#if you play the opening of DJ got us falling in love he WILL go 'creeper? awwww man“

[sergeifyodorov]

Wyatt Johnston may be a sweetie and a Smythe frontrunner and a future legendary Star and speak middling (lovingly) French and whatnot but i think we have to acknowledge he has the vibe of someone who knows the entirety of multiple Minecraft parodies off by heart

[leaentries]

welcome back | luke hughes

summary: when someone insults you at the devil's welcome-back party, luke doesn't take it lightly.

warnings: rude comments about weight, pretty much straight-up bullying, a stranger being a complete dickwad, swearing, making-out

wc: 1.3k+

Luke absolutely adored you. In his eyes, you hung the moon and painted every last star. That’s why he often got distraught and confused when people felt the need to comment about your appearance. Now, it was very clear that you were bigger than the typical girl, but it just made Luke love you that much more. 

The ceiling was littered with glittering lights, and the walls were covered in black and red decor. The annual welcome-back party was in full swing, couples and players alike mingling in every corner of the large room. 

It was quite obvious that the Devil’s organization spared no expense in planning this event. It was grand, to say the least. A highly sought-after DJ stood at his booth in the center of the room, playing any song imaginable. Yet, you were too enamored with the brunette in front of you. 

Luke was dressed in a sleek black suit with a jacket perfectly tailored to cling to the hard muscles on his arms, displaying them with any slight movement. His white dress shirt was slightly unbuttoned as the room got hotter. Luke’s tie had been ditched within the first five minutes of arriving, as he claimed it was “choking him.” You could barely tear your eyes away, even for a moment. However, the feeling was very much mutual. With the dress you had on, Luke was practically drooling all over the table. 

You wore the very dress that could make Luke fall to his knees. The material hugged every curve of your body in the most flattering way. Luke could have sworn he fell in love with you all over again the second you walked out of your apartment. Anyone in the room could see the love swimming in waves around the both of you.

You quietly talked amongst yourselves, at least until Jack and Nico made their way to your table. The conversation quickly changed to the upcoming opener, the boys eager to start the season. Only half-listening, you noticed the food being restocked. You figured Luke was probably starving since the two of you had spent almost all day getting ready. 

You lightly gripped the arm that rested next to you, gaining his attention. “I’m gonna go make us some plates.” You nodded towards the freshly made food. He agreed immediately, solidifying your previous assumption. You stood, placing a gentle kiss on the top of Luke’s head as you made your way to the buffet.

You grabbed two pearly white plates, setting them in front of you as you began to put all of Luke’s favorites onto his plate. You piled as much as the porcelain could handle, then proceeded to fill your own. You balanced the two plates, getting ready to walk away when a male voice sounded from beside you. 

“Two plates, seriously?” You turned towards the rough voice, clearly confused as to what you thought you heard. 

“Excuse me?” You replied, a slight edge to your voice. 

“I mean, c’mon, you obviously don’t need that much food. Sweetheart, I hate to break it to you, but you fill out that dress a bit too much already. It wouldn’t hurt to cut back on the carbs.” 

Shock flooded your body, causing you to freeze. There was absolutely no way a complete stranger just said that to you, let alone to your face. The shock was quickly replaced with anger. You set the plates down, careful not to spill Luke’s food. 

“Apparently, I’m doing just fine if you felt the need to stare at me for that long.” You crossed your arms, biting the side of your mouth in an attempt to control your irritation. 

“It’s kind of hard to miss you. You’re one of the biggest girls in the room.” Your anger dissipated, shame rushing to take its place. You felt your cheeks and ears begin to burn with embarrassment.

Normally, comments like this didn’t bother you, but something about the look in this guy’s eyes made you feel a brand new form of humiliation.

“What the fuck did you just say to my girlfriend?” The sound of a voice you couldn’t be more happy to hear echoed from behind you. Luke came to stand beside you, slightly putting his body in front of yours. 

Luke’s jaw ticked with rage. His eyes were dark, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him this angry. Not even on the ice. The guy’s eyes widened, noticeably in fear and… excitement? 

“Oh my, you’re Luke Hughes! I’ve been trying to find you all night! I wanted to see if you would be interested in coming on my podcast next week?” The stranger's audacity caught you by surprise.

 Luke’s fists tightened, glaringly angry. 

“Are you serious right now?” Luke’s voice was harsh, “You just openly insulted my girlfriend, then you have the audacity to ask me to come on your podcast?” The stranger’s eye drifted to you, then back to Luke.

“She’s your girlfriend? I heard you had one, but never would I have guessed she would look like that.” 

Crack! 

The sound of Luke’s fist colliding with the guy's face was all you could hear. The room went silent, all eyes on Luke’s visibly enraged body towering over the guy clutching his nose on the ground. 

“I swear to God, if you ever come near me or my girlfriend again, you’ll fucking regret it.” Luke grabbed your hand, leading you past your table where he quickly snatched up your belongings. He whispered something to Jack and Nico, to which they responded with understanding nods. He continued to lead you through the large building until you reached the parking garage. 

Luke had yet to say a single word, the tension in the air became suffocating.

He remained silent the rest of the way to the car, helping you into the passenger side. Once he was in the car, he let out a deep sigh, gripping the steering wheel. 

“I’m so sorry, baby” His voice came out barely above a whisper. You looked over, noticing his eyes tightly shut. 

You shook your head, “Sorry for what? Nothing that happened in there was your fault.” He turned his head towards you, opening his deep eyes to meet yours. Conflict fought battles within his orbs, causing you to reach over and cradle his face. “Lukey, listen to me. I’m okay, you’re okay, we’re okay. He was just some jackass that isn’t happy with his life so he felt the need to take it out on me.” 

He furrowed his eyebrows, “I don’t get it. You’re the one who got insulted, yet you’re comforting me. It’s supposed to be the other way around.” You smiled, leaning to place a soft kiss on his nose.

“I’m just used to it, I guess. I have tough skin.” Luke frowned at this. 

“You shouldn’t be used to it, y/n.” He reached to hold your hands in his, “You’re so fucking beautiful, I just don’t understand how anyone could say those things about you. You don’t deserve any of it.” 

Overwhelmed by his statement, you couldn’t do anything but press your lips against his. He kissed back immediately, pulling you as close as the car would allow. The kiss was desperate and needy, expressing every emotion you both were feeling. Your hands gripped at the curls on his neck, causing a low groan to escape his throat. 

You pulled away, leaving both of you with heaving chests as you attempted to catch your breath. “Thank you for defending me, Lukey.” 

“I’ll always defend you, angel.” He looked deeply into your eyes, before leaning back to turn on the car, “But now it’s time to go get as much food as we can stuff down our throats.” You laughed at his antics. 

This boy was gonna be the death of you.

[xoxomoonlightxoxo]

Don't Get Attached | Part 3

➪ Playlist (Spotify)

➪ W/c: 1640

I Can Beg For You

Even though it has been about a week since Jungkook and I last saw each other he has yet to miss a day of not calling my phone at least once. Of course, I don’t answer, not because I’m petty but more so because I fear that my emotions might take over again. I’ve been a mess since the incident and that’s putting it lightly. I mean, I don’t remember the last time I stepped foot out of my apartment but I guess today’s the day as my friend, Jinni invited the girls and me out for a night out. Do I want to go? No, not really. Should I go? Yes, probably. As much as I’ve grown comfortable with rotting away in my room, I simply cannot keep doing this. 

So, I put on my tightest mini dress and let the curls loose before spraying the perfume Jungkook adored so much. The truth is, I can’t seem to let him go, not yet at least. In my head we are still together, so I pay the price of that delusion by filling the void in my heart with his sweet lies. You can call me naive all you want but something about him is just … I don’t know … irresistible, I guess. No, fuck him. For the love of God, don’t get attached y/n. 

- -

Making our way into the club we are welcomed by the pungent smell of alcohol mixed with sweat and cologne as Jinni pulls me straight to the dance floor. The place is packed and there isn’t much space to actually bust a move if you know what I mean, so most people resorted to simply grinding on each other. Realizing that I’m too sober to take this seriously I excuse myself to grab us some drinks. However, as the night went on, one shot turned into three which then doubled and after that, I just lost count. Feeling the alcohol in my system, the whole grinding thing no longer bothered me as much. 

Pulling Jinni closer we danced the night away, screaming our lungs out when the DJ played throwback Usher songs. It was all fun and games until I really let loose. The louder the music got the quieter my thoughts were and the more I drank the less I could think clearly, which in hindsight was a recipe for a disaster but in the moment was exactly what I needed. So, there I was, strutting away to some Timbaland on top of the wooden countertop as drunk men kept throwing dollar bills at me. While I was unfazed by the whole thing, Jinni had a heart attack after each shaky step I took in my 4-inch heels. The probability of me falling off was as high as most people in the club, so her concern was not exaggerated. 

“Y/n please come down, you’re gonna fall,” she screams, unfortunately for her, I was now surrounded by a sound barrier from the blasting overhead speakers. 

“Jiiinniii, dance with me,” I whine, eyes barely open as my arms reach for her. Shaking her head, Jinni quickly grabbed her phone and dialled the only person she knew could deal with my drunk self. 

“Jungkook? Hey, please hurry, y/n is drunk and won’t get down from bar island,” she screams into the speaker, turning her head to the lounge area where the rest of our group was. A rookie mistake, since by the time her attention was back on the table I was no longer there. Instead, I was in the poorly lit women’s bathroom with some random guy whose grip tightened around my waist. 

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers, gaze focused on my lips as my back presses onto the cold wall. 

“Do whatever you want,” I sigh, intertwining my hands in his dishevelled hair. I know it’s wrong, but if I keep my eyes closed I can almost feel Jungkook’s embrace. His veiny hands on my thighs as we both gasp for air from the sinful kisses. All that, of course, is merely the work of my imagination. At that moment, it’s not Jungkook's hands, not his lips, not him. With all the alcohol in my system, my body has become numb to external sensations until a familiar melody rings from my purse. Speaking of the devil, it’s Jungkook. Did my heartbeat increase? Maybe. 

“Come over y/n,” Jungkook says, his voice raspy and harsh as he presses on the gas pedal, speeding by the passing cars towards the night club. 

“Can’t baby, I’m a bit busy,” I whisper softly, breath hitched from the sudden feel of the guy’s hand on my ass. As he leaves a trail of kisses on my exposed collarbone I bite down on my lip, until a small moan escapes my mouth. 

“Y/n, who is that?” Jungkook growls at the sound coming from his phone. One that is too familiar for his liking as his imagination runs wild, connecting the dots regarding the context of the situation. Closing his eyes for a moment, he can picture your form in a tight dress that pushes your cleavage up with your hair laid perfectly over your shoulders. Just the way he likes it. Fuck, he thinks to himself. 

“Sorry, I have to go,” I yelp, dropping the phone on the floor as my hands now rest on his chest. Lifting my fatigued body onto the countertop, my legs naturally wrap around his torso. It hurts to do this to Jungkook but damn, does he deserve it. It’s time he finally gets a taste of his own medicine. 

- -

Jungkook’s POV

Turning off the engine, I rush towards the entrance of the club passing by half-naked women who clearly had way too much fun. As one of them stops in front of me, I look around the crowded place trying to spot y/n in the neon lights. 

“Dance with me, pretty boy,” she says, placing her hands on my jean jacket as her shivering body leans closer to mine. She’s young. Too young. No amount of makeup can cover up those naive eyes.

“Sorry love, I’m here for my own drunkhead,” I say with a wink, before noticing Jinni dozed off in the lounge area. Pushing past the wave of people, the smell of alcohol in their system can be detected from two blocks away. 

“Jinni! Jinni, wake up. Where’s y/n??” I yell through the blaring music, slightly moving her shoulders in hopes that it’ll wake her up. How does one even fall asleep when Nicki Minaj’s ‘Super Bass’ is basically shouting at you? Nonetheless, I try to catch her attention as our eyes finally lock. 

“Jungkooook, I’m sorryyy. I told y/n to stop drinking but she wouldn’t listen. I swear, I turned my head for one second and then boom, she was gone,” Jinni cries out, covering her flushed face in her palms before looking up at my concerned expression. 

“That’s ok Jinni, just stay here I’m gonna look for her,” I say calmly, putting my jacket over her exposed legs before heading back towards the dance floor. Where could y/n be? Dialing her phone number the signal goes straight to voicemail. Shit. 

It’s been about 10 minutes and I swear I’ve been going in circles. I’d already mistaken four different girls for y/n, yet she is still nowhere to be found, that is until I saw the barely lit restroom sign at the back of the club. Wouldn’t hurt to check, right? 

Walking past the men’s restroom I’m certain that y/n was sober enough to recognize the difference between the two. So, I take a deep breath before knocking on the door. No answer. I mean what was I expecting? She is probably passed out on the toilet or something. Placing a few more knocks, this time with more power, I’m interrupted by a series of soft moans. I might have lost half of my hearing since I got here, but her pretty voice, yeah … I can recognize it anywhere. Pushing the door open, my eyes focus on her heaving chest as some dumbass tightens his grip on her waist. 

“Get the fuck off of her!” I growl, pushing him to the wall as my fist meets his face. Three punches in and his nose began to bleed before y/n stepped in front of me. Eyes locked on my tense face, she places her hands on my burning chest, begging me to stop as my vision gets blurry. 

“Jungkook please,” she cries out, pulling my arms towards her chest to prevent another hit. Gaze focused on her teary eyes, I let out a deep sigh, tilting my head as an indication for the guy to leave. Which he does immediately. 

“Y/n, what are you doing having stranger’s hands all over you?” I yell out, a bit too harshly than I wanted to. But I couldn’t help it. I could feel my heartbeat in my throat as she suddenly dropped my arms, wiping the tears off of her face. 

“No better than being touched by a cheater, right?” she scoffs, shaking her head at my remark. 

“How many times do you want me to apologize? What else do you want me to do? Do you want me to beg for you? I can beg for you,” I whisper into her ear, nibbling on the soft skin before getting on my knees. Looking up at her darkened eyes, I pull her body closer before tracing small circles on her soft skin. Moving her leg over my shoulder I begin to place a trail of soft kisses up her shivering limb, gaze focused on her whimpering pretty face. Each kiss was followed by a sinful plea.

“That’s it, baby, just relax,” 

Previous l Next

[filthforfriends]

Chapter 21: Brave Enough

Authors Note

Word count: 7.9k

Read the rest here!

After an emotionally taxing conversation with his psychologist, Damiano decided to also stop smoking weed/otherwise consuming cannabis. It’d been too triggering, a reminder of all the reasons he loved coke and opioids. Admitting he wasn’t ready for parties or group gatherings was even more difficult. He loved his friends, his family, and going to Vic’s DJ gigs. He loved playing pool at bars or dancing to the deafening pulse of techno music in a club. These things allowed him to feel the hurried, bright energy of his youth. It was proving hard to differentiate between craving community, craving mania, and craving situations because he associated them with drug use. 

He also made a habit of exercising in the mornings, before treatment. The earlier he took his lithium and ate some protein, the better he tended to feel throughout the day. Routine made cravings easier to resist when he woke up with them and endorphins lessened the severity of his depressive moods.

“I’m so fucking proud of you.” That's what you told Damiano when he debriefed you the next evening, a chip to mark 24 hours sober clutched in his fist. He’d disclosed his relapse in group and sobbed, despite hardy efforts not to shed a tear. You make dinner and stroke his hair when Dami lays his head on your lap. He’s cynical, not receptive to positive affirmation. Unfortunately, this mood has become more common as the years pass. So you focus on gestures: nicely making his bed, meal prepping his breakfast, cleaning the litter box even though it was his turn. 

Surprisingly, Damiano requests you read aloud some favorite passages from the books you’ve finished since the breakup. You’d always thought of that as an activity for your sake. Of course he doesn’t actually use the word “breakup.” Dami won’t touch that terminology with a 10 foot pole. He’s grumpy and lovable, snuggled under the pale pink bed sheet as you speak.

Dami returned the favor by waking you up with coffee, which became a tradition on weekdays. He probably got up 10 minutes earlier than necessary to do so. The first morning you thought it was a glorious dream. Instead of the abrasive and occasionally rage-inducing beep of your alarm, a hand you recognized as Damiano’s was rubbing your back. It slides under your t-shirt and gently strokes your spine. You shiver and hum in delight, then scooch closer. Eyes still closed, the bed dips and you sense Dami taking a seat on the edge. The morning light pours in through the curtains – to which you have your back turned – as the scent of espresso reaches your nose. Such sensory perfection must be fantasy.

“It’s time to wake up,” he murmurs.

“Mm mm.” You object and scoot closer, curling around Damiano. He chuckles and massages your scalp with his fingertips. 

“Big stretch,” he narrates as Cheeto rouses herself by his feet. You can tell it’s not Princess, since she’d be meowing by the bedroom door as soon as she heard Damiano up and about. Finally, your brain starts to register that this might be reality, since you never dreamed of Cheeto and Dami simultaneously. You open one eye and are accosted by the bright light, confirming that this isn’t a dream.

“Hey,” you croak, squinting up at him. “What time is it?”

“A couple minutes before your alarm. I turned it off.” You readjust, head, shoulders, and arms splayed across Dami’s lap. “I don’t think that counts as getting out of bed.”

“I’d like to contest that.”

“Getting out of bed in general or if laying on my lap counts?”

“Yes,” you sigh, eyes falling closed.

“Mm mm, keep ‘em open,” he requests, affectionately. You whine in protest and pout. More than anything, you want to pull Dami into the bed for cuddles, but it’d make you late for work.

“Fine.” Awkwardly, you flip onto your back to stare up at Damiano. He’s smiling, which is good motivation to keep looking.

“You’re cute when it’s too bright. You squint so hard that you get this little line between your eyebrows.” He runs his finger along your nose, then taps your cupid’s bow. You’d very much like him to keep going, gently stroking your features. He delicately moves the hair from your face and your eyelids grow heavy. Damiano tsks, working a hand between your mid-back and the mattress.

“Sit up. C’mon.” With a sigh, you detangle your legs from the sheet. “C’mon,” he coaxes sweetly. “When you’re ready to stop pouting, there's coffee.” Your feet land on the floor as Damiano helps push you upright. After a couple sips of espresso, your pupils adapt and the brain begins working. Dami remains seated, hand on your back, and you love that he’s content to just share space. Love that things don’t always have to be full of words and amusements for one another.

“Thank you, this is so nice!” You hug Dami with messy enthusiasm, leaning some of your weight against him. Damiano embraces back and kisses your head.

“I’m happy to do it, sweetheart.” His hand resumes stroking your spine, the other moving the hair from blocking your face. “Just stay awake.”

“Okay, okay,” you groan, standing up and stretching. Dami doesn’t move, probably hoping to catch a glimpse of something. You want the physical affection to continue so badly that it hurts in your chest a little. So you give into an urge before thinking about it and sit on Damiano’s lap, throwing your arms around his shoulders. 

“Wha – hey there, sweetheart.” Aware of morning breath, you kiss Dami’s neck, hairline, and behind his ears. “Feeling a little touch-starved?” You nod. Slowly, he slides his hands under your shirt. By touch-starved, you hadn’t necessarily meant skin to skin. Damiano sneakily took advantage of an opportunity by reading into it and you certainly weren’t mad about his decision. 

Things start innocent enough, his hands rubbing your back, but then they move away from your spine. When stroking around your waist and hips, his fingertips brushed your stomach, pinky dipping underneath the waistband of your pajama shorts. Then those hands slide up, cupping your ribcage. You stop breathing, frozen with anticipation. Would he touch your breast? Would he slide his hand to the front of your chest and caress it in his warm, rough palm? Would he play with your nipples? Rub them with the callous on his thumb? Would he then slide his hand down your front and into your shorts? If he did, you’d raise your hips to give him room. Then you’d trap his hand against your pussy and grind. Did he want to tease you today or make you moan? Or make you cum? 

When you check his expression, Dami’s eyes are glued to your heaving chest and erect nipples. Knowing that he’s hard, you throw a leg over and straddle him. Then you scoot in as close as possible to rest your weight against his erection, stimulating both of you. Damiano’s eyes flutter and his hands escalate from stroking to grasping. You wait for him to make the nest move, but he doesn’t.

“If you could do anything –”

“If I could do anything you’d be underneath me and too wracked with pleasure to say anything but my name and the word please. If I could do anything the neighbors would be filing a noise complaint and you’d be on probation at work for repeated tardiness. If I could do anything we’d have already gone through a bottle of lube and half a dozen sex toys. Our clothes would be on the doormat, panties included because last night we fucked against the front door as soon as you got home. Then again on the kitchen counter and again in front of the bathroom mirror and a fourth time in the shower, which was all a preamble to what I’d do to you in this bed.” 

You look over his shoulder at the mattress cover and twisted sheet. You’d gotten in the habit of sleeping on Dami’s side. It hadn’t actually smelled like him for months.

“What would you do?” he asks.

“I…I have to get ready for work.” You try to climb off his lap, but Damiano holds onto your waist firmly.

“Did what I said offend you?” he pressed.

“No,” you reply breathlessly. The moment is deliciously intense, especially the way he’s staring.

“Overwhelm you? Turn you off in some way?”

“Uh, no. Well, maybe overwhelm a little bit…”

“In a bad way?” Dami hasn’t forced the issue in terms of sex since coming home.

“In a good way.”

“Then what would you do? If you didn’t have to get ready for work.” You pause and look down. “We don’t have to actually do it, at least not right now,” he whispers.

“I would – I want you….Um, you’d play with my nipples.”

“Mhm.” His hand slides up your chest and rests on your sternum.

“Then you’d put – push your hand down my front.” Dami obeys, his fingertips stopping at the waistband of your shorts. You stare, willing him to go further with every ounce of your being.

“Does my hand go under your shorts?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Does it go into your panties?”

“Yes.” His real hand doesn’t move. “Between my legs so I can…Actually, I kinda wish that I was just wearing a t-shirt so I could pull your pjs down and grind against your cock. And then, maybe…”

“Mhm,” he encourages.

“I’d take off my shirt too and rub my nipples against your chest until they were sore. Your – your sweaty, hairy chest. And you’d hold me like you weren’t worried about scaring me away. Really grabbing me, like you were confident, but also because you couldn’t help yourself.”

“Show me what you mean,” he demands.

“I – I can’t. You just have to.” Dami grabs a hold of your upper thigh with his free hand and flips both bodies. Your back lands on the mattress, arms and legs already wrapped around him. Damiano pushes you further onto the bed, so he has room to climb on top.  It would take less than a minute for you to both wiggle out of your clothes then locate a condom and lube. Probably closer to 30 seconds. It's the same sensation as the makeout two mornings ago. You wanted to say yes, but your self preservation instincts weren’t letting that happen.

Damiano searches your wide-eyed expression for decisiveness and finds nothing of the sort. He can see you thinking about it. Then he sees you over-thinking it and knows that this will not be the moment you feel comfortable enough to trust freely.

“Like this?” He’s panting, as well, and for some reason, that's unbearable sexy. Dami isn’t putting on a facade. This borderline chaste amount of physical contact has got him worked up, too. You almost kiss him, then recall your morning breath and cover your mouth.

“I need to brush my teeth.”

“Y/n, I don’t give a good god damn whether or not you’ve brushed your teeth. I don’t care!” Dami loses his cool, but quickly recovers it. “I – sorry. Sorry, let me…” He walks his hands backwards and climbs off the bed, then helps you stand up.

“Thank you for the coffee,” you repeat, taking a long sip, that way a response won’t be expected. As you slip by Dami to leave the bedroom, he gives your butt a little squeeze. It was once a regular gesture in private, but he hadn’t taken this type of initiative since getting sober. You whip around with an impish smile, the mug nearly held to your lips. Damiano’s expression is watchful, then validated. He was testing the waters and your reaction basically invited him to jump right in.

Rather than refocus on his own routine, Dami watches you assemble a lunch while still in pajamas. He stands on the edge of the kitchen, pondering something, admiring you.

“Whatever your timeline for physical intimacy, I will respect it, 100%.”

“I know that, Damia.” You wash and fill your water bottle. He leans his hip against the counter with crossed arms. 

“But if you're waiting for things to feel not scary with me, that day may never come. Our history isn’t gonna get more palatable.” You hadn’t considered things from that perspective before. “Part of a nurturing relationship is pushing each other, challenging restrictive thought patterns.” Damiano moseys over. First, his right hand cups your hip. Then, the left rubs the side of your glute languidly, before wrapping around your middle. Dami holds you casually, but still body to body, standing behind you at the kitchen sink. Each exhale ruffles your hair, a reminder of how much you’d missed this. Dami’s wandering hands and desire for closeness.

This must have been another thing you blocked out for survival, since an awareness of what once was made losing it lethally painful. You’d forced yourself not to remember and now the remembering felt like the first first bloom of spring after a frosty winter. 

You lean against Dami, let his shoulder take the weight of your head. Then you lay your left arm over his, fingers lacing together.

“And I don’t want to push past your boundaries, but at the same time…” He leaves tender kisses down the column of your exposed neck. “This definitely exceeds a hand holding level of intimacy. It breaks the no couple behavior boundary –”

“Me and my fucking rules,” you groan. Repeated back, you sound certifiable, even from an understanding Damiano.

“This certainly qualifies as sexual touch.” His pinky and ring finger dip under your waistband as he dips into a whisper. “But I didn’t ask first and I don’t have to ask now, either, because just your body language is telling me how much you like this.”

“Forgot until just now.” With an even more dramatic groan, you turn around to meet his eyes. “Ugh! I know I’m shit at this –”

“Not what I was saying, at all,” he interrupts, thumb brushing your cheek. “I was just gonna suggest using a Listen for My No system of consent instead of Wait for My Yes. But that's such a sexually aggressive thing to suggest on someone else’s behalf that I…” He makes a face, nose scrunched up.

“But I agree with you. I’d like that, I really would, but, um…” Dami’s expression goes from relieved back to uneasy. “When I submit, I can’t usually access the decision making part of my brain. Kinda the point, actually.” 

“Baby, we never do anything in subspace if we haven’t agreed to it first.”

“I know, but I’d feel –” You gesture erratically, but the right adjective never surfaces. So you settle on “shitty, I guess.” Avoidant, you stare at the floor in anticipation of Dami’s reaction. Of course, Princess is right there, biding her time for the inevitable moment that all this attention is rightfully turned to her. “Sassy Pants,” you coo. She rests her front paws on your shin and meows, so you pick her up.

“Y/n, I never want you to – awe, look at the fur baby.” Damiano gets distracted by Princess, who uses you like an elevator to his shoulder. She leaps onto him and Dami winces at her claws through his thin t-shirt. “Ow, ow, ow. Thanks for that Sassy Pants, now get off.” He sets Princess back down where she stares at him in betrayal.

“I’m sorry, was having him to yourself all night not enough attention?” You sass her right back with a hand on your hip while Dami laughs. The cat sulks, nimbly returning to the couch and curling up right on his pillow. “Do you see that? She’s the real reason we practice non-monogamy. So I don’t end up with my throat slit in my fucking sleep by her murder mittens!” Hoping to have successfully distracted him, you brush your teeth then slip back into the bedroom to get dressed. In the living room Dami sings to Princess, doing a little dance with her paws. The happy sounds carry through the partially ajar door.

“So, uh…” You’d almost finished pulling on your stockings when he leans against the door frame. “Sorry, am I allowed to look?”

“Yes, you’re allowed to look,” you scoff. He turns the corner just in time to watch your thighs disappear beneath a linen skirt. His lack of objection indicates that your earlier distraction wasn’t effective. He’s not feeling playful.

“What I was saying before is that I never want you to feel bad about putting parameters –”

“Damia, it’s not that.” He’s trying to soften the determination in his expression. “If I allow my rational mind to just slip away then I’m gonna…” again, words evade you “embarrass myself.”

“What do you mean embarrass yourself?” he croons. Damiano walks into the bedroom, cupping your cheek in his right palm. Meanwhile, his left hand slides across your waist and settles on the top of your glute. Another barrage of hidden memories: the early years when Damiano spoke your self-confidence into being fruition on anxiety-ridden mornings.

“I mean grind against your lap or leg or whatever while begging you to fuck me until I sob in a way that’s gonna hurt you to watch. Zero inhibitions as I try to convince you, okay? Just babbling and clinging and tears for your cock. ‘Daddy, my heart hurts because you won’t make love to me.’ I don’t want either of us in a position to navigate that.” Damiano becomes a statue. When it doesn’t immediately pass, you decide to pick a pair of sensible shoes while his brain resets.

“Does your heart hurt for more intimacy?” Now you’re the one frozen in place. “Seems like you may have just accidentally been completely honest with yourself.” Fuck. He was right.

“Could you pretend not to know me as well as you do?”

“No, y/n, I can’t.” You’d tried to lighten the mood, give yourself an out, and he’s rejected that effort wholesale. Damiano stands there, waiting for a real response, hands in the pockets of his pajama pants. Every morning he puts them on, after sleeping in his boxers, to make you comfortable. It suddenly feels so elementary, this game of pretend you’d been playing because you were scared shitless of losing him again. 

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For being a nervous wreck.”

“Being a nervous wreck about what?” You’re taken aback, having expected some sweet platitude like "don't be sorry, sweetheart.” Or perhaps, “You’re trying your best in a tough situation” punctuated by a kiss to the forehead. But you’d finally exhausted his patience and Damiano wasn’t going to feed you reassurances that you already knew to be true.

“About,” you gesture between your bodies “us!”

“Elaborate for me, please. What about us?” His tone isn’t hostile, just insistent.

“Our relationship.”

“Not my sobriety?”

“No…actually.” You’re even more surprised than Dami at that answer.

“Good. Why is our relationship making you a nervous wreck?”

“Because, because…” You feel cornered even though he hasn’t moved an inch. “I’m not sure.”

“Yes you are. You’re constantly reflecting and self-examining, especially recently. Some days you’re more in your head than you are in the world.”

“But the last couple days, I’ve been better at staying in the present. After our fight, I’ve been trying not to walk on eggshells.” 

“And we’ve been so much more connected, which has been fucking incredible. But you’re still unhappy.”

“I’m not…” Were you happy? You should be happy. You have an objectively good job, a beautiful apartment. You have a loving family, loving friends, loving companions. Your soulmate has returned and he’s stable. But were you happy? With a subjectively horrible job, home full of traumatic memories, emotionally unavailable parents, fading friendships, and companions who’s reassurance couldn’t make you feel adequate so you’d stopped asking for it entirely. 

“How many months do I need to go without relapse, without a crazy mood swing, without –”

“To get your dick wet?” You snap at him in anger. This was the definition of pressuring you.

“For you to trust me, y/n!”

“But sex is the way to show that I trust you? Go get laid, Damianno. Stop avoiding your other companions because you’re afraid they won’t forgive your behavior.”

“You get laid. Stop avoiding your companions because they remind you how profound our intimacy could be.” For what feels like an eon, you glare at each other in silence.

“How about we both admit that having sex with other people wouldn’t do anything to fill this…space?” It feels good to concede. Most of the tension leaves the air.

“Void?”

“Void is probably more accurate, yeah.” It’s just enough breathing room for reality to set in. “Fuck, I’m gonna be late for work.” You look around frantically for a hair tie to wrangle your unbrushed hair into an updo.

“Can you please just give this conversation another five minutes of your time?” There's a hair elastic on the floor, by your nightstand. You make a noise of victory, trying to remember if your travel hairbrush was still in the glovebox. “Three minutes?” he pleads. It’s too much. Mentally, you try to check out as an act of self-preservation. In your peripheral vision, Damiano snatches your phone off the bed. You can’t leave without it.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“I’m asking how long until you can trust me?”

“For me to trust you completely?” That gives Dami pause. He seems to realize that it's a pretty big question to spring on you before 9 AM. ”Check the phone you’re holding hostage for the time, please.” So begins the hunt for your purse.

“It’s…” With a strained voice, he looks at the home screen. Then his hand drops to his side. “It doesn’t matter. I am asking you – How about when are you gonna be able to at least trust that I’m not gonna abandon you?” Despite attempts to create space between yourself and this moment, it feels like being stabbed with a dull spear, right through the center of your torso. “Hey!” he finally raises his voice in exhasperation. “Can you at least fucking look at me when I’m bearing my soul to you!?” Both cats are hiding under the kitchen table. Standing in the kitchen, you turn to meet his gaze.

“I’m gonna be late for work.” 

“Then be late! You hate that job anyways!” The shock reads easily on your features.. “I – that was out of line. Sorry. But this is never gonna work right until you trust me.” Your stomach drops. You feel nauseous and something akin to the beginnings of dissociation. This is why you’d been avoiding tough conversations. What if it went wrong? And if it did go wrong, what was going to happen? The ways Damiano had evolved as a person since going to rehab were great, but it also meant that you couldn’t predict his behavior anymore. If he walked out in anger, would he walk back in?

“Baby, that was really bad phrasing on my part.” His tone shifts completely,  soft and doting in the way you’d expected it to be earlier. “Way too extreme.” Dami knew he’d scared you. That took precedence over what he so desperately wanted to achieve with this conversation. You have half a mind to run into his arms. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know what’s gonna make me feel reassured that you won’t abandon me.”

“You don’t know, as in you can’t think of anything?”

“I don’t know!” You curl your hands into tight fists, fingernails digging into the soft flesh of your palms.

“Giving me an answer you regret and take back would be better than this purgatory.” Demand has officially overtaken supply. You’d required so much patience from Dami that it’d burned through all the categorical gratitude he felt for taking him back in any capacity. He was no longer just grateful to be here, he wanted a partner. 

“If your answer is I don’t think I can ever trust you again, so be it.”

“I can trust you! I do trust you, but you’re also…” He’s hanging on to every word and you can’t even craft a basic sentence. “There’s you, but then there’s also an addict you. The first one earned my trust back more easily than I’d care to admit, but the addict you, he – it’s always there.”

“And you can never trust an addict.”

“No! But, but –” The phrase “never gonna work” rattles around in your head. “No, because…because” then we might break-up. You barely think the thought, but it's like a tripwire. Suddenly trapped under all the ways you could lose Damiano. Originally there were two contenders: freak accident and growing apart. Then fame was added to this list, then addiction. Now you had to acknowledge a fifth. Like the fifth side to a cage that can finally hold you captive, invisible to others, making them helpless to do anything but watch the light leave your eyes. He might break-up with you because you couldn’t figure out how to put the pieces back together.

“Hug me.” Damiano crosses the apartment in a few quick steps. The stinging of tears distracts you from returning the embrace, but that doesn't give him pause. The only reason you weren’t blubbering already was how secure he’d made you feel the past few days. Now that was out the window.

“Continuous hugging or do you want room to breathe?”

“Breathe,” you choke, wiping your eyes. Dami’s version of breathing room was taking half a step back and resting both hands on your hips. It was perfect.

“Be brave a little longer,” he coaxes.

“I don’t want us to…God, it’s like saying Voldemort or some shit.”

“The Phrase Which Must Not Be Named that starts with a ‘B’ and ends in the word ‘up?’”

“Yeah, I…No, I don’t even want to talk about it, Damia.”

“That's adorable.” You rest your forehead against his sternum and whine. He cups the base of your head and you loosely cross your arms behind him. “But I do need to know what made you think of The Phrase Which Must Not Be Named.”

“What if,” you resume hugging him instead of finishing the sentence. “What if I can never learn to trust the addict part of you and it happens?”

“I don’t trust the addict part of me, y/n. After everything that’s happened, I sure as shit don’t expect you to.” You pull away in order to look up in confusion. “Awe, sweetheart. I just need you to trust that this part of me has control over that shithead.”

“But relapse happens and – and you’ll always be an addict and an alcoholic. This is permanently a part of you.”

“Can you trust that I’m always gonna do my damndest not to lose control? And if I do I’m gonna find my way back?” 

“It hasn’t even been three weeks.” Dami opens his mouth, closes it, and nods.

“Yeah thats a fucking good point. Damn.” He’s reeling. It’s interesting to see it happen to someone else. “I’m over here fuckin’...demanding to know when you’re gonna trust me again when I haven’t even given you a full month of stability.” You place a hand on Dami’s cheek, trying to redirect his gaze back to yours so he doesn’t get lost in self-loathing. He turns his head, but looks down. “I’m fucking comparing ‘well, I feel this way about her so –’”

“How do you feel about me?” His eyes flit up and you think the romantic in him might win.

“I feel the same way.” Or not. “Because it's easy to fall in love with somebody again and trust them again when they’re the same person. When they don’t have all this new baggage like I do.” Staring at his feet, Damiano mutters, “Nothing to compensate or…”

“You do not need to compensate, what a ridiculous thing to say!” 

“Okay.” You watch him only partially internalize your words, in the same way he raises his eyes, but doesn’t quite look at you.

“Hey, you getting sober created new character traits that I love and am attracted to.”

“Enough to balance out the shit?” You scoff, taken aback.

“Yes! You’re not a fucking equation, Damia. You are a beautiful, compelling man who contains multitudes with this incredible capacity to create multitudes. Don’t separate yourself into these categories of worthwhile or not worthwhile.”

“Y/n.”

“It’s so linear. You’re reduced to a collection of likable traits when –”

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he announces. You allow yourself to be pulled in by the back of the head, eyes falling to his mauve, shapely lips. It’s sweet, slow, polite. It’s a gesture. It’s a this-kiss-conveys-my-love-and-respect-because-it's-not-the-kiss-I-wanted-to-give-you gesture. It’s a gesture that reveals he’s forgotten the comment you made earlier this morning.

“Lets,” one syllable and you feel short of breath. “Let's have the big scary talk tonight – tomorrow night! Let's have it tomorrow night.”

“Alright.” Damiano coaxes you back in by holding your chin and brushing his pointer finger back and forth. It tickles faintly and makes you smile into the equally chaste kiss. “Don’t forget, you have therapy today.”

***

“I’m only here to avoid the missed appointment fee, honestly.” You slouch, as if trying to disappear into the chartreuse loveseat. 

“Oh?” Your therapist puts pen to paper and waits for elaboration. You stare at the floor and feel the pressure of tears behind your eyes. It's been like that since leaving the apartment, as though you were one inconvenience away from crying.

“Your disposition is certainly much different from our recent sessions.” Dr. Borough gives you another chance to speak, which you don’t take. She’s wearing all beige, minus an oversized necklace of reflective black beads. The color palette certainly suits the mood.

“Is it Damiano, work, anxiety that's been weighing on you?”

“All of the above.” After arriving 13 minutes late for work, Izolda called you into her stuffy, windowless office. She chastised you for being tardy twice in two weeks and you didn’t have the balls to point out that she’d personally excused the first instance. There were vague references to your performance review and callous comments about “allowing personal experiences to impede project outcomes.”

“Wow. So it's been a tough week?”

“It’s been emotionally laborious…So, yeah. Tough, I guess.”

“But productive?”

“Not when it comes to my job. That place is so devoid of humanity that I can feel part of my soul dying.”

“Sounds like you might need a change. Have you tried searching for –”

“I can’t handle a career change right now!”

“So what can you handle?” Finally, you burst into tears. “Oh, dear.” Dr. Borough pushes the box of tissues across the coffee table. “So what's going on in the other facets of your life? Are you and Damiano on good terms?”

“Yeah. He woke me up with espresso this morning, it was really sweet.” You wipe your face, which leaves a black smudge of hastily applied mascara on the white tissue.  

“And his sobriety?”

“He relapsed trying to reintegrate too fast. It was just booze and he’s been sober since.”

“Wow.” She scribbles on her notepad. “So that must have been triggering.”

“It…It actually made me realize how sturdy he is. Like, he got right back on the wagon and he started really acting like himself the next morning. He didn’t go back to being an asshole with a passive death wish, he did the opposite.”

“So that sounds like great news!”

“I was such a mess, such a fucking mess.” The note taking intensifies. Somehow Dr. Borough is already halfway down the page. “He was so supportive! And he basically confronted me.”

“You mean comforted?”

“No. Well, yes. He’s noticed that I’m always in my head, trying to figure out the correct or most true course of action. And he said I didn’t need to be, because I wasn’t going to ruin his sobriety. Because he was taking care of his sobriety with a bunch of people at his rehab and stuff, so I didn’t need to prioritize it anymore. I could just prioritize myself and I could depend on him because he’s gotten to a point where he can be my support and also stay sober. But I –” you devolve into sobbing.

“Alright, take a moment. Just take a moment, y/n.” Dr. Borough doesn’t look up from her notepad for several seconds. “So, that's huge! How many days ago was that? You must be emotionally drained.”

“Yeah, from not dealing with it.”

“You’re emotionally drained from purposefully ignoring emotions?”

“Basically.” 

“Alright.” Visibly processing, Dr. Borough adjusts her teal glasses and sits back. “Tell me about that.”

“Damiano just keeps pressing the issue. He wants to deconstruct and cross-examine the whole fucking situation immediately.” 

“Is this usually the case, him pursuing hard conversations and you avoiding? In the past, you’ve mentioned having great communication.” It feels like an accusation that you’ve failed Damiano somehow.

“No, I’m just not ready.”

“Ready for what?” 

“These fucking exhausting, weighty conversations!”

“What about them are you not ready for? In my experience, you can be very articulate, especially when it comes to emotions.”

“I’m not scared of talking about our feelings. We talk about our feelings all the time, anyways. I’m not even scared of conflict. We’ve fought twice this week already!”

“Oh, really?”

“But we work it out because we can admit that we’re wrong. We don’t get off on resenting or controlling each other.”

“What were those fights about?”

“This! Me!”

“You?”

“Ugh!” You throw your head back and groan. “He…thinks that I’m unhappy. I’m making myself miserable trying to do the right thing or by trying to control…something, us.”

“The right thing?” She raises one thinning eyebrow. 

“What's best for me.”

“Doing what's best for you is doing what makes you happy. It’s doing what makes you fulfilled, puts you on the path to achieve your goals.” Dr. Borough pauses, staring at you pointedly. “In terms of Damiano. What are your goals? What will make you fulfilled?”

“Being together for real, harmonious, mind, body, and soul.”

“And are your current choices facilitating that?” You feel claustrophobic, fingernails digging into the heel of your hand again. “Why the anxiety?” 

“Because I can’t control him!”

“True. But that’s always been true, y/n.”

“Doesn’t fucking matter what my goals are if the other person doesn’t feel the same.”

“You think Damiano doesn’t feel the same?”

“Well, no. I know he does.”

“Alright. So let's talk about this desire to control him.” That definitely felt like an accusation. “I just watched you have a strong reaction. Why don’t you explain that to me.” Pen to paper, Dr. Borough waits while you roll your eyes and huff in annoyance.

“Before I ever stepped foot in this office, I knew that the desire to control another person was toxic. I was already taking steps to ignore that desire when I felt it.”

“So you’re not trying to control him? That's not what's making you miserable?”

“I’m not miserable,” you bite.

“No, you’re not,” she agrees. “But you are experiencing bouts of unhappiness, like right now. You also have clinical anxiety which constantly affects your quality of life. Agreed?”

“Yeah…” The section of carpet at your feet is more worn than another other spot in the room.

“Explain to me why that is.” You choose to be insolent instead of introspective. 

“It’s impossible to tack down exactly what collection of innate and external factors contribute to any one person developing –”

“Not the anxiety, y/n.”

“I…” don’t know. But Dr. Borough wasn’t going to let you off the hook. She waits expectantly. You check the clock to find that the session isn’t quite halfway done. Damn it.

“Why are you unhappy?”

“I’m at my therapy appointment when I’d much rather be taking a nap.”

“How has your sleep been since Damiano’s relapse?”

“Worse than usual, better than expected. We…”

“Yes?”

“Don’t judge me, but the night he relapsed we slept in the same bed. Like, I slept with him on the couch.”

“‘Slept with’ as in…?”

“Cuddled.” You blush all the way up to your ears.

“And that was enjoyable.” It’s apparently obvious from your delivery since Dr. Borough makes a statement, not a question.

“Yeah and…I could hear him crying so hard. I didn’t intend to spend the night there either, but I got sleepy really quick.” A stinging sensation alerts that you’d been picking at your cuticles without realizing. “Because it felt so safe.”

“Huh. So it didn’t feel like the kiss on the plane?”

“No, not at all.”

“Then why are you unhappy?” You glower, finally meeting Dr. Borough’s eyes. She is unfazed. “Damiano has the same relationship goals and it sounds as though he may be ready to act on those goals, right?” You don’t protest, because she’s correct, but you also don’t concede. “So this should be great news! It’s exactly what you wanted, which is why this reaction raises questions. I know it’ll be hard to admit, but maybe now that you have Damiano back, you’ve realized that your feelings towards him have changed.”

“What? No! God, I fucking wish I felt more casually about him. I wish that he couldn’t read my mind and that we didn’t have this fucking soul bond and that I could have a halfway satisfying sex life without him. I want to stop watching him sleep, getting choked up when I see his bougie shampoo in the shower, huffing his dirty gym clothes, and feeling like my heart’s been ripped out because I love him so much. I want to be less in love with him!”

“No, you don’t.” Dr. Borough sets the notepad and pen on her lap and settles into her chair with a smile. There’s been some sort of breakthrough or resolution reached. “So what's the real reason you’re self-sabotaging? Do you feel like you don’t deserve him?”

“I…guess.”

“Don’t guess.”

“Deep down inside somewhere, probably.”

“So is that it?”

“You’re the therapist.”

“And you’re far from emotionally repressed.” Dr. Borough purses her lips and squints. “So are you afraid of losing him?” You swallow hard, vision blurring with tears.

“Yes, of course. Now with these fucking high stakes conversations, what if something goes wrong?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Anything!”

“Based on what you've said so far, it sounds like you guys would work it out.”

“What if we break up?”

“Does it feel like you’re going to break up?”

“No.” You blow your nose and steel yourself. “I need him. I’ve let myself need him again. So I can’t, ca – can’t lose hi – him again. I can’t! It’ll fucking kill me. I don’t care if you think that's dramatic, because it genuinely feels like I’d die of heartbreak. Even thinking a – about it, can’t – I ca – ca –can’t breathe!” Dr. Borough ends up talking you off the edge of a panic attack. You think that’ll earn some slack, but it doesn’t. 

“Okay, so just take small sips of water.” She uses her most soothing voice as you hold the paper cup in a trembling hand. “I’m going to be candid with you, y/n. Breaking up has always been a possibility and you’ve functioned despite it for years. Damiano dying of an overdose, however, is new. I think that’s what’s scaring you, the fact that death is irreparable.” You manage a nod. “Alright. That risk factor is never going away. So you have to decide if he’s worth it.”

“Of course he’s…” It's reminiscent of what Dami said this morning, which forces you to acknowledge that he was probably right. Putting the pieces back together was going to feel terrifying and you had to do it anyway. “I have all these rules to stop things from progressing before I’m ready. But maybe I’m never going to feel ready.”

“Progressing?”

“To stop Dami from getting too close, from things getting too intimate. I compartmentalized so damn much and I…every time I let him a little bit closer, it's like being hit by a semi-truck.”

“Reminders of his substance abuse?”

“No, beautiful memories of how our love manifested, all the ways we connected and felt at home in each other, felt profoundly understood. Memories of being joyous and intimate and becoming better people together.” Dr. Borough is noticeably moved. 

“You choose to close yourself off to that because of the possibility of pain?” 

“Yes!”

“That’s not living.” Finally, someone had just outright said it. You should feel stunned, but you don’t. “We’ve talked about living versus surviving in terms of your anxiety. The same can happen after trauma. Seeing Dami on life support –”

“Haven’t we already talked about that enough?” Reflexively, you make yourself smaller, hunkering down to survive this horrendous topic.

“I don’t know. Based on this reaction –”

“Based on this reaction, seeing my soulmate an inch from death is still traumatic? Shocking!”

“Traumatic, absolutely.” The even tonality of her speech is an embarrassing juxtaposition to your reactivity, but you’re still unable to quell it. “And based on your reaction, that memory still holds tremendous power over you.”

“Of fucking course it does! I still can’t even think about it like a real thing that happened to me!”

“I recall you’ve been dealing with a lot of dissociation, recently. More than usual.” Dr. Borough resumes note taking.

“Yes.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Because I can’t handle what's happening around me,” you reply, monotonously.

“You think you can’t handle what's happening around you because a parentified, 15-year-old y/n without an emotional support system couldn’t handle it.” She pauses. In that space, tears blur your vision until the view of the damaged carpet and scuffed shoes becomes indiscernible. “But now you have an emotional support system. You are deserving of an emotional support system, which is something that your parents failed to model in your childhood.” Again, Dr. Borough gives you space to speak, but you curl into a ball, instead. She nudges the tissues further across the table with an empathetic expression. “So you’re protecting her.”

“I am not protecting my mother,” you grumble.

“Not your mother. You’ve been protecting 15-year-old y/n, shielding her. And now you’re protecting the y/n who was confronted by the mortality of her support system’s keystone. Neither of them could handle the present moment, but you can.” Dr. Borough cleans her glasses while waiting for you to say something. Maybe it's an intentional respite from being examined.

“What – How can –” your first reaction is to splutter incredulously. “I’m not, I mean I’m – That's just human development, isn’t it? Burning your hand on the stove teaches you not to touch a hot stove. Burns are bad. They scar, they get infected.”

“Y/n, you are not avoiding a burn. You are eating takeout for every meal to avoid going in the kitchen at all. You are putting on noise canceling headphones everytime someone says the word ‘stove’ and singing to yourself loudly. In this metaphor –”

“I get it, I get it.” Well, shit.

“You’ve heard me say this before: the anxiety, the trauma isn’t your fault. However, coping constructively is still your responsibility. And, yes, that’s unfair. You had to live for your emotionally unequipped parents. In reaction to that hospital visit, I think you may have done a bit of living for Damiano when he was emotionally unequipped for sobriety. Now you’re living for the versions of yourself that are emotionally unequipped to handle the present. But it won’t break you like it might have then.”

“How can you know that!? How…I just want time to recover! I want to be certain!”

“There will never be certainty and there will never be a pause button. I know that's a really hard reality to face with clinical anxiety.” Dr. Borough sets her elbows on her notepad and leans forward. “But y/n, face it you must.”

***

You hold it together on the drive home. Knowing that Dami will be on a Zoom call with his songwriting and production team, you don’t want to walk through the front door a mess and distract him. Unfortunately, Spotify decides to play Folklore-era Taylor Swift as you pull into the parking garage.

I knew you/Hand under my sweatshirt/Baby, kiss it better

By the time the car is parked, you’re already crying. Your first group outing as a couple was a Roma football game with most of his friends and several cousins. The omnipresent barrage of screaming made your ears ring and triggered a panic attack. You tried to suppress your reaction, for which you’d finally receive a diagnosis just weeks later. When that became impossible, you settled on concealing your emotions until it passed. Just don’t freak out. For fucks sake, don’t embaress yourself. 

Having turned your focus inward, the roar of the audience was a surprise and so inescapably loud that it couldn’t even be described by volume. The sound became a tangible force, beating you over the head. So you fled, hands clamped over your ears, tears flowing. It seemed like every person you passed chided you. 

“‘Msorry, ‘msorry, ‘msorry, ‘msorry, ‘msorry,” you repeated, voice frail and high-pitched with terror. The adrenaline at least made climbing all those steps easier. Upon reaching the hallway at the top of the staircase, you turned around to scan the field, determining it was a good time to drop your hands. That's when you saw 18-year-old Damiano huffing and puffing, all focus dropped from the game behind him. 

“Hey,” he panted, expression confused. “Hey, you just…Are you okay?” You shook your head, mouth contorted into an ugly shape. “Well, come here, baby.” Dami opened his arms like it was obviously the next logical step to hold you. The gesture revealed that he’d remembered your purse and was wearing it. You could have blurted out “I love you,” right then and there. His sparkling, empathetic eyes framed by smeared eyeliner, outstretched hands decorated by gaudy rings, and wearing his lucky sneakers which were at least a size too small. A couple middle-aged, balding men looked him up and down in disgust. Dami didn’t even notice.

“You need a hug,’ he decided, wrapping you up. 

“Thanks,” you croaked, trembling arms finding steadiness where they held him. 

“What’s wrong with her?” asked a male voice passing by.

“Nothings wrong with her! Who the fuck are you, eh?”

“Sorry, man.”

“No, who the fuck do you think you are saying that?”

“You’re in the middle of the walkway, dude.”

“And you’re in the middle of my fucking business, asshole!”

“Damia,” you murmured.

“Sorry, sorry.” You wondered if he could discern your smile against his pilling jersey. The fabric made your face feel raw after exposure to the ruthlessly cold gusts of wind that swept up the sides of the stadium. Still, you felt compelled to hug him tighter, but ignored the compulsion so as not to encourage Damiano acting like an attack dog. But fuck if it hadn’t made you feel chosen at age 18, coming from a family who’s attitude was god forbid your emotions inconvenience anyone. 

Damiano didn’t think you were too emotional, the girl choking on her own tears over a football audience being predictably loud. He stood in the stadium’s walkway, inconveniencing everyone else to prioritize comforting you. Despite not knowing what was awry, he still managed to be soothing. Dami’s inexplicably warm hands rubbed your back under the Roma sweatshirt you wore – actually his, of course. He hummed music from the radio with a cheek pressed to your head and you subsequently felt the music’s vibrations. It tickled. An unfamiliar sensation burgeoned in the darkest recesses of your heart. Not then, but eventually, you’d come to know it as stillness.

Notes: Don't yell at me I warned you! Also I'll post the next part (the smuttastic part) when this post has 40 notes hehe

-XOXO Eden

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[prettyyoungandbored]

Reason to Live - Johnny Knoxville

Pairing: Johnny Knoxville x Fem!reader (goes by “Babydoll”)

Author’s Note: Currently OBSESSED with “Reason to Live” by KISS and this is what came out of it. This is before Y/N and Johnny’s relationship. Enjoy!

Warning: Y/N goes through it.

Song lyrics belong to KISS.

NOT MY GIF

Y/N was a hopeless romantic and although it was a part of her that she accepted, she also struggled with it. High school boys either didn’t want her or they chickened out. The guys in her 20’s were very much the same with the exception that they just wanted her as a fuck buddy.

She tried to be ok being a fuck buddy. She really did. But still, the hopeless romantic in her thought maybe she could be the one.

She never was.

“Girly, you know I love you more than anything,” Whitney began, putting her hand on her best friend’s shoulder, “but you can’t go around falling for guys that want nothing to do with you outside of sex.”

Y/N closed her eyes. “I know. I know this,” she sighed.

“I know you know,” Whitney said with a small smile.

Y/N opened one eye. “Are you also saying it because you’re tired of coming with me to the Hard Rock Cafè when I’m heartbroken?”

Whitney snorted. “This is not my scene, but I’ll go anywhere for you and with you. I just hate seeing you get like this.”

She got up from her chair. “I’m gonna use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

Y/N nodded as she sipped her drink. Whitney had a point, sure, but still it didn’t-

Out of love, there's nobody around,

All I hear is the sound of a broken heart

Y/N’s head snapped up. Maybe the liquor was hitting her but also, maybe whoever was singing this song understood her.

Out of time, no more waitin' for you

Now the hurtin's through, and a new day starts

She eyed around to find out where the music was coming from. Her eyes landed on one of the many televisions. Her mouth hung open ajar as she got up from the bar and walked to the closest TV. Her eyes were glued to the music video playing.

And I feel a change in my life, I sailed into dark and endless nights

And made it alive

Everybody's got a reason to live, baby

Everybody's got a dream and a hunger inside

Everybody's got a reason to live, but it can't be your love

Something inside her called. Whoever was singing had a point.

Love, as great as it was, wasn’t the reason to live. She was built for better things in life. She needed to start living for her, not some guy.

“Y/N?!”

She snapped out of her thoughts and turned to see Whitney standing there.

“What’s going on here?” she asked. “You don’t need to be so close to the TV.”

“Who sings this?”

Whitney blinked. “It’s KISS.”

Y/N whipped her head. “It is?!”

“Yeah, remember my dad would play them all the time on the radio?” Whitney said.

Whitney’s dad was the rock radio DJ in their hometown. While Y/N and Whitney spent time there - and even worked there in high school - she wondered how she could’ve missed this song.

“Do you know the name of the song?”

Whitney shook her head. Y/N hurried back to her chair at the bar she reached into her purse, grabbing her notebook. She wrote down ‘KISS’ and a couple lyrics she remembered.

She bought the album the next day and it played on repeat for the entire week.

But the message stayed with her for two years.

=================================

Two Years Later…

Out of touch, with myself for so long,

Now a feelin' so strong comin' over me

Y/N leaned her head back on the head rest and let the lyrics wash over her.

She was in her rental car parked right outside the hotel.

It took her two years to build herself up. To create a life where she felt fulfilled by her work and by her friends and family. She was doing great. Never better in fact.

Then she met Johnny Knoxville on her first day of “Jackass”and she found herself slipping back to her old ways.

He was ambitious, kind, courageous, funny, handsome as hell- she knew she was in trouble from the moment she laid eyes on him.

For the first couple weeks, she managed to keep it together. But sure enough, she found herself melting whenever he was around.

Down the line, there's a lesson I've learned

You can love and get burned, if it has to be

A rap at the car window broke her thoughts. Y/N snapped her head up to see Johnny Knoxville standing there.

She rolled down the window.

“Hey,” she exhaled, an embarrassed smile on her lips

“I wanted to make sure you were ok,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone fall asleep to KISS.”

“Yes! I just…long day and I’m exhausted,” she chuckled.

“You’re telling me.” He paused. “We were all over the place.”

“It was worth it considering all the great footage we got.”

“Hell yeah. You really brought a lot to the table today. It was impressive.”

She shrugged. “Just did my best.”

Johnny’s face softened. “You sure you’re ok?”

She nodded. “I promise.”

“Well, let me know if you need anything. See ya in the morning, Babydoll.”

Babydoll. That goddamn nickname that made her want to giggle and squeal. The first time she heard it she couldn’t stop smiling.

She rolled the window as Johnny walked away and she leaned back and sighed. Just then, she heard another knock and turned to see Holly at the window of the passenger seat.

Y/N unlocked it and Holly slid into the passenger.

“Hi there,” Holly greeted. “I saw you and Wonder Boy-.” She paused. “Is this KISS?”

Y/N turned down the radio. “Yeah.”

“Would you care to explain why you’re sitting in the car listening to KISS?”

Y/N sighed. “Look, you know I like Johnny, and I haven’t had a crush like this in a long time. It’s that kind of crush I want to shake off, but I just can’t.”

“Why would you want to shake it off?” Holly questioned with a pout.

“Because whenever I’ve had them in the past, I’ve just gotten let down.” Y/N pulled back her lips. “It used to be bad and then I heard this song…and I don’t know. It just kind of pulled me back up and reminded me there was more to life than crushes or falling in love and dating and shit. And it worked before.l

She sighed. “It’s not working anymore. I’ve been listening to it on replay since I got here because every time Johnny and I talk, those feelings come back and I don’t want to ruin anything.”

She felt a warmth on her hand. She looked down to see Holly holding her hand.

“I’m sorry you’ve been let down,” Holly said. “I know crushes suck. But maybe this one might work out. You never know until you give yourself a chance to put yourself out there.”

Y/N nodded. “Ok. I’ll try.”

“Good.”

Holly went to get out of the car when Y/N said, “I’m gonna give myself another couple of minutes in here. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Ok. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Holly closed the car door and Y/N sighed. She then put the song on repeat.

=====================================

BONUS SCENE

Holly found Johnny, Steve-O, and Ryan talking in the hallway.

“PJ, a word?” she motioned.

He excused himself from the group when Steve-O shouted, “Don’t steal my girl, Knoxville!”

Johnny waved him off as he and Holly stood in the corner.

“Look, I’m gonna be straight with you,” she said. “Y/N likes you too, ok? I don’t know why she does, but she does.”

Johnny perked up. “What do you mean likes me too? Wait, what did she-.”

Holly held up her hand. “Don’t play this game with me, ok? Just make a move.”

He shoved his hands inside his jean pockets. “She just feels out of my league.”

“Yeah, she is,” Holly agreed. “But I also know you’re a good guy and you would be good for her and her for you. Listen, I’ll drive her to set tomorrow. I’ll slash her tire or something while she sleeps. You drive her home and ask her out, ok?”

Johnny nodded. “You got a deal.” Then it dawned on him. “Wait, you’re gonna do what?!”

[delacyrose224]

King of My Heart

Pairing: Seo Changbin x reader

Genre: Fluff, suggestive

Word Count: 4.1k

Author's Note: Today's song of the day is King of My Heart by Taylor Swift...I can't believe this is the first fic I've written since May this year! Excuse the massive Changbin brainrot that took hold while I was writing. Or don't, I don't mind.

-------------------------------------------------

“Come on, please?”

You meet your best friend’s eyes through the mirror, her expression desperate and pleading. You roll your eyes.

“Why would I want to go to a rooftop party when I could stay home, watch a movie and eat ice cream?” You raise an eyebrow, daring her to tell you that staying in is a bad idea.

“Because there will be cute boys? I’m sure Hyunjin has cute friends, he’s bound to with the way that he looks,” she sighs dreamily.

You can’t help laughing at your best friend Roxanne’s giant crush on your mutual friend. Well, acquaintance was maybe a better term…the two of you had only met Hwang Hyunjin once at a work event that Roxanne had invited you to so she wouldn’t be alone. Here you were, two weeks later, and Hyunjin had mentioned that he was throwing a rooftop party before the weather got too cold.

Roxanne’s full on pouting now, big puppy eyes batting her eyelashes at you.

“...fine.”

She squeals, wrapping her arms around you and hops up and down excitedly.

“YAY!! Now we need to figure out what you’re wearing, because you are not showing up like that,” she gestures to your toothpaste stained sweatpants.

“Hey!! I can take back my answer, you know,” you grumble, trying to rub the stain off.

“I know, but you won’t, you love me too much!” she singsongs, pulling you towards your closet.

—---------------------------------------------

An hour and a half later, you find yourself climbing the last set of stairs up to Hyunjin’s rooftop. As you open the door, your mouth falls open slightly, looking over at Roxanne with wide eyes.

Hyunjin has fairy lights everywhere, tables full of snacks and drinks, and there’s even a mirrorball sending silver shimmers across the roof everytime it catches any of the lights. Music is playing loudly, but not so loud that you can’t think, and the skyline looks gorgeous.

“Okay, this was worth it,” you murmur to your friend as she laughs at your expression.

“And just think, you haven’t even seen any of the cute boys! Speaking of…” It’s her turn to go wide eyed as Hyunjin makes his way over to the two of you, pulling Roxanne into a side hug.

“Hey, glad you could make it! You’re Roxanne’s best friend, right?” You nod, smiling at the fact that he remembered you. “Well welcome, food and drinks are over there…beware the punch, Minho made it REALLY strong, but if that’s your thing, be my guest,” he laughs, eyes sparkling as he makes eye contact with Roxanne. “If you need anything, come find me and let me know. Otherwise enjoy!” As he moves to walk away, some form of nonverbal communication happens between him and your best friend and she moves to follow behind him, turning to you.

“Will you be okay? I know you didn’t want to come originally.” She looks uncertain, bouncing from one foot to the other. You nod emphatically, shooing her away towards the black haired man that had just left. She smiles and slips away into the crowd of people, leaving you to wander towards the outskirts of the party. 

You’re truly content to linger here, people watching. You see Roxanne and Hyunjin dancing goofily to some song put on by the DJ, also one of Hyunjin’s friends. The sight makes you smile, though you can feel a small pit open up in your stomach that makes you look away. The feeling has nothing to do with Roxanne or Hyunjin…rather just a stinging reminder of your last relationship. 3 years, what feels like wasted. You used to look like your best friend, smiling and laughing at silly jokes, not afraid to look dumb in front of strangers, eyes sparkling. That was until your ex-boyfriend broke things off, simply stating that he had fallen out of love with you. Nothing that you did, nothing you could have done, just…nothing. 

That was about 6 months ago, and if you were being honest with yourself, you had avoided social outings to avoid seeing other couples. It made you feel awful to get upset over seeing your best friend happy, but you couldn’t help the way you felt, right? Right? The night air sweeps across your bare legs, making you shiver and bringing you back into the present. You decide to make your way to the drink table, pouring beer into a plastic cup after seeing the only other option was Minho’s punch. You take your drink back to the outskirts of the party, this time choosing to look out over the cityscape. You’re nursing the beer painfully slowly, slightly grimacing every time you take a sip over the taste. It’s strange, you think to yourself…there are thousands of other people in the city, all living their lives separately but also interconnected by the fact that they live in the same place.

“...come here often?” A low voice asks close to your ear, causing you to drop your cup in surprise. As it hits the ground, two hands wrap themselves around your waist, unceremoniously pulling you away from the lukewarm liquid now splashing everywhere. 

“Are you okay?” the same low voice asks, prompting you to turn and see a man about your age with short black hair, standing a couple inches shorter than you.

“Yeah, I’m fine I think,” you look down at your outfit, miraculously beer-free other than a couple of errant droplets on your boots. The stranger follows your gaze, noticing the liquid. He holds up a finger to you, runs off and reappears a second later with napkins in his hand. He then kneels on the ground, sopping up the remains of your drink. 

“You don’t have to…it’s not-” you start, feeling extremely awkward that someone you don’t know is cleaning your shoes.

“It’s not a big deal, I made you spill so it’s only fair that I clean up the mess I caused,” he looks up with a smile. “You probably will still want to run over it with a damp cloth when you get home because it’ll be sticky, but you should be set for the rest of the party.” He stands up again, dusting dirt off his knees. “I’m Changbin, by the way. I would re-ask if you come here often, but we see how well that went over the first time. Also I would remember seeing someone as pretty as you before,” his smile reappears even wider as he reaches a hand out to you, which you grab and shake.

“Thanks for…for cleaning my boots, I guess,” you stammer, not really sure how to respond. 

“No problem,” he responds, unfazed by your awkwardness. “What were you doing over here alone? Are you okay?” His brow furrows in concern.

“No, I just…I mean, I’m fine! Parties just aren’t my thing really. Well, not lately anyway. My friend asked me to come,” you finish lamely, running your hands through your hair.

“You’re a good friend then,” Changbin says matter of factly. “Can I join you? I just needed a break from dancing.” It’s then you notice his flushed cheeks, sweat dampening his brow. He’s got his shirt sleeves rolled and pushed up, where they strain against his arm muscles that you didn’t pay attention to before. You nod.

The two of you are silent for a moment, looking out at the city again, the wind gently ruffling your hair.

“Isn’t it weird to think there are thousands of humans in this city, just living their lives separately? But then we’re all connected because we all live here?” Changbin’s voice breaks the silence. You turn to him, mouth open.

“What?! You cannot tell me that that isn’t weird!” he exclaims. 

“That’s literally what I was thinking right before you came up and talked to me,” you breathe, not believing what you’re hearing.

“No way, that’s so cool!” Changbin laughs, the end turning into a little giggle which in turn makes you laugh. “I know you’re not laughing at me right now…” his eyes narrow at you, though the smile remains on his face.

“...your laugh is cute,” you murmur quietly, knowing that you’re turning red as you say it out loud.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Changbin cups a hand around his ear, leaning towards you as if to hear you better. “My ass is cute? How forward of you, we just met!”

You burn an even darker crimson. “I said your laugh is cute!!” Your voice is raised, almost as loud as the music. 

“I know, I’m just messing with you. I do have a cute ass though,” he giggles again, making you laugh as well. “Dance with me.” Your eyebrows shoot up.

“I don’t-”

“Please? I made you spill your drink, let me make it up to you. Dance with me, and I’ll get you another drink. You don’t even have to talk to me anymore after that if you don’t want to.” He looks at you, eyes sparkling…it may be the drinks that you’re sure he’s had, but he seems serious.

“Fine.”

“Yes!!” he pumps his fist triumphantly, then grabs your hand, slotting his fingers between yours to lead you through the crowd to the dancefloor.

A song is fading as you make your way to an empty spot, with the DJ hitting play on a familiar tune as Changbin spins you around. 

“I LOVE THIS SONG!!” you exclaim, more energetically than you had felt all night. Changbin’s eyes light up as he sees you let loose, not caring what anyone thinks as you jump up and down. You’re impressed as well, he dances much better than you expected, and surprisingly knows how to move his hips.

One song turns into five, the drink forgotten and the two of you are screaming lyrics at the top of your lungs while dancing. The DJ suddenly switches the mood, lowering the lights and starting a slow song.

“The party must be ending soon,” you breathe heavily, exhausted from dancing.

“Yeah,” Changbin agrees, his hand moving up to rub the back of his neck. He almost looks shy. “Do you wanna…dance still?” He holds out his hand to you.

To your own surprise, you take his offer and step closer to him. He gently places his hands on your waist and you loosely place yours around his neck. The two of you sway in place quietly, occasionally with Changbin spinning you out and bringing you back to him. Towards the end of the song, he spins you out and tugs you back slightly too roughly, your hands crashing into his chest. His hands tighten around your back to steady you, bringing you even closer to him.

“You okay?” he breathes, worry clouding his vision. All you can manage is a noise that is in the affirmative, entirely too distracted by the hard planes of his chest underneath his shirt.

“Are you sure?” His head is cocked to the side, not sure that he believes you.

“You must workout a lot,” you blurt out, unable to stop yourself.

He laughs loudly. “I do, actually. Meet Jut and Dae.” He flexes his chest muscles as he says this, making them jump underneath your hands. You pull your hands away quickly, embarrassed. “Hey, you’re okay…don’t be embarrassed, I worked hard on my body, I don’t mind you pointing it out,” he reassures you. As you make eye contact, he gives you a small smirk.

The smirk fades as the song does, and he suddenly looks embarrassed himself. “Would you maybe want to go to the gym with me sometime?” he asks. 

“I haven’t worked out in months, I don’t know…” 

“You don’t have to work out if you don’t want to, you can just watch the gun show if you want.” The smirk is back, and you can tell he’s not being serious.

“I’d like to see Jut and Dae in action, yeah,” you finally respond, shocked at your own boldness.

The smirk becomes a full-blown smile. “It’s a date,” he whispers in your ear and walks away, just as Roxanne comes bounding up to you.

“There you are, I’ve been looking for you! Let’s go home, I can give you all the gossip on the way there.” You smile and nod, following her towards the stairs. You look back towards the party, but Changbin is nowhere to be seen.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

On the twenty minute walk home, Roxanne regaled you with all of the drama between her and Hyunjin…it wasn’t really that dramatic, she just enjoyed being dramatic. Fair, seeing as she and Hyunjin both worked for a fine arts collective. It basically boiled down to them casually dating and seeing where things went, but based on her story and your own intuition, you sensed that it probably wouldn’t be long until they were official.

“So how was your night?” Roxanne prods, both figuratively and literally poking her finger into your side as you approach your apartment complex. 

“It was fine, I’m glad you had fun,” you smile tiredly. Your friend raises an eyebrow at you, preparing to poke you again.

“I saw you with some guy, who was he? You looked like you were having a good time…”

“Yeah, I was. His name’s Changbin.”

“Ooh, he’s one of Hyunjin’s friends!! He’s a cutie…and he’s super buff,” Roxanne whistles.

“...I noticed,” you laugh. “I have a gym date with him next week.”

“WHAT?!” You swear if she had a drink, it would have been spit all over you.

Your eyes darken. “Is it that hard to believe that I have a date?”

“No, I mean, just…after what happened, I-I’m happy for you! Hyunjin speaks really highly of him, so he must be a good guy. I want to know all the details!”

You nod while yawning, bidding her goodbye at your door.

—-------------------------------------------------

The next week or so passes by without much to report, just work as usual. You’d realized that you and Changbin hadn’t exchanged numbers at the party, which was disappointing…but you barely knew him. You’d get over it. That is until the Thursday after the party, you get a message to come to the front desk of your office for a delivery. 

Weird. You hadn’t ordered any supplies, and you had brought your lunch from home today. You walk to the front, only to be met with the receptionist holding out a humongous bouquet of flowers towards you. 

You take them from her, flabbergasted at the blooms in front of you as you walk them back to your desk. You place them down, searching around the large amount of daisies in multiple hues for a card of some kind. You finally find one, dragging out a small notecard. 

‘I forgot to get your number at the party, so I asked Hyunjin for help to get these to you. I hope you’re having an amazing week, here’s my number if you still want a ticket to the gun show this weekend. ;) -XO, Changbin’

You smile at Changbin’s phone number scrawled messily underneath his message, pulling out your phone to text him thank you for the flowers. Your phone pings with a reply message a few minutes later.

Changbin (3:27 PM): You’re very welcome, I’m just glad they got to the right place! Woulda been embarrassing if Hyunjin pranked me. Do you still want to go to the gym with me, then?

Y/N (3:30 PM): Absolutely! When were you thinking? 

Changbin (3:41 PM): Saturday morning, 10AM? We can go for lunch afterwards if you want as well, my treat!

Y/N (3:50 PM): Sounds perfect, see you then!

—----------------------------------------

Saturday morning arrives in no time, and you’re attempting to pack a gym bag that makes sense. It would make more sense if you knew where you were going after your workout.

A dress? Maybe too fancy. A romper? The whole bathroom situation of it all makes you shake your head no. You eventually settle on a pair of jeans and a flowy tank top, hurriedly shoving toiletries and shoes in the bag as well before looking at yourself in the mirror. Black leggings and a sporty tank, your hair thrown up into a messy topknot. Barely any makeup because you’re working out. You’re not sure how you feel about the look, but you’re about to be sweaty so you shrug at yourself and head out the door.

Changbin is waiting for you outside the gym, holding the door open as you approach. “After you, madam,” he smiles, ushering you inside.

He leads you to the weights area and explains his circuit plan to you. “I figure I can spot you when you lift, and my buddy Chan can spot me if I need it.” He gestures over to one of the trainers across the room. “After we go through a couple of sets, we can do cardio…I’ll probably run on the treadmill, but you can do whatever you prefer. Sound good?” You nod, following him over to the bench press. Oh good, the thing you’ll probably be the worst at, considering your arms have the strength of a chicken’s. An already cooked chicken. You sit and slide yourself under the bar and Changbin stands behind you. From this angle, you can see just how massive his chest and arms are. You can’t help but get flustered as he helps you lift the bare bar off the rack, gently coaching you through a set. You then switch places, watching him in awe lift 150 lbs while his friend Chan spots him.

The date continues with him showing you around the gym, spotting you, correcting your form with light touches to your back and waist when needed. Though innocent, every time his hand brushes across your body it feels like fire.

“Time for cardio!” Changbin crows, oblivious to you watching him do squats. You snap out of your reverie, following him to the opposite side of the gym, collecting your Kindle out of your bag on the way. “I’m probably gonna run 2-3 miles and then I’ll come find you, okay?” He trots a few machines over to a treadmill while you climb onto an elliptical and open the book you had been reading. You glance over to him, only to see him waving goofily at you as he gets the treadmill going up to the speed he wants. You turn back to your book, getting easily engrossed as you start exercising.

-------------------------------------

“...must be really good if you didn’t hear me calling your name three times.”

Your eyes dart up to Changbin, who’s standing in front of your machine, eyes sparkling with mirth. 

“Sorry, I just…yeah, it is good,” you laugh sheepishly, slowing down and stepping off the elliptical.

“What is it?” he asks, lifting your Kindle off the machine, his eyes starting to scan the page before you can reach out to stop him. You just stand there, watching his eyes go wider as they make their way line by line down the page.

He lets out a low whistle. “Wow babe, if you were into this kind of stuff you just had to tell me,” he says with a wink.

“That’s rich coming from someone whose ears are as red as a stop sign right now,” you laugh. Changbin’s eyes scrunch up as he lets out a barking laugh.

“Fine, you caught me…but don’t think I’ll forget that you read smut while you’re working out.”

It’s your turn to wink at him.

“Oh, I’m counting on it.”

—---------------------------------------------

Lunch is delicious-Changbin takes you to get sushi, and your outfit is the perfect balance between nice and casual. He walks you to your apartment afterwards, leaning in to give you a hug goodbye. You surprise him by landing a kiss on his cheek. 

“Thanks for a really nice date, I had a great time,” you beam. 

“Anytime, I had a great time too…and I mean anytime. Like, would you be interested in a second date?” Changbin’s ears have gone red again.

“What did you have in mind?” you tease him.

“Maybe we could go to a bookstore or something since you like to read? And a walk at sunset afterwards?”

It feels like your heart could just burst…you step closer to him, breath fanning out over his mouth. It’s so unlike you to be this open with your feelings this early, but Changbin just makes things easy.

“Is that a yes?” He asks, wide eyes searching yours as you move seemingly closer. You tease your lips over his, barely touching, until he surges forward, capturing your mouth with his own. You break apart after a few moments, breathless.

Your eyes are slightly hooded as you make eye contact again, nodding your head. “That’s a yes, loverboy.” He smiles into the kiss as you move forward connecting your mouths again. It’s not long before he’s mouthing at your jawline and onto your neck, moving his way towards your exposed collarbone.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?” he breathes into your skin between kisses. Your back now against your door, caution thrown to the wind and you don’t care if any of your neighbors see you. “So…pretty…” You’re almost positive you’ll have marks on your collarbone in the morning for the world to see. Changbin’s hands have been on your waist this whole time, sending searing heat through your whole body, and he moves them now towards your ass, squeezing somehow roughly and gently at the same time. You let out a small moan that he swallows as he reconnects his mouth to yours. The moan becomes a yelp as you feel him lift you completely off the ground into his arms with little to no struggle. “Let me take care of you, beautiful,” he murmurs into your ear, sending goosebumps up and down your body.

You lean back slightly, your eyes connecting with his hazy, lust-filled ones. “Changbin, we shouldn’t…I can’t…” You see realization dawn across his face.

“I mean let me take care of you in every way.” He whispers it, like it’s a secret. “I want to spend time with you, cook with you, send you flowers just because it’s a Tuesday. Will you let me?”

“You already sent me flowers, silly.” The smile on his face is so pretty as he looks at you, it makes your heart ache.

“Yeah, but that was a Thursday, not a Tuesday.” He’s smug as he stares up at you, still supported by his arms and the door. “So what do you say?”

“I say…you should let me down before someone sees us,” you laugh.

“You didn’t seem to care about that too much a few minutes ago, now did you, pretty?” His eyes twinkle mischievously as he leans forward, peppering a few kisses across your jawline. His touch makes you sigh almost instantaneously and you lean your forehead against his.

“I will not confirm nor deny that fact,” you laugh, his mouth connecting with yours again.

“Let me take care of you the way you deserve…like a queen.” You hum contentedly as he kisses you, sliding you down the door and back on your feet.

“Does that make you a king?” you smile.

“Only if I’m king of your heart,” he flexes his bicep, and you can’t help but giggle at his silliness.

“Your laugh is cute,” he states matter-of-factly, calling back to the night you first met.

“Yeah? Well your ass is cute,” you smirk, reaching behind him to give it a smack.

“Hey!! That’s my line!” he pouts good-naturedly as you lean in to kiss his cheek.

“Goodnight, Changbin,” you smile coquettishly, unlocking your door and slowly making your way inside your apartment.

“Hey-” he places his hand inside the doorframe, stopping it from completely closing. “I mean it, I want to treat you like you deserve. In every way.” You lean your head against the door, smiling dopily at his statement. “...and when I say every way, if you ever want to try whatever that fairy prince was doing in your book, all I’m saying is I’m down.” He lifts his hands in an ‘I surrender’ posture. You laugh, which causes him to break down in a fit of giggles.

“We’ll see, Romeo…we’ll see.” He pumps his fist in triumph at your answer, leaning forward through the door frame for one last kiss that he sighs into as he draws away. You watch as he starts to descend the staircase of your complex, looking back over his shoulder to look at you one last time before he leaves.

“Goodnight, my queen.” 

And with that, he’s gone…and you can’t wait until you see him again.

—------------------------------------

Taglist: @hyungieyoongi @alpacaparkaseok @derinxfam @iluvhyunjinnieboo

Find more of my work here!

[lavenderthe8]

haikyuu!! edm artists

i go to a lot of raves and this is an idea ive been poking at for awhile so enjoy xx

sugawara

melodic bass

think: seven lions, trivecta

literally the sweetest DJ everrrrr

when he plays festivals, he never goes to the fan meet and greets

likes to walk around instead and meet his fans face to face (and he never wants them to pay money to see him)

is always fighting with the ticket companies to lower the ticket prices for his fans

also, is an avid kandi kid

literally was making full on rotating cuffs at like age twelve

he loves to collab with other artists, although he just can’t get behind hardstyle or dnb

he went to a warehouse rave like one time when he was in university, and just never went back again (it scared him a little bit)

yamaguchi actually sings a lot of the vocals for his songs, too

and of course, anyone that went to karasuno gets free tickets for lifeeeee

and ofc hinata always shows up to a few of suga’s shows, usually four or five a year

makki (and mattsun)

trap

think: troyboi, alison wonderland

literally just started remixing songs together in high school for the parties that oikawa would throw and it kinda just spiraled from there

started to just fuck around and do his own thing, and after awhile he stopped remixing and just started to make his own beats

actually stopped it for a long time after he graduated high school

kinda forgot about it before he heard that kyoutani had become pretty famous off his edm music

so he decided to go back and start playing around with it again

started releasing his songs, and eventually he got to open at a super small show near him

just like blew up after that

mattsun (and makki)

hardstyle

think: gammer, headhunterz

same thing with makki, DJing was not really at the top of his priority list, like, ever

he played around with makki’s mixer a lot when they were in school together, but he never really gave it much thought

makki was crashing at his place for a bit, and he mentioned that he was playing a show near them, so mattsun decided to tag along

literally fucking FELL in love with makki’s set, and immediately wanted to learn how to make songs too

they worked at it for awhile, and eventually mattsun found a type of edm that he really enjoyed making

started collabing almost immediately after, and got like a massive amount of fans really quickly

also, their visuals are like so silly

(lots of shrek and whatever stupid shit that’s been viral that week)

kyoutani also refuses to play shows with them because makki and mattsun have so many bad pictures of him from high school that they use on their merch and promotion videos and stuff

kyoutani

dubstep (duh)

think: subtronics, wooli

come on, you know this boy loves dubstep

as far as headbangers go, kyoutani gets whiplash at literally every show he goes to

super into edm growing up, and he always knew that he wanted to be a DJ

he bought himself a cheap starter kit in high school and from then on his career was pretty much set in stone

pretty bad at promoting himself, most of his social media literally was just him pointing at the camera and bopping his head along to one of his own tracks

but he DOES have a really big following

mostly because people would fall in love with him when they saw him playing a set (can you blame them?)

picks up A LOT of girls because of it

also, oikawa never lets him live it down, but kyoutani doessss have to give him credit for his DJ name lol

really wants to collab with kenma one day (it’s in the works, don’t worry)

and no comment on the makki and mattsun merch, although he does buy a new shirt every time they drop one with his face on it

tendou

techno

think: space 92, hi-lo

tendou was going to underground raves since he started high school idcidc

the music helped him focus soooo much, he would literally listen to it when he was studying

he even used it to fall asleep sometimes

after graduation when semi joined his band, tendou would tag along to the studio with him

eventuallyyyy he learned how to produce rock music, and then he started making his own beats

he also doesn’t really take inspiration from other artists, which is cool

just hears the track in his head and BOOM — he makes it into a song

doesn’t really have a following, he just plays when and where he can

but people love his energy, so he always has a good sized crowd watching him

atsumu

bass house

think: space laces, ac slater

experimented with a lot of different sounds before he finally found something that fit

eventually though, he fell in love with the dancing more than he did the actual music

he would go to shows to try and find inspo and would end up watching the ravers more than he would the actual DJ’s

eventually learned how to rave shuffle, and that’s when he realized that bass house was his calling

when he was playing a set and looked out to the crowd, it made him sooooo happy to see people dancing to his music

is also the type of DJ to call out 1… 2… 1, 2, 3, 4 before every fucking drop

it made osamu so mad when they were playing a show together

he also only listens to house music, even on his off days

so when he can’t find any new music to listen to, he just makes his own

has a really big following, but definitely wants to push himself and start headlining at festivals one day

suna

drum and bass

think: subsonic, noisia

prettiest DJ award goes to suna

he just knows exactly how to read the crowd

is very good at knowing the vibe and matching what the crowd wants

also, is just very beautiful

but his sets are always, like, super weird

lots of really experimental sounds and his visuals are like… scary? in a way

so his music definitely isn’t for everyone

has more of a cult following than anything, but he doesn’t care much about being in the spotlight

he plays edm because HE likes it, he could give a fuck what anyone else thinks

is also never seen without a beanie on

it’s sort of a game to his fans — “take a picture of suna without his fucking hat on”

(they never can)

osamu

midtempo bass

think: rezz, kloud

doesn’t have flashy visuals or lasers or anything like that

gets criticized a lot because some people say that his shows are “boring”

but his true fans know that’s not true

osamu is there to play music! he isn’t there to put on a light show

has a really big group of fans that are ride or die for him — a lot of them say that if you’ve never been to one of his sets, you’re not a real raver

sort of a staple DJ in the “sober rave” community

is super supportive of his fans, and he even has a link on his website for people to send in their own personal stories about what it’s like to be a sober raver

also HATES to collab with other people that he doesn’t know, it’s hard for him to understand their vision

which is why he usually only collabs with atsumu

also, is known for not saying a word during his shows

he walks on, plays some music, and walks off (and people love him for it)

kenma

progressive house

think: acivii, zedd

biggest DJ of his generation

like, let me just make it clear, kenma is very very famous

he doesn’t really care about the spotlight though

he just loves to play music

doesn’t interact with his fans much, kuroo runs all of his social media because he knows that kenma gets overwhelmed a lot with stuff like that

for the most part though, his fans are super respectful

kenma headlines at the same festivals every year, and he consistently sells out shows at massive venues

feels truly happy when he is DJing

one of his fans sent him a pair of cat ears that they made, and kenma wears them to almost every show he plays

has never actually been to a rave himself

takes a lot of inspiration from very early edm artists

just makes people really happy with his music

honorable mentions

akaashi

designs all of kenma’s merch

usually never attends the shows, he and kenma just have a sort of working relationship where kenma vaguely describes what he wants, and akaashi fulfills his request

does sit through every video that bokuto shows him after a rave, though

he also doesn’t have any social media for himself, he created an account literally to promote kenma

also, says he hates edm, but kenma is his number one spotify artist every year??

bokuto sees through his lies (and is taking him to a rave in a few months)

akaashi says that he isn’t excited (but he actually really is)

kiyoomi

atsumu’s manager

is so good about keeping him on track with scheduling and stuff

“omi, can we go get ice cream?” — “no, atsumu, sound check is in ten minutes.”

is sooooo good about keeping atsumu hydrated

this boy does not drink water, like ever

so omi has literally stopped his set before only to make atsumu down a bottle of water

atsumu ALWAYS dedicates his sets to kiyoomi

and kiyoomi secretly loves him for it

iwaizumi and oikawa

complete rave baes

oikawa’s entire social media presence is: volleyball, volleyball, rave, rave, rave, iwaizumi, iwaizumi at a rave, volleyball

it was actually iwaizumi’s idea to wear matching shoes to their first ever rave

the tradition never stopped

iwaizumi will complain that oikawa takes too many pictures of them during shows but he will also post every single picture of them together

one of oikawa’s “essential” items at a rave is a custom pashmina he had made with a picture of kyoutani sleeping

(they love to torture this poor boy)

will be rave dad’s one day — it’s cannon

[sailorsplatoon]

Here comes chapter 9! This is the second to last chapter, the next one will be the end! Be fully ready for me to get super sappy once that chapter comes out.

First (prologue)

Previous

Next

Read it on ao3!

(Fanfic under cut)

Acht sat next to Four, watching a show that one of their cousins had recommended. They hadn’t expected it to be as good as it was. Around them sat various kids, some watching the show, some playing video games on their phones, others on different electronics or playing with toys. 

“Oh my cod, Four!” One of the kids on their laptop shouted. Their name was Kai. “SashiMori is coming to the Inkadia Music Hall!”

“No way! You mean the one that’s only thirty minutes away?!” Four jumped up from the couch in excitement, pausing the show as they did.

“Yes! We have to go see them!”

“Is SashiMori a band?” Acht asked.

“Yeah, they make a really cool genre of music that actually takes inspiration from humans!” Kai found a picture of the band in their laptop and turned it around for Acht to see. “I really like the DJ, Pau—”

“Paul!?” Acht jumped up from the couch now, staring at the image in disbelief. “Paul Mizuta!?”

“You know him?” Four turned to Acht, concerned by their sudden outburst.

“He’s my brother!”

“He’s your brother!?” Four repeated. “Kai, I will give you the money to buy the three of us backstage passes, I don’t care how expensive they are. We’re getting Acht to Paul no matter what.”

“On it!” Kai typed furiously, navigating their way to the page that would allow them to buy the VIP tickets.

“Four, you don’t have to, I’m sure they’re expensive.”

“Acht, this is your brother we’re talking about. No such thing as too expensive.”

Acht sniffed, tears forming in their eyes. “Thank you.”

****

“Hey, guys, we’ve got a VIP group coming in for a meet and greet in a few minutes, so make sure you’re ready.” Karla walked into the backstage lounge that would be used for the meet and greet. Typically, they didn’t get many VIPs, so the band had made it their space to hang out before the show started.

“We haven’t trashed the place too much. Yet. It’ll be fine, it’s a part of our charm.” Paul struck a dramatic pose and his band mates laughed.

“Right this way,” a tour guide said, opening the door.

As the group walked in, Paul’s hearts stopped. “Acht…” he gasped.

“Hi, Paul.” They smiled at him in return. 

“You’re alive!” He screamed in delight, running up to them and pulling them into a big hug.

“Mostly,” they chuckled. “I’m so happy to see you again. You’ve grown so much! And you’re a DJ in a band!? I’m so proud of you.” Both of them had tears streaming down their faces.

“Paul, is this the sibling you’re always talking about?” Ryu-Chang asked. Paul just nodded in confirmation. “Then who are the other two?”

Paul looked up, only just now noticing the other two people in the group.

“Hi, my name’s Four, I’m Acht’s partner! And this is my cousin, Kai.” They introduced themself. Kai stood next to them, trying desperately to contain their excitement.

“Acht finally got a partner?! Did you bribe them or something?” Paul teased.

“No! We started to fall in love after they kicked my ass,” Acht huffed defensively.

“Yeah sorry about that,” Four muttered.

“Don’t worry about it. After all, you haven’t tried to kill me recently.”

“You have weird taste.” Paul laughed. “I’m just happy you’re back. Where have you been?” He asked.

“It’s a lot to explain and you have a show to do, I’ll tell you everything after, I promise!”

“Okay… but you’re here. And you DJ.” Paul shot a look to his bandmates, who all nodded in approval. They knew exactly what he was about to say. “Would you wanna come onstage and perform with us?”

“I don’t want to take over your show. Plus Deep Cut is trying to get a rivalry going with me and I don’t want you to get caught up in that—”

“I don’t care. Do you want to or not?”

“I really want to,” Acht said quietly.

Paul and the rest of  SashiMori cheered in delight.

****

“Oh my cod,” Paul gasped as Acht finished telling him their entire story, from being drafted right up to escaping the Deepsea Metro. The two sat backstage. The show had ended in a massive success. Four and Kai sat with them, the rest of SashiMori in a different room, giving them time to talk. Kai was now adorned in massive amounts SashiMori merch, having bought two of everything and getting at least half of it signed. Paul continued, “Acht, I can’t believe that happened to you. I’m so happy to have you back.”

“I’m happy to have you back.” Acht paused for a moment, then finally asked the question that had been living in the back of their mind for the entire show. “Where’s Dad?”

Paul went quiet, shifting his gaze to the ground. “I don’t know.” Acht looked at him horrified, begging him to tell them more. “A while after you left, Dad heard something about a few octolings escaping to Inkopolis. He wanted to do the same. So we left in the middle of the night. When we were getting close, I started to hear shouts behind us. He told me to run and I did. I don’t know what happened to him, but I never saw him after that. I refuse to believe that he’s gone. I’ve finally gotten you back, I’m going to get him back too.”

Acht’s gaze softened. “You’re so much stronger than I was at your age. We’re going to find him, I’m certain of it.”

“Found him,” Kai said, their laptop open on the table.

“What!?” Acht and Paul shouted in unison.

“How?” Four leaned over to look at their screen.

“He commented on a video of the concert, apparently a few fans already posted it. He recognized you two as his kids immediately and asked if anyone knew where you two were. There aren’t any replies right now, but I can totally find where he is so we can go to him. He’s got his first and last name, zip code, and address all on his profile. It makes it easy for us but someone really needs to teach him about internet safety.” They spun their laptop around to reveal his account. Sure enough, he had written a slew of personal information that was readily available to the public.

“That sounds like him, he was never tech savvy.” Paul chucked. 

“When can we go?” Acht asked eagerly. 

“How about now?” Four said, standing up.

“Can we really go now?” Paul’s eyes were practically sparkling.

“Sure! I don’t see why not! You three stay here, I’ll go get the car. Uh… ignore the Deep Cut logos, I haven’t been able to wash them off.” Four waved to the group as they walked out the door.

“I’ll go tell the band where we’re going!” Paul stood up and left just a few seconds after Four. 

****

Acht knocked on the door lightly, squeezing Four’s hand with their free one. Paul stood next to them, hearts pounding. Kai shifted around awkwardly. They would have preferred to wait in the car for what was bound to be a very personal moment. But Four insisted that they come, seeing how helpful they were in finding this place.

Slowly, the door opened. Behind it stood a tall octoling man, his tentacles pulled back into a bun, wearing a thin set of glasses and a black long sleeve shirt with jeans. The moment he saw who was waiting for him, tears barreled down his cheeks. 

“Hey, Dad. We’re home.” Acht’s voice broke as they began to cry as well. He pulled the two octolings into a hug.

“I knew it. I knew you’d come back to me.” He whispered. All of them were crying now, including Four and Kai. 

“I missed you so much,” Paul bawled.

“I thought I would never see you again.” Acht buried their head in his shirt, sobbing.

After the three had finished their reunion, the man stood up to peer over at the two inklings standing nearby. “Are you two the reason that my children are here?” He asked.

“Well, my cousin Kai did most of it, but I’d like to think I helped. I’m Four, it’s nice to meet yo—” they were interrupted by him wrapping his arms around them and Kai, pulling the two into a hug as well. 

“Thank you,” he said.

“We should’ve warned you, our dad’s a hugger,” Acht joked.

“And a crier,” Paul added.

“You’re one to talk,” Acht teased, choking back tears themself.

“My name’s Dan. Its wonderful to meet the two of you. Please, come inside.” He gestured toward the door. 

As each of them sat down at the table, Dan brought over a large bowl of assorted individually bagged chips. “I made sure to always keep a stash of these, just in case you ever came. Looks like they’ll finally come in handy.” He sat down at a seat himself, facing his kids and his two guests. “Tell me everything, I want to hear about all your adventures.”

“Well you saw me and Paul performing. He’s a part of a popular band now—” Acht began.

“Acht has a partner!” Paul shouted over them.

“Oh you do? May I meet them?” Dan asked, excitedly.

“You already have.” Acht blushed, making eye contact with Four.

“I like them already.” He smiled at Four, who grinned back, wide and excited. They weren’t expecting this to go so well. 

“Oh yeah, they’re great!” Paul chirped. “But, if you don’t mind me asking, where have you been? What happened to you after I left for Inkopolis?”

Dan suddenly turned serious. “Oh that’s a lot to explain. But you’re mature enough to know by now, seeing as you’ve been able to handle yourself so well for this long. There were soldiers behind us, so I needed to distract them in order for you to escape. I ended up captured, but I was hopeful you made it out. Apparently, my hope was not displaced. I spent years in prison for treason. After what felt like forever, a different set of guards came. At first I had assumed the uniform had just been updated, but they looked totally different. Almost fuzzy?”

“Grizz!” Four jumped up. “He must’ve sent fuzzy octolings to recruit more people. Oh my cod if they captured you, we probably never would’ve found you. How did you escape?”

“They told us they were there for a prisoner transfer. When they opened the cells, I took my chances and snuck away. They either didn’t see me or didn’t care, but I got out. I found my way to Splatsville and moved into this apartment only a month or so ago. I figured this was where all the kids were hanging out, so there was a good chance I’d find you two here.”

“I can’t believe you were in prison,” Acht gasped. 

“It wasn’t as bad as the stories say,” he chuckled. “Alright, I’ve told you both my story, I’m sure yours are much more eventful.”

“I’ll go first!” Paul spoke up immediately. He wanted to give Acht time to get prepared “It’s actually not that exciting. After I ran, I came to the surface in Inkopolis Square. I saw on a poster that a band was looking for a DJ and thought that maybe I could use some of what Acht taught me to try out. I figured I’d need money and this was probably the only job that would hire a ten year old. I met up with the band and played a random song, and they took me in immediately. SashiMori became like my second family. Then I discovered human music, and remixing that became our brand.”

“I’ll have to find a time to meet the band soon! I’d love to get to know all of them.” Dan smiled. “Acht, what about you?”

“That is a really long and complicated story.” Acht looked down at the table. Four reached over and grabbed her hand. 

“You’ve got this,” they whispered.

Acht gave Four a small smile and began to relay the same story they had told Paul only a few hours earlier. They hated reliving it, but their dad needed to know. They told him about how they befriended Marina, and lost hope when she left. Then how they found the Deepsea Metro and were sanitized, and about how Four helped them get out.

When they finished, Dan stood up and walked over to them, giving them yet another hug. “I’m so happy you’re home,” he muttered. His arm reached out towards Four, pulling them into the embrace. “And thank you. For caring for them when I couldn’t.”

Paul wiggled his way into the hug, tugging Kai with him. The five of them sat in each others’ embrace. Some returning home, some finding another one.

[gabriellerudessa]

Hourglass (Thaddeus x OC) - Part I

“I’m a stranger-”

“You’re my childhood best friend. The family will understand.”

“Willow-Tree-”

“No discussion.” Her face softened. “At least to the ranch, Thad. You’ll be travelling with us, it’s safer than alone. And if you don’t want to stay, or my mother-in-law doesn’t allow it, at least you can travel north, into NCR protected territory. You wouldn’t need to worry about being a ghoul there. And could go stay with the Unrooted Trees, my parents would welcome you with open arms.”

---

Goose smiled at her son, at the only good thing to have come from all that, and carefully got into the bed, pulling the teenager into a hug and breathing deeply, the smell of the mutfruit homemade soap intense in his hair.

“Hi, mom…” He mumbled, still mostly asleep, settling better against her.

“Hi. Love you.” She said into his hair and felt a smile against her shoulder.

“Love you too…” Moth still managed, and then he was snoring softly, deeply asleep once again.

AO3 | Part II | Part III |

PLAYLIST ON YOUTUBE

Word Count: 6.480

Warnings: Wasteland-Typical Violence

I

“I'm tired of the games and the playing pretend

I've been caught in stalemate, I don't stand a chance

Gotta see it all die to find the other side

Set fire to the rain till I drown in the flames

I can't start a clean slate, I know how it ends

Gotta see it all die to find the other side”

(Hourglass – Normandie)

He hummed happily alongside the animated music pouring out from his radio, steps firm, fingers tapping against the leather bag hanging from his shoulder. The food in it stumbled against his body, and he could barely believe the luck he had had at finding that abandoned shack and its garden; it beat trying to hunt the squirrels in the dried trees – sure, some meat would be good, but the bastards were fast – and foraging amidst them and being exposed for long periods.

The fiddle in the music went up and he nodded and shook his head, happy that the KPSS and Carl were still going, the Brotherhood of Steel not messing with him. Sure, he hadn’t understood a lick of what DJ Carl had talked about the music in itself, but he still enjoyed it and the guy had been fine.

The day was heating up, and Thaddeus’ clothes were still damp from the light rain that had fallen earlier, but overall the path was pleasant, calm. He had noticed the Vertibirds coming and going around the mountains, but they were high in the air and no one had been wandering that side, so as long as he was careful and paid attention to their sounds, he should be fine.

A bend appeared in the path.

And then a gigantic tall woman with a frightening face full of scars pointing a hunting rifle directly to his head. A high-pitched scream escaped him and he raised his hands, the radio falling to the ground.

“PLEASE DON’T SHOOT!”

“What are you doing here, Brotherhood?!” The woman asked, voice rough.

“I’m-I-I-I-” he stuttered and trembled and cursed at himself, at not actively searching for something that not the Brotherhood jumpsuit, eyes crossing to keep looking at her gun.

A small man circled her, and while he wanted to take a better look, he was too fucking afraid of taking his eyes off the gun.

“He was getting food from the garden.” The man said, voice in a way softer but sharper than hers. Thaddeus was relieved at the intervention.

“THAT!”

Thaddeus kept his hands up, in silence, only the music from his radio still playing. He hoped that was a good sign and the fall hadn’t damaged it too much; the pieces for that model were hard to come by.

 “Brotherhood offers food for free to their members and there’s a corn field in the Observatory. Why are you here?” The woman asked, her words slow, paused, cold.

Aw shit, he wasn’t out of the woods yet. Fuck.

 “I-I can’t return, they’ll kill me!”

The woman frowned, the stitched healing cut on her forehead twisting weirdly.

“Why?”

“I’m-I’m turning into a Ghoul! Here, look!” Thaddeus raised his head and exposed his neck; if their only worry was because he was supposedly Brotherhood, that would solve things.

Hopefully. As long as they knew those details about the Brotherhood.

Please it had to solve it.

“Describe what you see, Norm-boy. If you so much as twitch towards him, Brotherhood, I’ll blow your brains.”

Thaddeus nodded fervently and heard soft steps.

“There’s a weird scar… It remembers a burn but… Not exactly? There’s weird grooves.”

“Sounds just like a burn. So what, Brotherhood?”

“It-It was a bolt! Through my neck!”

“You mean it healed like that instead of killing you?” The other man asked, and Thaddeus nodded again.

The woman’s face changed some and there was another moment of silence.

“Fuck.” The woman breathed in. “Raise one foot, Brotherhood. Take a look at his shoes, Norm-boy.” Her voice was calmer, and oh Thank God she knew that the Brotherhood hated ghouls. Small mercies.

More steps and Thaddeus carefully raised one foot, trying to keep his balance.

“It’s rubber. There’s grooves in it. Not smooth. His foot is also way bigger than those.”

Those? Which those? Thaddeus wanted so badly to look and see what he meant, but that fucking gun was still pointing at his head.

The small man appeared again, stopping beside the woman, and Thaddeus blinked and swallowed at how the woman visibly relaxed and calmed.

Out of the woods? Hopefully?

“Did you pass by anyone? Saw anyone? Heard?” She asked.

“No… I was in the garden by the better part of the morning. With the radio on.” Thaddeus managed to answer with a wince, his heartbeat slowly decelerating as he felt a little safer in looking between the two people instead of only the gun and the woman.

“Of course you were.” The woman rolled her eyes.

“How long have you been getting food from the garden?”

Thaddeus felt his shoulder bunch up involuntarily.

“Almost two weeks, I think. Didn’t saw anyone. There were things starting to dry and rot. Figured no one would miss some food, if it was going bad anyway.” That was all he needed, they were the owners. Fuck.

“Didn’t try and hack into the house?” The man raised one eyebrow.

“Didn’t want to risk the owners finding me if they returned.”

“You must be at the narrow pass, on the other path.” The woman raised an eyebrow and Thaddeus nodded reluctantly; she knew the region. “Too narrow for Power-Armor and a lot of hidden crevices. Smart.”

The woman and the man exchanged a brief look and Thaddeus felt a bit more confident that he was going to live, and allowed himself a brief look towards the ground.

He asked himself how the fuck he hadn’t noticed the trail of footsteps closer to the mountain and stones. Their questions were suddenly making a lot more sense and he really, really wanted to be away of whatever the fuck was about to go down.

“Can I go now? I don’t want trouble.” Thaddeus looked back at the two of them, lowering his hands a little.

“You have been a deserter for almost two weeks?”

He didn’t like that. Not a little bit.

“… Yeah…” He still answered the man’s question carefully.

Another look between the two of them and the woman lowered the tip of her gun to the ground.

 “Not yet, Brotherhood.” Aw fuck. Thaddeus lowered his hands with a groan. “We need some information, but here’s too open. You walk ahead.”

“Fuck. Promise not to shoot or kill me?”

“If you don’t attack us or give me reason to think you know the owner of the footprints, then sure.” The woman shrugged and his shoulders slumped.

“Can I at least get my radio?”

She grinned, a missing tooth visible, and the small man snickered.

“Yes, but please turn it off. We heard it before we saw you, Brotherhood.”

Thaddeus felt his ears burning as leaned down, immediately feeling something rattle inside as he picked up the radio, the music stopping without him turning it off.

Aw fuck.

“It’s Thaddeus.” He grumbled and started walking.

---------

Thaddeus walked ahead of the two in silence, feeling their eyes and her gun towards him, the line of footprints visible. Still, he mostly just fumed and grumbled at his damaged radio. How the fuck would he fix it? Would he even have time for it, or would they actually kill him before any of it?

If he actually knew how to shoot and still had a gun, maybe he could have attempted something, but he hadn’t, and the woman was built like a fucking Power Armor, tall and big and muscled, so he wasn’t excited at attempting some hand to hand combat. If he used the small man as a hostage, maybe, but he didn’t know what the man had on him so Thaddeus preferred to not risk and just follow along and hope for the best.

The house eventually appeared. The footprints went directly to its metal door.

Aw shit. He felt his ears burning. He hadn’t heard a single thing and hadn’t even noticed those for a good time.

The woman was suddenly pulling him by the neck of his jumpsuit, their noses almost touching as he felt only the tips of his boots touching ground, and a fearful shiver went down him at seeing her teeth, visible in a feral grimace like a wild animal.

 “You stay silent and quiet and don’t fucking run. If it’s who I think, you’re lucky he didn’t cut your neck.” She whispered, and Thaddeus nodded fervently.

She let go of him and he stumbled before finding his footing. Yeah, hand to hand was absolutely out of the question and maybe it was better he followed her orders of silent and quiet.

Thaddeus watched as the two approached the terminal and the door, in silence, clearly hearing carefully inside, the man typing fast and practiced. He approached a bit, about to ask what they were seeing and hearing, the woman taking out her backpack and bag-belt, hunting rifle silently over the table. Lastly, she held two terrifying knives before nodding at the small man.

He looked to the side, ears burning, as the man took the woman’s hand and kissed her knuckles – that was personal, too personal, something in it like when he was a kid, watching his parents stealing moments in between the farm work. Then he heard the door unlocking.

---------

She watched the slowly swirling radstag and tato stew, her hand moving lazily the serving spoon so she could get a more even broth. On the other side of the room, in the sofas and armchairs of the living room, part of the family ate and had fun and talked animatedly, and while the volume seemed to dig in her ears and sleep-deprived brain, she still smiled, finishing serving herself, ignoring the building headache.

“I met Natasha when I was leaving Filly; she and Hugh were just arriving, and apparently they met Marigold and Norm. Something like one week, one week and a half at most, after they left Filly, by her accounting of time.” Moose’s voice rumbled, and there was a holler.

Goose just shook her head, still slight smile, and sat by the kitchen table.

“Natasha’s impression, c’mon, Moose.” Ma’s voice, excited, and Goose turned her head to look at the movement.

“Marigold’s protective of Norm and apparently some flirting, that’s it.”

Stacy booed at her husband’s description and someone groaned in defeat, but Goose couldn’t see who.

“I don’t know why you’re all surprised. It’s Marigold.” Catarina threw a look at Lily, sitting on the ground with shoulders against her aunt’s legs as she ate, before continuing, clearly weighting her words to not be as crass as she could be in favor of the seven-year old. “She’s, well… A patient hunter.”

“Yeah, but fuck, I was pretty sure he was it for her!” Ma grumbled.

Goose shook slightly her head, eating some more of the stew, carefully considering if she should add her own impressions. Then she shrugged and cleared her throat.

“And he is, Ma.”

“Just flirting, Goose! And Ma June said there was pretty much nothing beyond companionship after all the travel from here to Filly! Not even actual friendship!”

Goose sighed. She understood Ma, she truly did; Marigold had been a pretty romantic teenager, but the last years, with the Black Widow acts and how some people had treated her for them, had been slowly whittling away at her, and everyone had noticed how she spent more and more time out in the desert, hunting, avoiding the most travelled paths like the plague, preferring risking the dangerous wildlife than raiders.

Dad Francesco had confessed once to Goose, late at night, that it was like seeing his late wife all over again, and while they didn’t blame Marigold, they worried, feared the day her body would still return but her mind and soul would have been eaten by the Wasteland.

Clipped wings, her tribe used to call it. Hopelessness, she had learned.

The family had been doing all they could, but hope of the type Marigold had been in need of was in short supply in the Wasteland. There was a reason they had been all so excited at her bringing a stranger home. Someone new.

New people had a tendency of bringing blessings to the Bears; not always, but frequently enough.

And then Goose had seen, Norm’s lack of being intimidated by Marigold’s size, his respectful behavior, his confidence, his will to try and learn. Had heard Lily gushing about how much he had taught her. Had heard the twins talking between themselves quietly about how he watched them all. Had talked with Mika about the lack of weird attention to Lily and the focus with the terminal. Had felt the not always acknowledged ruthlessness in their brief interactions.

As Ma, Goose also saw the potential there, but it wasn’t a fast one to reach.

 “It will be at least two weeks for them to notice feelings.” Goose started, and there was a brief silence. “One week more to maybe admit, and with luck just over one month for them to consider themselves married to each other.”

“Less than one month for marriage. 20 caps.” Ma said, and Goose smiled.

“Deal.”

---------

Thaddeus stopped behind the small man – Norm, the muscled woman had called him – and easily saw into the shack, an open box of Fancy Lads Snack Cakes above a kitchen table, some still lying in it. The cramps of hunger tightened his stomach and he stepped ahead.

“Oooh, fancy cakes…”

“They’re poisoned.” Thaddeus jumped back at Norm’s words, hand retreating as if burned.

Fuck. Who just let poisoned food hanging around?

Then his eyes noticed the bombed collar not far from it and he swallowed. Where the fuck had him got himself into?

Doing his best to ignore the hunger, he looked at the other side of the shack, a room with sofas and armchairs and a bunk bed and the tall woman and a lean man in black twisting around it, fighting with knives.

Fast, ruthless, and weird, the man’s hands waving around without reason as he rolled to the side, escaping from the woman’s drop point knife. Some other exchange, and Thaddeus winced as the drop point knife sunk into one of the man’s eyes, his head rebounding back with a sound of surprise.

The woman pressed on, and the lean man stumbled and fell into a sofa, the backrest hiding him, only legs dangling and visible. The knife stayed in place, eye stuck to it. The woman just dropped it and jumped on the man, a long knife aiming on… Somewhere.

Thaddeus was very glad his stomach was still empty, because that had been fucking nauseating to see.

Sounds of metal, and there the woman was, arms and body straight with muscles bunched up, face with a feral smile that almost made Thaddeus ran away – fuck, it was clear that earlier that had been her nice version.

The small man – Norm, he remembered himself – moved closer, a revolver in hands that hadn’t been there before, the click of the safety off high in Thaddeus’ ears.

“You shouldn’t have come, asshole.” The woman growled, a hand trying to scratch her face as Norm circled the sofa. His face was nauseated it became clear to Thaddeus that the man wasn’t used to the typical violence seen in the Wasteland.

That face hardened the more he looked, coldness in how he frowned and jaw tightened and worry in the line of his lips.

The seconds were eternal, and eventually there was only the panting breathing of the woman, still in place, and Thaddeus noticed the man dry-swallow before looking at him.

“Could you bring her things inside, Thaddeus? Please?”

Please. That was a hard word to come by in the Wasteland. A needed one in his parents’ farm, but a rarity outside, he had discovered. And after everything from earlier?

It made Thaddeus like the small man. Norm.

Thaddeus blinked and nodded, and Norm was already looking at the woman as Thaddeus twisted and dragged the backpack and bag and gun inside – almost as heavy as the bag with supplies he had to carry as a Squire – and towards the other room.

“Oh fuck, of fuck…” The woman hissed, the pain clear in her voice.

“Just knife wound, right?”

Thaddeus dropped the items beside the sofa, his eyes sliding along the strangled body of the lean man, long knife protruding from his thigh and blood still trickling out, and the woman above him, hand above what Thaddeus assumed to be a knife wound at the end of her ribcage, blood all around.

“Yeah.”

Norm moved, taking off the needle cap of a stimpak and pushing the woman’s hand away – the revolver nowhere in sight. He stabbed the stimpak close to the wound, both stimpak and woman hissing, the blood flow slowly stopping. Norm’s shoulders slumped.

The woman started to get up, stumbling slightly, and Norm immediately put an arm around her waist and started guiding her away. Thaddeus remained in place, eyes on the body, trying to see if it would twitch, if it was truly dead.

“We need to see if James has anything useful.” The woman started, resisting Norm a bit, and Thaddeus assumed James was the body.

“Sit your butt down take care of all your wounds.”

“Bossy.” The woman gave Norm a cheeky grin and went along.

Thaddeus sighed and approached the body, seeing the woman sit by the table, and Norm slamming a small pristine sewing kit and some other items next to her. Thaddeus was just pulling out the long knife when Norm approached him.

“Here.” Thaddeus handed the knife to him.

“Thanks. I’ll try and find the other knife.”

Thaddeus nodded, hands starting to pat down the body’s upper torso – if he kept helping, maybe they wouldn’t kill him –, finding hidden pockets, most with knives and razors – the man really liked sharp things. Norm joined him a moment later, grimacing as he used the body’s pants to pull the eye away from the drop point knife, and started helping.

They found caps, a few stimpaks, a fucking grenade – what the fuck – and, in the very last pocket they searched, two stealth-boys. Thaddeus whistled as he checked them, one with the battery dead, but the other still usable. Even the dead one, some of the pieces could be useful.

“What’s this?” Norm pointed it with his chin.

“Never saw it?” Norm shook his head. “Stealth-boy.” A flicker of recognition. So he just didn’t know how to recognize.

“That explains how you didn’t notice anything.”

“Yeah.” Thaddeus twisted it around his hands. That could be useful in so many ways…

“Stay with it. And here, half of the caps and stimpaks.”

Thaddeus snapped his eyes to Norm’s extended hand, blinking, chin loosening without his input.

“Are you sure?”

“You helped.” Norm shrugged and Thaddeus slowly extended his free hand, letting them fall together with the food. Norm didn’t retreat his hand, didn’t move until Thaddeus had gotten the things.

Thaddeus swallowed. If things went to worse, he had a way of hiding and running. He had a few more caps. Some weapons – even if, well, he wasn’t that good with using knives against living things.

“Think he may have something else?”

With the question Thaddeus looked at the body critically, then around – a black backpack hidden under the bunk bed.

Maybe it was from the body – James. It didn’t look like the things the two had carried.

“No, I think we got everything. I’ll throw the body on the dry riverbed. That bag is yours?” He pointed it with his chin.

The woman was wounded and ordered to be careful by Norm, Norm clearly wouldn’t be able to do it. That left Thaddeus. Really, the sooner the body was out, the better. Less chances of fucking flies and whatever else.

“Must be his, I’ll take a look.”

Thaddeus nodded and heaved the body, grimacing at the feel and smell of blood, and walked out. At least the man was lean and not that heavy.

He approached the edge as much as he dared, and leaned forward, tracking the rocks and sand down there, the most of the rain already dried and the air humid and hot around him. A look at the wall, and if by some miracle or whatever fuck the man survived – he sure hoped not –, it wouldn’t be easy to climb by that side. Amazing.

Breathing deeply, he stepped back and lowered the body to the ground, shoulders thankful. Not a single twitch. Thaddeus breathed in and then rolled the body forward, throwing all his weight and strength into it.

The body went and surpassed the edge and he almost slid together as his foot got stuck into a too-big pebble.

“Aw fuck!” Thaddeus threw his weight back, falling hard into the ground, his ass aching. “Shit.” He got on all fours, massaging the worst of the ache as he approached the edge again.

The body was down there, facing up, one side of the face sunk in and a big rock stained with blood, limbs askew and all around.

He watched it, for long minutes, ignoring the heat of the day, and the body didn’t twitch. Hell yeah.

Thaddeus walked back towards the shack, the ache in his ass passing, and carefully stepped inside; the smell of food twisted around him, warm and inviting, and the ground was clear of all the shards of glass and ceramic.

The woman was sitting on the table, fiddling with the bombed collar with a grimace, and Norm locked the door using the internal terminal.

“That guy that brought it?” Thaddeus pointed the bombed collar with his chin and cautiously sat down on one of the table’s chair, waiting to be reprimanded for it. There was nothing, only a nod from the woman.

“What is it, Marigold?” Norm asked, sitting down in the last free chair.

“Bombed collar.” Norm frowned. “I think it was how he intended to make me follow him to get the full reward.”

“A Bounty?” Thaddeus asked, Norm’s shoulders immediately tensing. Aw fuck, wrong question. Carefully, he shrugged and pressed his back harder against the chair’s backrest, a fast look at the woman – the man had been insane in trying to take a Bounty on her.

“… That makes sense if he wasn’t worried about not getting the whole reward, or if my head isn’t included in the ‘body must be as whole as possible’.” Marigold said, almost as if Thaddeus hadn’t asked anything.

“… Then it was for me. Or for Catarina, or Sarah.” The woman winced at Norm’s words. “He knows you would follow if the alternative was one of us dying.”

“Fuck.” Marigold put the piece of metal down, carefully.

Yeah, maybe that was something that they would be better just throwing away, thank you very much.

“So… That guy was a Bounty Hunter?” Thaddeus pointed with his thumb above his shoulder.

“More like a caravan guard or something like it that saw an opportunity. Some raiders put up the Bounty and he knew of me.” The woman shrugged.

“That’s some shitty luck… Whatever your name.” Thaddeus winced and she shrugged again.

“I’m Marigold, he’s Norm.”

He nodded with a sigh, hands fidgeting above the table – he had gotten the Norm right, at least, but she really didn’t look as delicate and pretty as the flowers that used to bloom around his parents’ farm…

“You said you wanted information?” Better go direct to the point, now that things had calmed down.

Norm crossed his arms, frowning at him.

“Exactly. I’m searching my sister. The last information I have is that she was travelling with a Knight Titus, almost two weeks ago.”

Knight Titus?

Stronger than him, Thaddeus started laughing, that was just fucking amazing…

“Oh my God. Titus, two weeks ago?” He managed amidst the laughs. “Then she wasn’t travelling with Knight Titus, but with Squire Maximus!”

“Maximus… That’s the Squire-turned-Knight for killing Moldaver.”

“Shit, good for him!” Thaddeus suddenly stopped, looking at Norm. A blue suit peeked down between the leather coat. “There was a girl with him, at KPSS. Her suit was that same blue.”

“Long dark hair?”

“Exactly that.” Thaddeus started fidgeting again with his hands. “I’ll tell everything, but like… Can I keep getting food and water from the garden and the water pump?”

“Thaddeus, you can live here after we leave if you want. My sister is not coming back. Now please tell everything.”

Oh. Oh shit.

That place… It was a good one. A shack, with energy and water and a garden…

He had fantasized, occasionally, late in the night, in the small nook he had found in the narrow path, about the place still empty for months and he gathering enough courage to try and hack in, moving in, being safe with a roof above his head again…

Thaddeus blinked and sighed.

And started talking.

---------

He talked about Maximus and what the Brotherhood had been up to until his throat dried and he had to sip on the water he carried in his bag. It was clear his words and explanations hit Norm hard, the man’s frown just worsening. Clearly bad news, and Thaddeus wished he had better ones.

 the pangs of hunger trying to rob his attention and make him consider carefully what was in his bag.

Then Marigold served a bowl of squirrel stew from the pot heating up above a hot plate, something he had been doing his best to ignore, and extended it to him.

“What?”

“Guest.” She shrugged, pushing the bowl harder towards him.

Swallowing, Thaddeus took it, and then Norm and Marigold had their own bowls, and they talked more as they ate.

A whistle interrupted them.

“It was the question one, right?” Norm asked and Marigold nodded.

The whistle came again. It sounded the same to Thaddeus’ ears.

Marigold put her fingers to her mouth and whistled something back.

“Who?”

Marigold shrugged at Norm’s question and a sharp whistle echoed, closer than before.

“What is it?” Thaddeus turned in the chair to look at the locked door, fidgeting in place.

He didn’t know what it was and he was worried; the two had been pretty decent, after killing the man that had been in the shack. The thought of something getting in the way and making it all bad… Fuck.

“The signals her family uses.” The small man, Norm, answered.

Thaddeus nodded and immediately moved the chair to the other side of the table, watching the door instead of back to it.

Another whistle, but that one sounded like being made by a musical instrument of some type.

Marigold answered with another whistle and shook her head with a frown. Then she held her hunting rifle, loosely pointing it towards the door.

“That sounds like Willow’s flute…” She mumbled.

Thaddeus felt a shiver at the name. Willow.

He had known a Willow once. A bossy tribal girl, blowing with all her lungs into a small flute, almost getting him deaf by the lack of rhythm and melody. He still always asked a repeat, because his parents’ radio was always breaking down because of lack of proper pieces and that was all the music he could get each two months.

There was no way it was the same Willow. That had been twenty years before, in some God-forgotten place of the Wasteland in Utah.

“That’s one of Ed’s wives, right?” Norm asked and Marigold nodded and shrugged. “You said they were supposed to still be in the Mojave.”

He never knew what had happened with her tribe. Unrooted Trees. They just stopped coming, and years later he saw the Bull flag in the distance, and his parents made it seem as if the farm was abandoned, and he understood that the Legion had happened.

Thaddeus always hopped Willow’s tribe had gotten away in time. Despite his older brother – don’t think too much on him, Thaddeus –, Willow had always been his best friend in those years.

An echo of a clang as the door unlocked. Another whistle that Norm answered, and then the door swung inside.

An ashen-pale woman, serious and aiming a big laser rifle at them, a circling tattoo around her missing left eye, another red tattoo on her chin. She looked at Marigold and smiled, gun supported against her shoulder.

“Mari-Mari! Hey, c’mon, sweethearts, all safe!”

Marigold got up, abandoning the rifle, meeting the woman in the middle of the way. They hugged, clearly bone-crushing. He winced and noticed Norm doing the same.

And then there was another woman in the space under the door, curly dark-brown hair haloing around her dark-brown face. A tree branch was tattooed on her left temple, eyes a warm brown, almost hazel, and Thaddeus blinked.

Aw fuck.

The woman stared and then skipped towards him, fast, smile so big her cheeks must’ve hurt, and he was still processing that it was indeed his childhood friend Willow when she started pinching his cheeks and shit, the poncho definitely had the embroidery patterns he remembered from her tribe and was she fucking pregnant?!

“Oh by Holy Atom, Lil’ Samuel!!!” He tried to disengage, but Willow just held his head, kissed his forehead, used his birth name.

“I thought it was Thaddeus.” He heard Marigold’s rough voice, and it made him remember from when her rifle was pointing at his head.

“It’s… Fuck, Willow-Tree, let me breath.” Willow finally retreated, smile not diminishing, and he breathed deeply, feeling his cheeks and ears burning. “We’re expected to change names when entering the Brotherhood. Not an obligation, but… Expected.”

There was a moment of silence, and just then he noticed the tall black-haired man, a burn scar on one cheek. Willow’s husband, he guessed. They all looked at each other.

“That’s weird.” Willow finally said, clearing her throat. “Well… I haven’t gone by your parents’ farm since I was a kid, Lil-Thaddeus.” Thaddeus swallowed at the mention as Willow sat at the free chair with a sigh, hand stroking her belly. Marigold and the other two recent-arrivals left. “Are they good?”

A second too long of silence that he hopped she attributed to shock.

“… Last I talked with them, yeah.” She nodded.

Thaddeus didn’t mention the “last time” meant “almost four years”, just before he left to enlist in the Brotherhood, not wanting to be a shitter all his life, wanting to escape the darker parts of the Wasteland – look how well that had ended. They hadn’t been on board with his decision, and all his letters remained without answers. He only knew the farm was still good and his parents alive because he managed to get information with the traveling caravans that went through the Base. And she only asked “parents”, nothing about his brother – or the little sister, born years after her last visit – so he was leaving at that, trying to keep his brain from remembering more than he wanted.

He couldn’t admit any of that to Willow.

“And… Your tribe?” He made himself ask, a little afraid of the answer.

Willow smiled, and he knew the answer would be good.

“They’re all fine and safe, they live in northern NCR territory now.”

---------

Thaddeus sighed and resisted the will to grumble as he went down the stairs, the voices of the Norm guy and the other woman – Andrea? – talking behind him. Willow had already reached the cavern bellow, and he stepped into it, carefully looking around – bed, terminal, wardrobes, worktables, makeshift screen…

Willow was already searching the wardrobes, throwing pieces of clothing towards the bed, smiling, and he just watched her for some minutes. She had been adding embroideries to the poncho, the Unrooted Tree way, some clearly recent, and he noticed again the pregnancy. It was still weird, seeing her after twenty years and she was fucking expecting a baby, but that time it made him smile.

Despite the years and all the differences, it was still easy to see the small, bossy girl that visited his parents’ farm with her tribe every two months and pulled him into all sorts of games with the other kids.

And a relative of the woman that had threatened his life earlier. If he had left earlier, if Marigold and Norm hadn’t thought he had useful information and let him go… He wouldn’t have gotten to meet her again.

The Wasteland sometimes seemed too small.

“Here, Thad, I think this one fits you.” She threw a pair of denim pants towards him and he hid behind the screen with a sigh. “And Atom Above, talk something!” he heard her laughing and he smiled as he got out of the stained jumpsuit and any other piece stained and fraying beyond salvation, trying to ignore some of the small scars just like the ones on his neck. Some, like those, were small wounds that had healed fast and in that full of grooves way. Others seemed more random, and usually the region itched before appearing.

The Brotherhood Chapter from the Commonwealth had sent news about that, Atom. Church of Atom, Children of Atom, Atomites... A diverse group, originated at the Capital Wasteland.

“How the fuck you ended up as following Atom? I thought it was exclusive to the east coast.”

“Andrea. She and her parents travelled from there a little over a decade ago.”

“And the two of you…?” He pulled the pants up over his underwear and closed them.

He kept his dogtag under his old white t-shirt after a moment, not ready to throw it away. Maybe he never would feel ready to do it.

“I decided to expand my roots and met her as I travelled, seven years ago. We got married before I started believing in Atom.”

A checked flannel shirt in shades of gray hanging from the screen. Thaddeus pulled it up over his ratty red shirt and dragged the jumpsuit and his bag with him as he walked into the open. Three layers seemed a bit excessive, but he liked the red shirt.

“That’s a long time, Willow-Tree.” She smiled, closing one wardrobe and going to the other.

“It’s funny, it seems very short. It even seems as if just yesterday we married Ed, but it’s already four years.” Another piece of clothing above the bed, clearly too big for him. Maybe for Marigold? “I think time runs away from us when we’re with the people we love.” She turned. “Oh, that fit you well! No one will be able to say you’re ex-Brotherhood!”

“Unless they knew me in it.” He gave a mirthless smile and Willow frowned, a hand smoothing over her pregnant belly.

“Here is too close to the Observatory, Thad.”

“I have managed to avoid the Brotherhood for the last weeks, Willow-Tree.”

“You just need one moment of bad-luck.” Her lips crisped, and Thaddeus immediately knew what was coming up, if she still was exactly as a child. “You’re coming with us. The Bear Ranch is days away from Filly and there’s better places to hide you if some Brotherhood trader or whatever ever appear.”

“I’m a stranger-”

“You’re my childhood best friend. The family will understand.”

“Willow-Tree-”

“No discussion.” Her face softened. “At least to the ranch, Thad. You’ll be travelling with us, it’s safer than alone. And if you don’t want to stay, or my mother-in-law doesn’t allow it, at least you can travel north, into NCR protected territory. You wouldn’t need to worry about being a ghoul there. And could go stay with the Unrooted Trees, my parents would welcome you with open arms.”

Willow put both hands over her belly and Thaddeus stared at her, at the determination and worry in her face. Just like when they were kids, she wasn’t dropping the matter.

Even if it meant she and her family would pay the price if they crossed any Brotherhood that recognized him.

“Aw fuck.” He groaned, shoulder slumping. “All right. I’ll come with you. But I’m not planning to stay.”

Willow jumped and hugged him, tight. Thaddeus sighed but returned the hug, ears burning hot, unable to believe that they had barely meet each other again and she was already bossing him around.

---------

Most of the family was sleeping and the ranch was… Well, not silent. It was never really silent, the hum of the batteries and wind generators and the turrets outside and the metal groaning… It all constantly rumbled around them, and silence would mean something wasn’t working.

Still, while Goose loved her family, she enjoyed that not-silence, the lack of voices as she left the bedroom, Mika’s snores behind the door a relief. Her eyes were grimy from the half-sleep, limbs tense from the messy, confusing nightmares.

She opened the front door a fraction and whistled in question. Sarah’s whistle of safety answered her from the turret towers. A fraction of Goose’s tension melted, and she closed the door once again. She stared at it, arms crossed, blinking without seeing, a heavy nasty male body above her behind her eyelids.

Another whistle of safety, and it made Goose blink again and straighten.

Sarah knew her well. It was good to have her back in the ranch for good.

Sighing, she turned, crossed the living room and walked down the corridor, stopping in front of the kids’ bedroom, the door and walls reinforced, heavier, safer. Goose carefully opened the door and went inside, Lily mumbling something about terminals in her sleep, all spread on her bunk bed, Josh and Evie still insisting on sharing the same lower bunk bed despite how tall they were getting… Moth, blankets all twisted around his legs, deeply asleep.

Goose smiled at her son, at the only good thing to have come from all that, and carefully got into the bed, pulling the teenager into a hug and breathing deeply, the smell of the mutfruit homemade soap intense in his hair.

“Hi, mom…” He mumbled, still mostly asleep, settling better against her.

“Hi. Love you.” She said into his hair and felt a smile against her shoulder.

“Love you too…” Moth still managed, and then he was snoring softly, deeply asleep once again.

Goose carefully petted his hair and tried to relax. She knew she wouldn’t fall asleep, her body still too tuned into the nightmares and the memories and soon enough Moth’s typical restless sleep would start. Still, it was enough to hear her son’s deep breaths, alive and well, hear her nephews and nieces, reassure herself they were safe, she was safe.

[nykie-love-anime]

Day 2 ~ First Meeting

You have an assigned seat next to him at a wedding for a mutual friend. Mutual friend being your older brother and Fanboy’s captain.

“Hey I am Y/N.” you said sitting next to the handsome man at your assigned seat at your older brother, Pete’s, wedding. You really could not be happier for him and Penny marrying each other after all these years of pining. “Good afternoon Y/N, I am Mickey but you can call me Fanboy. “So who are you here for?” you questioned after sipping a bit of your champagne to calm down your nerves. “Well I am here for my captain. So the groom.” He said smiling at you.

“Me too.” You said putting down the champagne flute. Turning back to the handsome man. “So are you like a pilot or what?” you question with a raised eyebrow. “Oh no I am a Weapon Systems Officer. I fly along with Payback.” He said pointing towards the table next to yours, at his pilot who was having a conversation with Bradley. “Oh nice.” You said with a smile. “And what about you, are you a pilot or what?” he asked with a curious smile.

“Oh no, no.” you started laughing. “No that gene went to my brother I am a kindergarten teacher. I love working with kids.” You said with a small smile thinking about work and all the happy little faces you get to see every day. “Oh little kids are really cute unless they start to cry.” He shuddered at the idea causing you to burst out laughing. “Thankfully my kids are behaved most of the time.” You giggled out and he nodded looking at your empty glass.

“Would you like another drink?” he questions and you nod. “Please can I get a beer I have had enough of champagne for the rest of the night.” You said with a smile thinking back to the room getting ready with Penny and her friends. He returns with two beers and the two of you talk and laugh as if you have known each other forever.

“Ladies and gentlemen. I would like you to turn you heads to the dancefloor.” The DJ said making the people all look at him. “Please give a big applause for the happy couple. Mister and Misses Mitchell opening the dancefloor for us.” The DJ yelled hyping up the crowd. “Please note that after this lovely couple’s dance the dancefloor will be open and the bouquet toss and garter throwing will take place so single people get ready.” He continued as Hold My Hand by Lady Gaga starts to play.

Watching them dance as husband and wife made your stomach fill with butterflies at the loving looks that they are giving each other. They are moving all over the open dancefloor. Starting to slow down the crowd cheered as Pete dipped Penny giving her a kiss as the song is starting to come to an end. Them looking each other with so much love the rest of the guests no longer mattering, no longer in the room with them. It is just Penny and Mav together dancing a bit after when the songs finally comes to an end. Pete kissed her with so much passion. And the crowd are on their feet cheering as they pull away from each other finally acknowledging their friends and family.

“Aah wasn’t that lovely ladies and gentlemen. Now single men on the dancefloor.” The DJ cheered as Penny and Pete smiled at the guests laughing as Jake and Bradley race towards the floor nearly falling flat on their faces. Both you and Mickey laughed at their antics. “Are you not going?” you questioned the WSO right next to you and he shook his head. “Oh come on it is just for fun.” After a few seconds of debating he sighed with a laugh and stood up. “Fine but you have to join the bouquet toss as well.” He said with a finger pointing at you. “Of course.” You laughed as he walked towards the dance floor.

“Okay gentlemen are you ready.” The DJ asked after Pete got the garter from under Penny’s dress. Another One Bites the Dust by Queen starts to play as Maverick turn around lifting his hand in the air a few times before finally letting go. The men all rush to catch the white garter but Mickey being the lucky man he is catches it with no struggle causing the rest of the men to groan out loud and Maverick to chuckle.

“Now wasn’t that a good catch ladies and gentlemen. Now all the single ladies up and on the dancefloor.” The DJ said with a laugh just as The Weather Girls - It's Raining Men starts playing and you stood up pointing at Mickey as he laughs. “Okay girls are you ready.” Penny asks preparing to throw the flowers. And just as luck would have it the bouquet came straight towards you. With a laugh you catch the flowers causing Penny and your brother to laugh.

“Well there you have it ladies and gents. Please can the lovely miss Mitchell and our handsome garter catcher stay on the dancefloor for your dance.” The rest of the girls went back to their tables. “So we meet again mister Fanboy.” You teased with a big smile. “It appears we do miss Mitchell.”

“You keep your hands were I can see them Garcia. Don’t try anything funny with my sister or I will have your ass at training Monday morning.” Mav yelled with a grin on his face but being serious, nonetheless. “Oh Mav let them be.” Penny said smiling at Mickey. “Have fun you two. Dance your hearts out.” “Thanks Pen we will.” He said with a smile turning towards you and taking your hand in his as We Belong by Pat Benatar starts playing.

“Wanna piss off my brother?” you asked with a mischievous grin. “Woman you are going to be the death of me.” He starts but nodded. As he moved on the dancefloor you pulled his face closer testing the waters. He leaned forward pressing his luscious soft lips on yours. Now this caused an uproar from the dagger squad as they cheered on their teammate making Penny laugh and Maverick to grumbled that he will make him run 50km Monday morning.

Pulling away from the kiss hesitantly you grinned up at Fanboy. “Wow.” You whispered. “Just know if I die Monday I am so going to haunt your pretty little ass.” He said with a smile. “You think my butt is pretty mister Fanboy where have you been looking all night.” You teased causing him to grumbled pinching your side as you shrieked with a laugh. “Well if I am going to die I might as well go out in style.” He muttered against your lips pulling you into a soul sucking second kiss.

Day 1 | Masterlist | Day 3

[ninjadeathblade]

Moulin Rouge Discotrain AU (part two)

Summary: (Post-game canon) The Conductor and DJ Grooves agree to finally work on a movie together. They come up with 'Moulin Rouge', a musical drama filled with romance. Over time the two directors grow closer and discover that maybe they don't hate each other as much.

Previous | Next

Word count: 858 (still not that long but I promise later chapters will be)

Warnings: None

Author's notes: Back again with part two! I snuck a quote in this one. Only one more chapter until Hat kid and her Mysterious Friend make their appearances! But yeah, I hope you enjoy part two for now!

"And then Satine and Christian gaze lovingly at each other-"

"Oh shut up! That's the tenth pecking time you've said 'gaze lovingly' this conversation!" Conductor interrupted, talking over Grooves. 

The two of them had agreed to call each other about ideas for and progress on the film. But it was beginning to get on the Conductor's nerves as to how often the penguin would phone him and suggest some more romance. 

"Ooh, what if we had a song that basically spoils the entire movie but only if you're paying loads of attention?" Grooves suggested. 

"How so?"

"Well, we said there was going to be a play in the film. And what if the play had the same plot as the film?" Grooves explained. 

"That might work," Conductor said, drumming his fingers on the desktop. "I got in touch with the lass the other day and she said she might be able to find us someone to play Zidler. What about you, eh? Find anyone yet?" 

"I'm still convincing Owlice to give it a shot. Pinguini says he's on board. I also got in touch with the little girl and apparently she and one of her friends are gonna pop by the studio tomorrow," Grooves explained.

Conductor looked up as the door to his office opened, an owl sticking their head in. 

"The last of us are heading home sir. Will you be as well?" They said. 

Conductor moved the phone away from his face, looking down at the stacks of drafted scenes on his desk. 

"You go home. I'll lock up later. Get some rest before tomorrow," Conductor instructed before holding the phone closer to him again. "Alright then, we'll see who the lass brings along tomorrow."

"Darling, are you still in the studio?" Grooves asked gently. 

Conductor let out a huff of air, skimming through the stack of papers. 

"It doesn't matter. It's my movie so I can work on it as much as I pecking want," Conductor swore, squinting distastefully at a drafted scene. 

"I cannae believe I let you put so many songs in here. Or that I let you make it centered around love." 

"Darling, I don't understand your problem with love! Love is a many, splendored thing. Love lifts us up where we belong, all you need is love," Grooves protested. 

"Please, don't start that again," Conductor complained.

"Fine darling but I'm coming to the studio and I'm bringing coffee. You'll fall asleep at your desk and we should be working on it together. That's the whole point of making a movie together," Grooves pointed out. 

Conductor let out a sigh, knowing it would be useless to argue with him. 

"Alright. But don't you dare put sugar in me coffee again."

It didn't take long for the other director to arrive, carrying a couple takeaway cups of coffee. 

The Conductor had moved to wait in the reception, shutting off most of the unnecessary power in the studio. It didn't matter if most of that was on the penguins' side.

"Finally! I was startin' ta wonder what took you so long," Conductor said as Grooves opened the door. 

The penguin laughed, the sound echoing in the near empty room. 

"Well darling, not all of us live in the studio or one of our most used sets," Grooves teased and Conductor scowled at him, grabbing one of the cups of coffee. 

"My train is my life! At least I'm not obsessed with disco," he argued before downing most of his coffee. "Well at least yer remembered no sugar this time." 

"Darling I always remember you don't like sugar in your coffee. But it's hilarious to see the face you make when you realise your coffee has sugar," Grooves explained with a chuckle. Conductor scowled up at him before beginning to walk to his office. 

"I'll make sure ta leave the sugar outta your coffee," Conductor grumbled under his breath. "With yer stupidly tall shoes, 'n' your sunglasses, 'n' your disco movies." 

"What was that darling?"

"Nothin'." The Conductor opened the door to his office, immediately moving to scan the notes he'd made on his desk. "We've got so many roles left to cast. Plus we need to organise the choreography for the big dance numbers. Like in Satine's first entrance." 

He drank the rest of his coffee before sitting down at his desk.

"Yeah, about that, where are we going to get a trapeze from?" Grooves asked, sitting down across from the Conductor. 

"We're directors. We'll buy one."

"Oh, good point."

"As I was sayin', Satine's entrance will need some expert choreography and we need the entire costume department to get fitting the extras with suits and dresses," Conductor continued. "We'll need a big set but I think one of the rooms on the Express will do nicely."

"You do know I've never been on your train before, right darling?" Grooves pointed out. 

"Ah. Well. Once we sort out the main cast, then we can figure out what things we're filming in my train." Conductor shrugged. "We need to find two good singers who are fine with playing lovers. It cannae be that hard." 

[anticipatecrime]

'𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙚' 𝙧𝙮𝙖𝙣 𝙡𝙪𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙭 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙊𝘾 | chapter ii

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: ronan meets ryan and is late to his own welcome party 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨: 1.7k

he yawned, almost falling asleep in the comfort of his new bed. it felt like heaven, finally being able to relax and stretch out. his back ached like never before, and he didn’t want to get up. 

sighing, he pulled out his phone at the beep of a notification. he saw himself added to an app called myblock. he heard eleanor mention it earlier so he went on it and checked the newsfeed. he scrolled through the different messages left by townspeople. 

lethe flowers: calling volunteers to help with this year’s spring festival! the sign up sheet is on the east side of lethe flowers. march 25th, save the date!

eleanor lethe: my nephew is moving to haven springs! he’ll arrive march 7th, and come on down to the black lantern to celebrate his welcome!

steph gingrich: just met ronan lethe, can confirm he’s a cool dude, can’t wait to get to know him better at the party! | alex chen: agreed

he was kind of shocked, he’s never lived in a small town and it’s a weird feeling to him. myblock was a cool but foreign concept to him, the whole town on one app where they can communicate, post news and updates, so odd but surprisingly comforting.  he smiled before replying to stephs message. 

steph gingrich: just met ronan lethe, can confirm he’s a cool dude, can’t wait to get to know him better at the party! | ronan lethe: thanks, looking forward to seeing you two

turning off his phone, ronan got up and yawned again. he thought about what his aunt said a few hours ago, to explore and meet people in haven. him being an anxious person makes socializing hard but he felt cooped up once more and needed to stretch his legs.

last time he was here, 17 years ago, it looked much different. knowing he’s going to be here for awhile, he might as well go look around, and get used to his surroundings.

he grabbed a sweater and picked his glasses off of the bedside table. taking a glance in the mirror he saw his headphones sitting on one of his suitcases and a little light bulb lighted up in his head. ‘can’t forget those’

he looked into the office next door and saw eleanor talking to someone on the phone about a flower order, she turned and gave him an encouraging smile, he returned it before leaving the shop. 

it was a few hours from sunset, and the sky was beautiful, a light pale blue with fluffy clouds. he took a look around, taking in the sight of a few people on the streets, walking around and laughing. ‘everyone’s so happy here’ he thought to himself.

he walked down mainstreet, and the first thing that caught his eyes was the silver dragon, and rocky mountain record traders. weed and music, his two favorite things. 

making his way to the record store, ronan saw steph outside, watering the plants below the window sill. “hey steph.” he called out to her. 

“hey lethe, watcha up to?” she asked. “coming to see our selection of music?”

“oh hell yeah! do you own the record shop?”

“yeah i’m the manager plus dj, i run the radio station, krct 104.3.”

“holy crap that’s actually awesome. i wish i could do something like that.” he comments.

“so you’re pretty into music, i take it.” steph says curiously. 

“yeah.. i was in a alternative rock band, stuff went down and now i’m here.” ronan admits, rubbing the back of his neck, chuckling slightly.

“no way! me too! we have so much in common, we both came from seattle and were in bands.” steph is in shock, grinning widely. “would i have heard of you guys before?”

“maybe! we were called bathtub thrashers, odd name but people liked it and we played tons of venues, one time we opened for this larger band and got like 10,000 more listeners on spotify. it was sick!”

“holy shit yeah i recognize the name, i remember hearing a cover of blister in the sun from you guys.” 

“yeahh our covers were the most popular unfortunately but our loyal fans absolutely loved our originals.” ronan smiled, happy he could actually relate to someone here. when he first arrived he was nervous he wouldn’t actually create bonds with anyone. “so, are you hiring here? i could use something to keep me busy.” he gives a smug face, almost to persuade her.

“hmm, i like running it myself but it does get pretty overwhelming. have you been a cashier before?” steph asks, considering it.

“who hasn’t.” he laughs. “of course. i could always send you my resume if you wanted it.”

“no no, that’s not necessary, you’re practically family now, everyone here is.” steph thinks for a moment. “if you’re down to start working in a few days, that’s cool with me.”

“holy, thank you so much.” the excitement in his voice was blatantly obvious, almost to an embarrassing extent. 

“no problem, anyways, the store is closed right now but i’ll let you take a look.” “oh and there’s a hold list, see something you like, write it down.” she encourages. 

“alright awesome, thanks!” he said, feeling almost giddy, shocked that he’s made a real friend already. he pushed open the door and was in awe. it was such a beautiful store. he would of never expected a small town like this to have a large record store like this.

his hands traced the edge of the desk as he walked in. this was heaven. it smelled like a library, like old books almost. it was comforting.

he glanced towards the bulletin board and read a few flyers and updates about the record store. walking down one of the aisles, he read a few of the bands they had cds and vinyls for. 

ronan picked up a few vinyls, writing their names down so he could later add them to the hold list. he was finding some really good shit. as he walked to the back he noticed the radio station room. ‘looks sick’

in the middle of his staring out of fasination, something brushed up against his leg. “ah fuck!” he shouted out of fear. ronan jumped back, only to see a small black cat at his feet. “jesus. you’re a sneaky one aren’t you.” he chuckles, giving the cat chin scratches.

“i’ll be seeing you a lot more soon, better get used to this.” he giggled, as valkyrie enjoyed the attention. she’s a very sweet and loving cat when she’s not trying to sleep. she begins to pur so ronan decides to sit down, inviting her into his lap.

he continued to admire the place from his seat on the ground, still in awe that he gets to work here. so into his thoughts, ronan didn’t hear the bell of the door.

“woah, stores closed buddy!” a masculine voice calls out. ronan stiffened, trying to turn slightly without angering the beast trying to sleep.

he heard footsteps get closer and gave up on turning. “hello?” a blonde man in a flannel pauses, looking at ronan.

he took this chance to apologize. “sorry, steph said i could check out the place.” his voice quiet caused from the intimidation.

“oh.” the other guy begins to stare. “do i know you? i feel like i haven’t seen you around.”

“are you ryan?” ronan asks, recognizing his dorky face. “im uh ronan, eleanors-“

“ohh oh my god, i’m sorry i didnt recognize you..” he trails off. “you look so.. different.” ryan said, taking in his face.

“yeah well that was the goal.” ronan shrugs, laughing it off.

“right, sorry.” he looks towards the cat. “im surprised she’s letting you touch her. she doesn’t like anyone that much.”

“guess i’m just special.” ronan comments, right as valkyrie leaps out of his lap. “awh man.”

“here.” ryan holds out his hand, extending it. ronan smiles and takes it.

“thanks.” he dusts himself off. they stand there in silence, ryan leaning back and forth on his feet, trying to think of a conversation starter. he watched the other, attempting to see what he was thinking.

ryans cheeks started to have a pink tint to them, and ronan couldn’t decipher whether or not it was from awkwardness or something else.

“so do you uh like birds?” he blurts awkwardly, his palms moist.

“uhm yeah birds are cool. what’s it like being a park ranger? i’m assuming you speak to animals and save people from bears or something.” ronan jokes. 

“well you’re not exactly wrong.” he chuckles. “but they’re aren’t many people in this area so my days are pretty boring and it gives me a lot of free time. i’m usually just patrolling trails, investigate poaching and illegal hunting, and sometimes i have to take a shift in a watchtower.”

“is that what you’ve always wanted to do? be a ranger?” he inquired.

“to be honest i never knew what i wanted to do, until i was walking a trail and met a ranger, i watched him help a bear cub after it’s mom left it behind.” he exhales. “something about it made me want to become one too, help animals and help the forest.”

ronan giggles. “how noble of you, you’re like a hero!”

“i’ve never thought about it like that.” he smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. “so what do you do?”

“well i was apart of a band back in seattle but, something happened and now i’m here. i’m actually going to be working here soon.”

“oh cool, i’d love to hear your music sometime.”

“well i’d love to show you.” ronan smiled. they sat in silence once more but this time it was pleasant. he pushed his glasses back up and checked the time. “what time is the welcome party starting?” he asked.

“around 8 i think, what time is it?”

“8:03.” ronan laughed. “i’m missing my own welcome party!” 

[cru5h-cascades]

With Side Order basically 3 days away at this point (the dlc's releasing on the 21st at 7 PM CST), there's just one more thing I wanna talk about when it comes to speculation (well not really speculation it's more so just me hoping this will happen):

PLEASE LET THE PROFESSOR WHO OWNED JUDD AND MADE TARTAR HAVE SOME SORT OF SIGNIFICANCE TO THE STORY. LIKE A MAJOR ROLE.

Like I have this one idea sort of similar to @lbodraws' Villain Agent 4 AU (with their interpretation of the villain of Side Order, G.H.O.S.T., an AI made to store human consiousness that basically decided to do its own thing after not being given the order to awaken the humans whose consiouses they were storing) where basically the professor had a plan B for himself since he didn't make himself immortal like Judd, the plan being that if he died in cryogenic preservation he'd have his mind transfered into a computer program in order to live on in some way. However, something goes wrong and the professor's digital world is overidden by whoever created the Order Sector. The professor gets his files compressed or whatever and they get put into a special area on the top of the tower so he's under close surveilance, however he keeps on trying to fight back in a few ways, with the main one being creating the voids in the spire.

To be honest, I'd love to see both a villain Marina and Lil' Judd in the DLC alongside the professor as well, so this is how I kind of see the final boss being like if all three of these guys had a role to play in the DLC:

Phase 1: Marina (the misguided antagonist): Marina is under the influence of another being (weither it be by brainwashing or by other means) and it's Agent 8's job to snap Marina out of it. Marina would use all sorts of modified specials and inventions against Eight during the fight (also basically this fight would sort of be like a parody of the Splatoon 2 final boss since RotM also had that with DJ Octavio at the begining). After finishing this phase of the fight, Marina regains control of herself, we get some dialoge, and then we get the reveal of the true villain of Side Order...

Phase 2 & 3: Lil' Judd (the real big bad): Lil' Judd goes on a monolouge about why he did what he did and how (basically he ended up getting Marina to unknowingly unleash the Order Sector onto the world to help Lil' Judd achive his ultimate objective: to be the only Judd left standing or something like that) and then the next 2 phases of the fight happen I guess. After beating up Lil' Judd, the professor decompresses his own files now that Lil' Judd isn't able to control the Order Sector, at least for now, and decides to raise hell onto everyone in the room, leading us to the next phase of the fight...

Phase 4: the professor (one of many victims of Lil' Judd): Blinded by rage, the professor gets this corrupted form of sorts where he's all glitchy and stuff. The professor, beliving that the Side Order crew is working with Lil' Judd, attempts to attack our protagonists, only for Eight to defend everyone. The professor will use various tricks to distract the player so he can kill them and will spare the player no mercy during the fight. It isn't until the layer finally shoots at the professor enough that he comes to his senses and realizes what's going on and stops fighting. We get some dialoge at the end of the fight or something and then the Order Sector appears to be falling appart due to the professor messing around with the code too much during the fight, so he urges the Side Order crew to get out of the spire before they're trapped in an infinate void forever. The professor opens a portal to the real Inkopolis Square outside of the spire and then I guess the final phase of the final boss happens where you need to take the emergency exit out of the spire to get to the portal in a set amount of time. The professor stays behind to keep the Order Sector up and running so he doesn't die or whatever.

And that's all I really got for what could happen if the professor was involved in Side Order. If you couldn't tell already, this is a super rough idea of what could happen if this was the case because this is just me hoping this happens. Anyways, I kinda doubt that the professor will actually even be mentioned in Side Order ('cause that guy just has to be one of the most minor characters in Splatoon) (but then again dedf1sh made it into the DLC and has a huge role in it so maybe it can happen with this guy too), but hey I guess we'll just have to find out in three days, am I right?

[mermaidsirennikita]

Please do give us all your underrated romcom recs!!

For sure! Here are some I remember right now.

Ibiza--a Netflix movie, half "female friendship celebration", half romcom, the source of my URL. About an overworked uptight marketing girl (lmao...... real) who goes on business trip to Barcelona; her two best friends tag along and convince her to go to a club, where she has a chance encounter with celebrity DJ Leo West (Richard Madden at his best), after which she becomes convinced to follow him to his next show in Ibiza so they can hook up before her business meeting back in Barcelona. Unhinged, sexy, hilarious, everything people say Bridesmaids is, I love everyone in this movie and somehow none of the women are ever in true peril which is fabulous. Will leave you wanting to fall in love in a club/do something insane with your friends. Encapsulates the feelings of life changing travel better than anything.

Laggies--coming of age romantic comedy with some REEEEAL hits for MILLENNIAL MALLAISE, imo. Keira Knightley dips after freaking out when her boyfriend proposes; she has no life direction and ends up crashing with this teenage girl she just met. Teen girl's lawyer single dad (Sam Rockwell, sooooo sexy for some reason) quickly susses out that Keira is not a fellow teen but lets her stay anyway because she's got good vibes, his daughter clearly is desperate for a maternal figure of some sort, and he wants to bang Keira. Has a GREEEEAT impetuous makeout where he grabs her and she has to be like "I don't think you should fingerbang me in the street".

Down with Love--an early 2000s romcom satire starring Ewan MacGregor and Renee Zellweger at the height of their powers (fact: this movie is the sexiest I've ever found Ewan, as he's generally hit or miss for me). Honestly one of the smartest movies I've ever seen? Satirizes the Doris Day/Rock Hudson sex comedies of the 60s in this hyper-vibrant, gorgeous 1960s New York (the costumes and set design are insane). Puts Catcher Block, the slutty man reporter, in this Battle of the Sexes deal with Barbara Novak, the author of a huge hit book that basically tells women say down with love and prioritize their own pleasures (including sex), during which Barbara trashes Catcher specifically. The plot is iNSANE, I can't even really get into it. But there's also a genuine love story? If you like watching a slutty man get completely Stockholm Syndromed into falling for a crazy woman, this is it. Also, Sarah Paulson and David Hyde Pierce, literal gay icons, play the best friends who also fall in love.

Mrs. Winterbourne. Another fucking bonkers movie that has a bit of drama but also sexy uptight lusting-after-his-brother's-widow-but-not-really Brendan Fraser. This girl, who we're supposed to think is 18 but it's Ricki Lake and she's not, gets abandoned by her boyfriend after she gets pregnant. She ends up on a train with this nice couple, including a woman who's just as pregnant as she is. She admires the woman's wedding ring and the lady is like omg try it on because she's nice and also weird, and then THE TRAIN CRASHES. Our heroine wakes up and she's had her baby and the baby is fine but the nice couple is DEAD and she was wearing the ring and was pregnant so everyone thinks SHEEEE is Mrs. Winterborne. The dead guy's rich family never met his wife, so they welcome her and her baby with open arms and she kinda has to go with it? Anyway, Brendan is the dead guy's IDENTICAL TWIN (which means he was also the dead guy) and he immediately is like "this bitch is lying" but he's also falling for her against his own will??? Truly this movie is reverse Gorilla Twins.

Blast from the Past--another Brendan Fraser movie you kinda have to see to believe. Basically, Sissy Spacek and Christopher Walken are a couple in the early 60s and Walken is a scientist who believes the earth is going to devolve into a nuclear armageddon, so he's built this bunker for him and his pregnant wife underground. He thinks nuclear war has begun, and rushes underground with said wife, and their son is born and raised into this perfectly preserved 1962 world. He's Brendan. Anyway, 30+ years later, he surfaces into the real world as 90s era Brendan Fraser, which means, hot, and is completely naive and gets led around by jaded girl Alicia Silverstone, who falls in love with him and wants to take his virginity REAL BAD.

My Fake Boyfriend. A truly wacky little gay romcom about Keiynan Londsale creating this ideal fake dating profile and his best friend living vicariously through it, which becomes complicated when Keiynan meets a guy he actually wants to be with.

Fire Island. I don't know how underrated this is? Maybe at large. Anyway, it's just a really fun modern queer Pride and Prejudice retelling with multiple super good couples and a greeeat Mr. Darcy.

Bros--I know that Billy Eichner is annoying and went all headass about this... but tbh, though it's not without issues, this is a very fun romcom with a sweet love story at the core that doesn't fuck around with adult issues like questions re: monogamy

Imagine Me and You--again, I don't know how underrated this is, I feel like it's Thee Lesbian Romcom in some circles, and it's imperfect, but I dooo love it. It's one of the few movies that sells love at first sight. It's dated but it's fun. Also. Lena Headey.

Always Be My Maybe--has everything I want; attractive people having sex, drama, childhood friends to "forget my number" to lovers, Keanu Reeves playing hIMSELF. I feel like this got decent recognition, but nowhere near what it deserved. If you haven't seen it, Ali Wong and Randall Park are childhood friends, his mom dies and he becomes super depressed when they're teens, right after they lose their virginities to each other (or she loses it to him? at least one is a virgin and neither knows shit about sex) and then feelings are hurt immediately after and they come back into each other's orbit years later when she's a celerity chef and he's like, her HVAC repairman lol. They rekindle the friendship but there's mooore.

Love, Rosie--I have my quibbles with this one, but I also have a soft spot for it because... childhood friend drama. Sam Claflin and Lily Collins are best friends since literal toddlerhood, he's clearly got feelings for her in high school but she fucks a random on graduation night and gets pregnant and doesn't tell Sam because she doesn't want him to stay behind and help her as he has a scholarship to Harvard med. Sloooow burn with lots of tension and angst and some charming found family vibes.

Palm Springs--again, debatable on how underrated it is because it's very much critically acclaimed, but this movie is never in the conversations Set It Up is waved into and it's actually excellent, so... Cristin Millioti (SHOULD be a romcom queen by RIGHT) is at her sister's wedding and goes off to hook up with random stranger Andy Samberg because she's a messy bitch. After a series of wacky events, she gets sucked into a time loop that Andy has been in for literal years, where they're reliving the same day over and over. A lot of crazy shit happens, hijinks are had, and they fall into (complicated) love. A chaotic favorite.

P.S. I Love You--I feel like this dog has had its day to an extent, but it was actually dragged when it came out, and I remember this because I remember going "why?? It's great". The only Gerard Butler movie worth seeing besides 300, probably, this stars Hilary Swank as a young widow whose husband (said Butler) recently died of a long term illness and left her a letter per month, telling her what to do in the first year after his death. The supporting cast is GREAT (Kathy Bates made me weep), it's both very funny and incredibly sad and uplifting and raw, Hilary fucks Lucky Charms Jeffrey Dean Morgan (the Irish accents in this are Bad but it's much better than Leap Year) and the ending subverts expectations in a great way.

Brown Sugar--This is obviously a very popular movie (MY DIVOOOOORCE) but I don't think it's upheld to the same status as The Best Man franchise and I always see Love & Basketball recommended over it and that seems wrong. Taye Diggs and and Sanaa Lathan play childhood friends who now work in hiphop adjacent industries and struggle with both authenticity and how badly they wanna bone each other. THEN HE GETS ENGAGED. This one is messy, with cheating and hurt feelings and real adult issues, but it also has one of the funniest scenes committed to celluloid so.

Music and Lyrics--a Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore CLASSIC that actually reads like a romance novel onscreen. Hugh Grant is a washed up 80s pop star who wants to land a gig writing a bop for a pop princess, but he can only do the music, not the lyrics. He finds out unexpectedly that the weird chick watering his plants (Drew) is a good little lyricist and they begin working together, which leads to... love. Has a genuinely great grovel, I gotta say.

Just Like Heaven--cheesy, but the spot I have for it is soft (weird). Mark Ruffalo is a sad widower who's moved into a new apartment, only to find out that it is haunted by the GHOOOOST of the woman who was in his apartment beforehand (Reese Witherspoon) (there is a happy ending). It's of AN ERA.

Moonstruck--should not be underrated because Cher won an actual Oscar for it, but many people don't seem to talk about it today? Probably because of the hero, but OVERLOOK THAT. Cher is a widow who's just gotten engaged to this one dude who's Just Fine, and she wants to make sure his brother, one-handed Nicolas Cage, goes to the wedding. Except oops, she ends up fucking him right after they meet because one-handed Nic Cage has the juice, I guess? He gives this big speech, she says he's a wolf, it's great and verrrrrry Eyetalian American.

Faraway--I just saw this and it is PURE. GOLD. A middle-aged wife and mother loses her own mother and finds out her husband is having an emotional affair at the same time. So she goes to this little house in Croatia that her mother secretly owned, without telling ANYONE. Except oops, there is a squatter in the house, and it's a MAAAAN. Funny, sexy, a great example of two attractive middle-aged people who look like attractive middle-aged people falling in love. A real "find yourself at any age", uplifting movie that made my heart so warm.

Austenland--not super underrated, but fun. Keri Russell is a Jane Austen lunatic who goes to an Austen-themed resort and ends up encountering her own Darcy type.... But is he just playing a part??? Jennifer Coolidge is also in this. Being excellent.

[tiredsoundsofagnes]

the first week of the year has gone past us! i want to start documenting and using tumblr as some type of diary - so here's a lot of pictures and writing about the week!!! if you all find it interesting then i'd gladly post more stuff like this (i will do it anyways but i want to know if its fun to read or not??) OK HERE IT IS:

me n my beloved before the first indie club! very cute very cute in my opinion >:) i was a bit nervous since this was the first club of the year and there was gonna be like. A LOT of people since it was the only club open in this bastard city.

speakin of cute... heres us right before i started playing! first pic is adorable and i look goofy but happy in the second one. who knew a goth and a twee kid could fall in love?! this was actually their first indieclub EVER (they do NOT like indie though so it makes sense...)

very tired outside the club... drinking the first trocadero can of the year (thanks to my friend axel) this was the fifth of january (or technically the 6th since it was 4 am)

then we went home, slept like angels until 1 pm, ordered pizza, kept watching the owl house and just enjoyed being around eachother. i have never been this in love before and it feels like ive met the love of my life? more about that in the future...

on to the 7th of january... this was a DJ set at a new "rock" restaurant. i have eaten there once before and it was really really cool, they only played REALLY good indie. they hit me up on instagram and were like "hi we have heard you are a super good dj, we want you to have a club in our bar" and i was like DAMN OK. i invited a bunch of pals and played for five hours! IT WAS SO SO SO FUN??? there was no dancefloor so the focus was on singalong...

here was my outfit before it got hellishly hot! twee as fuck! my swaged out computer and its stickers right by my side...

SILLY PIC OF ME AND MY BELOVED MID SET! idk how they can be so cute but hey thats life innit mate...

me and my friend simon during the last song of the night... my friend was like HEY LETS TAKE AN INDIE SLEAZE PIC and we were like YES. the white stuff on the tip of my nose was from kissing my partner. the struggles of loving a goth huh....... anyways simon is a legend, we met through going to the same indie clubs and connected because we are always the most energetic dumbasses in the dance floor. he always bombs me with love when i play and says stuff like "YOU ARE THE BEST DJ IN TOWN" and it was my silly little heart <3

we catched the last bus home and slept until late. the next two days consisted of me and my partner (oh yeah their name is tilda hi) being in bed watching dumb shit and being cute. we baked a pizza and it owned. they took the train to their stupid little town and we cried. we might see eachother very soon though, ill keep yall updated!

THAT WAS THE FIRST WEEK! THANKS FOR READING IF U DID!

[the-mortifying-ordeal-of]

hello writing, my old friend

I've been missing you. I've turned off my Spotify DJ and queued up Bring Me Your Love, I'm freshly showered, my water bottle is refilled. I ended my shower with ever-colder water, gently mimicking the cold plunge, and I struggle to get a deep breath but I linger. I flossed and moisturized. My eyelids feel heavy and my studio is peaceful. I'm on the edge of a shiver and it feels good - I almost don't want it to come. I like the tingle, the anticipation, the pleasure.

Today is day two of wellbutrin. I had some nausea the first day, but no noticable side effects today. I've been on the multivitamin for a few weeks. I've gone several days without (ooh there goes the shiver) those brutal, delightful Alani Nus. I've researched and validated a perfect green smoothie recipe; I've gone through two and a half gallon bags in the past two weeks, and bought n washed two more from the farmers market yesterday. I still haven't smoked besides my one binge day, and I'm hardly drinking.

I don't know how I feel. I've missed you so much, Tumblr. I miss my old blog, my followers, the community, the exposure. I miss the accountability, the continuity. I was seriously considering giving her access to it, but that would violate his privacy in the process. Because he's there now, isn't he? Reading my posts, saturating my dash, texting me to make sure I'm ok. I want to spit. I made all my posts private and I've been refusing to engage. I want him to have access to me, want him to want me, want him to want me in his sacred writing, too. But it's messy and I'm angry and I'm really fucking tired and I just want bliss. I want hard conversations and blunt truths and abundant love; I want pleasure, play, screaming laughter, easy touch, exertion and recovery and comfortable, peaceful silence.

Watching her work situation is painful, and also validating. My own work life continues to haunt me. I know I could be fired at any moment and have to start from scratch, and I know I would desperately long for the opportunity to have this all back. But I can't help but want more, and I've been deeply grieving the dissonance of seeing myself not live up to my expectations - I've sunk to the lowest point and I can't believe I haven't gotten caught. I dread my check-in meetings, and it's eval season.

Personally, I'm proud - nearly elated - that I can feel myself coming out of this. I've been feral, numbing and howling and circling the drain. It feels like a miracle of privilege and chance that so much continues to go well. But I haven't been able to work and I'm mortified that it shows but no one has said anything.

I've also ghosted my therapist. Cancelled a session under the pretense of preparing for a trip, told her I'd reschedule when I got back. It's been weeks. I'm still mad at her, mad at myself, for getting so friendly that my suicidal outreach seemed like a joke. I tried to tell her it was bad, tried to tell her it felt like too much, but I also laughed and joked and charmed and lied. I'm mad at both of us for falling for it. I don't want to repair it. Not right now.

I'm still not getting a full deep breath. I'd like to sleep soon, but I suspect that despite my yawn and heavy eyelids, I'll toss and turn for a while longer: too warm, too distracted. I haven't done my daily meditation yet. I could read Meg's book, or the new Patrick Rothfuss, or that new AlAnon daily reader that I bought and never cracked open. I could make tea or give myself a massage or do some yoga. I could listen to my Spanish audiobook and enjoy the lesson without any urgency to sleep.

Once I'm a bit healthier, I do think I'd like to try donating plasma again. I imagine I'd need to disclose the Wellbutrin. I could use the extra cash. I'm going all out for my best friend's 30th and I do have the money, but I'd like to earn it back soon.

I really haven't had sex flashbacks since she started asking if I'd had flashbacks. Maybe it normalized them, took the sting out. Maybe I'm lying to both of us. I still haven't come, but it does feel good. We watched the series finale of Feel Good this morning and I started crying when Mae's mom apologized for not wanting to know, and had to leave the room for the Scott confrontation scene. Some wounds run deep.

I'd talked to my best friend about my sex/online history this past December, and earlier this week I told her my medication/diagnosis history. She hadn't know about my dad's stuff until this past summer. It's crazy to think that we went a decade without me sharing any of that.

Oh God and I haven't even written about AG's show yet. I don't have the energy right now, but I tend to not circle back when I mention wanting to write more about things. I hope I remember forever. Love, love, love.

I'll come back more, I promise. I'm here for the long haul. I'm doing it, I'm trying, I'm feeling, I'm here. I'm here. I want to keep being here.