: Harry volunteers to help Louis experiment with bondage. Things don’t go exactly to plan.

If You Wanna Try Me On (18k) To be fair, Harry’d been half asleep when Niall convinced him to put in his CV in the first place. Like, Harry wants to be a proper serious journalist--he’s not about to give up that dream in favour of becoming a personal assistant at a fashion magazine, or...whatever. Harry’s not actually all that sure what Tomlinson Styles even is, beyond his ticket to fame or any of the other things Niall’d spouted off at him, but when he shows up for the interview and is unceremoniously shoved into an office with the Tomlinson part of that equation, all Harry can really think about is that he would like to be a Tomlinson-Styles.

...or the Devil Wears Prada AU that no one wanted. Sort of.

Life At Shutter Speed (20k) AU. Having landed a job modelling for an outdoor clothing catalogue, Harry certainly wouldn’t mind doing some extracurricular work for photographer Louis Tomlinson. Say, a private photo session? Yes, please? Good thing that Harry has ten days and three beautiful locations -- Morocco, Indonesia and the Swiss Alps -- to make Louis see just how good they could be.

Three French Hems (20k) In which Louis is a designer at Burberry and Harry spends December wearing Lanvin… and Lanvin… and Lanvin.

you think fashion is your friend, my friend (fashion is danger) (27k) "Louis has one rule, and one rule only, that he simply refuses to break. He forbids himself to be attracted to anyone he might work with. No wanking to models who might wear his clothes! It’s hardly fair, considering he spends 95% of his time working with the most attractive men on the planet, but his career is more important. Besides, in Louis’ experience, it always leads to disaster. Harry Styles makes respecting the rule really damn hard though and Louis is not quite sure why."

the one where Louis is a famous British designer and Harry is the clumsy, most likely straight model that makes his heart race.

sweet, where you lay (27k) Louis Tomlinson is a twenty-eight year old successful actor living in New York. Harry Styles is a twenty year old up and coming model and coincidentally also the one who turns Louis’ world completely upside down.

or, Louis is Zachary Quinto and Harry is Miles McMillan. Falling in love was always in the cards for them.

But Why Wonder, Why Wonder? (30k) The one where Marcel Styles has improbably landed a job in the fashion industry, and Louis Tomlinson is the actor-turned-lingerie-designer he’s been infatuated with for years.

These Constant Stars (31k) Louis’ career has nowhere to go but up. He’s living at the height of New York City on the precipice of an epic promotion. Life is good and only getting better. And then one day, things turn disastrous.

This is a story about life, death, and punk rockers turned guardian angels.

Promises We Made (35k) Its been five years since Harry and Louis broke up; they were seventeen and nineteen and it was messy to say the least. Cue Louis, who is worked off his feet making clothes for celebrities, Harry dropping his debut album, Niall who likes to avoid his insecurities by dragging Louis on Holiday, Zayn and Perrie as Louis' right hand stylists, and Liam who wishes Harry would just tell him about his ex-boyfriends before he contacts them about working for him.

Its either going to be a disaster, or the perfect timing they've all been waiting for.

football/designer (series; 2 works; 39k) Louis Tomlinson is an English fashion designer. Harry Styles is an American football player. 

everywhere (i wanna be with you) (42k) Harry and Louis meet because they have terrible friends, they fall in love because something feels right in a world of uncertainty and shifting grounds. Louis is an actor and Harry is a model at the top of his game, the best things in life are the most unexpected ones and the things that hit you when you are least expecting it.

Featuring winter in London, nights in Paris, early mornings in New York, burning heat in Monte Carlo and an enduring love spent transcending four corners of the globe.

to kill the mess we've made (43k) And when he's finally standing, Liam fussing over him, rubbing his hand at the red mark blooming on Harry's forehead, does Harry learn two things:

One, he wasn't actually hit that hard, and Tommo--or Louis, rather--is just as pretty when Harry is staring at him head-on and,

Two, Louis is the Adidas model he's going to be working with on today's photo shoot.

(or: AU where Harry and Louis are both models, and they decide being friends-with-benefits is a great idea. It isn't.)

Why Can't It Be Like That (63k) Louis Tomlinson, head of his local hospital's charity fund, suddenly finds himself in the heart of the Royal family when his mother marries the third son of the reigning monarch. Such an upset in lifestyle brings a lot of changes for Louis, one of them being the need for a stylist.

Enter Harry Styles, a cutting edge fashion stylist who loves his job and prides himself on his passion. The first time he sees Louis Tomlinson on the cover of a tabloid he wants to dress him, style him, make him as beautiful as Harry knows he could be. When he's hired to do just that, he knows this will be a perfect partnership. That is, until he actually meets the man.

A fashion AU with a royal twist, where Louis doesn't need a stylist, Harry's thrilled to have a real life Barbie doll, and they're both very wrong about each other.

In This Light (99k) Harry is a wardrobe stylist who likes to live in the moment, and Louis is a popstar who looks dreamy in double breasted jackets. Harry never stood a chance.

dusted in gold (series; 2 works; 100k) Harry’s an A-list supermodel, Louis’s his make-up artist boyfriend. They’re something of a dream team.

Dress you up in my love (103k) Harry is single, and more than anything wants to find love. Agreeing to sign up to a dating website was a bad, bad idea. Niall's bad, bad idea. Louis is single, but has no interest in relationships. Or so he tells himself. 

Harry is a lawyer whose boss, Nick, happens to give him a bonus, which he decides to splurge on a new work wardrobe. Louis is a frustrated designer, working as a personal shopper at Selfridges. Louis happens to be working on the day a very beautiful, but out of his depth, new customer ambles into their department in need of advice. Louis might have just found the muse he never knew he was looking for.

Featuring: Sophia as Louis' colleague, with a somewhat unhealthy obsession with his love life, whilst being oblivious when it comes to her own. Liam as the ‘IT bloke from downstairs’ with the mother of all crushes on Sophia. Niall as Harry's sport's writer flatmate who spends most of his time making Harry's life as complicated as possible. Zayn as Louis’ flatmate and lifelong best friend, whose cat, Noodle/Princess/Princess Noodle loves Louis more than it loves him. And Nick as Harry's boss and one of Louis' regular customers: is Imelda Marcos reborn.

In Vogue (121k) 'Is that why David Beckham has been featured multiple times on the pages of your life's work? Does your criteria seriously consist of one thing – a man's ass?'

'Well the ass is a man's best asset,' Harry smirks, holding the Martini glass high up his face. 'And don't call the magazine my life's work. There are far more important things in life, Louis Tomlinson, than what's printed on the pages of a magazine.'

Fashion AU. Louis is the editor in chief of Vogue magazine, and Harry's running British GQ. Featuring Zayn as the crazy creative director and Louis' confidant, Liam as the sports writer that gets to sit front row at fashion week and DJ Neil as the only sane person in the whole story. 

Let's Fall in Love in a Place You Want to Stay (134k) A George of the Jungle / Tarzan AU where Louis is a model who meets Wild Man Harry in the Congo. He was raised by apes and barely speaks a word of English and turns Louis' life upside down.

Have Faith In Me (183k) As the son of Anne Styles, millionaire owner of one of the world's most luxurious fashion labels, Harry has spent his last seventeen years living in carefree extravagance. And now he's grown tired of it, along with the pressure from his mum to follow in her footsteps and the constant care given to him by her past assistants.

When his mum's newest assistant, Louis, moves into the guesthouse, Harry determines to be treated differently. To be treated like an adult. Except Louis is not at all what Harry was expecting...

This is a story about growing up, growing in love and having the faith to make it last.

Fading (202k) Louis knows about beauty; the combination of qualities that pleases the aesthetic senses. He creates that combination every day in the garments he designs while studying fashion at uni. The cut of the design, the color of the fabric, the intricacy of the stitching; it all comes together to create something beautiful. When the science student with the long legs and dimpled smile agrees to model for him, Louis decides he’s found beauty personified. Harry just thinks Louis needs someone to show him how beautiful he is. [Trigger Warning: Eating Disorder]

[earthschampion]

So, I finally fixed one of my old stories!

And can I just say... I feel so relieved!  I feel like it’s been hanging over my head for years!  The one I fixed was from five years ago, and honestly that feels so unreal, to me.

But, anyway, if you’re interested in reading it, it’s right here!  Would love to hear what you guys think!  The original honestly wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, in terms of fluff and mushiness (Because I truly was the hopeless romantic when I started this blog), but I did have to tweak things a bit on here.  Anyway, I hope you like it!

It takes place back during the days of Young Justice, in the year 1998.  One of the worst thunderstorms to hit the Northeast had awoken a sleeping Wonder Girl from a horrific nightmare.  Her crush, Superboy, does what he can to calm his friend down during the storm.

Rolling Thunder

It was one of the worst thunderstorms Cassie had ever experienced.  Lightning flashed as thunder roared across the sky, the wind howling in the trees, blowing down branches onto the streets below.  One specific branch smacked itself across her window for hours, keeping her from falling asleep.  She tossed and turned, tried using her headphones, then attempted to sleep with the pillow over her head. Nothing seemed to mute the outside world, until as if by wishing hard enough, the branch finally snapped and hit the ground.  Now the smacking on her window was gone, but there was still the booming thunder and strong winds.

Somehow, Cassie was able to fall asleep.  She was grateful, and felt at peace, even though it seemed her subconscious had other plans for this night.  Her body stirred, her mind using the sounds of the storm to affect her dream.  As the lightning cracked like a whip, Cassie shot right up. “No!” she screamed, her eyes darting around the room as her chest raised with each breath.  As she finally focused on her surroundings, she realized she was back in her bedroom.  She saw her bunny slippers on the ground, her teddy bear on the bed, and the poster of Superboy on her door.  She was home, and she was safe.

“Okay…” She wiped the sweat from her brow as she reached for the phone.  “That was waaaay too realistic to only be a nightmare.  Maybe someone at the HQ is awake, I just need to calm down.  I hope this storm didn’t knock any power lines by me…” Cassie focused on calming her breathing as she typed the phone number to the Headquarters of her superhero team, Young Justice.

As if the storm wasn’t loud enough to echo throughout the cave, there was now the repeated ringing of the phone, blaring throughout the remnants of the old HQ to the Justice League of America.  It rang only a few more times before Kon-El drowsily answered.  “H-Hello?”  Kon did his best to hold back his yawn, but exhaustion got the best of him.

“Ohmigosh…” Cassie dropped the phone as her chest started to pound again.  It’s him, it’s him! It’shimit’shimit’shim! Her excitement had mixed with the anxiety the nightmare had given her, causing her heart to go a mile a second. “K-Kon?  Kon, is that you?” She asked, bringing the phone back up to her ear.

“Cass? It’s…” Kon turned to the giant computer and looked at the time upon the screen, his eyes now widened upon the realization.  “Cass, it’s three in the morning! What gives?! What are you doin’ up so early?! Calling here, no less, where the phone rings like a dang church bell…”

Lowering the phone from her face again, she spoke softly.  “It is him!” Her face now fully blushing, she couldn’t contain her smile. “He’s worried about me, he’s actu--oh no.  He hates me, I woke him up.  Nice one, Cassie, you ruined your chance to ever--” Cassie cut herself off, realizing that Kon was still on the other end of the line.  Fumbling to bring the phone back to her ear, her voice trembled.  “Oh, hi, Kon.  It’s just… Just, uuhhh… Oh, this is going to be so lame.”  Her hand covered her face as she shook her head.

“Are you alright, Wondy?  You’re sounding like you had one too many Twinkies before bed.”

“Yes!  Well, no.  I mean, I’m not hurt.  But at the same time, I’m not really well.  To be honest, I’m not sure why I even called… Ehehehe.”  Cassie’s nervous laugh escaped her as she scratched the back of her head, lightly smacking the phone against her head. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

“Uh-huh.  Well, you try and figure that out while I go back to bed, ‘kay? G’night Wo--”

“No, wait!”  She yelled as Kon was about to rest the phone back onto the receiver.  “Ar-Are you still there?”  Her voice trembling again.  “Please still be there…”

Kon sighed as he placed the phone back to his ear, his back now resting against the wall.  “Yeah, I’m still here.  What’s up, Wondy?  You sound like you’ve seen a ghost.  And no, I’m not talkin’ ‘bout Secret.”

She closed her eyes and took a breath, calming herself.  “I… I kinda had a nightmare.  Gods, you probably think I’m as immature as Bart, now.”  Cassie’s face now a deep red as her head hung low.

“What?  No, not at all, Wondy! Don’t be ridiculous.  To be honest, I kinda had one, too…” He scratched the back of his head as he let out a small nervous laugh.  “I guess mine wasn’t enough to wake me up, though.”

“Maybe it’s destiny…” She spoke softly before putting some hair behind her ear and placing the phone against it, again.  “Wow, really?  I didn’t think you’d get nightmares.  I mean, you being all tough and protective, and handso--hands on! So hands on!”  She chimed a bit louder, hoping he didn’t hear what she was about to say.  “Nice going, Cassie, tell ‘em how ya really feel, why don’t ya?” Once again mumbling to herself, Cassie brought the phone back up to her face.  “But, I am sorry to hear that, Kon.  Do you… Do you wanna talk about it?”

Kon pondered it for a moment, muffling another yawn.  “Yeah, sure, Cassie.  I’ll be there in a few minutes, ‘kay?”  He hung up the phone, flew to his section of the cave, and put on his costume.  After running his fingers through his hair, he took off into the stormy sky.

“Be careful, the storm is really ba-- bad, here…”  She heard the click of the phone before she could finish her sentence, meaning Kon had already hung up the phone.  “Oh, Zeus, please watch over him.  Pretty please?”  She hung up the phone, then swung her legs over the edge of her bed.  Going over her phone call with Kon, the realization of what was about to happen had hit her.  “H-He’s on his way.  Here.  To my house.  Kon.  Coming here.  To see me.  Sure, he’s been over once before with the rest of the team, but this time it’s just to see me.  Me!  He cares about me, maybe even… maybe he even loves me.”  Her teddy bear squished against her chest, Cassie happily floated above her bed, thinking of her future as Mrs. Superboy.

After a moment, her eyes shot open.  “I have to fix myself!”  She said after a gasp, falling back onto her bed, and her bear bouncing onto the floor.  “Lessee here… I have a shirt and pants on, already.  I don’t think there’s any need for makeup, since it’s dark.”  She ran a hand through her hair, looking at her desk of makeup supplies.  “What else could I even do?”

Before she could decide, there was a knock on her window that sounded very similar to the branch.  “Wondy, it’s kinda rainin’ pretty bad out here.  Ya think you could open the window?”  Kon pressed his face to the window, scanning the room in search of Wonder Girl.

Cassie jumped off her bed in fright from Kon’s knocking, but quickly went to the window and opened it, pulling Kon inside and wrapping her arms around him.  “Thank the Gods you’re okay!”  She squeezed him tightly as they floated into the center of her room.  “You are okay, right? I tried to warn you about the storm, but you hung up too quickly. Iprayedthatyouwouldn'tgetshockedbylightning, thoughIdon'tthinkitcouldhurtyouanyway, youbeingSuperboyandall. ButIwantedtobesure. Didyouhavetroublegettinghere? You'resoaked.  Hereletmegetyouatowel!" She quickly flew to her closet and searched for a towel. Her face became a deep red as she realized how fast she was talking. I'm such a nervous wreck! Snap out of it, Cassie!

“Wondy, I’m alright, see?  No scorch marks from the lightning, it’s just a bit of rain.  I would’ve been completely dry, but I didn’t bother to use my tactile-telekinesis because I wanted to get over here as fast as I could.”  Kon spoke quietly as he looked around her room.  “Y’know, you do have a pretty nice room, here.  Better than the ones I’ve had, for sure.”

Her eyes lit up, in that moment, he could’ve said she smelled like garbage, and it wouldn’t matter.  Kon was in her room, talking to her.  “You mean, my room is better than living at the HQ?”  She walked over and handed him a towel, and dread filling her chest.  “Oh, no! Your earring!  Kon, I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault…”

He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her body to face him.  “Cassie, it’s okay.  I didn’t even put my earring in, I’m not even wearing my gloves or my belt, see?”  He raised his hand in front of her face.  “I’m okay, scouts honor.  By the way, thank you for the towel.”  He dried off his hair a bit more before resting the towel on her chair.

Cassie blushed as she tucked her hair behind her ear.  “Anything for you… I-I mean, what’re friends for, right?!”  We’ll always have each other’s backs!”  She punched his arm as she laughed nervously. Real good job at playin’ cool, Cassie. Soooooo smooth.

“Exactly, Wondy.”  He smiled as he fixed his hair; looking up, he noticed the poster of himself on her door.  “Uh, Cassie?  Why am I on your door?”

Cripes! I forgot to hide the dang poster!  Embarrassed, she rubbed her arm as she thought of an excuse.  “Oh, that?  Uh, it was a gift, actually.  My mom was at a conference for the museum, and the guy at the poster stand heard you were coming from Hawaii, so he was selling posters of you.” Don’t mention that you practically begged your mom to get you anything Superboy-related...

His smile turned to a devilish smirk as he leaned in closer to her.  “Soooo… What made you keep it up?”

“I, uh, umm… Well, y’see...”

Kon couldn’t keep his laughter in any longer, he placed a hand on Cassie’s back as he calmed himself down.  “Cass, I’m just playin’ around!  It’s okay, seriously.  So, how about that nightmare?”

Feeling Kon’s hand on her back made her freeze for a moment, not fully hearing what he was saying to her. Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod.  Her body began to melt into him, her head falling against his shoulder.  “What nightmare?”  She asked, dreamily.  After a moment, she snapped out of her trance, shaking her head a bit as she brought her legs up to her chest.  “It felt so real…”  Cassie shuddered as her arms wrapped around her legs.  “I was so scared, I didn’t know what to do.”

He kept his arm wrapped around her, gently squeezing her arm for a sense of comfort.  “Do you still feel scared?”  He asked, softly, noticing the frown on her face.

Cassie looked up at him, noticing how the flashes of lightning really brought out the blue in his eyes, then shrugged as she rested her head on his shoulder. "To be honest, not anymore. We were all fighting some bad guy. He looked just like you, actually. But he wore an outfit like Superman's. Everyone was knocked out, and I saw you on the ground. I tried to get to you, but the bad version of you pushed me away. I started to cry because I saw him beating you up, and you looked at me and told me to go away. But I didn't want to leave you..." She looked up to Kon and whispered, "I can't leave you." It took her awhile to realize what she said, but in that moment, she didn't care.

Kon-El noticed the look in her eyes, his free hand tucked some hair behind her ear.  “I probably told you to get away because I didn’t want you to get hurt anymore than you already were, I’d rather it be me taking the hits, that way you didn’t have to.”

Cassie sat up and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.  “Thanks, Kon… For everything.”

He froze for a moment, then returned the hug.  “It’s never a problem, Cassie.  I’m always happy to help you, that’s what I’m here for.”  He gave her a smile before picking her up into his arms, then placing her on her bed.  He brought the blankets over her, then grabbed the bear from the floor which he realized had a Superman costume on, then placed the bear next to Cassie’s pillow.  “Try to get some sleep, Wondy.  We’re gonna have a long day, tomorrow.”

She noticed how he was about to head for the window, she sat up and grabbed his forearm with both of her hands, her attempt at pulling him back to her.  “Wait, Kon!” Just let this moment last a bit longer!  “Y-You didn’t say what your nightmare was about.”

“Oh, right.  It’s no big deal compared to yours.”  Flashes of his nightmare came back to him, he tried to suppress his frown from exposing himself.  “Honestly, it’s nothing.”

Her one hand slid down his forearm and grabbed his hand.  “Talk to me.” Her voice was soft, but to her, it seemed strong.  She did her best to carry compassion with her words, and that he could feel what she was feeling.

He released a sigh as he sat on the edge of her bed, his head looking down at his feet. "I had a dream that I came back to the HQ, and Wonder Woman said I wasn't allowed to see you anymore.  She was going to bring you to Paradise Island, away from your friends, from all of us. And Batman was taking Rob back to Gotham, and Imp went to Central City, and Cissie quit the team..."  Kon noticed that Cassie hadn’t let go of his hand, but he didn’t mind.  Her hand felt cool on his skin, it made him relax, like ice tea on a hot day.

“Kon…”  Cassie rubbed her thumb along the top of his hand, doing her best to comfort him. "Kon, that will never happen.  None of that will ever happen, alright? We'll be together, forever. And no matter what may happen, we will always come back to each other." In that moment, Cassie couldn't tell if she was talking about the team, or her and Kon-El.

There was a light redness on his cheeks, with a smile, he firmly held her hand in his.  “Thanks, Wondy.”

“Kon, can I be honest with you?”  She bit her bottom lip as she met his eyes.

“Of course, Cass, what is it?”

“I just wanted to say… I think you look better without the earring.”  She looked away from his eyes, and down at their hands.  She held his warm hand in both of her own, his hand like a fire in her palms.

He smiled and scratched his head.  “You look better without the wig and goggles, you should grow your hair out.”

And with that, the moment was gone.  Cassie withdrew her hand from his and went back to bringing her knees to her chin and wrapping her arms around her legs. "I can't...I can't do that."

Kon raised an eyebrow at her.  “Why’s that?  Against some new Amazonian rules, or somethin’?”

"No. It's just…”  She shook her head and rested her chin in between her knees.  “Wonder Woman has dark hair.... Donna Troy, the previous Wonder Girl, has dark hair, and I have... Blonde. No one would know who I am, no one would recognize me as Wonder Girl. I'd be a nobody..." She buried her face.

"That's not true, Wondy. There are people all over the world that would recognize you." Kon lifted her face to look at him. "We would recognize you, and all the other heroes would, too. So what if civilians don't know who you are? People barely know who Robin is. We were nobodies until Ace Atchison did a story on us, and you know what? Maybe it's time for the pattern to change. You'll stand out like a light in a dark tunnel. Everyone will know who you are, and everyone will adore you. Just like we do... Just like I do." He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Get some sleep, Cassie. Goodnight, and sweet dreams." He gave her a warm smile before opening her window, and flying out of her room, shutting her window gently behind himself.

Cassie stayed as she was for a good two minutes, not moving a muscle. "He cares about me... He likes me. Adores me, even. He recognizes me... And he just kissed me." A smile formed onto her face, as well as a deep flush of red. She then put her head to her pillow and cuddled her Superbear. "Goodnight and sweet dreams, Superboy... I love you." Cassie then closed her eyes, and did her best to fall back asleep. Thinking of her night with Superboy, a night which she knew would change their relationship forever. The storm was quiet now, nothing but the low hum of rolling thunder, and Cassie drifted peacefully to sleep.