#it was a piece of shit that broke down a year and a half later lmao

[wickedhawtwexler]

weird commentary time but marie's little blue beetle was theeee dream car to me when i first watched breaking bad

[formulaforza]

hi mack !! may i request a fluffy blurb with ‘gazing at them from afar because they're just so...’ for carlos? thank you !! <33

—when you're ready pairing: carlos sainz x female reader wc: 800ish summ. in which, carlos has never been able to keep his eyes off his best mate's pretty friend.

To the people that know Carlos, there are three constants in life: the sun sets in the west, summer follows spring, and Carlos is pathetically in love with his best friend’s friend. Ask anyone who knows Carlos, except you—his best-friend’s friend. 

You, who, at least tonight, are too preoccupied by the shots on the bartop, the game of darts Lando needs to lose, and the split ends of hair at the ends of your carefully woven braids, to notice Carlos. Carlos, and the way his eyes seem to find you even when he’s not really looking, who waits to laugh at his own jokes until you begrudgingly crack a toothy smile, who notices the little piece of glitter that’s perched on your eyebrow. 

It wasn’t always like this, he used to carry a certain level of subtlety, the ability to deny accusations without burning bright red and spewing half a dozen piss-poor excuses like a flustered boy on the schoolyard. It wasn’t always like this, not when he saw you for the first time, caught your eye and exchanged a smile with who he’d assumed was his teammate’s girlfriend. You were sat on your phone beside a sleeping Lando, who was curled up on the common area sofa. Your legs were long, crossed over each other beyond the hem of your dress. Your eyelashes were longer, watching him hurry past you. His first thought in regards to you was that Lando was a lucky fucking bastard. 

His second thought in regards to you, upon a proper introduction later that day, was that Lando is a fucking idiot for not managing to bed his “friend since primary school, or something.”

And that was the relationship you’d maintained for two years. Him, on his side of the garage, with his girlfriend. You, on the other side of the garage, not Lando’s girlfriend. Two years of short dresses over long legs he couldn’t touch and long eyelashes he couldn’t stare at. For two years it went like that, and then he signed a contract with Ferrari and he broke up with his girlfriend and he and Lando only seemed to get closer. 

And, to be close with Lando was to be close with you, which is when you became so much more than something he wanted to touch, a prize he could never win. 

It was easy to fall for you. Easy like breathing, like blinking, like letting hot water run down your back. It was easy, when you would instigate the shit-talking about Lando’s golf swing, the same way it was easy when you would steal a drink of his beer and let him spin you around a mutual friend’s backyard wedding—you wore your hair down that night. He still remembers the way the wind spent the entire evening blowing it into your face, into his face. It danced on its own, moved separately from everything else about you. He spent half the night wondering if he was drunk enough to grow a pair and tuck it behind your ears, and the other half wondering if you were tipsy enough to let him.  

Tonight, like all the other nights, he watches you. You down a shot after every round of darts, even though the original bet you’d made with Lando was that the loser needed to take a shot. The deal solidified with a firm handshake was tossed out the window by both of you after two shots each. His eyes follow you, your hand—freshly manicured nails and two sparkling rings—bringing the shot glass to your lips—soft and plump and the perfect shade of pink. He watches as your head falls back, hair falling from your shoulders, necklace shining in the barlight, the clear liquor disappearing from the glass. You wince, turn down the chaser, and call Lando a pussy when he downs a matching glass of crystal light. When you set the glass back on the bartop, even across the room, he swears he can hear the thud of the glass. It makes him shudder, snaps him back to reality. 

When you’re back in front of him, laughing at some undoubtedly stupid joke Lando had told you, you’re pointing a finger in his direction. “You—” you laugh harder, voice impaired by the smile that misshapes your lips. Your fingertip pushes into the middle of his chest. “You’re not drunk enough.”

 He laughs, throwing his hands up in surrender. “And what are we gonna do about that?”

“You,” you say, pushing your finger against him harder, and then removing it all together to bury it in your own chest, “and me. Loser—you,” you laugh “—has to take three shots.”

Carlos nods, holds out his hand to shake on it. “Deal.”

“Really?” You smile, like you thought he’d say no to you. “Okay, deal. I’m totally going to kick your ass, though.”

[bloatedandalone04]

One Missed Call

➪the one where bradley hasn’t won a match since you left him, and he finally decides to break his promise to himself.

Warnings: boxer bradley, mentions of blood, mentions of injuries, descriptions of injuries, mentions of fighting, swearing, bradley is kind of a dick in this ngl, angst all the way, could have another part if i get inspired (just watched bleed for this and i need an outlet), probably the quickest piece i have ever written, so sorry if it sucks

Word Count: 2k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“Six time champ, Bradley Bradshaw, faces his fifth loss since getting back into the ring,”

That single sentence played on repeat in Bradley’s head as he sat on the couch of his living room. 

His best friend rushed around him as she tried her best to patch up the mess his opponent made of his face an hour or so ago. Her hands held multiple blood stained towels and her face was twisted up in concern, but he didn’t pay her any attention as he watched himself get the shit beaten out of him on the TV screen. 

“You shouldn’t be watching that right now,” she muttered as she wiped away a fresh stream of blood rather roughly. He winced, his mind instantly comparing her harshness to the way you used to clean him up much more gently. And now he was thinking about you again, and how fucking disappointed he made you. “You might have a concussion, and the screen will fuck with your eyes.”

He grunted as she stuck a white bandaid on his left temple. “Enough, Nat,” he grunted, gently pushing her hands away from his face. “I’m fine.”

She glared at him as she stood to her full height. “You’re fine? Bradley, you haven’t been fine since Y/n left. You haven’t won a match in months. And you think you’re fine?” 

He narrowed his eyes at her, a scoff leaving his mouth afterwards. “Whatever, mom,”

Nat laughed humorlessly as she tossed the towels onto the coffee table in front of him. “Okay,” she muttered, grabbing her bag and bending down to press a harsh kiss to the bruise that formed on his cheek. “Let me know when you locate the guy who isn’t a grumpy prick. That’s the version of you we all miss. I’ll text you tomorrow, if I feel like it.” They both knew she would, whether she felt like it or not. 

And then she left and Bradley was refraining from throwing the remote directly at the TV screen. His face ached beyond belief, and he knew the trash talking he did in between punches did not help his case as that guy really did a number on him. 

In a way, he felt like he deserved to feel more pain than he did right now. He knew this was nothing compared to the amount of pain he put you through, and he wanted himself to hurt just as bad.

He watched himself take the final punch of the night that had him down on the mat within seconds, and how Hansen Carpenter lifted his hand in victory and grinned as if he won the lottery. 

Congrats, man. You beat Bradley Bradshaw. You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last, so take a fucking chill pill. 

Bradley scoffed again and turned the TV off, tossing the remote aside and leaning back against the couch. As he sat in the quiet house, his mind betrayed him as he began to think about you again. 

How he had managed to fuck up the best thing in his life, he’d never know. 

You really were the only thing he had going for him other than his career and title, and he let you go without a fight. It was his fucking job to fight, yet he couldn’t even do it for you. 

The house felt empty, even though you had only been living with him - officially - for about three months before he broke up with you. Despite being with you for nearly five years, you hadn’t decided to move in together until around half a year ago. 

You practically lived with him, anyway, but it was official for only a few months before he let himself get too caught up in his own head, which later resulted in him taking it out on you. 

Really, he was a coward. He never jumped at the countless opportunities he had with you, and instead put all his focus on boxing. 

Oh, there was a high chance he could win within the first five rounds? Sign him up.

Someone was betting half a million dollars on him? Tell him a time and place. 

You wanted to take the next step and put a downpayment on a house together? Maybe sometime within the next few years or so.

He really didn’t deserve you, and it was a wonder how you put up with him for half a decade. 

Bradley looked down at his phone that was on the couch beside him, and without thinking much of it, he grabbed it and held it between his sore fingers. He didn’t need to scroll far to find your number since he hadn’t changed you from his top contact yet, and he probably never would. 

When you walked out and left him in this exact room all those months ago, Bradley promised himself that he wouldn’t call you or try to win you back. If you couldn’t understand him and his career choice, then you clearly weren’t the right girl for him.

But he knew you were. You are the right girl for him, but he was too hung up on his own ego to actually try to get you back. And now he feared he was too late.

He was already feeling embarrassed, so why not go all the way? 

He clicked on the call button and brought his phone up to his ear, waiting what felt like a lifetime before he was forwarded to your inbox. 

Of course he got your voicemail. He wasn’t expecting you to actually answer him, so he wasn’t super disappointed that he was met with your sweet voice asking him to leave you a message. 

And, God, was your voice sweet. It was probably the sweetest sound he had ever heard in his entire life, and it matched well with your overall personality. You were far too kind for your own good, and had been way too understanding with him throughout your relationship. 

Though he really wanted to, he couldn’t blame you for leaving, especially since he practically forced you out the door. 

Bradley looked ahead at his beaten and bruised face through the screen of the TV, and he felt as pathetic and worn out as he looked. “Y/n,” he mumbled after he heard the obnoxious beep that indicated he should probably start talking before the call hung up itself. What did he have to lose? “I miss you, babygirl.”

He had no right to be calling you right now, nor did he have the right to be saying that he misses you when he’s the reason you’re gone. 

But he was selfish. He always had been when it came to you.

He wanted you to support him and didn’t care much for your concerns about his well being. He wanted you there and in his corner at every single match and wasn’t fazed by the way you cowered away every time he took a punch. He wanted you all to himself, but never gave you the time of day when he really needed to get his act together and progress his relationship with you. 

Bradley was selfish before you, while he was with you, and now after you. 

You were right. He will never change. 

“I fucked up tonight, again,” he muttered as he looked down at the blood stained towels in front of him. His mouth tasted like metal and he could smell the rustic scent of copper every time he inhaled, and he truly could not believe how much of a mess he is. “I really thought I could win this one, but you know how I talk out of my ass whenever I’m in that ring, and I did it tonight.”

He wasn’t sure what he was hoping to get out of this, but the thought of you maybe listening to it was what had him continuing this embarrassing show of emotions. 

“I told this Hansen guy that he fights like my old man, and how he’s dead, and then I got my ass handed to me,” he grunted, rubbing his sore nose and wincing at the sharp pain he felt because of it. “It was going fine before that. I went eight rounds straight with the guy before he fucking floored me, and all it took was me thinking about you.”

He felt like a complete loser for admitting this, but it also felt easier to be open with himself when it came to you. It had always been like that, and he was fucking stupid for thinking he could find someone better than you. 

Truly, there was no one else he wanted other than you, and he’s known that pretty much since the day he met you, so why couldn’t he swallow his pride and fight for you instead of with you was another thing he’d never know.

“One single thought about you and I got too into my own head to realize what was going on around me,” he shamelessly informed you of the hold you still had, and probably will always have, over him. “I think about you all the time, baby. All the fucking time. You should’ve been there tonight. You should’ve been there last time. You should be here right now. But I know why you’re not.”

His face burned from both the impacts of Hansen’s gloves and from the way he was getting caught up in the thought of you. 

Everything reminded him of you. Even this exact couch held far too many memories with you to count. The amount of nights he spent with you on these very cushions had him shifting uncomfortably as he tried to push away those thoughts.

He didn’t even deserve to be talking to you right now, let alone thinking about all the ways he’s gotten you off on this old and worn out piece of furniture. “I know it’s my own fucking fault, I know that, but it still fucking hurts,” he laughed and pressed his arm against his abs that were just as sore as his face. “The amount of fights I’ve been in, the amount of hits I’ve taken, none of them compare to how much it hurt to lose you. How much it still hurts.”

While he wasn’t one to cry at all, Bradley felt his eyes beginning to burn as he replayed the exact moment you left him, as well as the exact words he said to you. 

“I know what I told you, okay? I know what I said. I was wrong, babygirl,” he rasped, curling in on himself as he tried to find the right words to say. “I didn’t mean it. I should have never told you to leave. I should have never yelled at you. I feel so bad, baby, all the time.”

He moved to lay on his side, his cheek pressing against the armrest a bit uncomfortably, but he didn’t care. This was the first time he allowed himself to really get it all out since breaking up with you, and he hated how he couldn’t find the courage to actually say all of this to you in person. Not that you’d let him, anyway. 

“I want you back, Y/n,” he finally admitted to what he’s been too full of himself to say out loud. “I want you so bad. You were my girl, baby. You were so good to me, and I fucked it up. I miss you so much, and I promise you I’ll do better. I’ll be better for you, I swear, just please…come back to me.”

He ended the call after that and tossed his phone onto the table next to the towels he would definitely have to throw out since no amount of cold water and bleach could save them. 

Bradley felt beyond pathetic now, but it was nothing compared to the feeling that took over his body when he woke up the next morning, still on the couch, and with a single notification on his phone. 

One Missed Call from My Girl. 

[galaxymacbeth]

Travelin' Soldier pt. 2

So the letters came from an army camp In California, then Vietnam And he told her of his heart, it might be love And all of the things he was so scared of

cw: depression & angst

The first letter came two weeks after he’d left. The writing was scratchy and Harley broke down as she tore through the envelope to get it open.

Harley, I never did make the promise out loud to write you, but I’ll make it now. As long as I have access to paper, I promise to write you letters as often as I can. I made it to training and it’s surprisingly easy. Guess my abusive piece of shit did manage to train me for something. There’s almost 100 of us but the officers said that probably only half of us will make it through training. I plan on being one of them. I don’t have much else to write about yet, but I wanted to make you that promise. Simon

When she stumbled into the pub ten minutes late, Richie and Drew snatched the letter from her to read before they both burst into laughter.

“You two are so fucked,” Richie said as he handed it back to her. Drew nodded, not able to talk through his laughter.

“What’s that supposed to mean? We’re just writing letters,” she said as she crossed her arms over her chest. The letter was tight in her hand.

“Means you’re in love,” Drew finally spit out, “deep in love.”

“We barely know each other,” Harley mumbled as she opened her arms and looked down at the letter again. I wanted to make you that promise. Well, she was in love at least, maybe Simon was too.

The ribbing continued well into the week, even as Harley wandered into the pub on her day off, after a particularly hard day of classes, to sit and write.

Simon, Uni is a bitch. I’m 1000% sure basic training is harder than trying to memorize Scottish kings and when they ruled, but fuck me if I don’t want to quit and join the army now. I told you that I think you’ll do good in the world and I meant it. You’re going to be one of the best soldier the world has ever known. Or maybe the world won’t know because I guess the best soldiers don’t get put into history. Christopher Lee wasn’t known for the good he did in the world until years later so maybe I’ll never get to know what it is you’ve done to make the world better. Just don’t forget to come home sometimes. I’ll be here until I get my degree or until I die, whichever comes first. (I’ll probably die first since I think I just failed my maths class for the second time) Don’t feel like you have to write just to make me happy, it’s okay if you don’t have anything to say. Maybe you can just send me postcards from where you are or pictures. Love, Harley

Drew jabbed at her side when she signed off, but she just glared at him and folded the letter. He set another cup of tea down in front of her with a smile and handed her an envelope. She scribbled the base address on the front and turned it to seal it but Drew slapped her hand away.

“What?”

He held out a coaster, “put it in.”

“Why?” Harley took it, flipping it over before she shoved it into the envelope.

“Well, it’s mostly selfish. Someone might ask about it, but he won’t be able to forget you,” Drew said as he leaned on the bar. Harley rolled her eyes, but sealed the letter and coaster inside with a dab of water. Richie took it to the post box down the street as he left for a break and Harley laid her head on the bar.

“Oh, cheer up, Har, he’ll be fine. It’s just some basic training. He’ll get time off when he graduates and then you two can confess your undying love.”

Harley glared at Drew, so he put his hands up, one holding a white dish rag, and backed away from her.

It was another week before a letter came again. It was heavier than the first and Harley curled up on her couch to open it. As she pulled the letter out, a keychain fell into her lap. It took her a mere second before she let out a huffing laugh. It was a Matchbox car Simon had managed to turn into a keychain and it was a small, green MGB.

Harley, You gave me your keychain and I’m worried that you won’t remember your keys without it. I got some looks when I spent two hours trying to make it, but its worth it. One of the boys, James, asked about why I was making it and when I told him about you he tried to get your address. Didn’t give it to him, though. They said that we’ll be moving to another base next month to start harder PT, so you’ll have to wait for me to write again to get the new address. A couple guys already left. The COs keep saying that it’ll get harder from here but I’m ready for it. I’ve at least got something to try to get back to. Simon ♡ oh, I almost forgot. I’m also sending a postcard tomorrow. found one on base and I think I’m gonna start sending them whenever I get moved to a new base.

Class drug on and her leg wouldn’t stop bouncing as the profession droned on about how the East India Company was intended to be beneficial for India. The clock on the wall signaled that there were only three minutes left in the lecture and Harley wasn’t sure he would finish propagating in time. She’d closed her textbook five minutes ago and had stopped writing well before that. Even her desk partner had stopped paying much attention to the professor.

“Oh, that’s time. We’ll continue this next week.” Students shot out of their seats and the professor’s voice rose shakily over them. “Don’t forget your papers are due next Monday! Five pages!”

Harley groaned as she shoved her textbook away and all but ran out the door. She hadn’t begun the paper yet, so she would have to start tonight and miss out on the Friday trivia night she’d convinced Drew to set up.

“Harley, are you coming to that party tomorrow?” One of her classmates fell in step with her. Theodor smiled down at her but all she could think about was getting home to see if Simon had written another letter.

“Uh, probably not. Didn’t actually start Hamish’s paper so I have to write that and work,” she replied. Theodor’s face fell and he sighed.

“You’re never out anymore, why?”

It was Harley’s turn to sigh and she stopped in front of him, “Theo, look, you’re really nice but I’m not interested. And I have to work my way through school so work is almost important to me.”

He scoffed but said nothing and left. Harley groaned and began jogging towards the bus stop. It was a short ride to her flat but it was faster than walking. As she caught the door into the building, she slipped her keys out and turned the lock of her mailbox. A letter sat, puffy and thick, and a whine escaped her as she snatched it and locked the mailbox again.

It had been almost two weeks since Simon last wrote her. He’d told her about how training had gotten harder but he was enjoying it. About how he has bad days when the COs get too loud and aggressive and he almost loses control. One letter even told the story of how his father had beat his mother so horribly that Simon finally snapped. The fight lasted for minutes and his younger brother, Tommy, had to pull him off before he killed his father. It was the last time his father ever laid a hand on Simon, but the abuse got worse for the rest of the family. He likened the aggression of his COs to it and told her the only way he was able to calm down was to think about their dinner in the field.

This particular letter was two pages, though upon closer inspection, it was actually two letters stuffed in the same envelope.

Harley, I probably should have told you before. We’ve been writing for months now and it’s been eating at me. The guys think I’m soft for writing to you. They make fun of me sometimes by asking if ‘my sweet princess has received my latest raven and if she sent me a handkerchief as a symbol of her love.’ They’re really doing their best. Even called me Sir Knight once. Gotta hand it to them, they’re funny at least. Don’t think I’ll stop writing you, though. I could care less what they think about it. At least I’ve got a girl back home to talk to. The COs said the next base will have a phone, so I could call you if you want to give me your number. Gotta cut it short, we’re going out on a multiday ruck. Love, Simon

The remaining page under the letter had a crudely drawn castle and what must have been a raven, though Harley thought it more resembled a dragon.

Harley, I really meant to tell you that I love you. The guys are ribbing me, but James at least told me it was good to have someone to love back home. I agree. I can’t wait to see you again. I called Rosario’s and Drew gave me your number so I’ll call you when we settle into the next base. It’ll probably be around the 14th. love, Simon

Tears streamed down her face as she reread the letter five more times. Her phone rang, though, and she snatched it from her backpack.

“Hello? Simon?”

“Jeez, now I feel like an ass,” Richie grumbled into the phone, “Drew told me he called but I figured he already got a hold of you when you asked for the night off.”

“Oh,” her smile dropped, “no, I need to write a paper, that’s why I took off.”

“Har, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s not your fault, Rich. I just got the letter,” she said as she picked it up to read again. I love you. He must have felt it for a while but was too scared to say anything. Harley got the sick idea to go buy a handkerchief just to send with her next letter.

“And what else did he say?”

“Did Simon tell Drew that he was going to tell me?”

There was a short scuffle on the other end and Drew’s voice took over, “that little prick was supposed to keep that to hisself. Yeah, Simon told me he loves you.”

“How long ago,” she asked. Harley laid back on her bed, clutching the letter to her chest.

“’Bout a week ago, I think.”

Harley hummed into the phone, “what was Richie calling for?”

“He was supposed to be checking on you but he clearly fucked that. Take as much time as you need off, get your paper and letter written, ‘kay?”

“Okay, I’m gonna go and start writing,” she said. Without waiting for a reply, she hung up and tossed her phone to the side.

Simon loved her. Harley loves him.

It was a simple sentiment that had her crying in her bed. According to his current address, he was stationed in Grantham, Lincolnshire. She was sure a postcard was coming soon and she would add it to the five others on her wall beside the letters. Each had been painstakingly flattened under her maths books and slipped into a plastic sleeve before she tapped them on the wall. Drew had seen the wall once and called it ‘cute’ but Harley knew he meant that she was crazy.

Harley sat at her desk that night, typing up a paper on how unhelpful the East India Company was to the Indian population. She made herself a vodka Red Bull around ten and threw herself back into her desk chair.

Simon, I hope you know I spent quiet quite a while crying over that letter. Well, you couldn’t have known until I told you but still. I cried. a lot. I think you’ve probably always known that I fell in love with you that day, even if I never had the balls guts to say it. And if you didn’t know, don’t ever tell me. I hope Grantham was nice. I looked it up one morning before class and it seems like a nice town. I’ve never asked if you get to leave base sometimes. Do you? Drew told me once that I should just show up to where ever you are one of these days but I have no idea if you’ve actually left the barracks before. If you can leave, you should check out the town and tell me about it. It looks like a storybook and I want to visit some day. I finally passed my maths class, which should be more embarrassing than it is. I just hate math. Maths, or whatever you all call it. I had hoped getting a history degree meant no math or science but I still have to take a science class before I can graduate. Astronomy or chemistry? You pick. I love you Harley

By the time she’d finished writing, the digital clock on her desk flashed midnight. Her drink was discarded halfway through her writing, so she crawled into bed and curled into her pillow. She spends the little time before she drifts off wondering about what Simon was doing; his training, his free time, if any, and how he’ll feel when he reads her latest letter.

It’s not until the next day, while she’s falling asleep over a history textbook, that her phone rings. Groggy, she picks it up and presses it to her face.

“’Llo?”

“Didn’t sleep?”

Her eyes shoot open and her spine straightens, “Simon?”

“It’s me, love, how are you?” Simon chuckles, the phone rumbling lightly with the sound.

“Clearly tired, I just started a paper,” she said as she closed the textbook.

“Lemme guess, it’s due soon.”

Harley scoffed as she sat on her bed, “duh. I don’t start papers until they’re due, you know that.”

Simon let out a content sigh.

“How are you? PT still trying to kick your ass?” She drew her blanket up to her chin and pressed the phone harder into her cheek.

“Trying. I’m winning. We’re actually startin’ weapons training tomorrow. Knives first,” he said. Harley could hear something shift on his end but didn’t wonder.

“Gonna learn how to stab someone super effectively?” Simon laughed. “Bet that’s pretty hot.”

“It’s October, it’s cold as fuck out here,” Simon said, his voice raising in a questioning tone.

Harley choked on her breath and coughed, “no, you idiot.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I—I meant I bet that’s hot to watch.”

“Into knives?”

“Just the soldiers that use them,” she mused. The image in her head was hot; Simon sneaking around, knife primed to take down whatever bad guy he was hunting. Yeah. Hot, she thought.

“I’ll remember that.” He laughs at her, but it’s low and meant for only her ears.

“Please don’t. Promise me that,” Harley whispers.

“Don’t make promises I can’t keep, you know that, Yankee.”

Harley groaned and pulled the phone away from her ear before twisting it to speak directly into the microphone, “stop calling me that.”

“Aye, but yer a yankee, aren’t ya?”

“Laying the accent on thick, huh? You be grateful I don’t have an accent anymore. You wouldn’t be able to understand me anymore than you would an Irishmen,” she laughed.

“I’d like to hear it one day, I bet it’s lovely,” the mischief was gone from his voice and Harley registered it as pure adoration.

“I worked hard to get rid of that thing, keep dreaming.”

They spent another twenty minutes mumbling to each other before Harley hears a gruff voice demand Simon hang up and joyfully tell him he’s got a couple hundred laps to run.

“Guess I should let you write your paper,” Simon said.

“And I should let you start running. Is that legal?”

Simon laughs, “they can do almost whatever they want to us. I’ll try to call you again when I can.”

“Okay, try not to die,” Harley whispers.

“Do my best, I love you, Harley,” Simon smiles into the phone, that much Harley can tell.

“You’ll have to read my letter for your answer.” And she hangs up the phone before he can protest. In ten minutes, Harley is standing in a shop, buying an embroidered handkerchief to add to her letter.

A month later, Harley stands behind the bar at Rosario’s making drinks and conversation with regulars. It’s only three in the afternoon, so it’s a surprise when an unknown man walks into the pub. He takes up a stool directly in front of Harley and surveys her. With a hard look, she surveys him back and his face breaks into a smile.

“Simon said you were a tough one.”

Her resolve breaks and a sad smile grows on her lips.

“You know Simon,” she asked, setting down the glass in her hands lest she drop it. She’d gotten a letter three days ago but it was short and Simon hadn’t called in a few weeks. His letters claimed that phones were a privilege that his squad hadn’t earned in a while, but they couldn’t stop him from writing.

“I’m his brother, Tommy. He told me about this place last night. He sent me a fucking letter,” he laughed and leaned away from the bar, “told me I’d find a yankee manning the bar.”

Harley groaned, but nodded, “that’d be me. What can I get for you?”

Tommy tells her some complex order and she makes it as he speaks. When she sets it in front of him, his eyes widen and his hand inches towards the glass.

“What?”

“Didn’t think you’d make it. I was kind of just making it up as I went,” he said. Tommy grinned as he took a sip, finding it better tasting than he’d expected. With crossed arms, Harley leans against the back counter.

“I didn’t make it the way you said. I made a tasty rendition of what you asked for, did Simon send you here to watch me?” Her smile was forced as she watched Tommy argue with himself in his head.

“Here,” he finally said. A letter came from his pocket and he held it out to her.

Tommy, I hope you’re doing better. Mum said that you were getting help and thinking about rehab. I hope you go. We’re both better than him and you don’t need to stoop to his level of depravity. Please get all the help you can. If you are doing better, you should drive into the city. There’s a pub there called Rosario’s. A sweet yankee works the bar, Harley. Tell me how she is, really is. We write each other almost every day and I’m worried she’s not doing well in uni. She needs someone she can talk to and I think you two would get along well. She reminds me of mum before our father turned into a piece of shit. I hope you can see it too. It’ll be a week or so before I can write again, but I won’t have access to a phone for a while. Take care of yourself, mum, and Harley. Simon if you show her this, I’ll kill you.

“So how do you plan on stopping him from killing you,” she asked as she folded it and creased the folds under her nails. Tommy laughed and took another drink.

“He’ll be glad to know you’re okay. You are, right?”

Harley let out a sigh and turned to look at the mirror behind the bar. She hadn’t slept well recently, not with Simon’s short letters and the piling homework she kept putting off. Hair hung around her shallow cheeks and it wasn’t as bright as it used to be. The amber in her eyes had faded.

“Do I look okay? Are you lying to him, Tommy?” She turned back to face him and cocked her head. He looked no better than her and he tugged on the ends of his long sleeve, as if hiding something under them.

The grin on his face turned sour as he spoke, “you are like our mother. Don’t tell him. He’s proud of me for once in my fucking life and I want to keep it that way.”

“By lying to him about you getting better,” Harley scoffed with a shake of her head, “Simon deserves better than for you to lie to him about that. He loves you.”

“You don’t know anything about my brother besides some sappy shit he wrote you. But I like you, Harley. You’re good for him,” Tommy downed the rest of his drink and slapped a tenner on the bar.

“The drink’s only—”

“Keep the change. Or start me a tab. It’s a nice pub and I’d like to come back,” he said as he stood, stretching his legs before he left. Harley watched the door for a long while after it closed behind him. Tommy wasn’t a common topic for their letters, only once had Simon mentioned him outside of their initial meeting and it was to tell her that he was getting help finally.

“Har?”

Richie put a hand on her shoulder as she jumped and turned to him.

“Sorry, spaced out,” she rubbed her hands over her eyes and took the bill off the bar.

Love, They’re shipping us out to Belize for training. It should be fun, maybe a bit hot but that’s a nice change of pace from England. I don’t know how long we’ll be out there, but I won’t be able to write you for a while. Promise me that you won’t stop loving me, ever. I think our CO said something about leave after this one, so I’m planning on coming home to see you and Tommy. Simon

Simon, You couldn’t get me to stop loving you if you tried. I promise to never stop loving you. I really hope you do get some time off, you and I both need it. The MG tried to give out on me a few days ago, but Richie figured out that it needed a new starter. Damn British engineering, huh? I saw a sticker on an old Mini one time that said all parts falling from this car are of the finest British quality and I think the MG took that to heart. I passed my chemistry final by some grace of whatever god out there decided to give me a break. Now all I have left are more history classes. One of them is actually a partnership between Manchester and Glasgow so I’ll get to spend two weeks in Argyll soon. I might visit that woman I mentioned before. I found out her name was actually MacIntosh. God, I hope if you do get leave it’s not while I’m in Scotland. Call me if and when you can, please. I need to hear you. Love Yankee

Finley swooped down to the pillow beside her and cawed at her. Harley rolled her eyes, but held out the peanut she’d just cracked. The bird took it and snapped his beak as he ate it.

“It’s been a while since he wrote me,” she whispered. Finley’s head cocked back and forth at her, “I know Belize is pretty far, but it’s not too far that he couldn’t write. Do you think he’s not telling me something?”

Finley squawked at her and reached for another peanut. He cracked it open with his beak and Harley went back to reading about the history of the Scottish Highlands. She’d spent the past three hours sitting in the field, reading and musing to Finley when he chose to sit beside her. Harley knew it was just because she had peanuts to feed him, but she liked to pretend he cared about what she said to him.

“Fin, I only have three more peanuts,” she mumbled as she looked into the bag. She grabbed one of them and tossed it to the pillow Finley sat on while cracking the remaining two for herself. Finley cawed at her, indignant that she would eat them for herself, and flew off.

“Birdbrain.”

With a snap of her book, Harley stacked it atop other finished books and stood. The sun was slipping over the trees and she needed to get home to eat. The MG still struggled to start, but when it finally turned over, Harley made quick work of getting home. She shoved her key into her mailbox and flipped it open just to slam it closed.

Then flung it open again.

An envelope, fat and brand new.

Grabbing it, Harley raced up the stairs and threw her bag on the ground once she got in her door. She jumped onto her bed and tore the envelope open. Stuffed inside was a tiny tapir stuffed animal and a letter.

Harley Love They’re sending us into an active combat zone. It’s supposed to be a test to see if any of us are good enough for the Marines or the SAS. I have no idea how long we’re going to be out there but I won’t have any form of contact with anyone. I named the tapir Finley Jr. I hope it keeps you company while you’re in Scotland and while I’m away. They said we’re all getting leave once we’re done and I’m coming home to you. Some of the guys are jealous that I have you and I can’t help but laugh at them. Only a few months ago, they were all making fun of me for writing you so often. Now look at them. I remember when I showed them the handkerchief you sent. They couldn’t stop laughing, but I saw the look on James’s face. Poor sods. Harley, I can’t tell you how much I needed you when I met you. Having someone to come home to has made this entire thing easier. I love you so much. Love, Simon

It was the last letter she got.

The two weeks in Scotland were a welcome reprieve from thinking about what Simon was experiencing and why the hell they’d sent a bunch of recruits into an active war zone. Mrs. MacIntosh was even glad to have her visit for a few days before Harley made her way back to Manchester and Rosario’s.

“Harley, I ken ya love tha‘ boy, but dinnae let him eat ya up. Else there’ll be nothin’ lef’ fer him when ‘e gets home,” she’d said over her tea cup.

“I can’t stop thinking about him, I...he said that he needed me when we met but I think it was me who needed him. I wasn’t even taking school seriously before I met him,” she said as she toyed with the scone on her plate.

“Aye, but are ya even payin’ attention to school now?” Her cheeks burned as she shoved the scone in her mouth. “Hm.”

With a hard swallow, Harley spoke, “writing him letters was cathartic.”

“So write ‘im anyway. Ya dinnae have ta send ‘em. Just write ‘em,” Mrs. MacIntosh said.

“Maybe,” she mumbled.

Back home, Harley fell into a desperate routine. Wake up, don’t eat, go to class, eat because Drew forced her to, work, don’t eat dinner, barely sleep, repeat.

Regulars told her to go home, Drew and Richie stopped letting her work weekends just so she would exhaust herself into sleep finishing homework she never did. And when sleep wouldn’t take her, she wrote Simon letters she’d never send.

Richie and Drew think I’m losing it and I think they’re right. What kind of military sends kids into a war zone?

Her British history professor gave her a soft, pitiful smile. Harley knew she hadn’t paid enough attention the last two weeks, but fuck this was bad. A 56% on a midterm was almost enough to get her kicked from the class. Had it not been for the professor knowing better, Harley was sure she would have been dropped.

Academic probation.

She was a good kid, smart and did her work (mostly). School was her favorite place to be and history was her favorite subject. How the fuck had she ended up on academic probation?

I got put on probation at uni. I failed a midterm and haven’t turned in half of my homework. My papers only get written because Drew makes me write them at the pub so he can make sure I’m actually working. Tommy comes by sometimes to sit with me. He would hate me if I told you that he’s getting deeper into alcohol. He could barely stand last night and I had to cut him off. We both need you.

Another two weeks passed and Harley was starting to feel human again. Drew had forced her to sit down and talk to him about what was happening. He then got her an appointment with a therapist. Harley had only gone to two sessions before she decided to throw herself back into her pre-Simon life. The therapist was surprised at her quick revelation but pleased.

Drew made me start therapy. I only got to one session before it clicked. I mean, I knew I was the problem not you, but sometimes I guess its nice to have a professional tell you. I took off a week of work to get my late homework and papers done. My professors let me turn them all in. Sure, I only got partial credit for them, but fuck it, credit is credit. I need you to come home. You’ll miss my graduation if you stay away too long.

Tommy sat in the large booth in the corner of the pub while Harley made up drinks for him and his friends. They were moving to the bar as she set them on a tray. It had been two months since the last letter Simon had sent, but Tommy made it a habit to end up at the pub. He never said much to Harley outside of ordering drinks and food, but they watched each other. Looking for some indication the other had heard from him. It never paid off.

“You heard from Simon?” One of his friends asked. Harley’s ears always perked at the name, but was used to hearing Tommy shut them down.

Only he didn’t.

“Got a letter in the mail two days ago.”

Harley froze and the tray of drinks began to shake.

“Said Simon was missing in action. I didn’t even know he was in action.”

Missing? In action.

“Does...doesn’t that mean he’s basically dead?”

It took some practiced skill for Harley to deposit the tray onto the closest table. She stalked to her bag under the bar, bypassing Richie who’d asked her what she was doing.

Nothing was said as she threw it over her shoulder and turned. Tommy watched her, eyes widening as she passed him without so much as a glance and let the pub door swing closed behind her.

The MG started with no trouble this time. Just turned over like a dog begging for belly rubs. Every single traffic light, speed limit, and pedestrian was obeyed without thought. The drive home was long and she ignored her mailbox as she entered the building. Her lock clicked open, then closed as she dropped her bag and fell onto her bed.

Then the tears started. A sound crawled up her throat and a howl came from her lips. Once, twice, a thousand times. Tears came like a hurricane.

Simon was missing in action.

pt.1 | pt. 2 | pt.3

do I know anything about the british army? not enough to portray them accurately or with any respect.

[kinardsevan]

Fuck-it Friday

Remember what I said about mindsets? I’ve been thinking about this scene in my head for weeks, and finally managed to get it written out last night. We’re still AGES away from this chapter being done, but have a morsel of the next chapter of it’s gonna be alright (piece by piece) (aka aneurysm fic).

“Hi my love,” he whispers to him.

Evan doesn’t respond, but he does tug on Tommy’s arm until he manages to get him to move it, and then grabs his wrist and shifts his hand up until it’s resting on his chest, broad and warm. Tommy smiles down at him, watching briefly.

“That feel better?” He asks. “You want a heating pad?”

“Jus’ you,” Evan whispers back, letting his eyes flutter shut again for a few moments. Tommy leans forward and kisses his forehead, and then pushes the call button for the nurses station.

“That’s a nice sentiment, but a heating pad would be more sterile,” he replies.

When the nurse enters, Tommy apprises her of the situation, and she’s in and out in a few minutes, returning with a heating pad fairly quickly. Evan whines again when Tommy moves his hand away, but settles quickly when the heating pad gets rested on his chest.

They’re still in the same position—Tommy brushing his fingers through Evan’s curls while he rests—when the door opens again. Maddie enters the room with Phillip, and Tommy glances up at them with Evan’s gaze following.

“Hey,” Evan rasps from the bed.

Maddie and Phillip exchange a look, and the frustration on Maddie’s face is palpable. Evan glances back and forth between them and then over at Tommy, who is just as confused.

“What?” Evan asks.

“Tell him,” Maddie states to their father. Tommy straightens up in his seat. There’s something about the tone of Maddie’s voice making his need to protect Evan kick in.

“I talked to your mother this morning-..”

“No,” Tommy states firmly.

“Look-..”

“I said I didn’t want her here,” Evan rasps, his brow furrowing in irritation. He glances over at Tommy and then back at Maddie and Phillip.

“Buck, she’s worried-..”

“He flat-out said you that he didn’t want her here,” Tommy counters, trying to keep his emotions in check. He’s ready to scream, but he knows well enough that this is not the place to be having that argument.

“She’s his mother-..”

“She told me that I’d been corrupted by Tommy,” Evan argues. “That I was sending myself to hell if I decided to stay with him. She’s not welcome here.” He’s leaning up off the bed now, just slightly, but Tommy can already see the pull in the wires running in and out of him.

“Baby,” he warns. “Wires.”

“Buck, she’s worried-..”

“She doesn’t get to be worried!” Evan growls at the older man. “She wasn’t here when shit went to hell at work for three months. She didn’t give a fuck when I broke my wrist last year and had to have surgery then. She showed up in town at least half a dozen times to visit Maddie, Chim, and Jee-Yun, and didn’t call or text me once. But because it’s something she feels bad about, I should make room for her? Why? Why is everything about her?” 

“Evan-..” 

“Hey.” The doors to the room are open, and Dr. Tomlin is standing inside of them, looking around the room, all but glaring at Phillip as he takes in the scene. “Brand-new, fresh out of heart surgery. Stress is not fucking good.”

Evan nods, anger still present on his face. “I want you to leave,” he states toward his father.

“Buck-..”

“He asked you to leave,” Tommy counters. He glances over at Dr. Tomlin, and then back at Phillip. “Unless you’d prefer for us to call security.”

Phillip looks around at each of them, and Dr. Tomlin’s hand is already on his phone, ready to make the call, even though his gaze is locked on Evan’s heart monitor, watching for signs of distress. A few seconds later, Phillip huffs and steps out of the room in the space between Dr. Tomlin and the door.

“I’m so sorry, you guys,” Maddie states before following after them.

Evan glances between Tommy and Dr. Tomlin. “Don’t let him back in here.”

“He won’t be,” Dr. Tomlin confirms.

[freckledjoes]

Munson mornings

Friday - March 21st, 1986

It was one of those rare days where Wayne had worked an afternoon shift, meaning that he had had plenty of sleep before he sat down at the kitchen table in their trailer. He knew it would take Eddie about an hour or more before he'd wake up from his slumber, probably grasping at some honey combs before he'd rush out the door, mumbling something along the lines of "Missed first period, what's new." with his mouth still full. Wayne would then look at the crumbs on the doormat and consider that a task for another day.

However, today was a different day for both Munsons, it seemed, as Wayne heard Eddie trashing about in his room, loudly complaining about being unable to find something, much earlier than he was used of him. At one point he let out a happy yell, meaning that he'd probably found what he was looking for, and then possibly stubbed his toe in excitement, judging by all of the swearing that immediately followed after. His door opened, the bathroom door following and not much later Wayne could hear the shower.

Seeing as his nephew would probably have considerable time to get to school, he figured he could make them some eggs on toast, a little treat right before the weekend. It wasn't until Eddie stepped out of the shower that he realized that Wayne was home.

"You're home? Why aren't you asleep?"

"Afternoon shift."

"Oh. Eggs?"

"If you wanna."

"Sure. Can you—"

"Already done it."

Wayne had prepared Eddie's plate just how he liked it, with the eggs cut perfectly to fit on the toast, and the other bits on the side so he could eat those as a "snack". Eddie got dressed first, left the towel around his neck for his dripping curls and added a tiny bit of eyeliner to his eyes. As Eddie sat down, Wayne could immediately tell he was excited about something by the way his features contrasted his usual morning expression drastically. That meant four options.

One: He had a date (unlikely)

Two: Some kind of good drug deal coming up (possible, but Eddie usually didn't really talk about that stuff around his uncle)

Three: He had a gig (it wasn't Tuesday)

Four: Anything related to his D&D campaign (bingo)

"Those little shits have no idea what's coming," Eddie said with a slight evil grin right before taking a bite of his toast, groaning at the taste of it.

"Campaign night?"

"Uh-huh. I've got the dungeon all set up. There are so many traps, but there are two things that could help them out if they know where to look. Dustin will probably try but I bet Mike's gonna rush them into their deaths without blinking. Him and probably Gareth. See, there's this, let's call him "demon guy" for your sake, and he's gonna be waiting right here," Eddie grabbed some dry crackers that he wasn't planning to eat and used them to lay out a part of the dungeon map he'd been working on the past few weeks. Wayne followed his movements, watched how Eddie broke tiny pieces off the crackers to emphasize that one bit had a rounded corner, and stacked some honey combs to show the position of "demon guy" while also popping a few of them into his mouth as he explained further.

Eddie went on and on, eggs on toast almost forgotten until Wayne wordlessly nudged his plate so he'd remember and would take a bite out of it in between. Wayne watched him fondly, cherishing the light he recognized in Eddie's eyes, a light that seemed a rare occurence nowadays. He hoped that graduating would work out this year, so Ed could stop beating himself up about it. Maybe he could get himself a job as a mechanic, he seemed to like working on his van. Or perhaps something backstage, with lights or music, so that he could be involved in that industry even if he hadn't made it big himself just yet. Wayne knew he was meant for big things. He had the drive for it, just needed the confidence.

"Wayne? Are you listening? This part is crucial."

"What did I tell ya about chewing with your mouth open, boy?" Wayne sighed half-heartedly as crumbs landed everywhere on the table. Eddie gave him an apologetic smile (full of food) and tapped impatiently on a piece of honey comb that now represented a summoning circle.

"So this is where..."

Wayne didn't mean to, he really didn't, but he lost track the second Eddie started talking. Maybe being distracted was a Munson trait, who knew. He smiled fondly and took in all his gestures, enjoying the quiet morning with his nephew who was the opposite of quiet. It was nice, having him around. It always had been, even throughout puberty where he hadn't always been easy. He would always be his boy, a young man ahead of his old man in many ways.

As Eddie finished his breakfast and went back into his room to grab his stuff for the campaign that evening, Wayne decided he should ask Eddie about the campaign the next day. He couldn't wait to see hear how his clever nephew made those kids twist and turn. Eddie was a great storyteller, and his own story was only just beginning.

—

This was a vague idea that popped up in my brain, which I shared with @stevesxyellowxsweater, basically thanks to Joseph mentioning a dinner scene (I think it was dinner? I'm forgetful - anyway I turned it into breakfast) between Eddie and Wayne would've been nice.

It's a little painful, in retrospect, but that's the duffelbags' fault not mine :)) Anyway hope you like? I rarely post writings sooo yeah.

[seongminiz]

mine / yours

first installment of Oh Distant You

minors dni ; dilf!minhee x fem reader ; 1540 words

warnings read The dilf!minhee post first or this wont make a lot of sense , fem reader , not specified age gap but around ~10 years , manipulation , cheating (not on reader) , minhee is a piece of shit omg , more angst than smut , idk if this counts as dubcon but reader is so emotionally vulnerable/unstable n he takes advantage of it so it might , manipulative minhee , unprotected sex , dacryphilia , chocking but not rlly , daddy kink , not proof read , the ending was half assed

permanent taglist @elifseasonz

note its 3am i need to go to sleep just manipulative dilf minhee i fawking love u (yes this is unfortunately named after a wilbur song , i now hate him but the title was too good to change it god bless)

manipulative mf [sighs dreamily]

previously to the events of that post , when you first started hooking up with him it wasn't an exclusive thing, it just kind of happened, at some point you even stopped seeing each other and kind of went your own separate ways. minhee went back to his life as a 'good' husband and you tried seeing other people, finally finding someone else you were interested in romantically.

minhee would've never admitted it, but he was so jealous - to him, you were already his, and the idea of you messing around with men that aren't him and could never be on his level pissed him off.

you could do better. and that better is, of course, him.

long story short, the person you were seeing eventually broke your heart, leaving you distraught and with no idea of what to do. somehow, that brings you back to minhee, showing up at his doorstep on a rainy night looking for a comfort you know he could never give you.

minhee, on the other hand, knew you would be coming back sooner or later, which is why it doesn't take long before you're being pushed into a spare bedroom, your lips never leaving his as you try to ignore the painful clenching of your heart. maybe, if you repress it enough, the heartbreak will go away. maybe.

after all, you're jumping from one miserable situation to another. from someone who led you on, convinced you to finally give a chance to love, only to drop you after a few weeks because he 'wasn't ready for a relationship yet', 'didn't think you would actually get this far' and 'stopped seeing you romantically after a few dates'; to someone who didn't even bother to lead you on, give you the illusion of any romantic feelings, because he knew there was no need to bother, you would come back to him anyways.

the whole time minhee is fucking you he has one hand over your mouth to keep you quiet because you don't want his wife - who's peacefully sleeping in the room right next to this one - to hear you, do you?

he keeps saying how much better off you would be with him instead of some random guy your age who doesn't even know how to treat you right - as if a married man keeping you as his side piece and getting a power trip out of how dependent you are on him is any better, but he's already fucked you too dumb to realize that, and hes basically drilling all of that into your mind (just like hes mercilessly drilling his cock into your cunt) to make sure you'll keep coming back to him and him only.

he doesn't care when you start crying more - whether it's for pleasure or for the emotional state you're in , you don't know it either. minhee notices when he feels the tears running down on the hand he's still keeping over your mouth. your moans have died down by now, reduced to a bunch of pathetic quiet whimpers every time the tip of minhee's cock roughly hits your cervix.

still, he flips you around, if you want to sob your heart out on his cock you might as well give him a show of it. and he's not disappointed by the sight: your makeup smudged and faded out because of all the crying, the way you look at him like he's the only person that matters in the whole world and spread your legs silently begging him to put his cock back in.

you bring one of your hands to your mouth to bite your nail in a subconscious show of uneasiness - be it because of the sudden absence of minhee's body from yours or yet another show of your emotional state - and if it wasn't for the sexual nature of your situation minhee would almost find this and your big, pleading eyes endearing. albeit reluctantly, in that moment minhee has to admit to himself he has somewhat grown fond of you, of your little quirks and habits that he barely sees in the midst of sneaking around with you.

but deep down, minhee also knows he loves all of this for a way more fucked up reason: your vulnerability makes him feel powerful.

being on top of you like this, having you at his complete mercy makes him realize he's completely in control, he has you in the palm of his hand and he has no intention of letting you go.

he wants to see more of this, more of you crying for him, being so dependent on him you're reduced to nothing but a nonverbal mess by the time he's done with you.

'so pretty,' minhee whispers as he pushes his cock back into you, one hand gently wiping your tears - the soft touch of his smooth delicate skin a stark contrast with the way he immediately starts fucking into you at a merciless pace again.

when in your fucked out state you manage to form one coherent thought, trying to be as quiet as you can, you start begging minhee to leave his wife because he'd be so much better off with you, you can give him what she never could…

minhee has to suppress a smirk. of course he would never leave his wife, his marriage might be falling apart but he has certain appearances to keep up, a reputation to maintain. what would people say if they divorced out of nowhere, just for him to be seen with a girl at the very least ten years younger than him?

still, if that's what will keep you coming back to him, making an empty promise is no harm - at least to him. he nods, brows knitting together as you clench down on his cock impossibly tighter, bringing him closer to his high, closer to coming inside of you like he always does. but something feels different this time, as minhee pushes your legs to your chest and listens to your moans getting louder by the second, knowing there's no way his wife hasn't found out by now.

‘daddy i'm about to-’ the words die in your mouth, half interrupted by a higher pitched moan and half by the realization of the words that just escaped you.

minhee slows his place down and you take that as your cue to start apologizing profusely. more tears well up in your eyes, you try to tell him it was an accident, you didn't mean to actually call him that, all while minhee pulls his cock out of your still clenching hole until only his tip is left inside of you.

if you weren't so focused on apologizing, maybe you would've noticed the way his cock twitches with every weak disconnected sentence you try to formulate. but you don't, utterly surprised and trying to suppress a scream as minhee slams his whole length back into you, bottoming out as one of his hands wraps around the base of your neck without applying any pressure.

‘say it again,’ minhee commands, thumb absentmindedly stroking your collarbone in a way that could be almost read as boredom if it wasn't for his dick being completely buried inside of your cunt in this exact moment.

you bite your lip, trying to find the strength to oblige, but it's like your brain has been emptied out and your voice has suddenly disappeared.

your pleading eyes, though, are nothing to minhee, fingers softly pressing around your neck ‘come on, don't make me repeat myself,’ it almost sounds like a threat, punctuated by a harsh thrust that finally rips a moan out of you, along with the word he so badly wanted to hear from you.

minhee has to hold back a moan of his own when you do, suppressing any further sounds by busying his mouth with your neck and chest, leaving marks all over it - ‘just a reminder of who you really belong to,’ he'll tell you later. to you, it's an even crueler reminder: you're his, but he'll never be yours.

you can only pretend he is, as you beg minhee to let you cum and for him to come inside of you, your body twitching in waves of pleasure as his orgasm follows yours quickly after, the feeling of his warm cum shooting deep inside you leaving you willing to go for another round.

you know you can't, though. just like every other time, you'll sneak out of the guest room and through the exaggeratingly big house, silently shutting the front door behind you as the feeling of guilt starts to make its insidious way inside of you.

you'll go home, take a shower, and promise to yourself you'll never see him again, you'll never answer his calls or texts or show up to his doorstep.

never.

you're a hypocrite, but a part of you feels better knowing you're not the only person who's acting like one.

you'd be almost at peace with it, if everything around you wasn't a constant reminder of that same, devastatingly simple fact that has been roaming around your head since that night.

you'll forever be his, but minhee will never be yours.

[slaymybreathaway]

Love You, Bye (Charlie Conway x reader)

Warnings: none

Word Count: 968

Masterlist

I got a call from Charlie at around 11p.m.

"Hello, y/l/n house, y/n speaking," I said into the phone.

"Hi Y/n, It's Charlie... I know it's late but meet me at the park gates in 20 minutes. Bring your roller blades," My best friend spoke.

I've had a crush on Charlie for a couple of years now and half the team says that we would look good toghether.

"What? Charlie why on earth would I do that?" I asked.

"Beacause I'm your best friend and you trust me and there will be pizza involved," he blabbered on about how amazing he is and why I should do it.

"Alright Spazway you can shut up now. I'll be there" I giggled

"Alright love you, bye," Charlie said which made me burst out laughing.

"Shit no, not like that I'm just hardwired from calling my Mom, ok?" he nervously.

He was there trying to explain what me meant but he gave up and just said "Just meet me there in 20, alright?" and hung up the phone.

I got my rollerblades from my closet. My parents room is upstairs and mine is downstairs so it's not common that they would check on me during the night. I put a pillow under my duvet just incase.

I threw on my white Duck's jersey and a pair of jeans. I put my skates and helmet and tied the laces of my converse to each other and hung them around my neck.

I climbed out my bedroom window clumsily and skated in the direction on the park.

♡

10 minutes later and I arrived at the park. Sure enough, Charlie was standing at the main gate with a box labelled Tom's pizzaria.

Charlie turned around and saw me. I stopped infront of him.

"How we gonna get in, Charlie?" I asked with a laugh.

"Simple" he said and pointed to the rusted to a rusted padlock on the park gates.

I picked a rock up from the ground and chucked it at the padlock. It immediately broke into pieces and the gate creaked open.

"That was bad-ass but the padlock was open," Charlie laughed.

"Oh shut up," I said and held the gate open for him.

He handed me the pizza box so that he could put on his skates. He took it back off me and went zooming into the park.

"WAIT UP SPAZWAY, WHERE ARE WE GOING?" I shouted and then raced to catch up with him. Streetlights zoomed past my vision.

When I finally caught up he was staning infront of the skate park. There was ramps and a bowl and other skate park stuff. During the day it's packed with Tony-Hawk-wannabes but in the dead of night it was nice. Romantic, even.

"Let's go," Charlie said and grabbed my arm. He pulled me over to the biggest ramp in the place and started climbing up the steps at the back of it.

"Ok, ok I'm coming," I said and followed him up.

Charlie sat cross legged with the pizza box open. It smelled delicious.

"Charlie... Are you going to tell me why I'm eating pizza at the top of the skate park in the middle of the night," I picked up a slice.

"I'll answer all your questions soon," He promised and smiled at me.

"Aw please... Just one now?" I pleaded.

Charlie took one look at me and then sighed in defeat.

"Ok just one," He said and took another slice of pizza.

"What did you truly mean on that phone call?" I asked.

"Hmmm what phone call exactly beacause we call alot and-"

"Conway" I stared up at him.

"Imeantthatiloveyou,"he mumbled.

"If you're going to answer my question then you might as well say the answer loud enough for human ears to hear it," I joked.

He made direct eye contact with me and said "I... I meant that I love you

Y/n."

I looked at him in disbelief. Did he just say the words that I have been dreaming of him saying for four years?

He exhaled deeply and stood up. He kicked the now empty pizza box off the side if the ramp. He threw his shoes down too so I did the same.

"Just forget it. Just forget that I said anything," he sighed and skated off the edge of the ramp.

Charlie skated down the ramp at insanely high speeds and onto the ramp opposite it. He turned around and skated to the ground.

"WAIT CHARLIE," I called from the ramp.

"WHAT?" he called back.

"I LOVE YOU TOO YOU IDIOT. I HAVE LOVED YOU SINCE WE WERE LIKE 10," I laughed.

"REALLY?" he shouted. "I guess you better come down here and get me then,"

I was dangerously afraid of heights. Charlie knew this. I can get up just fine but getting down is the hard part. I looked at the ramp and thought "why the fuck not,"

I skated over the edge with my heart in my mouth and I did the exact same thing that he did. But instead of stopping gracefully, I pulled a Luis and skated straight into Charlie.

He tried to catch me but instead we both fell over. Charlie landed on top of me and we were both laughing so hard. When we realised what way position were in both of our cheeks burned red.

Charlie cleared his throat, "May I," he asked.

I smirked "You may."

He leaned down and kissed me. I kissed back immediately. My arms wrapped around his neck and after a while we broke apart for air.

"So are you my..." Charlie's entire face was like a stop sign and mine was probably the same.

"Girlfriend? Definately

[collapsedglasshouses]

An Angel For Noah || Noah Sebastian x OC [Part 8]

DIVIDER ART WORK BY @cafekitsune

PAIRING: Noah Sebastian x Jules [she/her]

MASTERPOST

SUMMARY: It was everything but easy to get used to this situation for both Noah and Jules.

WARNINGS: ANGST, ANGST, ANGST, swearing, mentions of death, ...

A/N: If you read my post about crying over my writings while my friends are partying... I was referring to this :) do what you want with that information.

TAGLIST: @trvshdxddy @blackveilomens @crimson-calligraphyx @measuredingold @cncohshit @signs-of-ill-portent @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @ada-clarence @wild-child-7747

If you wanna be added to the taglist of this story, please DM me or let me know in the comments!

Keep in mind, this takes place in an alternative universe. Even though I write about real people, the way I write them has nothing to do with how they are in real life.

Not even two hours later, Noah and Jules found themselves awkwardly walking next to each other in a more secluded area of the park they were at. The few people they met seemed oblivious to their presence, providing the two with some privacy for their more than strange encounter.

So, while they walked aimlessly and no one dared to say anything, Jules' mind was racing. She chewed her lip, fearing that she would be torn from the world at any moment. Even though she had never really been told not to show herself to Noah, she felt like she had broken all the rules at once. While she only wanted to calm Noah’s nerves, her actions had led to something far beyond her control and it deeply terrified her.

Awkward tension hung in the air. Noah had absolutely no idea what to say to her and Jules was equally at a loss for words.

“This… is so fucking strange.”, Noah finally admitted, breaking the silence between the two. Jules immediately nodded; her gaze fixed on her trembling hands.

They fell into another strange silence, before Noah broke it again with an awkward question. “So… How old are you?”

Jules couldn’t help but chuckle softly. “What a weird question to ask a dead person.” Noah awkwardly gifted her a half-smile. “I was twenty-two years old before I died.”

Noah nodded a bit while processing her words. He swallowed hard before asking something again, desperately trying to break the awkwardness. “Is it insensitive to ask how you died?”

Jules felt how her heart sunk a little. The thought of her death weighing heavy on her shoulders. She thought deeply about her next words before mumbling. “I got run over by a car.”

With that Noah abruptly stopped walking, turning to face Jules. “Oh shit.” He mumbled. The pieces clicked into place as he remembered the tears running down her face when she had saved him from a similar fate.

For a long moment Noah just stared at her, a heavy silence falling between them, as Noah realized the trauma she had endured. He took a cautious step towards her while she couldn’t quite read what was going on in his head. She saw how he chewed the inside of his cheek before carefully grabbing her hand. “I’m deeply sorry I made you go through this again.” His eyes locked onto hers.

As she gazed into his eyes, she felt a sudden and unexpected rush of emotion. The world around the to seemed to fade into the background, while Jules started to wonder if it was the sun hitting her skin or Noah making her feel that warmth. All she could see was the symmetry of his face, the way his coffee-colored eyes sparkled with guilt and something she couldn’t quite understand, and the gentle curve of his lips. Even though she was looking at Noah at a daily basis, it felt like she had never truly looked at him before and now… In that exact moment… she couldn’t help but marvel at his sheer beauty and even more: The beauty of his heart. She couldn’t believe his words. Noah was apologizing for almost dying because it caused her to relive her trauma.

"Don't say that, Noah. I'm here to do my job," she breathed out, still captured by the soft look in his eyes.

Noah noticed how his heart ached a little when she called this whole thing "her job," but he needed to get his thoughts straight. It was her job. She wasn't here because she wanted it so badly; she was here because she was probably assigned to be here.

Noah let his gaze wander over her again. He had seen beautiful people over the years, but something about her intrigued him. When he was being honest with himself, she wasn't exactly the type of woman he would have gone after, but he just couldn't stop admiring her.

“I just want you to know that I will be more careful from now on.” He stated and squeezed her hand that he was still holding for a short second before letting go of her. He slowly started walking again, while Jules tried to process the scene for a second longer.

Jules walked quietly behind him as they continued their stroll through the park.

She took a deep breath and noticed how it felt like the two of them were in a strange, almost dream-like place. The sun was slowly setting down and its warm, gentle light casted a beautiful glow over everything. The park became even more quiet with little to no people walking around and the sounds of leaves rustling in the wind making Jules feel a bit at ease.

Noah than broke the silence with a reflective tone. “You know… It’s kind of weird,” He began, his voice soft. “What?” Jules asked, intrigued by his words.

“I don’t know you and I wasn’t supposed to… I know I shouldn’t feel this way but being with you… It’s like I’ve known you forever… I feel so safe.” He continued. Jules was touched by his words.

“Maybe that’s how you’re supposed to feel when you’re with your guardian angel.” She answered him, trying to provide some kind of comfort.

“What are you trying to imply?” Noah asked curious. “Wouldn’t it be kinda weird if you felt uncomfortable around your guardian angel?” Jules answered.

“Are you saying I’m not in charge of my own feelings?” Noah teased her, causing Jules to cover her face with her hair as she noticed the warmth of her cheeks.

“Not at all. All I’m saying is that your mind might trick you.” She answered him, causing him to come to a stand once again. Noah, still trying to make sense of the situation, playfully poked Jules on the shoulder, as if to confirm that she was really there with him.

Jules, surprised by the touch, let out a genuine chuckle. "What the fuck?" she said, mirroring his playfulness. Noah laughed in response. "What? You can't tell me my mind is playing tricks on me and not expect me to try and touch you. After all, I was just told I have a guardian angel and said guardian angel is now strolling through a park with me like it’s the most normal thing in the world."

They started walking again. Their playful exchange was a brief but welcome break from the overwhelming strangeness of their situation. However, Jules decided not to reveal her current state of mind to Noah. She simply smiled, her gaze shifting over the trees around them.

“Noah?” She finally sighed out; her voice even more quiet than it had been before.

He looked at her from the side, his eyes filled with curiosity, eager to hear what she had to say.

“I need you to promise me something.” Jules requested with a more serious tone. “What is it?” – “You can’t tell anyone about what’s happening here.”

There was a long pause as Noah contemplated the weight of her words. Keeping this bizarre experience a secret would be a significant challenge, but he understood the implications of sharing it with others. Finally, he nodded and said, "I promise. The boys would probably think I'm losing my mind and send me to a psychiatric ward anyways, so yeah... I promise."

Jules chuckled softly, her laughter mixed with a hint of sadness, as the gravity of their situation weighed on her.

“I like your laugh.” Noah than stated, causing Jules to blush a little. Every word he said to her felt like a rush of adrenaline. She knew it was wrong to let her emotions occupy her mind that much, but she felt the need to be a little selfish. Noah made her feel alive, and she knew it would be over soon.

The end of their spent time was nearing when they reached the edge of the small park. Hesitantly they stood in front of each other, both not knowing what to say again. The tension started to form again when they realized, it was probably the last time they ever looked each other in the eyes.

When their eyes locked, both of them felt that rush again and without even thinking they fell into each other’s arms. For Jules it almost felt like her heart was going to explode, the mix of the comfort and sadness washing over her. She felt how she teared up.

Noah, on the other hand, wasn’t feeling any different. He held Jules so close to him, fearing she would vanish into thin air at any moment. He let his emotions get a hold of him and almost cried out. “Please don’t leave me, Jules.”

Jules almost felt how her heart broke a little. She wanted nothing but to stay in Noah's arms but she knew she needed to leave. She tried to say something but her words just didn't want to come out. Instead her lips trembled as her hands grabbed the fabric of his hoodie harder. She didn't have the strength to leave. Not now that she had him this close. It felt like she was addicted to his touch.

"I beg you. Please stay." - "You know, I can't."

Right then she felt Noah shift in their embrace, his head placed in the crook of her neck. The spot became damp. He also was crying quietly.

"The day isn't over. You promised me a day, Jules." He mumbled into her hair as she stroked his back. She couldn't talk, fearing she would break down.

"Please, Jules." Noah continued. "I'm sounding like a fucking idiot. I don't even know what has gotten into me but please. Come to our concert tonight. Just watch it. I need you to be there."

"I need to go, Noah." The girl cried out and tried to get out of their hug even though she didn't want to.

"Promise me." Noah pleaded but suddenly felt a cold rushing through him as he realized he was slowly beginning to hug himself.

And with that...

Jules was gone.

[bristlefrostsbbg]

All my SMG4 Aus and what are they because i feel like i have too many to count :[(Part 1)

Igbs!AU = I gotta be safe AU, A fic on my wattpad that you can read so im not gonna explain.

ANP = A new pet AU, same as Igbs.

TSATP = The siren and the prince, same as the others

SPFTM = Stellar pieces from the moon, Same on my wattpad

TLD = The living doll, Same

DD = Dreaded Delays, its a AU where 4 took too long to decide to save 3 in the pit, as 3 fell into the pit and became infected with the tentacles; and 4 saved 3 but he still got infected, and 4 held him in a prison in the basement to find the cure, and 3 accidentally escaped, attacking the crew, but 4 managed to help 3, and 3 calmed down.

Blunt!AU = Knifes are too blunt to hurt anymore. Basically PV has the crew captured, and wotfi 2024 but my own way, aka PV wants to kill 3 for the sake of it, but 4 begs for PV not to do it, and PV(somehow) agreed. PV said, if 4 would be his puppet, and 4 said to let 3 and the others go. PV happily agrees, letting them go back to the showgrounds, aka pushing them in a portal without consent. the others already planning to help 4, but they needed someone to continue 4’s channel for a bit, and everyone thought 3 was the reasonable answer. 3 doesn’t take this option well, but he had to do it. Quarter a year later, the crew get their plan up. But suddenly, 3 gets a message from PV to meet him at puzzle park. Alone. Smg3 explains his plan to find 4, and if he wasnt back in half a day, come save his ass. PV himself greets 3, leading 3 straight to the engine room, where he comes face to face with 4, and he didnt look fucked up and tortured, he was in expensive looking makeup and blah blah fuck this part , and was brainwashed, attacking 3. Cornered, 4 came up to him, 3 whispering “I love you, dude” to his lover, before a knife was stabbed into his head, knocking 3 out, and it somehow didnt hit any vital parts, like the original 4 was trying to save 3, but just dodged the vital parts, but also blinding 3. at this point, its been half a day, i forgor to mention idk im losing track sorry 4- the crew break in just in time, 4 breaking free from PV’s control when he was attacked, rushing 3 to the hospital for treatment. And helping 4 get his sanity back. Half a month later, 3 finally wakes up(not fully just so they know hes still alive), and sappy shit blah blah i hate my job, and a day later, 4 goes into the now destroyed puzzle park, looking for anything for some reasons im still inventing, and finds destroyed PV’s head all fucked up. Smg4 was gonna leave it, but he realised that if he had PV at his mercy, he could get his revenge. 4 brought PV back, taping his limb holes idk bro to prevent PV from escaping. After PV woke up, and got BRUTALLY FUCKING smashed by 4 multiple tjmes, he realised PV was converted into a inmobile TV head now, for his body was beyond repair and was separated from his body which was burnt in Puzzle park. 4 threatened PV that if 3 was in any way damaged permanently, he would kill PV immediately. 3, although he survived the attack, still suffered damage, his two eyeballs’s films were shattered and damaged, causing him to be literally almost blind, but his left eye could see out barely, and the doctors gave him a special idk fucking shit i made it up, and he could see at least something better. He slowly recovered, being well enough for 4 to meet 3, and 4 apologised for everything, crying and sobbing, before 4 suddenly kissed 3, confessing he had heard everything. Smg4 also told the whole situation about PV, and 3 gradually accepted it, as long as he could beat up PV again. Then 3 was better, going back to the showgrounds, getting used to his blind ass. He kinda already got a prescription for glasses, but he simply ignored it and used the glasses whenever he generally couldnt see, and 3 faced PV, and insert beating up. Then, 3 SOMEHOW broke a vital wire in PV’s head, causing PV to lose his grip on the TV, cause he is still human at heart, and boom die :3 Then insert happy ending idk bro im tired

I’ll probably write Part 2 soon man

[llowlifepunk]

project$$

**lucki describing advice earl sweatshirt gave him on what to do when you can't write

i look at projects as "reports on my life". i used to look back and listen to my old ones for the same reason i don't today; when i listen to them, i'm instantly transported back to where and who i was when i made them, for better or for worse. when i listen to "shit happens", i feel like that desperate 17 year old kid trying to get one last word out before it's too late. when i listen to "(deadman)", i remember being the 18 year old black sheep of my family trying (and kinda failing) to take steps towards adulthood. when i listen to "life happens", i hear a 19 year old who's losing everyone around him and terrified of growing up.

"otherwrld" broke the chain because instead of reporting what's going on in my life, i created a whole new world and a whole new character: vincent. that's what you'd think, right? lol

of course, vincent is really just me! vincent is me if i never had a family or loved ones to put me on a good path and/or guide me. if i didn't have those things, i would almost certainly be an interstellar assassin from a dystopian earth. (sidenote: some things nvr change is one of my best and favorite songs i've ever made)

that brings us to "slaps 4 da spaceship" (or s4ds/slaps).

slaps was originally supposed to be a short ~5 track ep about vincent A) traveling to participate in a deadly intergalactic battle royale in pursuit of the prize, which is having one wish granted, and B) falling in love for the first time. of course, me being me, it became an entire 8 tracker which i'm dropping this friday, february 14th. life happened, though, and i ultimately came to the realization that college and creating a webcomic? not particularly sustainable or doable, especially where i'm at in each aspect of my art. i decided to lean a little less into the "concept" part because 1, i'm still mastering the art of telling a fictional story through music without making it corny and tryhardy, and 2, i've already decided i'm coming back and remaking this later.

simply put, i do not think i have it in me to write, draw, and publish my own webcomic while working on music and being a full-time college student. i thought i did but right now, i don't. as much as i wish i was (SPECIFICALLY in terms of doing this kinda thing lol), i am not andrew hussie! surprise

i've got a lot of the writing for the comic down (fucking 31 pages worth btw and thats just the outline), but that's about it. decent amount of panels but not nearly enough. animations? pfff...this shit is so time-consuming bra, and i think that even if i pushed myself to get it all out there, it wouldn't be worth it because i don't think my music or drawing is there yet. operative word being "yet". i will come back to this, because i genuinely do think this multimedia project could end up being my magnum opus. but when i do come back, i'm probably remastering otherwrld and remaking slaps. maybe i'll come back to it sooner than either of us think. who knows?

btw i recognize that this isn't as big of a deal to y'all because you've barely been introduced to this large-scale concept, but it's a really big deal to me because i've been planning and working on this for almost a year now and i got HELLA invested in it for a minute there. felt important to put out there.

for now, i have one or two more concept projects left in me, and then i'm honestly just gonna make and drop whatever tf i want for a while so i don't burn out again. the thing about trying to tell a story with your music is that it's exhausting. trying to make every piece line up perfectly and get a message across in a way that feels authentic to you and your listeners is time-consuming and fucking hard. especially when your morale and ego have been beat down at almost every turn for the past year and a half. sure, i make a lil bread off this shit, but i'm ultimately doing it for the love of the game and after almost seven years of making music, sometimes that isn't enough. which is cool because i'm a human and not a music making machine. after all, that's what makes it interesting and that's what makes me authentic.

s4ds drops this friday. until next time!

[unitedbydevils]

Match Review: Liverpool Women 3-1 Manchester United Women

Tactical disasterclass. Fuck sake.

Liverpool haven't won in four prior attempts at Anfield. United were five wins from five in their last WSL games. We were second in the league. We should win this, even if it's a close encounter between old rivals, right?

WRONG. Marc Skinner the tactical master at work decided to disrespect Liverpool and Amber Whiteley, caretaker boss in light of Matt Beard's departure. Clearly he didn't see the Arsenal game in the FA Cup quarter-final, because otherwise he wouldn't have been so stupid as to play both Ella Toone and Grace Clinton in midfield away from home. That works against Leicester, Villa and Palace. It's far too ballsy against the bigger sides - and I do consider Liverpool that.

That's not to say Tooney and Grace don't have skills, they do, but that leads to Grace and Ella drifting wider so as not to bump into each other. This impinges on the cut-in styles of Leah Galton and Celin Bizet, and also leaves Elisabeth Terland in No Man's Land because she's getting shit all service. 4 attackers looking to do their thing rather than be playmaker. And Dom Janssen at CDM isn't that.

Statistically United did have the best of the possession; 60% overall and slightly more in the first half. The problem is we didn't generate the chances with it. Being so advanced and aggressive meant Liverpool wanted to sit back and counter, and they did that.

Celin Bizet and Gabby George both came close early on, and Grace Clinton did her usual magic to break the Liverpool lines and have a go at goal.

Liverpool's first goal came through defensive miscommunication or mismanagement; Gabby George tracking her opponent but then hesitating between pressing the player or tracking Olivia Smith. Grace Clinton had pointed out the incoming run, but she too failed to catch or hinder Smith, who then went on to squeeze a shot through the block of Phallon Tullis Joyce and 1-0 Liverpool. Poor keeping, but worse defending.

Kapocs would test PTJ minutes later, but it was Fuka Nagano who would gut United with a second goal seconds before half time.

The screenshot above comes from the match footage, and it's WILD. Liverpool hit on the break, sure, but:

No Gabby George visible (admittedly United had a set piece prior)

8+1 of United vs 3 of Liverpool and they still scored lmao

Millie Turner not closing down the cross/pass opportunity

Celin Bizet the wrong side of the ONE TARGET in Nagano, whom she had followed the entire run back

Maya Le Tissier not seeing Nagano either???

Jayde Riviere enjoying football as a spectator sport

Tooney back to defend before Dominique Janssen

Instances like this I do sympathise with Marc Skinner in a small way, because this is just supremely stupid football, but then he's the boss. He selects the team. He coaches them with his staff. If he doesn't think they can handle counter-attacks, why set up to sit so high?

United's returning players in Terland and Riviere didn't look at the races, and would you believe it the tired legs of Jayde brought down Bernabe in the box for a penalty. 3-0 Liverpool, 2 goals for Olivia Smith, Anfield rocking.

Suddenly, subs happened. Sandberg, Mannion, Miyazawa, Williams, and eventually Malard. And would you believe it, we looked better? We made more cutting opportunities and actually tee'd up Captain Maya for a consolation goal - and a lovely finish at that. The architect? Hinata Miyazawa. WHO'D HAVE THOUGHT IT. Our technical, press-resistant queen who can do it all... nah, she couldn't be the answer. No no no.

Honest to god Skinner might be the death of me this season. Chelsea dominate the WSL, Arsenal have a rich history and investment. City are committed... that top 3 is hard to break into. We broke in, we've held second for ages, and then we decide to fuck about away at the Scousers and drop ourselves back into 3rd. I want Skinner gone anyway, but failure to qualify for Europe this year and INEOS need to exile him. We had the quality and personnel to win this one and we fucked about. Unacceptable.

Next up: Villa away on Sunday. I expect us to rod them sideways.

[hollymartinswrites]

Say Hi by HollyMartins

[ao3]

Summary:

In the mall food court, Lee Russell bumps into someone from his very recent past.

TW: Lee Russell comments on teen's weight because of course he would.

Notes:

So I’m on a Walton Goggins kick because of Fallout and I binged Vice Principals, not expecting for the amoral, selfish, dishonest, evil, sometimes arsonist that is Lee Russell to worm his way into my heart.

I don’t condone any of his actions but man, do I enjoy watching him do them. And I can’t believe there isn’t more fic about this show. Maybe the Ghoulggins renaissance will help.

Anyway, the Spring Break episode broke me when Janelle called him Uncle Lee and he gave her a kiss and said it was so good to see her. Was he lying? Probably. Do I like to believe he had a genuine soft spot for her because of Neal? Yes. Did I expect Lee Russell to be the catalyst out of my writing slump of nearly two years? No way in hell.

And now with new edits.

"Uncle Lee!"

Lee freezes, his good hand clenching around the styrofoam cup of diet soda. Thank God he had left his table of coworkers early and is now mercifully alone.

A hand touches his arm and he flinches but forces a smile as Janelle steps in front of him.

"I thought it was you," she says breathlessly, smiling.

"It's me, sweetheart," he replies, the term of endearment rolling off his tongue like it used to. He stops himself from hugging her, however. "Look at you. Looks like you finally did lose some weight."

Janelle rolls her eyes before observing, "I haven't seen you in forever."

Lee swallows. Maybe she doesn't know. Maybe she thinks he and her dad are still the best of friends and they regularly meet to bullshit and laugh and get on each other's fucking nerves.

"I've been busy," he lies. "What with the physical therapy, and now this promotion. Being a regional manager is just as hard as being a principal. I don't know who are bigger pieces of shit, high school students, customers, or corporate."

Janelle glances down at his gloved hand and he frowns.

"But do you like your job?" she asks instead.

"Course I do. I finally have a nice discount on shit I actually want to buy. You know how much I hated going to Staples."

Janelle smiles tightly and goes quiet, both very much aware that Lee has never stepped foot inside a Staples in his life. He hopes a friend of hers will pop up and whisk her away to Spencer's or Claire's or wherever the fuck teenage girls hang out in at a mall. But as the silence stretches towards awkwardness, he has no choice but to clear his throat.

"So, how's school?"

Fuck.

Janelle shrugs.

"It's okay," she admits. "The teachers aren't bad and I made some new friends. Wish Dad was still there, though."

Something in Lee's chest twists and he looks down at the sticky, outdated, and frankly ugly as shit tiles of the food court.

"Wish you were there, too."

Lee's head snaps up so fast he knows he'll have to make another visit to his acupuncturist soon. That twisty feeling in his chest tightens as he sees the wistful look on Janelle's face. He tries to offer a smile again but it feels uncomfortable on his face. Fuck. He used to be good at bullshit.

"You wouldn't want that," he insists. "Wouldn't want the other students being judgy pricks because you have an in with the principals, right?"

Janelle shrugs again. Lee has never been one for comforting but he feels a need to put his arm around her. He very nearly does until he remembers he's still holding a half-empty cup of tepid soda. And he's not about to bring his fucked up arm near her. Later, he'll wonder if this was one of those profound moments in a teenager's life where they could really use some guidance or understanding or even just some fucking acknowledgement. He has no idea because all he can bring himself to do is offer her his discount anytime she comes into his store. At this, she actually laughs.

"No offense, Uncle Lee," she says, wrinkling her nose, "but your store isn't really my style."

"Oh, and this is?" he asks, motioning at her outfit with the soda. She laughs again. Lee relaxes. This is easy. This is familiar. "What'd you do, go dumpster diving at Goodwill?"

Janelle just shakes her head and rolls her eyes again, a smirk on her face. At least she gets his sense of humor. Suddenly, a voice calls her name and Lee turns to see three teenage girls heading their way. Thank God.

"I gotta go," she says. "We gotta catch a movie."

"Alright," he says and steps out of her way, allowing her to walk past him.

"See ya," she says over her shoulder. "I'll tell Dad you said hi."

"Yeah," Lee sighs as she rushes towards her friends. "Yeah, you tell him."

[damn-stark]

GOOD LAWDDD. after the last jjk episode i thought that at this point more heartache couldn’t faze me…and well if it isn’t the consequences of my own actions choosing to read this right after😀

As much as it would be nice to immediately get into just Jean and Cherry marrying, I LOVE SEEING HOW SHES NAVIGATING LIFE AT THIS POINT. starting a new chapter with her cousin, it’s good to see our girls having each others backs after so much loss. i imagine that when cherry touched back down in paradis mikasa greeted her with the biggest hug. them both healing with one another and helping each other at the same time.

also imagining mikasa probably calling jean some outta pocket names after cherry spilled what happened between them😭😭 how any cousin would react, “like yeah he’s going thru stuff too, i get that, BUT IS HE STUPID?”

as far as how this tackles the trauma and ptsd god it really hurts to see just how much worse things progressed after the war for cherry. the difference in her anger really stuck out to me especially, after reading and truly engrossing in the story, i couldn’t ever associate anger with cherry as a character. of course cherry can get angry, but it’s more so in situations of her being protective of those she loves. so to see her even go to the extent of yelling at Jean?? that said it all😕

Levi being nothing but supportive of her healing too??? DONT PLAY WITH ME I STARTED CRYING SO HARD😭

and you put that so perfectly in the writing. as hard as the war was, as horrendous as it was, it kind of was easier to “live” alongside the traumas and ptsd. with all the stuff they had to deal with it’s not like they had real time to really sit there and think and feel it through. it was easy to keep moving and not face the music. but now that it’s over…all of them have to go through a different kind of warfare, one that no training could possibly prepare anyone for.

i keep thinking about cherry’s promise to eren. how he wanted her to look after mika, but ALSO to live her life. her promise to him was a promise not only to her cousin but also to herself. also can’t say just how proud i am of her for going through this shit and handling it like a champ.

she knows that she needs to be better for herself. better to be able to live a life worthy of the sacrifices from all over her friends and family that have passed to give that opportunity to her. the only way to truly enjoy this peace that they literally bled and some have died for, she’s gotta rough it out. and she’s doing the work and also stood her ground to make sure she gave herself that chance to, and all POWER TO HER FOR IT.

but while she knows she needs to get better for her, she knows she needs to be better for Jean. her awareness of that proves and is a testament to just how much she loves him. she can’t stand being half of a friend and lover for him. she knows he also deserves better. and in order to be able to give him a love and relationship he deserves she knows she’s gotta put in the work to get better for it. and i truly hope that in the year gap of them being apart he’s come to realize that he’s one of the big motivations of her separating. rather than holding resentment for it.

also NOT THE BROTHER AND MOM REVEAL, my heart nearly dropped outta my ass😭😭 i’m terrified but also excited to see cherry finally meeting her older brothers? not sure if i trust marie😟…BUT i’m just wondering how the sibling dynamic will be, or if there will even be one? and how will they make up for lost time?

every word and piece of dialogue all contributed to the emotional impact of this chapter. you truly are doing the damn thing with the ending of the series, its all rolling out beautifully, and i hope you know that! you’ve done an amazing job as always author, see you next thursday💟

That JJK EPISODE BROKE ME!! But that’s why I cope with writing for Sugar sooo!

BUT having them break up was the best thing so she didn’t grow more angry and then later on resent him and become who her own father, Kenny, didn’t want her to become, an aimless person with no true life and who just spends their time angry.

She left to not get reminded of her trauma, and work to just heal with Mikasa…

And her mom and brother! I was excited for that part…AND THANK YOU!! YOUR WORDS REALLY MEAN SO MUCH TO ME!! They really motivate me to keep writing❤️❤️

[facultativeactivity]

Okay, reading back Discord from the time this was an issue, what really went down was this:

For a while I was using LibreOffice for my writing. For a while, it was causing an issue when text copypasted from Libre to Ao3's editor would develop weird formatting errors. Specifically, lines with italicized text and quatation marks had spaces in them that weren't supposed to be there. It was annoying but relatively easy to fix.

Then when trying to upload an especially long chapter, I noticed a new problem. After around half of the chapter, all my quotation marks that were at the start of the line, and some others as well, became italicized even they weren't supposed to be. This time the issue only affected the quotation marks themselves.

Again, annoying but easy to fix - or so I thought. After manually de-italicizing the quation marks that werent supposed to be in italics in Ao3's editor and clicked preview I saw that now most of my text got italicized for seemingly no reason.

Checking the affected line back in LibreOffice, I noticed that even though they showed up normally there, if I highlighted them, the toolbar showed them to be italicized, even thoigh they weren't. Like this:

Experimenting, I copied the text into Word as well, where, just like in Ao3, they appeared in italics. After that, I concluded that the issue must be with Libre, as it apparently somehow corrupted my text, normal lines to appear as italics outside of the editor. I was tired of the whole issue and decided to just move to Word since I had it on my coputer at the time anyway.

Later my laptop that had Windows on it broke and I had to switch to Ubuntu. And what's Ubuntu's built-in text editor? Yeah, LibreOffice. Nah, pal, I wasn't going to do that shit again. So for a while, I went to do my writing in GDocs.

Copying text from GDocs into Ao3, while it was less of a hassle, still caused some crap with formatting, mostly with aligning. That's where I became supicious that I might've been too harsh on Libre. After all it's a widely used open source alternative to Word, and nobody seemed to have encountered the same issue. Ao3 on the other hand seemed to had issues with multiple text editors that weren't Word, or its own native editor. I did some experimenting and noticed that copying text from Libre to various online text editors did not cause the issues I encountered, only if Ao3 was involved somewhere in the process.

The only anomlay I could not explain was why that one chapter seemed to got fucked on in Libre itself. It seemed t contradict all my other experiences. It was already a long time ago, and I remembered being pretty frustrated and sleep-deprived while dealing with this, so I decided I probably did something stupid, like copying back the corrupted text from Ao3's editor that caused it. It didin't really make a differenc for me, as I was mostly writing for Ao3, so I needed an editor that was at least mostly compatible with it, so I just silently apologized to Libre for probably being unjust to it, and kept using GDocs, than later went back to Word.

Only now, reading back on The Incident 1.75 years later did I finally manage to Connect The Dots:tm:

You see, I like reusing my OCs in different settings and stories, and also to collaborative stuff with writer friends, where we borrow each other's characters, or write (recursive) fanfiction to each other's works. This monstre chapter I had so much issue with was kinda special because of a segment that took place in its middle, that was meant to be as both a bit of self-indulgance and a gift to my friends.

It had one of my OCs touch and eldritch artifact that caused her to have some weird 'flashbacks' about events that never actually happened to her. At least not in *that* life. Those 'flashbacks' were pieces of dialoge from other stories featuring her different versions, written by both me and my friends.

And all of those lines were copied from Ao3.

So there, after all this time, mystery solved. LibreOffice can, in theory, fuck up your text, but according to my experience, it only happenes if the document has text copied from Ao3. Also if you write your story in Libre, and it have italicized quotes, Ao3 will almost certainly will mess up those lines. Otherwise it should be fine.

Not sure what's going on between the two, but my best bet is Toxic Yuri.

[d-dawgthechef89]

no more half measures.

"Um… I used to be a beat cop a long time ago. I’d get called on domestic disputes all the time. Hundreds, probably, over the years. But there was this one guy, this one piece of shit that I will never forget. Gordie. He looked like Bo Svenson. You remember him? Walking Tall? You don’t remember? … Anyway, big boy, 270, 280, but his wife–or whatever she was–his lady–was real small. Like a bird. Wrists like little branches. Anyway, my partner and I’d get called out there every weekend, and one of us would pull her aside and we’d say: “Come on, tonight’s the night we press charges.” And this wasn’t one of those deep down, he loves me setups. We got a lot of those, but not this. This girl was scared. She wasn’t going to cross him. No way, no how. Nothing we could do but pass her off to the EMT’s, put him in a car, drive him downtown, throw him in a drunk tank, he sleeps it off, next morning, out he goes. Back home. But one night, my partner’s out sick, and it’s just me. And the call comes in and it’s the usual crap. Broke her nose in the shower kind of thing. So I cuff him, put him in the car and away we go. Only that night we’re driving into town and this sideways asshole is in my back seat humming “Danny Boy.” And it just rubbed me wrong. So instead of left, I go right, out into nowhere. And I kneel him down and I put my revolver in his mouth and I told him, “This is it. This is how it ends.” And he’s crying, going to the bathroom all over himself. Swearing to God he’s going to leave her alone. Screaming–much as you can with a gun in your mouth. And I told him to be quiet, that I needed to think about what I was going to do here. And of course, he got quiet. Goes still and real quiet. Like a dog waiting for dinner scraps. And we just stood there for a while. Me acting like I’m thinking things over and Prince Charming kneeling in the dirt with shit in his pants. And after a few minutes, I took the gun out of his mouth and I say, “So help me, if you ever touch her again, I will such and such and such and such, and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.Uh huh. Of course. Just trying to do the right thing. But two weeks later, he killed her. Of course. Caved her head in with the base of a Waring blender. We got there, there was so much blood, you could taste the metal. Moral of the story is–I chose a half measure when I should have gone all the way. I’ll never make that mistake again. No more half measures"