#it's from about 30 they start getting mean

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 8564 tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation a/n: longer chapter woohoo, was gonna write after break but had so much inspo. wrote on my phone, so if there’s any typos, please ignore 🥹 series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

The nights haven’t been easy in the past couple of days. Mingled with a growing sense of anxiety added on top of your already heightened stress, your brain just can’t seem to shut off. You’ve tried melatonin and no more caffeine, but caffeine is ultimately getting you through the day and keeping you up when needed. In all honesty, you’ve already been struggling with sleep, but with the surprise meet with Suguru, dread’s been pooling in your stomach.

You have no doubt he spilled the beans. Hell, you would too if that was your best friend. You can only hope he somehow didn’t, though. A small part of you would be a little annoyed if he did, because again, he has no role in this. At least not a big one.

A sudden banging on your door jolts you upright, checking the clock and it’s not even 7:30 yet. Only one person could be demanding your presence so early. A heavy sigh leaves you, forcing your stiff muscles out of bed, wrapping yourself in a robe before trudging to the front door. When you peek through the peephole, your landlord stands there with an annoyed expression on his old face, foot tapping the ground in impatience.

“Bastard,” you mumble to yourself before opening the door. “Good morning, Mr. Sato.”

Seems he doesn’t have time for fake pleasantries, “Y/N, I’m assuming you saw the eviction note I left on your door yesterday morning.”

Unfortunately. “Yes, sir. I did.”

His arms cross, scratching at his greying mustache, “So, is it also safe to to assume you’ll have the money by next Friday?”

You sigh heavily, hand running through your hair. This is not how you wanted to start your morning. He was already making your life hell by suddenly raising your rent out of nowhere three months ago for so-called “renovations”. But you’ve yet to see any actual renovations being done. Not to mention, you’ve been bugging about your heater no longer working, and during this time of year, you and Koji are practically freezing to death. You had to buy a portable heater, small, but it gets the job done. Although it’s mainly in Koji’s room because you’d rather freeze than let him. “Look, Mr. Sato, I’m really trying here. I’m working hard to get the money, but please understand that—”

“Understand? I’ve been understanding, Y/N. I even applied last month’s rent to this month, just ‘cause of you.”

Of course, he’s gonna throw that in your face. Landlords seem to take their title so literally that if he didn’t have this much control over your space of safety, you would’ve ripped him a new one. Also, how could you forget that to even get him to agree to that plea deal, you were forced through an hour and a half of an uncomfortable, infuriating dinner with the man. Really, he’s not giving you much to work with here, but then again, you shouldn’t have had such high hopes. “I know, I know,” you reply, scratching at your roots. “I’ll have the money, okay?”

“You better,” he says gruffly. “Or I’m renting this unit to someone who can actually afford it. I’m hurting here too, you know?”

You huff. “Yeah, thanks.”

Without another word, you close the door in the man’s face, locking it. Leaning your back up against the hard surface, you close your eyes and will yourself to stay calm and positive. Counting back from ten and then back, a small tip your therapist showed you before your insurance no longer covered it. It’s okay. It’s only the start of the day, you have 20 something hours left. Now’s not the time to throw yourself a pity party and play woe is me. Now’s the time to just pick yourself up and move on. You’ll find a solution for the money, you always do.

Though this time, you can’t help but feel you’re really fucked.

I mean, you honestly have no idea how you’re going to come up with almost four thousand dollars in just a week. That sounds quite literally impossible in every single way. You get paid next week, but with taxes, you’re going home with maybe three thousand, so how will you get that extra thousand?

Unless some miracle decides to hit you, which almost never seems to happen. You used to think someone hoaxed you, or you were just born with the most unluckiest luck ever. Or, the more cynical thought you tend to have, you were fated to live a life in strict financial management, and hardships are constantly thrown at you left and right.

But hey, you’ve made it this far, right?

“No, I haven’t.”

“You what?!”

“I haven’t told him.”

“Y/N, what the fu–”

“Jesus Christ, I know, Hana. You don’t have to make me feel even more like shit.”

Your friend stops mid-way, eyeing your very displeased expression. She sighs and relents, slumping back in the small chair in the backroom of the cafe. She doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, letting your confession simmer and process. When she does, it’s an honest question. “But…why?”

Why. You feel like you’re staring to hate that damn word. “A lot of reasons, I know it’s not really justified, but I just…need someone to understand me for once. Not come at me for my dumb decisions.”

Your words feel bare and raw, not completely exposing the extent of the emotions you’ve been harboring, but enough to make her stop. Hana regards you with pursed lips, a hint of sadness in her eyes. Finally, she nods. “Okay, I won’t question you anymore. You have your reasons, and your reasons are always valid. So, I’m behind you on this. We stick together, remember?”

A hint of a smile forms on your lips, quietly thanking her. She comes forward to give you a hug, one you immediately reciprocate. Her auburn hair tickling your nostrils, arms seemingly tightening. “Don’t go holding things in anymore, I told you that. I’m here, to talk, listen, whatever.”

You and Hana met three years ago. She was just your co-worker at the time, now promoted to your manager. Although she’s two years younger than you, you two relate to a lot of things. Whether that be movies, food, what guys are hot, or alcohol. If anything, Hana might be your only friend in general. It’s a little sad, maybe, but at least you have someone to come to when you need to talk about adult issues your five-year-old wouldn’t be able to comprehend.

“I love you.” You find yourself muttering.

“I love you too, girl. Now, get out there, your break’s up.”

Jokingly scoffing and nudging her, you stand from the seat and do a quick stretch. Preparing yourself for yet another few hours of dreaded customer service and fake smiles, you walk out of the backroom, pushing the small curtains aside that separate the back from the counter, and clock back in.

“Cash or card?”

“Hello, how can I help you today?”

“Would that be all?”

“Have a nice day.”

Are all phrases any retail or customer service worker finds a little annoying, if not a lot. It’s so draining. And when the customers don’t greet you back, your pettiness shines through and you won’t even say have a good day to them when they’re leaving. Although, the job does have some upsides to it. For example, you get to make free coffees, take whatever pastries are left at the end of the day home, and the customers are never really bad. Of course, you have had a couple experiences, but nothing compared to a chain store. You’re even starting to use your customer service voice throughout the day, even when you’re not at work. Honestly, that’s not very good.

As you’re wiping up the counter, you feel a buzzing in your pocket. Taking your phone out, you see a set of numbers, an unsaved contact. You give Hana a quick glance, muttering a “just a sec”, before going back to the back to answer. “Hello?”

“Y/N?”

God, it’s gonna take some time getting used to his voice on the regular now. “Oh, Suguru. hey…uh–what’s up?”

There’s some shuffle on the other side like he’s adjusting the phone. “Are you busy right now?”

“Well, yes. I’m on the clock.”

He sighs, phone switching to his car output. “Where do you work? I’ll come now.”

“What?” you splutter out, head shaking. “No, Suguru, you can’t just pop out at my job. I’m busy, just tell me what you need right now.”

“I’m not sure I should.”

That statement alone scares you a bit. His cynicism always got on your nerves, but it also worried you from time to time. Most of the time, he didn’t mean any harm because that’s just how Suguru was, but it still did its job. Contemplation strikes through you. “Is it bad?”

He hesitates, which only further skyrockets your anticipation. “Honestly, it’s not too bad. But still, I need to talk to you.”

A breath emits from your lips, one you didn’t know you were holding. Eyes meeting the ceiling, you ponder over your decisions. Eventually, you come to a conclusion. “Fine, but it can’t be too long. I’m at Deja Brew, the cafe on–”

“On Express, got it. Be there in a bit.”

He’s hanging up before you even get a chance to question that he knew the cafe you worked at. If he did, surely he would have visited at least once, but you’ve never seen him come in. And you’re every day. Unless he usually comes when you’re not clocked in anymore. Anywho, you steel yourself for the inevitable conversation. Anticipating whatever bad or not-so-good news he'll give you.

“So.”

“Mm, this is good.” Suguru nods appreciatively, sipping from his coffee. You made it for him before he arrived, as a weird sort of gift to him. You two have situated yourself in a booth in the corner. Hana was a little confused as to why you were taking a break while you were on the clock, even regarding you with an almost scolding look. But the second she saw Suguru follow, her expression changed.

You practically saw the heart eyes form, smiling in a bashful way. That’s one thing you forgot about. The way girls would magnetize themselves towards the man, his best friend too. The two together were an almost deadly duo.

“Suguru,” you say, a hint of exasperation in your tone. “Please just…don’t stall anymore. Why did you want to see me?”

“Right,” he clears his throat, sitting up straighter. Once more, his steely gaze meets yours, you have to hold back the sudden urge to look away. “Like I said, it’s not terrible news, but not very good either.”

You nod, wanting him to just stop with the extraness and get to the point. “Okay, say it.”

“Satoru.” is the first thing he says, gauging your automatic grimace to his name. “He knows.”

Figures. “And you told him?”

He nods in response. You exhale, rubbing your face. “Suguru, why? I didn’t say you could.”

“I mean, I didn’t think I needed permission to tell my best friend he has a secret love child he hasn’t known about for five years, Y/N.” You hate when his voice gets like that, like you’re a school child who’s just been caught by her teacher for doing something she wasn’t supposed to. “Anywho, he knows. He wasn’t…very happy.”

You slowly ask, unsure if you’re ready to hear the answer. “What did he say?”

“More so what he did than said,” he pushes a stray strand of black hair out his eye and behind his ear, arms crossing. “He’s been quite easy to anger. I mean, I haven’t really talked to him because he’s not answering my calls, but I’ve been hearing from people at the office. He also kicked my ass out right after I told him. But that’s all I know at least, Nanami says he’s like a ticking time bomb.”

Jesus Christ. You don’t know what else you were expecting, you’re surprised he hasn’t done worse, but like Suguru said, that’s all he knows. His state is most likely a hundred times worse than what’s being thrown at you right now. You feel an intense guilt pool, mixing with a slight fear. “Did he…do anything else? Say anything?”

“I don’t know, he’s not talking to me right now.” Suguru concedes, leaning closer to you, brows furrowing in a seriousness. “Look, I’m not telling you this because I want you to feel worse, but I should let you know. He’s going to try and seek you out now that he knows about his son. You know that, right?”

Of course, you fucking know that. That’s what makes you scared, the possibility of somehow running across him in the most unsuspecting of places makes you want to stay holed up in your shitty apartment. “Yeah,” you gulp. “I figured.”

“I don’t know how he’ll react if–when–he does see you.” he honestly admits. “I just think you should reach out to him first, before he does it. I have his number, you should ca—”

“Stop.” you hold a hand up, eyes closing. “No more, I don’t want to be told what to do. I just…need some time processing everything right now.”

“Y/N–”

“Suguru,” your eyes open, staring at him dead on. “You seriously can’t expect me to jump from one thing to the next. I need fucking time to figure out what I’m gonna do. I’m already stressed as it is, now I have to worry about my son’s father possibly trying to reach out and that just sets me more on fucking edge. You come to my work, spring this on me, and I–” you’re rambling. Cutting yourself off in the middle of a sentence, choosing not to finish it. The last thing you need to do is rant to him. Besides, you’re just starting to see him again after seven years, that would absolutely put him in a weird place between comforting someone who was once his friend, and backing up his life-long best friend.

You jolt a bit when you feel a warm palm envelope your hand, his thumb gently rubbing across your knuckles. Looking back at him, he gives you an all too familiar look. One that can make you just pour out everything you’re feeling right at that second. It’s a horrifying technique he has. “I’m sorry. Really, I’m sorry. The last thing I want to do is make you feel like shit. I should’ve been more considerate. I’m sorry.” He apologizes with a soothing intonation. Again, it’s making you feel warm. “It’s a hard situation, I could never know exactly what you’re going through. but…I care about you, Y/N. I always have, even without Satoru’s involvement. So, I’ll do better and not overwhelm you.”

Damn it, Suguru. Now you’re making me feel bad! Not trusting yourself with words, you meekly nod, slowly pulling your hand out his grasp. You miss the way his eyes dart down to his now empty grip, a small downward twitch to his lip that he expertly hides. “I should go back to work, I’m assuming you do too.” You stand on wobbly feet, giving him one last lingering gaze. “On the house, by the way….yeah, bye.”

Suguru watches you disappear behind the curtains, a small pit expanding in his gut. He pushes it away without thought, sighing to himself as he stands and exits the cafe. He walks down the sidewalk to his blacked out 2025 Mustang GT parked on the street. Getting in with a heavy head that’s full of all kinds of emotions. Some he doesn’t try to acknowledge, but the ones he does, it’s all worry and concern. He really doesn’t see how this situation can somehow turn around. Maybe you two will have a very mature and calm conversation when you cross paths.

He almost laughs to himself when he begins driving. Calm? Mature? Yeah, right. How do you have a calm conversation about hiding a kid for five years? Not to mention, you and Satoru are equally stubborn; it used to be so infuriating for him.

Suguru had patience, a lot of it actually. But you two tended to test that. Although, he would always forgive one of you the quickest. Cough, cough. You. It was like you had this weird thing about you that made the people around you just…like you.

His grip tightens on the wheel, biting his lip. He gets to a red light, thumb tapping on the material. Damn it all.

There’s a ringing that emits from the car’s speakers, looking at his touch screen to see the familiar name. Using this as a distraction, he answers. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Shoko’s voice sounds out. “Where are you? Thought you were paying for my lunch.”

He huffs, eyes rolling, and moving the car forward once the light turns green. “I never agreed to that.”

“Sure you did,” Shoko replies, exhaling a breath. She must be smoking. “Anyway, hurry up. I’m already waiting outside. I thought Satoru was coming, is he gonna be late again?”

Yeah, no. “I don’t think he’s coming anymore.”

“Why not?” Shoko asks.

Suguru exhales heavily, turning the street towards the meet-up spot with his friend. “Some shit happened, I don’t think he’s doing good.”

Shoko pauses, adjusting her phone in hand. “What happened?”

Suguru too stops, completely forgetting how Shoko has no idea about what has transpired in the past couple of days. “I’ll tell you when I see you.”

Satoru has never been surprised before, not technically. He’s a smart man with quick instincts and a good foresight, it’s like he can always tell when something is going to happen, before it happens. Even for birthday parties, his perception and people reading skills are great, he knows when someone’s lying or not telling the full truth.

In short, he knows a lot of things.

But, what he didn’t expect was for 1) even hearing your name ever again after the breakup, and 2) you have a son, his son. A son he had not one goddamn clue about. The only person who’s ever been able to throw him off his game is you.

Even back when you two dated, there were moments where you’d either say or do things that would make him pause for a second and think how unlikely that was of you. He knew you’d lie sometimes, small white lies weren’t foreign to him because he did it too. But, he never thought you’d deliberately keep something like this from him.

And to top it off, if Suguru never saw you by chance that day, would you have ever even told him?

Now that really fucking pisses him off.

When Satoru is mad, everyone else’s day is ruined. When he’s mad, you can see it in his face, his body, how he’s just barely holding himself back. It’s even more scary when Satoru is known as the laid-back, playful and unserious type of man. So when he’s mad, almost no one in the office wants to make him even angrier, let alone be around him.

He’s barely slept a total of ten hours within the past two days, mind keeping him awake. He’s trying to not imagine the image of you holding a boy who looks like him because he’s already broken one too many pairs of glasses and the thought alone makes him infuriated. He sees a blinding white flash of betrayal, hurt, confusion, and anger.

He doesn’t mean to take it out on his employees, but their feelings are not on his list of priorities.

He has a son.

A son who’s five, apparently.

Five whole years of being kept in the dark, not even being blessed with a smidge of information about his offspring. While he was off fucking women, having fun, dreading about taking over his father’s business, you were god knows where, changing fucking diapers and losing sleep. And for what? Were you that fucking scared to tell him?

Oh, he’s so going to rip you a new one when he sees you.

But, he’s still not sure if he wants to do that. Afraid of what might happen, he’d rather not blow up on you, but can you blame him if he does?

He just found out he has a secret love child from a woman he knew years ago and know he’s expected to act like everything is normal in this boring fucking meeting?

Not to mention, if his father finds out, he’s not sure what will happen. If anyone else finds out, for that matter. If anything, he needs to get a reign over this messy situation before he’s allowing anyone to know.

“Mr. Gojo? What do you think?”

At the sudden mention of his name, he snaps back into focus. Eyes flickering over to the bald-headed man who currently stands in front of the table of other withering men, the screen projector displaying a multitude of different statistical data. The man falters slightly, his grip tightening on the laser pointer as Gojo’s eyes land on him

Shit. He has no idea what they were even talking about. “About?” He clears his throat, appearing nonchalant, though the tight hold on the ballpoint pen says otherwise, the faint click of it opening and closing the only indication of his simmering irritation

The room feels colder, quieter.

The man clears his throat nervously. “The expansion plan... into the Asia-Pacific region. Whether you think it’s viable in the current climate.”

Gojo leans back in his chair, his posture relaxed, though his pen continues its faint, rhythmic clicks. His expression is unreadable, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he lets the silence stretch a moment too long. “And you need my opinion on this?” he says finally, his tone polite but tinged with condescension.

The bald man shifts on his feet, adjusting his glasses. “W-We... wanted your insight, given your, uh, experience overseeing the European division.”

“Right,” Gojo says, dragging the word out just enough to make the man squirm. He tilts his head, his icy blue eyes narrowing slightly. “Well, if I’d been paying attention, I’d probably say something about how overly cautious you all seem to be. But that’s just a guess.”

The bald man blanches, stammering, “O-Overly cautious? We’ve taken every factor into account—”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” Gojo cuts in smoothly, his voice softening just enough to disarm the growing panic in the man’s voice. “I’m just wondering if maybe all those ‘factors’ are holding you back. Are we leaders, or are we playing it safe like everyone else?” His eyes flicker briefly over the rest of the table, daring anyone to challenge him.

The bald man hesitates, then nods quickly, his nervous energy palpable. “Of course. You’re absolutely right, Mr. Gojo. I’ll revisit the projections to—”

“No need,” Gojo interrupts again, flashing a faint, humorless smile. “I trust you’ll figure it out. Unless you think I shouldn’t.”

The man practically trips over his words in an effort to assure him. “No, no, of course not. I’ll make the adjustments immediately.”

“Perfect,” Gojo says, the finality in his tone dismissing the topic entirely. He shifts his attention to the projector screen, the numbers and graphs blurring together as his thoughts drift.

The room eventually moves on, the hum of conversation resuming. But Gojo doesn’t miss the quick glances from across the table, the subtle unease lingering in the air.

He taps the pen against the table, his jaw tightening. It’s taking everything in him not to snap, not to let the weight of the fact that his ex-girlfriend is a filthy fucking person seep through the cracks.

Let them sweat. It’s the only thing keeping him entertained today.

The minute the awful meeting of ifs and hesitant decisions is over, he’s pushing out his chair, being the first one to leave the haunted room. It’s a bad mistake on his end, because his secretary, Aiko, is on his ass. “Mr. Gojo, your father is waiting for you in your office.”

Great, as if things couldn’t get any fucking better. He holds back a remark, gruffing out. “For?”

“He didn’t say, sir. He just wanted me to tell you to see him as soon as the meeting finished.”

He really, really doesn’t want to see his father right now. The two were too alike, constantly butting heads which only ended in a harsh set of insults being tossed around, mingled with occasional threats of “never passing the company down to someone as idiotic as you”. His father is bluffing, of course. He has no other person to pass it down to, with Satoru being the oldest and only son of his father’s. His long legs easily lead him to the doors of his office, to which he hesitates. Taking in a big breath, before opening the doors and closing them soon after. “What is it?” he asks, walking over to sit in his chair, leaning back comfortably.

His father, Yamato Gojo, the current CEO of the Gojo Group, who sits leisurely on the black leather coach stands up to position himself across from his son. Arms crossed and the permanently etched frown on his face. “Why didn’t you come to the dinner yesterday? There were very important people there you needed to meet. I texted and called you.”

Why didn’t he go? Can he really just say “sorry dad, I was stressing about this shithole I’ve found myself in”. No, he can’t. Instead, he shrugs and brushes his father off. “I was already busy.”

“Busy with what? What’s more important than networking?”

“A lot of things, actually.”

Yamato dislikes that answer quite a lot, frown seemingly deepening, regarding his son with another usual disapproving look. “Satoru, this is serious. They were expecting you and you embarrassed me. I won’t let this happen again, when I say you need to be somewhere, you be there. No if, ands, or buts. You’re pissing me off.”

How ironic of him to say that considering he’s having the exact same effect of Satoru. He isn’t scared of his father, hell no. But he does know to pick and choose his battles. And with the way his mind is completely scrambled right now, he forces himself to intake a huge breath of air. “Yeah, yeah. Fine, I’ll be there next time. Happy?”

“Only after you prove it.” Like father, like son. Satoru hates how his father always seems to want to get the last word in. But his father hates how he does the exact same.

Throughout the entirety of his shift, up until he clocks out of work and walks to his designated parking spot which houses his white 2025 Mercedes-Benz SL-Class. Driving back to his high rise penthouse on autopilot, his thoughts zeroed in on one person only. Or well, two people.

Satoru wasn’t ever sure he wanted to be a father. He knew it was expected of him, but so many people had such high expectations of him, it became exhausting. Too exhausting. Does he even have a right to call himself a father to a child he never knew, a child who probably doesn’t even know him?

His right hand reaches for his phone, calling a number without taking his eyes off the road. It answers on the first ring, but Satoru doesn’t give him the chance to respond. “Do you know where she lives?”

There’s a falter, hearing Suguru’s deep breath come out on the other end. “No, I don’t. And nice to hear from you too.”

“I don’t have time for your sarcasm right now.” He stops at a red light, using his left hand to rub the crease between his furrowed brows. “Do you know anything? Her number? Where she works? Where did you see her so I can go over?”

“Satoru, I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to go meet up with her again. You’re obviously not in the right mind space and I don’t want you two to—“

“I’ll argue with her all I want, I have that goddamn right to.” Satoru grits out, interrupting his friend before he has the chance to spew out more shit he’d rather not listen to right now. “Answer me.”

In Suguru’s mind, he knows if he gives Satoru even the tiniest bit of information regarding your whereabouts, he’ll storm over there and probably say things he doesn’t mean. Satoru tends to think emotionally in very dire situations, a bad habit of his. Still, although he knows his best friend should be angered by this situation, Suguru doesn’t want to involve himself. More than he has. After speaking with you, he’s come to the conclusion that you’ll reach out to Satoru soon. Considering the fact that he already knows. “I don’t know, I saw her at a grocery store, but she was just shopping.”

“Fuck,” Satoru groans, moving his car forward again. “Well how the hell do I—“

He’s cut off by a small vibrate to his phone, a message. When he looks down, the screen is overtaken by a new call coming in from Himari. Honestly, she’s the last person he wants to talk to right now.

“What’s wrong?” Suguru asks, after noticing the small beat of silence from the other end of the phone.

What isn’t wrong? “Gotta go, call you later.”

“Sat—“

Satoru ends the call, picking up the new one. “Hey.”

“Baby,” Himari’s light voice fills his ears, sighing in relief. “Can you come pick me up? I’m at the mall but the tires of my driver’s car popped.”

He’d rather not, but Satoru has found out that it’s been quite difficult to say no to his girlfriend. So, he puts his own internal and external battles to the side, making a right turn and exhaling. “The mall?”

“Yes, baby. Thank you so much.”

He hums back in response. “Be there in ten, wait outside.” Once again, he hangs up and a suffocating silence fills his car. Hands tightening around the wheel, he reels himself in with a big inhale, then exhales. He can’t show these sorts of emotions in front of the woman, for she’ll no doubt question and question about what’s wrong, which will then lead to an argument. He doesn’t need arguments.

As Satoru sees the mall in the distance, he’s overrun by the sudden determination. The determination to find you and meet his son.

“Just one more question, Koji. Then let’s eat dinner, how does that sound?”

The young boy groans in annoyance, the math work of simple addition problems laid out in front of him. He hates math, almost as much as you, excelling in other subjects like English and Art. “But Mama……” he drags the words out in a childish manner.

Plating two plates of tonkatsu chicken with curry, one plate smaller than the other, you turn to your son who now has a pout on his face. You resist the urge to pinch his cheeks. “You can do it, you did the other ones so well.”

Sitting next to him, you look over at his workbook. Just one more problem. It’s a problem consisting of three numbers, 5, 23, and 6. Simple in your eyes, but a disastrous monstrosity in the eyes of a five-year-old. “Mama will help you, okay?”

“Okay, Mama.” Koji grumbles, reluctantly grabbing his red pencil again.

Times like these you cherish. Sure, it’s mundane and not very exciting. But it’s the little things that matter most to you. Helping your kids with homework, helping them learn to ride a bike, tie their laces, it’s all wonderful experiences from your perspective. Proof of the fact that your chubby little baby isn’t very little anymore, growing into his own person. Although, the more he grows, the more he’s starting to resemble his father. It’s scary at times, when he looks at you and you get random flashbacks.

Eating dinner and washing up is another thing you love. After such a hectic day, you just want to unwind with your son. You had put in your PTO for the convenience store a month in advance; after a particularly hard month. Finishing at 5:00pm, like most people do, is a breath of fresh air.

You let Koji tire himself out in the tub, then the living room, to which he has Cars playing (his favorite movie at the time). He plays with his own small set of matching cars, while you sweep the kitchen. Your eyes flicker over to your phone that lays face up on the island, a bubbling sensation forming in your being, one of contemplation. You wonder to yourself, would you call Satoru? You know his number by heart, he most likely hasn’t changed it.

After the breakup, you cut off all contact with him and his friends, even choosing to get a new phone and new number, just to avoid any possibly drives of texting him, or to avoid him texting you. You quite literally wanted to erase every memory about him.

Kinda hard to do that when you’re raising his carbon copy.

After another blind minute, you pause your sweeping and grab your cellular device. You’re about to grab Suguru’s business card from your purse when a sudden question hits you.

How was he able to call you earlier at work if you had never given your number to him in the first place?

Your brows knit together while you come up with any possible solutions and reasoning to that thought, coming up blank. Seriously, how did he call you? Without thinking, you go to your recent calls, pressing the first one, and raising your phone to your ear.

It rings for about a second, before Suguru’s coaxing voice follows. “Hello?”

“How did you get my number?”

“What?”

“How did you get my number? I didn’t give it to you at the store.”

You can practically hear the way he’s trying to formulate an answer. Coming up with a shitty one. “I just…guessed.”

You say nothing, your eyes narrowing on a certain spot on the blank white walls of your kitchen.

Another second passes before he gives in, too easily. “Okay, okay. Look, I don’t want to sound creepy or anything but—“

“Were you stalking me?”

“What?! No! Of course not, Y/N. I’d never do that.”

“Then tell me how you got my number without me telling you.”

He sighs. “…I have a friend. He’s in the law enforcement and I…may have asked around. But before you get any ideas, I was worried. You just fell off the face of the Earth and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You can’t stop the huff that leaves you. Should you feel complimented that he went out of his own way to do all this or invaded? Maybe both. Honestly, you did that all for a reason. And he blatantly went behind yours, probably everyone’s, back to get some information on you in a shady way. Isn’t that illegal or something? “Suguru, when people do that, it doesn’t mean they want to be found.”

“I know, Y/N. But I was worried, so was Shoko and Satoru—“

“Does he know my number too?” You ask, already feeling your panic run up your veins, boy straightening into a stiff position.

“No, no, he doesn’t. Just me.” He quickly relieves you.

You guess that’s somewhat better. Although you still feel mildly annoyed at Suguru for what he did. “Is that all you know?” The way he doesn’t respond immediately makes you feel even more frustrated, jaw clenching.

“I….” He lets out a heavy breath. “No, it’s not.”

“What else do you fucking know?”

He winces at your now harsh tone of voice, though he knows it’s all expected. “It wasn’t on purpose, I just wanted your number, I swear. But when you’re looking for that kind of stuff, other things pop up like…address and…yeah.”

If only he could see your expression right now. “You know where I fucking live?”

“Yes, Y/N….”

Okay, now your privacy is very invaded. You have never really gotten angry with Suguru, let alone get into an argument. He always knew when to stop, what not to say to make someone else feel worse, but did he just get fucking dumb after all these years? “…are you serious?” You know he is, not even giving him the chance to answer your rhetorical question. “Fuck you, Suguru. I can’t believe you—you completely—I don’t even know what to tell you right now.”

You can hear the guilt in his voice, tone softening. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I had the best intentions, I was never going to visit you or call you without your specific permission to.”

“Did I give you permission to call me earlier?”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Exactly.” With another scoff, you bite your lip, picking the correct words to voice out. You wouldn’t say you’re a word vomit person, usually. But right now, you just feel…slightly weirded out. All this time, you thought you had solitude. But Suguru knew where you were this entire time? “Goodbye, Suguru.”

“Y/N, wai—“

“Don’t. If I need you, I’ll tell you. But right now I don’t want to speak to you.”

He pauses, feeling his gut tighten. Nonetheless, he nods and mutters. “Okay, I’ll give you space. Just please know I’m sorry and I really didn’t have bad intentions.”

Seems like this is the second time today he’s apologizing to you. You don’t like it. Without another word, you end the call, putting your phone back on the hard surface of the island. Jesus Christ. What the hell is going on, seriously?

One minute you’re stressing about getting evicted, then you have to worry about Satoru somehow running into you, and now you find out Suguru has just casually known your address all these years. Why is all of this deciding to be sprung on you all at once? Out of no where? The world must be punishing you for every unholy deed you’ve done in your life; it really doesn’t seem fair. At all. Can’t things just go right for once in your life? You just want to go at least a day without external stressors fucking you over in every way possible.

Of course, you’re unlucky. That’s just how things have always been for you. The universe has a twisted sense of humor, and you’re the punchline to every cruel joke. The thought of Suguru knowing your address sends a cold, uncomfortable shiver down your spine. What else does he know? What else has he been hiding?

The questions swirl in your mind, each one more suffocating than the last. You sit down heavily on the edge of your worn-out couch, its cushions sagging beneath you as though they, too, are tired of carrying your weight. You bury your face in your hands, the skin of your palms rough against your cheeks, and take a deep, shaky breath.

Satoru (and Suguru). Their names alone bring up a storm of emotions you can barely keep bottled up. You’ve worked so hard to keep them, and everything they represent, in the past. Yet here they are, forcing their way back into your life like unwelcome ghosts.

You glance at the stack of overdue bills on the coffee table, mocking you with their bold red lettering. As if you didn’t already know you were drowning. Maybe it’s time to stop fighting the tide.

You watch Koji focus on the bright screen, moving his toy cars in unison with the movie. Willing yourself to worry about the now, to convince yourself that you’re not done, that there’s still some fight left in you.

However, that seems to be proving harder each and every single day.

It’s a chilly, but sunny winter day. The sidewalk filled with other people going about their day. You’re wearing a black trenchcoat, along with a scarf. Hands stuffed into the pockets of your coat as little puffs of white air leave your mouth, a stark piece of evidence of how cold it is today. The heels of your shoes clacking down the concrete, making your way to the familiar cafe of Latte Lounge.

Saturdays are supposed to be happy days, a final breath of fresh air after the business of the weekdays prior. The day where people enjoy Mother Nature and what she has to offer, a day of sleeping in, a day of no responsibilities.

A woman like you has no Saturdays. It’s like every day is a cold, hard Monday.

You finally spot the cafe, its large, glass windows giving you a sneak peek to the liveliness that resides inside. Of course, most people do choose to go to cafes on Saturdays. Especially this early in the morning. Walking in, the small bell above the door dings. The workers behind the counter greet you; while you give them a half greeting back, your eyes scan the environment. It takes a few seconds, but you see Mr. Ito sitting at a table for two in the corner.

You prepare yourself with a heavy sigh, forcing your feet to maneuver you over to the man who smiles and stands once he sees you approaching. “Ms. Y/N, good morning.”

“Good morning.” You’re a little caught off guard when he takes the empty seat from across from him and pulls it out, a silent move of help. Sitting down, he pushes your chair in then walks back over to his own. He laces his fingers together on top of the table. “Get whatever you’d like, on me, remember?”

“Oh, I’m not very thirsty right now.”

“No, please. It’s my pleasure, especially for meeting with me so early this morning.”

A part of you wants to deny his niceness. But, he did cause you to lose money you could’ve still had to spare if you didn’t have to call in Sana to watch Koji. And well, coffee always makes you feel better. “Just an iced vanilla latte.”

He nods and stands up. “Great, I’ll be back.”

Watching him go up to the counter and order, you look back down at your lap. Koji misbehaving sounds odd, he’s always been an obedient kid. Of course he has his moments, but he understands when to listen and when to goof around. A few minutes later, Mr. Ito sits back down with two cups of coffee, sliding yours over to you. You thank him and sip. Hm, not too bad.

There’s a small silence that flows over you two as you taste your coffees, but you wait for him to speak first. He did schedule this little meeting, after all. He clears his throat. “So, Ms. Y/N, again thank you for meeting with me.”

You nod. “Of course, Mr. Ito. Anything for Koji.”

Mr. Ito smiles, his hand waving you off. “Oh please, call me Haruto.”

Already trying to get on a first name basis. Simply nodding again, you raise an eyebrow for him to continue.

“Anywho, like I said earlier this week, I have concerns about Koji’s behavior. You see, he’s had about six instances where he doesn’t listen to me when I say it’s time for silent reading time. I understand he’s a talkative child, but he usually does not act out like this. Would you happen to have any idea as to why he is behaving this way so suddenly?”

“No, I don’t. Koji listens well, and he hasn’t come to me specifically about getting in trouble.” You respond, lips pursing.

Mr. Ito nods in understanding. “I can assume so, but his behavior has started affecting his peers, as well.”

You sit up straighter in your chair. “In what way?”

“Well,” Mr. Ito tilts his head, seemingly recounting the times Koji has misbehaved. “The students who sit around him have started coming to me, complaining about how Koji doesn’t leave them alone. They feel as if he’s taking away from their learning.”

What? Not to mention that that sounds quite…interesting for other five year olds to say, but no way Koji has been that bad. Maybe it’s your bias as his parent, but this is brand new to you, very brand new. Even when he’s home, Koji always insists on doing his homework before playing or eating dinner. So really, you’re not sure how to react to this surge of new information about your own child. “I really don’t know, Mr. Ito. I mean, Koji is a great boy, he listens very well to me and the other adults in his life. I’m just as shocked as you are right now.”

Mr. Ito leans back in his chair, his lips curving into a faint, knowing smile. “I’m not doubting your parenting skills. Koji’s clearly a bright and energetic boy. Maybe too energetic for some of his classmates to handle.” His tone is light, but there’s an undercurrent there, something you can’t quite place. “It’s possible he’s just seeking attention in ways that might not be obvious at home.”

You nod slowly, though his words don’t sit right with you. Koji doesn’t come across as attention-seeking at all. If anything, he’s a bit reserved until he’s comfortable around someone. “I’ll talk to him tonight and see if I can figure out what’s going on. Maybe there’s more to this than meets the eye.”

“I’m sure you will,” Mr. Ito says, his smile deepening as he leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on the desk. The movement feels deliberate, like he’s closing some invisible gap between the two of you. “You’ve always struck me as a very attentive parent.”

The compliment lands awkwardly, and you find yourself straightening your back again, instinctively pulling away from his lingering gaze. “Thank you, Mr. Ito,” you say curtly, steering the conversation back to its purpose. “I just want to make sure Koji’s doing well and that his behavior isn’t affecting his classmates.”

“Of course,” he says smoothly, not missing a beat. “And I’m here to help however I can. We could even set up regular meetings if you’d like, to make sure we stay on the same page about Koji’s progress.”

“That won’t be necessary,” you say, your polite tone edging into firmness. “But I do appreciate the offer.”

His smile falters for a brief moment, but he quickly recovers, leaning back in his chair as though he hadn’t just been testing the waters. “Understood. Please, don’t hesitate to reach out if you ever need anything. My door is always open.”

You nod, feeling a distinct shift in the atmosphere—one you’re eager to step away from. “Well, are there any other concerns I should know about, Mr. Ito?”

He looks like he wants to say more, but decides against it. “No, Ms. Y/N. None at all, thank you for coming out.”

“Thank you for the coffee, have a nice day.” You reply, wasting no time in standing up, grabbing your drink in one hand and bag in the other. Though, his voice speaking again causes you to stop.

“Ms. Y/N,” Mr. Ito’s voice stops you just as you push your chair back. You glance at him over your shoulder, and there’s a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. “I really hope I didn’t come across as too forward earlier. I’m just...invested in making sure Koji has everything he needs to thrive.”

You offer a polite smile, settling the strap of your bag on your shoulder. “Of course, Mr. Ito. I appreciate that.”

He smiles, but there’s a pause before he continues. “It’s rare, you know, to see a parent as involved as you are. It’s refreshing.”

The compliment makes you pause, and you clutch your coffee cup a little tighter. “Well, Koji’s my world,” you reply simply, brushing off the remark.

“As he should be.” Mr. Ito leans back in his seat, his fingers lightly tapping the side of his own drink. “But I imagine that must get exhausting sometimes, especially since you seem to handle everything on your own.” His tone is casual, but there’s a softness to it, as if he’s inviting you to confide in him.

You blink, his words catching you off guard. Is he fishing for something? “It’s not always easy,” you admit cautiously, “but that’s just part of being a parent.”

“True,” he says with a small nod, his eyes lingering on you a moment too long. “Still, you shouldn’t hesitate to lean on the people around you when you need to. It’s not a sign of weakness, you know.”

You stiffen slightly, unsure how to interpret his words. They seem innocuous enough, but the way his gaze flickers toward you feels... calculated. “I manage just fine, thank you,” you reply, keeping your tone light but firm.

“Of course,” he says smoothly, raising his hands slightly as if to placate you. “You strike me as someone who handles things with grace. It’s admirable.”

You glance at your watch, eager to end the conversation. “Well, I should get going. I’ll talk to Koji about everything we discussed.”

“Of course.” Mr. Ito stands as you do, his smile as steady as ever. “Thank you again for meeting me. And...if you ever want to talk more, even just about life in general, I’d be happy to listen.”

His words hang in the air for a moment, and you force another polite smile. “Thank you, Mr. Ito. Have a good day.”

“I can walk you to your car, I’m heading out as well.” He quickly suggests.

You shake your head almost instantly, smile feeling more narrow. “No need, thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Quite sure.”

“But I—“

“Thank you again, but I really must go.” You cut him off, feeling your patience run thin and the desire to be cordial and polite stretching too much. You nod stiffly and turn around to briskly walk out the cafe. However, just as you do so, you collide into something, or someone.

Your open-lidded coffee fumbles a bit in your hand, quickly steadying it. Though it does manage to stain the white shirt of the person you just bumped into. Just great. You hold back a wince and apologize. “I’m really sorry, I wasn’t—“

Your words leave you, your breath feeling like it’s been stolen straight from your chest. Every hair on your body stands up straight, your heart falling straight to your ass like you’ve just hit the biggest drop on a rollercoaster. You know that feeling when you question if something is real or not, pleading with yourself and every deity watching that it’s not? Well, that’s exactly how you feel right now.

It feels like a spotlight has been shone on you without your consent and you suddenly want to throw up. Because as your eyes have moved up to profusely apologize to the stranger, a bucket of water filled with nostalgia and past memories drowns you.

The bright blue, unmistakable irides stare back down at you. A million memories play on repeat, but one thing’s for certain.

The past has never felt so close, and you suddenly want to erase it all and scream.

a/n: the dreaded reunion is here! thank you for reading and the tremendous support! <3 stay tuned for next chap, sorry if yall thought these two were boring, chapter 3 will be getting more into it

taglist: @celestialforce @theclassbookworm @tbzzluvr @uhenivid @ofkilljoysandslytherins @sadmonke @bunheadusa @shartnart1 @lady-of-blossoms @itsinherited @duooy @ari-sa @dakotali @mew4-ever18 @iv-vee @devils-blackrose @a-girl-with-thoughts

[logoleptic-since-06]

Every Corner of This House is Haunted

Pairing: Kento Nanami x Fem!Reader Content: Fem!Reader, Marriage in Crisis, Angst, Reader and Nanami are in their 30s, Not Proofread

Chapter I ■ Chapter II ■ Chapter III

“I want a divorce.”

The silence after you utter those words pierces through your mind, making you second guess your comment. You don’t want to repeat them, afraid the next time you say the words, you won’t even mean it. Kento simply continues driving, pretending like you never spoke. Anxiety blooms in your chest, so tightening you almost feel as though you can’t breathe.

Once you reach your apartment building and get on the elevator, you give into your nerves.

“Kento,” you call.

He looks up from his phone. “Hm?”

You push back the tears that are so desperate to come out of your eyes. “You heard me.” Your voice is barely a whisper. The elevator rings and he steps out into your penthouse. 

“Kento!” you finally shout.

He turns around with a stern expression masking his face. “What?”

“Please.”

“You’re being ridiculous. There’s no need for you to say something like that.”

Letting out an exasperated scoff, you hear your voice break as you speak. “You cannot possibly be saying that, Kento, when you damn fucking well know we haven’t even talked in ages.”

“Yes, we have,” he claims calmly.

“No, Kento, we haven’t. And see this is the issue– you don’t even realise we may be drifting apart.”

“We aren’t drifting apart.”

“Stop invalidating me like that!” you snap. “You think you’re so mature and you know every fucking thing when in reality you’ve grown emotionally unavailable. You only talk about work, we never go out on dates, and when was the last time you kissed me Kento?”

His demeanour shifts slightly, which makes you wonder if he realises his faults.

“We are both busy, my love.”

“Too busy to even see each other?”

He sighs. “You’re right. I have been neglecting you.” He comes forwards and touches your arms. “How about you give me a chance? Let me take you out on a date tomorrow.”

You look into his eyes, the same ones you fell in love with so many years ago, the ones that feel like an ocean you can happily drown in. He pulls you into a hug and you melt, his arms both your greatest kryptonite and strongest warrior. How could you ever leave him?

“I’m sorry, my love,” he says, his voice as soft as ever. “I’ll make it right, I promise. Be ready at 7pm tomorrow, okay?”

–

The next day rolls in in a matter of moments. As Kento sits behind his desk at his office with his thoughts laminated with guilt, his mind replays the moments you said you wanted a divorce. He had felt his life flash before his eyes, like someone ripped his heart apart from his ribcage. Had he been so blinded by ambition and competence that he forgot to consider the feelings of the reason he breathes?

“Sir?” the voice of his assistant breaks him away from his thoughts.

“Yes?”

“The clients are here, the meeting can start now.”

–

Hours pass in the meeting, but eventually, the deal is finalized. Kento returns to his cabin and relaxes into his chair, satisfied with himself. Stretching out his arms, he finally peeks into his phone that seems to be flooded with notifications from you. Why would you send him so many–

Oh.

Fuck.

He checks the time. It’s 9:42 PM. The meeting had taken longer than it should have. But worst of all, he had forgotten about the plans with you. With shaking hands, he sprints out of his office, maniacally driving to your place.

He stumbles out of the elevator. “Y/N,” he calls out. “I’m so sorry for being late, my love, I was occupied with very important clients.” He goes up to your bedroom and opens the door, expecting to find you there.

“Y/N?” he calls out again when he doesn’t. His heart almost leaps out of his chest as he hysterically moves around the house, shouting out your name and calling your phone. All to only be responded with nothing. 

You were gone.

A/N: Sorry, I was feeling a little silly. 🤭

[sturniolo04]

No Nut November M.S.

Bf!Matt x Gf!Fem!Reader

A/N: If you don't like the preadded name in my stories, you can either add your own name or not read it; it's up to you :)

A/n: in honor of it being November 30 we’re not gonna talk about how I’m late to the party!

dividers: @bernardsbendystraws

You and matt knew this was coming. you guys do it you every year and every year you two never get through the 30 days. Which brings you to now, November 1st.

"baby we have to make it the full 30 this year"

matt groans out to you as you are leaning on your tippy toes hugging him as he allows his palms to rest on your ass. The first not so smart move he made

"hey thats not my fault you couldnt keep it in your pants on day 26"

you retaliate as you huff out leaning your head back as matt rolls his eyes at the memory.

" okay yeah i know but seriously this year because the last thing I need is for Chris to rub it in my face that he has more self control sexually than me with Brynn"

he groans out as you giggle at his reaction.

"baby what do yu think of this outfit"

you state as you let in into the dressing room with you after putting on the outfit.

"it looks good"

matt simply states back to you admiring you as you check yourself out in the dressing room mirror. Matt had been already genuinely struggling with this whole no sex , no getting himself off even thing for the whole month, why? Simple he has a girlfriend that he cant keep his hands off of and keeping his hands off has proven to be his downfall each year.

"c'mere"

matt simply states needing something to relieve the pressure that he knew was building up. You turn to look at him as he carefully grabs your hand and pulls you over to him as you sit down on his lap, not thinking too much of it because he is your boyfriend right

"Matthewww"

you gasp quietly not trying to be too loud since you two were in the dressing room still. Looking at him giggling you ultimately feeling the problem.

"i knoww"

he groans out allowing his head to lean against the wall. of the dressing room.

"its only day 15 babe come on get up"

you giggle standing up off of his lap as he quickly places his hands over his lap.

"in a minute i have to wait for this to go away"

he groans out with his head still leaning back fluttering his eyes closed.

"how long is that going to take we are in the dressing room and we have to go home"

you ask knowing it takes him and his friend a good 20 minutes to get it together.

"i dont know it's starting to hurt"

he huffs out exhaling deeply looking up at you.

"just tuck it or something"

you giggle at yourself even having to say that sentence to him as he complies.

"Babyy go put some pants on"

you whine out realizing he must have taken his pajama pants off in the middle of the night probably getting hot to be only left in his calvin kleins. You were starting to feel on edge already which you tend to be in the morning.

"why"

matt smirks knowing exactly why as he begins to stretch to go take a shower.

"dude seriously the fuck you mean why"

you whine out.

"babe im going to take a shower so I don't need them on and I'm eventually not going to need these on either"

matt states referring to his underwear as your face flushes with a shade of pink as the mental image you just got immediately reaching for the pillow you were laying on screaming into it.

"Dude you need to handle that"

chris chuckles as matt finally makes his way out from his room only dressed in freshlove sweatpants.

"i cant"

matt huffs out looking down to see the problem area running a frustrated hand through his messy bed head from his nap.

" im fully convinced you get horny every hour of the day"

chris chuckles seeming to not have the same struggle as his older brother.

"well no shit dumb ass you and brynn like never made it to that base yet"

matt huffs crossing his arms.

"Matt Chris"

you shout coming downstairs from Nick's room running up to matt and jumping up in his arms.

"hey my love"

matt greets you as he catches you his palms landing on your ass as you were clothed in navy blue nike pro shorts and the corresponding fresh love hoodie that you swiped from him that match the sweatpants he was currently wearing.

" what are you guys talking about"

you question the pair as you rest your head on matt's shoulder.

"oh nothing just how your boyfriend gets horny every single hour of everyday"

chris laughs out as you look at matt with his check flushed with a deep shade of pink.

"shut the fuck up"

matt groans out as he leans down with you still in his arms.

"dont drop me"

you squeal out tightening your grip around his neck

“God i would never’

Matt groans out as your ass slightly rubs up against him.

“Oh my goodness Matthew”

You giggle leaning you head in the crook of his neck leaving a loving kiss on his shoulder.

“What movie are we watching love birds”

Nick asks as you all are in the living room having your normal Friday movie night.

“I have no clue we could watch back to the future or something”

Chris suggests as brynn his girlfriend sits down next to him with their designated blanket.

“That’s fine with me where is your lover”

Nick chuckles asking Matt.

“Right here I had to change into comfortable clothes”

You states sighing you walk into the common space closing the bathroom door behind you as you begin to walk over in your pajama shorts to take your spot next to your boyfriend on the couch.

“Do we need a blanket”

You ask Matt softly as he places a loving grip on you bare thigh as Nick and Chris bicker about what movie we should watch tonight. Matt secretly loves that you decided to wear your pajama shorts already feeling the sudden tightness in his plaid pajama pants from how perfect the bottoms showcase, your hips and ass.

“ baby’

You question him again when you didn’t get a response. Matt quickly shifts his gaze towards you to make eye contact snapping him out of what it looked like a moment of deep thought from what you could read from his given facial expression.

“ you Okay”

You  ask as he lets out a deep sigh. Matt, finally, giving up and beginning to act on his intrusive thoughts, stand up from the couch, grabbing you by the waist and throwing you over his shoulder with his tattooed, arms tightly gripping your thighs 

“ Matthewww where are we going”

You squeal out from the sudden action Play fully kicking your feet 

“ chris’ you win I give up “

Matt quickly rushes out as he begins to walk towards his in your shared bedroom in the house. it was safe to say that you two decided not to put yourself through the November challenge ever again 

Taglist

@mintsturniolo @wh0resstuff @emely9274 @ksturnz @spicymuffins03 @dirtylittleheart333 @stayingstromboli

[hybridhideoutstory]

CHAPTER 3

The first place Payton was that morning was in the hideout kitchen with Pattie at 6:30 sharp. The two of them were starting their punishment of the day after attempting to eliminate each other off the Hideout’s registry. Today the two of them were washing every dish left behind by the hybrids during breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert. This was all basically 6:30am to 10:00pm, the only difference over the course of the day was what they had to clean off the plates. 

Payton had to wear a heavy and thick bonnet as to not get their purple paint hair wet, even if their horns poked out of it uncomfortably. They also had bright yellow rubber gloves that went up to their forearms. They wore a dirty apron that went down to their knees and the thickest clothes the hideout had in their supplies. They were sweating bullets, but instead of just looking shiny and smelling like rotten fish they started to look like a splash of rainbow colors and reeked of expo markers. Apparently their sweat had to be watercolor paint, of course it was. All Pattie had to wear was gloves, a hair net, and an apron over her normal clothes. Safe to say she didn’t understand Payton’s complaints about the heat. 

Their body was still aching from fight yesterday. They felt like they were going to fall over from the heat and the pain combined. 

Sometime in late evening one of the workers returned home early so Pattie and Payton were asked to run one of the cashier positions. It wasn’t much of a cashier as in collecting money, it was more like just take the order and tell the cooks. Pattie basically forced Payton to run it because according to her she couldn’t “do math” even if math wasn’t involved. That was fine by Payton, at least they weren’t at risk of death by wet. About ten minutes before they could go back to their room that evening a kid walked up to the counter and placed his arm smugly over the table like he owned the place.

“Good evening juvenile hybrid” 

“Wow… good to meet you too what the hell is your order…” 

The kid looked like an adolescent anthropomorphic Dumbo. He had the same ears of an elephant and teeth that stuck out of his mouth like tusks. He wore a red T-shirt and cargo shorts with so many pockets that Payton envied him. 

“I don’t want anything to eat really, just want you to know that this is what happens when ladies like you try to act like boys.”

“… what…”

“I mean, they put you two on dishwashing duties today for a reason! 

Payton stood there in a stunned silence for a moment “Um… sir, I’m not a woman 

“Oh so your one of those girls.” 

“What?”

“One of those girls who think they aren’t a girl, well that’s not what biology says. You girls gotta learn that your gender depends on what’s in your pants, not just something you can change Willy nilly for attention. Enjoy washing those dishes because I assume this punishment is going to happen again if you don’t fix your act. Good day young lady!” And just like that he walked away. 

“Who was that punk?” Pattie shouted from the back. 

“I- I don’t know. I’ve been here for like two days.” 

“I bet it was that Lucas kid” she said with a small amount of cheer

“Who?” 

“Lucas! Him and his sister are always tryna start fights in this place. They’re discourse hybrids.”

“Discourse hybrids? Wait wait so do the make people fight each other?” 

“Better, they make groups a people fight. They basically cause civil war. Which is awesome because it means more pain!” 

“Oh so you just like when people are in pain?” 

“Well yeah! I’m the pain hybrid! It’s all I do!” Pattie proclaimed with pride. 

“Well isn’t it lovely that we know each other” Payton said sarcastically. 

That night as Payton was sitting in bed they kept thinking about that Lucas kid and his apparent sister. What really bothered them was what Lucas said to them. His logic wasn’t much different than their parents, which was probably why it had really gotten under their skin. Whatever biology textbook he read certainly didn’t matter anymore, no one in the hideout was even fully human, that’s why they were there anyway! At least their gender, according to his logic, was “yellow paint” and not “girl”. That made them feel a little better. 

The next day was finally a day were they could do what they want, free of tours and chores. They took the elevator to areas they assumed Omf never had the time to show them because they had go beaten half ways through. They took a major liking to the art studio. It was gorgeous. Kids were quiet and mostly just listening to music while doing crafts, painting, sketching, and anything that could be a creative outlet. They sat on a table with another kid and set up their canvas. Now, what they really wanted to test was if they could paint with their tail. It was pretty wide but not to large, it was manageable. The sky blue color the studio had was amazing, not only was the color vibrant and exactly what they wanted, it also tasted like sweet cotton candy. 

“Excuse me?” Said the girl at the table. She looked to be the same age as Payton. She wore a blue turtleneck And had long brown hair. She had the ears of a donkey which made Payton think maybe she was the gold  hybrid or something, they knew some things about Greek mythology despite their Christian upbringing. The girl stared at her. 

“Are you enforcing the stereotype that art kids are gay?” She said with a hint of self righteousness 

“What? No? I just like to paint. It’s always been a pastime of mine.” 

“I don’t believe you.”

“Oh my god…” 

“HEY! That’s offensive to some Christian hybrids here who might not feel comfortable with you using the lords name in vain!”

“But…”

“No buts! I’m going to have to make a peaceful protest against you!” The donkey girl grabbed a nearby can of purple paint and dumped it onto Payton’s head. Their clothes weren’t stained as their body basically started to absorb it, but the extra paint caused their hair to suddenly grow really long. They hated that. Suddenly they heard a voice they recognized. 

“Good one sis!” Said Lucas, who was standing at the side of the table the whole time. “You really got her good.” 

“Hey, at least I’m peaceful about my views.”

Lucas sat down next to his sister. “Did ya know my sister Lela is an excellent hair stylist?” He asked Payton. “Of course, we couldn’t go too short, didn’t want you to look too boyish.” 

Payton could feel their body boiling, literally, the paint was bubbling off their skin. They got of from their seat and stormed out of the studio. 

Omf spotted Payton in the lobby of the hideout.

“Hey Pay Pay! :]>” he exclaimed. “Woah, where did you get the reverse haircut? :]” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” They stomped their foot. 

“Hey, your obviously grumpy stumpy on something! Why don’t ya tell me? I can keep secrets.” 

“It’s the discourse hybrids.”

His jaw would’ve fell off his face if it wasn’t attached to his face. “Sugar-cookie >:[, those guys are so rude to everyone for no reason! No wonder your so cranky!”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Maybe write it down in a journal?” Omf suggested. 

“OH MY GOSH!” Shouted Lela from across the lobby. Payton perked up in shock wondering how she and her brother got there so fast.

Lucas spoke up. “Are you really gonna journal? Didn’t you know that paper was invented in Foreign land? Not only that but it was invented in China! Which is a threat to our American civilization!”

“And!” Lela interjected. “Paper is made of trees! Do you support the countless trees that are constantly murdered so you can write your sorry little woes into a hideous journal? You! Paint person…”

“Paint girl…” Lucas stated mater of factly. 

“Right… you are one of the most offensive hybrids in this whole hideout! And everyone is going to know because I’m going to tell every one!” 

If Payton was bubbling before they were boiling by now. “What kind of nonsense reasoning are you just spitballing?! That makes no sense!” 

“It’s just facts!” The siblings said in unison. 

“THATS IT!” Payton screamed. “IM GONNA KILL YOU TWO!” 

“PAYTON!” Omf restrained them. “Please! Don’t let them get to you!  They’re trying to make you feel all angry and stuff!” 

Payton struggled against Omf while the siblings look on smugly, as if daring Payton to attack. 

“You’re really going to let these losers get away with nonsense?!” Payton shouted. 

“Please! I know it’s nonsense! That’s why you can’t give into it!” 

“Go on juvenile!” Egged on Lucas. “We all know your going to end up washing dishes again like a true lady!”

“SHUT! UP!” Payton growled. 

“You clearly plan on hurting my brother over here! I’m afraid I’m gonna have to rally up my friends and we’ll hold a peaceful protest to have you silently executed for your behavior. Don’t worry it’ll be an accident. I don’t do horrible stuff like that on purpose.” 

“YOU!…”

Omf covered their mouth before they could say anything that would get them cancelled by Lela. “Sorry fellow hideout residents!” He said apologetically. “Payton here is very new to the hideout and they are under a lot of stress! They don’t mean anything they say, it’s just the emotional pressure of it all!  I’m going to take them to a place where they can let go of all of that anger in a healthy way! Toodles! :]>” 

He quickly rushed them to the elevator.

Once he got Payton in the training dojo he let them go. 

“What’s wrong with you!? I was gonna give those two what they deserve!” 

“Payton no! You can go around solving everything with violence against others :[.”

“Says who your storybook?” 

“Payton :[,” he said pleadingly. “If you do what you think is the right thing in the moment your only going to make things worse for yourself. Your going to prove them right. That’s the worse thing you can do.” 

He grabbed a sword and pointed it to a dummy. 

“You see, this is how I take out my anger. I battle these dummies. Because they’re not real! They sure as heck can’t get hurt either. So what I do is just…” he sliced the dummies head clean off with the sword. “Let it out here. It might not work as well for you, but it works for me. So I think we should give it a try. How about That? :]” 

Payton looked at their hands, then back at Omf. They tried to think of the sharpest sword imaginable. The really wanted the nonsense to stop as soon as possible. They swung their hand and

Swish

Payton’s hand had sliced through the dummy like it was butter. 

“Woah!” Omf exclaimed. “Dude! Your hand turned into a super stelar sword! :0” 

“Yeah… I guess so. Can I go slice up the siblings with it now?” 

“NO NO NO NO! Absolutely not! That’s no way to handle this. Lets try slicing up a bunch of these dummies instead. Then if you feel better and apologize to the siblings for your behavior, I’ll put in a good word to Luna, okay?”

“Apologize?”

“I know, but it’ll make you better than those two, I promise.”

“Ugh. Fine.” Payton figured it would be nice to be on Luna’s good side after what happened yesterday. So they started slicing. 

Each dummy was like exterminating another one of their problems. The fact they would never see their family again? That dummy is gone. They’ll never see their friends and girlfriend again? That dummy looks like diced carrots now. They had to live with Lizard boy’s stupid and silly rules? That dummy isn’t even recognizable anymore. 

Even though they didn’t want to admit it, this massacre of potato sacks and stuffing was actually helpful. They felt like they were taking action. Even though they weren’t. Forty five minutes later they were sweating and perfectly relaxed. 

“So…” Omf approached them carefully. “How do you feel after all of… that…” 

“Okay I guess.” Payton said, out of breath. 

“I’m going to take that as a yes from you :]. In a few minutes I’m going to find Lela and Lucas so you can say sorry. Water?”

“NO!”

“Oh my gosh I’m sorry I’m sorry. I forgot. Hey, looks like you gave yourself a haircut too!” 

Payton looked in a mirror, sure enough, all the extra hair length they got from the bucket was gone. “Thank god.” They mumbled. 

A few moments later Payton found themself sitting at a cafeteria table with Omf, Lela, and Lucas. The siblings looked as smug as ever at the two of them. They were both expecting Payton to leap out and attack them. That meant they could become public enemy number one in the hideout, and that meant discourse would be high. “It’s going to be amazing” thought the siblings. 

“Well,” Omf broke the silence. “Tell them what you wanted to say.” 

“I’m sorry” Payton said. 

“WHAT?!” Both siblings shouted. 

“Look, I am under a lot of stress with being new and all, so I’m sorry if I offended you two. I’m just trying to do my best to comprehend everything.”

“But…” Lucas said. “You…” 

“Yeah I said some stuff I regret. And I’m sorry.” 

Lela perked up. “But your supposed to be mad…” 

“And I’m not.” 

Both of them were red in the face. “Yeah?” Lucas said. “I bet your parents don’t accept your pronoun nonsense!” 

“And I dealt with that feeling.” Payton said with a bit of pride. “I felt with all the feelings I’ve been experiencing over the past two days.” 

“But-.” 

Omf cut Lela off. “I think Payton got their point across. I think they need some time to themself now.” He turned to them, giddy and proud. “Let’s get you to your room :]” 

Now, Payton knew they didn’t mean any “sorry” that they said. Those kids probably deserved to be put In their place, but Payton didn’t do that. And for some reason, they felt good about that. They could’ve hurt those guys if they wanted to., but they didn’t. They didn’t allow themself to stoop down to a level that made them look just as bad as the siblings. Payton lounged in their bed. For some reason, they felt way more tired than usual. It was only 4PM, but they felt as tired as if it was 2 in the morning. “It’s probably the training.” They thought to themself. They then peacefully zoomed off to slumber. 

<<PREV (you are here) NEXT>>

[streamafterlaughter]

Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter VII: Choose Love or Sympathy

masterlist | playlist | pinboard | prev. | diaries coming soon

songs for this chapter: that’s what you get by paramore, xo by fall out boy, lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off, king for a day by pierce the veil

a/n: hear me when i say these two are absolutely in for it it. I'm also a huge fan of italics apparently

chapter tags: angst, hurt/comfort but then... hurt/no comfort (SORRY!), reader is a sensitive baby we love her, mean!Eddie, but also very sweet Eddie. swearing, smoking, drinking, reader struggles with self image / mental health (vague for now) | fic tags: angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU

DISCLAIMER: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. Unless otherwise stated, this is the only account that features and contains this work, and any replication was done without my consent. Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere. Reblog/comment/like to support the author! Join the tag list!

taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotine @xplrnowornever @taccobelle @micheledawn1975 @mewchiili @dreamerjj @losingmygrasponreality |

--

The weekend comes barreling towards you sooner than you’d have liked. You wake up Friday morning with a sense of dread, Robin’s words on a broken loop in your head: what you ‘know’ isn’t the whole goddamn story. Everyone keeps fucking saying that, but no one has actually told you what you “don’t know.”. Chris hasn’t given you a goddamn leg to stand on, speaking in riddles and never once confirming or denying a thing. You’re an adult, and you wish these fuckers would start treating you like one.

On your nightstand, your phone buzzes repeatedly, a string of incoming text messages:

bobbins: so,, ive smoked some weed bobbins: im cool now  bobbins: i still think there’s a lot we don’t know,, bobbins: but I’m sorry for insinuating you should forgive him. bobbins: i cant imagine how you felt that day. bobbins: i love u bb

You scramble to respond before she can get another five messages in,

it’s ok bob, i love u 2

The subject changes swiftly as she tosses questions about tonight at you one after the other. You send her pictures of your outfit choices, hairstyle ideas, personal protection list before finally asking her the question gnawing on your brain. 

What if he doesn’t like me?

Robin responds by calling you.

“Hi?”

“Don’t be stupid.” She starts, not letting you explain. “He asked you out, why wouldn’t he like you?!”

“I dunno! Maybe he’s just looking for a hookup. Maybe he thought I’d be easy?” The suggestion sounds silly coming out of your mouth, and you hear Robin scoff at you. 

“Look, if things start to stink, call me. Steve’s closing tonight, so he’ll be right down the street.”

You sigh into the receiver. “Okay, okay. You’re right, I’m probably worried for nothing.”

“Atta girl! Now go on, go headbang or whatever it is you people do.”

You snort as you say your goodbyes, and hang up the phone. Without Robin to distract you, you turn to the outfits you’ve spread out on your bed. Emo Nite is casual, sure, but you still want to look good. You decide on a pair of Tripp pants, adorned with metal hooks and chains, pairing it with an old Paramore shirt you cropped with kitchen scissors in high school. With your outfit out of the way, you sit at your vanity to do your makeup, extending your winged eyeliner a little further than you would on a normal day. When you’re done, your alarm clock reads 8:30, and you make your way to your car. 

–

9:15.

The lights of the city seem to dance across the sky. Everything is louder here, bustling with nightlife you could only dream of seeing in Hawkins. You’re standing outside the club alone, nursing the end of your last cigarette. Maybe he’s running late? You don’t have a single unread text from Scotty. You type several different messages of your own, deleting each one before settling on “You on your way?” But its delivery is never confirmed. It’s grown cold outside, and you wrap your flannel tighter around you to keep the wind out. You should have brought a jacket, but you weren’t expecting to be outside for this long. You can hear the first notes of an old favorite song, followed by a bunch of 20 somethings cheering. Patrons are dressed in black, clad in leather and fishnets, their combat booted feet stomping into the venue. Emo Nite is a nostalgia cash grab, you know that, but you’re envious of everyone setting foot inside, surrounded by their friends and peers, leaving you abandoned at the door. 

–

9:30.

The time taunts you from your phone screen. You’re waiting outside the club, the air brisk on your face. Every so often, the door swings open as someone enters or exits, and you turn to see if it’s someone for you. So far, none of them have been, and you’re debating whether or not to walk to the record store and ask Steve to hitch a ride back to his place to mope. 

“Hey, Bee!” The voice calling you isn’t the one you’re hoping to hear, but it’s just as familiar. You find its source across the street, Macy waving at you eagerly as her bandmates and fucking Eddie follow behind. Oh, right. Like being stood up isn’t humiliating enough, now Eddie gets to tease you about it. 

“What’re you doing out here, girl? It’s freezing!” Macy is sweet, holding your icy cheeks between her warm hands. You can tell she’s already had a few drinks.

“I’m, hm,” You clear your throat, “I’m waiting for someone.”

“A date? Eek! Hear that, Eds? Our girl has a date!” Her words send static through your veins. Since when are you anyone’s girl, let alone Munson and Macy’s?

“Mhm, okay, honey. Let’s go get you situated, yeah?” Eddie ushers her inside, handing her off to Fiona before returning to where you’re standing. Without a word, he lights a cigarette and offers it to you, and you take it without acknowledgement while he lights his own. After what seems like hours, the two of you choose to speak at the same time,

“How late is–” “Why did you–” “What?” “What?”

“You first,” Eddie gestures to you before pulling from his cigarette.

“Why did you tell Scotty to ask me out?” 

“What in the world makes you think I told him to ask you out?”

“Look, she’s gonna kill me for telling you this, but Robin overheard you in the bathroom talking to Scotty at the bar. She walked in by accident, and you two had come in before she could leave. Anyway, you know she can’t keep secrets for shit, so she told me what you said to him. Why?” You cross your arms, attempting to hold in as much body heat as possible,but to no avail. Eddie notices, and immediately sheds his jacket, not giving you a chance to refuse it as he drapes the leather over your shoulders. 

“I thought he was a cool dude. Thought you guys would hit it off.” His answer does nothing to satiate the hunger for every detail of every single thought that went through his brain up until this very moment. He is driving you fucking insane. “Hey, I bet I could get Macy to put you on the guestlist, so at least tonight won’t be a total waste?” Yet another peace offering from Eddie Munson. Hell must have frozen over.

He doesn’t wait for your approval before reaching into his inner jacket pocket of the coat that you have since put fully on to shield yourself from the wind, to grab his phone. After eagerly punching a few buttons, he holds the device up to his ear, plugging the other with his finger. “Hey, babe. I’m outside with Bee, Scott stood her up.” You can’t hear what Macy’s response is, but Eddie replies with, “You read my mind, honey. We’ll be in in a sec.” He ends the call and turns his attention back to you, his big brown eyes attempting, it seems, to read your mind. “You pissed?”

You shake your head, inhaling another drag of your cigarette. “Not really. Disappointed, I guess.” You pick at your cuticles, refusing to hold eye contact with Eddie, but that doesn’t stop him from boring his own into the top of your head; you can feel them penetrating your skull. “Could’a used the distraction.”

“Fancy me a distractor? Macy’s gonna be busy, I’m practically all by myself tonight.” You look up, and Eddie’s jutting his bottom lip out to pout at you. 

“You don’t mind being seen with me?” You tease, flicking ash onto the concrete. You can’t imagine Eddie actually wants you to agree to this offer.

“Why would I? When have I ever cared what people think of me? Especially these posers.” He gestures to you, and you fake offense.

“Posers?! I’ll have you know I have met some of the most authentic punks at places like this, you dweeb!” You toss your cigarette butt on the ground, stomping out the embers with your boot. 

“Sorry, sorry! I’m used to going to shows where people leave bloody. Not used to this side of the alternative Venn Diagram, I guess.” He flicks his own cigarette, mirroring your movements. “Shall we go inside?” You nod begrudgingly, and he opens the door to the club for you, stopping to give the bouncer your names.

–

The club is dark, expectedly. The lights flash shades of pink, purple, and blue as people dance and attempt to chat over the noise; and the whole scene is set to the music of your childhood and teen years. As Eddie leads you across the floor, you can feel your chest tighten, watching couples surrounding you, dancing or sloppily making out against the back wall. You let it sink in that you've been stood up. The first time in three years you’d even attempted to go on a date, and the guy didn’t even show up. You hum along to the song playing, a desperate plea for distraction from the situation in front of you. Meanwhile, Eddie leads you to a table away from the speakers, and shouts that he’ll be right back. You can only guess he’s off to wish his girlfriend luck.

While you wait, you observe the crowd around you, and it’s full of kids you knew in high school that used to bully you for liking this kind of music, dressed as caricatures with arm warmers and cheap chains dangling off their black skinny jeans. Conventionally attractive girls wear their eyeliner in heavy wings, their lips painted shades of dark red, dancing with boys in all black with long hair. You try not to think about what Scotty would have worn. You wonder if he even likes this kind of thing. Maybe it was a test, and you'd failed.

Just as you’re about to spiral into misery again, Eddie returns with two drinks in his hands. “You like shirleys, right? I wasn’t totally sure. I can go grab you something else if you want?” If you didn’t know any better, you would think Eddie was nervous.

“No, this is good. Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem!” He has to yell over the music.

“And, uh, thanks for hanging out with me. I know it’s like, the last thing you wanna be doing right now.”

Eddie takes a swig of his beer before responding, “Nah, definitely not the last thing. This is way better than listening to Steve talk about his latest conquest.” You picture the scenario, Eddie slamming his head against a wall while Steve goes on and on about Tracy, or Nicole, or whoever it is this week. The mental image makes you giggle, and Eddie’s smile seems to widen. It makes you uncomfortable, being so close to him. Luckily, though, you don’t get to think about it too long.

“Alright, alright! Thank you guys for comin’ out to hang with us! We have a guest for you tonight, please welcome Macy Miller, frontwoman of Statuesque Dolls!” The crowd cheers politely, these things never have people worth freaking out over. Macy takes the stage, clad in a silky black dress that hugs her form perfectly. Next to you, Eddie is whooping and hollering, “That’s my girl!” It makes your stomach churn. You’re reminded again that you’re supposed to be here on a date. You’re supposed to be someone’s girl. 

“Alright, I got a couple of songs for you guys, but I need all of you up and shaking some emo ass with me, got it?!” You can’t deny Macy knows how to work a crowd. She gets people to migrate to the dance floor, and Eddie offers his hand out. “Can I have this dance?”

“Um,” You hesitate to take his outstretched palm. “What about Macy?” You point lamely to where Macy is killing her cover of Fall Out Boy’s XO.

“What about her? It’s a dance, Bee. I’m not, like, asking you to sleep with me or some shit.” Eddie frowns at you, like you’ve offended him.

He does have a point, though. One dance won’t kill you. You accept his gesture, taking his own massive hand in yours, and hope to god he can’t tell that yours is sweating. He leads you to the dance floor, waving to Macy from the crowd as he does. There’s a burn in your stomach when she blows him a kiss, and he pretends to catch it in his mouth. You’re close to bailing when Eddie turns his attention back to you, clearing his throat.

You stare back at him, eyes wide with fear that he’s going to bail, and you prepare to tuck your tail between your legs and call Robin. Instead, Eddie takes your hand again, and yanks you into his embrace. You bump into his chest, but he recovers the fumble by holding you there, free arm resting hesitantly on your waist. You’re frozen, having no clue where to put your hands, so Eddie takes the lead. He drops the hand he’s holding on his shoulder, and moves your other to meet it on the other side. He then rests both his hands on your hips, giving you enough space between his body and yours to breathe, but barely.

The song continues, melodramatic and overtly horny. That, combined with the warmth of the drink in your veins, plus the closeness of Eddie, makes you feel almost good. It’s difficult not to overthink, though, having him in your personal space, your bodies pressed together on a very hot, crowded dance floor, moving in ways you definitely wouldn't have done three hours ago.

“So,” Eddie muses, looking anywhere but at you as he speaks, but still able to move in sync with you. “How’s your day goin’?”

You snicker at his poor attempt at conversation. “Well, I got stood up, and now I’m dancing with who I would have bet this morning wanted absolutely nothing to do with me. All things considered, I think it’s going pretty horribly!” 

The ice seems to crack as you speak, Eddie visibly relaxing as you sway to the music. “Okay, that’s fair. Are you pleasantly surprised?”

You look up at him, but his eyes are locked over your head, staring where Macy stands onstage, swaying with a few friends in front of the DJ booth. You shrug. “Jury’s still out.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes at you. After what feels like an eternity, the song ends and Macy queues another rock anthem to get the crowd moving again. You’re unmoving as Eddie unwraps himself from you. “We should do this again sometime.” He states, unreadable.

“What, dance?”

“Sure, or just, y'know, hang out. Be civil for once. It’s been awhile.”

You roll your eyes. “You know this can’t be, like, a normal thing. It bruises our reputation as sworn enemies.” A feeble attempt to make it a joke, though you know in your heart you can’t be friends with Eddie. The earth would cave in on itself. 

Eddie chuckles. “Whatever you say, Bee. See ya ‘round.” And he leaves you alone, disappearing into the crowd.

–

It’s 11:30 when your phone buzzes. You’re four drinks deep, stirring another dirty shirley at the bar, observing the people around you having fun.

Scotty A: Hey! Totally meant to text you. Got stuck at work.

An avalanche of thoughts rumbles through you, most of them not safe for work. You don’t even know how to respond. There’s no apology, no groveling for your forgiveness, not a hint of actual, real regret. Like you don’t matter. It exhausts you to even think of what that date would’ve been like had he shown up. You type your response between gulps of liquid courage.

“Are you fucking serious?”

The "..." bubble appears, but quickly vanishes. You gape at your phone, wishing you were home so you could let out the blood curdling scream building in your chest. The anger vibrating through you needs an escape, so you lurch from your seat at the bar, rushing quickly out of the club. Eddie whips his head around as you pass him. You think you hear him call your name, but your eyes have started stinging and he’s the last person you want to see you cry.

The night air hits you hard, bringing separate tears to your eyes. Following your therapist’s advice, you start a box breathing exercise. Breathe in, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. Breathe out, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. 

“Hey,” The voice startles you into a hiccup. “You okay?” Eddie has made his way outside after you, leaning against the wall. “Saw you dash outta there like something caught fire. Got worried.” He says it nonchalantly, and it takes you aback. Instead of responding, you flip your phone screen towards him. His eyes scan the page before they focus back on you, shaking his head. “That is so fucked up.”

Your voice breaks with your next question. “Did you know this was gonna happen? Scotty’s your friend.”

Eddie’s face drops into a grimace. “How would I have known? Why would I have told him to hit you up if I knew this was gonna happen?” 

It frustrates you how reasonable he’s being. You want someone to yell at, someone to blame, and Eddie just so happens to be the closest target. “I don’t know! Maybe you did it as revenge, or something equally as immature. Maybe you wanted me to feel the same way you did when–”

He interrupts, shaking his head feverishly. “I wouldn’t wish that feeling on anyone. Even you.” The words are a knife to your chest. You don’t like remembering what you did to Eddie that night, but it’s your fault for bringing it up. “I told Scotty to ask you out because he said he liked you. Crazy concept, I know, but i suggest you stop thinking everyone’s out to get you. I thought it would be fun, hanging out with you and him. I’m sorry it didn’t go how you planned, but blaming me isn’t fucking fair, Bee.”

He’s right, but you can’t bring yourself to back down. “It’s not fair to take someone’s brother away for six years, but you had no problem doing that.”

“Fuck you, Bee. Seriously.” He spits the words before turning on his heel, and heading inside. You are once again left alone, outside, in the cold.

–

[undercoverdonderwolk]

Honestly speaking I don't think Horner or Marko are making any decisions about the second driver situation in RBR anymore. It seems to me that whoever is in charge of RB now (the Thai side) made the call about the second seat, i.e. keep Checo, and Daniel was the biggest block, so they removed him. And Checo is appealing because of his backer - the Slim family, their money, and their influence in Mexico.

I don't think people understand Thai business operations and the sheer level of corruption. As soon as the rumours started that the Thai side won the power struggle in Red Bull I started worrying. Red Bull Thai owner is fucking powerful, there's a reason why his son Vorayuth Yoovidhya faced NO consequences for killing a police officer in a motor accident.

And if the rumours are true about the Thai side wanting to keep Checo in order to work with Carlos Slim that's more than enough to get rid of Daniel and ensure Checo stays. Carlos Slim Helú and his son Carlos Slim Domit have been invested in Checo's whole driving career. Hell, Carlos Slim Domit met Checo when the latter was 7 and he was in his 30s, their fathers are friends etc. The Slim family made a promise that they would get Checo to win F1, whatever the fuck that means.

Horner and Marko can say whatever they want, talk about this and that person's performance. And none of it matters because it is obvious RB ownership is making the calls.

What I'm curious about is the shareholders meeting. I think BOTH the Slims and the Thai owner are feeling the scrutiny a bit too much. F1 is an international sport, and no matter how powerful they are in their own country, they are now dealing with, well, they are dealing with America, and Checo's continual losing has led to way too much attention on them. And they DON'T want that.

So the shareholders meeting is going to be really interesting. I'm curious how much the Austrian side is going to push the Thai said to get something they might want. Because the Austrian side still owns 49% of the company, and losing the battle earlier in the year doesn't mean they have no power. They still have power, it is a question of what they want from the Thai side to maintain the peace. And let's not forget the fact Daniel, by all signs, is still technically a Red Bull Racing contracted employee. And that means he is still technically on the board to be used in this continuing internal war.

Anyways, sorry about the long babble. But I'm so fascinated by this whole thing.

you came through with the facts like hello you did your damn research!!! i love itttt. i've been trying not to post any of the essays i get in my asks but i love this one so i will happily make an exception for a fact checking queen (gn). slay what's your star sign.

[fizziepopangel]

A Fizziepop Take: Let’s talk about the next 100 years

Oh. My. God.

Did everyone watch what I just watched? Because I literally can’t right now! I swear to god my anxiety was so high from start to finish of this episode. Vivzie really did it with this one, because I was almost at a loss for words…. ALMOST. But the “Mastermind” episode was like a big beefy steak and potatoes smothered in gravy with a glass of wine; there’s just too much to sink my teeth into, starting with Stolas being stripped of his power, so let’s get into it.

WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD

“Stolas, I hereby strip you of your status, your power, and your title for the next hundred years.”

Stolas’ face after hearing that he was being stripped bare of his title was literally heartbreaking because Stolas is not only stripped of the title and the respect that came with it, or even just the power he’s grown accustomed to…. Stolas is stood in front of a group of his peers and stripped of everything he has ever known. Everything. His daughter, his home, everything is just suddenly off limits for him. And after living for the Goetia and only the Goetia for 30-something years, Stolas isn’t accustomed to living as a common type demon, especially a common type demon ranking as low as he is currently who has literally nothing. To go from a prince with a mansion and a daughter and a home to being basically having no one, being homeless, and having people throw things at you on the street is a BIG step. And with zero preparation for such a big change, it must have been the shock of a lifetime….. But then we get to the last bit of Satan’s punishment for him: “...for the next hundred years.” So it isn’t that bad, right? Ehhhhhhh….. 

Ok, so let’s really break it down and think about what exactly the hundred years could hold for the former Goetia prince.

Homelessness and potential poverty

Soooooo… I know that technically Blitz has taken Stolas in, but given the current state of their relationship, we can’t really be sure that will last. As a Stolitz fan myself, I was internally screaming when Blitz took him in and started caring for him because AHHHHHHHHH….. But Blitz also has a tendency to self-sabatoge relationships with the people he loves the most, and a long history of not being able to communicate wants, needs, or anything really outside of being drugged with a truth serum, being in a seriously life-threatening situations, or being on the tail end of a breakdown, and now with Stolas being in an even more vulnerable state than he was before, I’m not sure we’re going to be getting the full Stolitz comeback we all want quite yet… And that may mean Stolas not staying in Blitz’s apartment quite as long as he probably would have prior to the events of “The Full Moon” and “Apology Tour” since we see the prince trying to move past the relationship and into a new era of his life. We may also see him struggle financially if his assets are affected by this banishment, and from the loss of his title and home, I think there’s a good chance that that is the case. While I do see Blitz offering to make a place for Stolas at IMP, with his now limited powers and lack of experience in the workplace, and in hell as a common place demon, it may not be something that is completely feasible right now…. And that brings us to the 2nd thing we might see in upcoming episodes:

Falling back into bad habits

Despite the fandom’s love for Stolitz, I think we can all agree that while love did come of it eventually, Blitz was one of the prince’s bad habits in the beginning. Blitz, for Stolas, was a rebellion, a sort of ‘fuck you’ to the life he had planned out because of his place as demon royalty…. And now as a just a mere demon with no power and no status, things could go the complete opposite direction from what I mentioned earlier, and he may run right back to the familiarity of Blitz with no regard for whether there has been a change made on either of their parts or not, which could also set Blitz back since Stolas wouldn’t necessarily care if he was treating him better or not, so he might lose the motivation to want to be a better version of himself.  Both men need support outside of just each other, and while Blitz has it within his IMP family (as well as a lot of support from his community now), Stolas doesn’t.

Now, don’t get me wrong, M&M and Loona will more than likely step up to support Stolas in this time, if not solely for the fact of him being the man Blitz loves, because they all know that what Stolas did was something he didn’t technically have to do for them all, BUT  Stolas lost his title and (seemingly) access to everything relating to that, including his daughter who is arguably his only true family that we’ve seen since the flashback of him and his father when he was a literal child. Now, keep in mind that this man stayed in a relationship with someone who physically abused him, and tormented him mentally and emotionally for years, all for his daughter. Has he been the best dad? No, not by a long shot, but Loona does have a point in “Seeing Stars”, when she explains to Octavia that parenting is complicated and sometimes parents make mistakes despite loving their children…. We see how important his daughter is to him a lot throughout the show, and with what Andrealphus said about Octavia now solely being cared for by her  “wholesome parent” (*laughter*), we can pretty much guarantee that even if he wasn’t banned from seeing her, her mother and uncle would never allow it, and I think this will be something that could cause him to spiral, and possibly start picking up new bad habits, maybe even more harmful ones than we’ve seen him use to cope in the past.

Death

Stolas has had 2 attempts on his life that we know of so far… What’s to stop Stella from sending Striker back for him now? Technically she doesn’t need to, since her ex husband is unable to keep her from the fortune and power she and her brother had been after, but what better time to off him than when her daughter is still a minor and can’t take over his spot in the system of royalty, and he’s hated by so many people now?

She only has the next hundred years, and if she doesn’t do it now, she may lose th upper hand she has in this moment and she may not get another chance to have as much power as she has in this moment. But would Vivzie off Stolas? I don’t know, but she does everything for a reason in her shows, so we know she’s setting up for something big. Could it be another assassination attempt? Multiple attempts? More than just Striker going after him? It would be a good time to do it from the perspective of the characters, but would the death of a character so intertwined with the main protagonist of the series be a good idea? As a consumer of the content, I would literally be in tears at a death scene involving a character I’ve been allowed to get so attached to over the course of the series…. as a creator, someone who writes and enjoys the engagement that my content brings and enjoys creating the content I create, a major death like that would open up doors for plots that may not have been an option before and while it would shock the fandom, and while the fandom’s devastation could be catastrophic, it could all pull us further into the hell she’s created because we all love the characters still living and would all have a single question after seeing such a beloved character go: What comes next?

As a humble Fizziepop, I can’t say that I know what comes next, but after “Mastermind”, I can definitely say that I’ll be hoping for a more funny and light-hearted episode next time, but I’ll keep a box of tissues on standby incase Vivzie has another tear-jerking episode in store for us. What do you think the next hundred years might look like for Stolas? And what does everyone think will happen for the Stolitz ship?

[allwaswell16]

[4 pics, 4 quotes, 4 iconic 1D fics]

Iconic fics by ...

- alwaysxlarrie -

[1]

Sparks of euphoria shot through his veins, which made it very hard for him to refrain from making loud noises, such as shouting victoriously; he didn’t want to reagitate Harry’s migraine. He resigned to just give Harry a wide smile, poked his dimple, and told him he was happy to help, instead. It was a far cry from how he actually wanted to react, but. Such was life. 

As he peeked over at the dry erase board, he made a vow to, as long as he was able to, always have a sweet message written on it for Harry.

“you’ve got a smile that shines as bright as a full moon on a dark night. i hope you never run out of reasons to smile.”

[2]

When Harry goes back to the library a few hours later to see if he’d left his headphones on the table, he doesn’t end up finding them. Instead, he finds something much, much better. He finds a note from Louis and one of Louis’ hoodies. The note says ‘don’t worry, curly, i have your headphones! they’re safe and sound with me :) i’ll bring them to the next meeting, no worries. I got you xo’

So, no, Harry won’t be able to use his headphones for the next week. And yes, it will suck major ass. 

But. 

He’ll have Louis’ hoodie that’s absolutely magnificently coated in his delicious scent, a handwritten note from Louis, and him telling Harry that he’s got him. 

Harry knows that it can’t be love; it’s too early and too fast for it to be love, but. 

It’s definitely something.

[3]

Harry’s eyebrows furrow and he scratches the tip of his nose as he offers, “um, yes. That’s me. I’m sorry, have we met?”

The man bites his bottom lip as he shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so. I’m Louis, it’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, as well.” Harry reaches a hand out, figuring that even if he doesn’t know who this beautiful man is, it would be a felony to not offer his hand. In marriage. Or a formal handshake. Either or, really.

When their hands touch, a spark shoots up Harry’s hand straight to his spine, making him shiver. Louis seems to notice the effect their handshake has on Harry when he raises his eyebrow. After he squeezes his hand one last time, Louis releases it and puts his hands in his pockets.

[4]

“Do you have any fruits you want in it specifically, or are you okay with all of them going in?” Harry asked. His eyes were on Louis, and his fingers were already moving to open the tupperware with excited impatience.

“Honestly I’m sure whatever you decide to give me will be perfect, bub.” Louis assured him before winking and darting off, yelling to Niall that he wanted to get a few more minutes of practice in before they sat down for a proper snack. 

Harry’s fingers were trembling from the rush of adrenaline, scrambling to find the perfect pieces from each baggie to add to Louis’ little fruit salad; there couldn’t be any black seeds in the watermelon pieces, no brown on the apple slices, no wrinkly grapes, and none of the honeydew melon could be too hard. To Harry, the salad would be Louis’ introduction of how good of a friend and provider Harry could be, and therefore, it had to be perfect.

Answers below...

[1] i swear i could give you everything

Louis Tomlinson was not a morning person, so he really should have known better than to start leaving secret notes on coworker Harry Styles' desk before he arrived at the office at 7:30 each morning. But he did have to admit that hearing Harry's reaction everyday was definitely worth it. Not being a morning person might be his downfall in this situation, though. Talk about self sabotage.

[2] you give me feelings that i adore

Harry doesn’t mean to fall in love with Louis’ scent when they first meet after the Alpha joins Harry's study group, but after Harry leaves a sweater behind by accident and it comes back smelling like Louis, he can’t really help it. Nor can he really help continuing to leave his things behind in hopes that Louis will take them home and drench them in his wonderful, mouth-watering scent. He just has to hope Louis will play along.

Or, 5 times Louis scents Harry's things and the 1 time Harry returns the gesture.

[3] you are my destiny (you are the reason that i still believe)

Being a new employee at a company means that you have to learn to brush off the shitty bosses, shitty coworkers, and not getting the credit you actually deserve for things. At least, that's been Harry Styles' experience. Coworkers who steal his ideas in pursuit of getting praise and a raise, and a boss who's indifferent at best and condescending at worst. Harry has learned to expect this reality for the foreseeable future. He's accepted it.

What he hadn't expected was for Louis Tomlinson to waltz into their company, and his life, and change around everything he thought he knew about fate. -- A Cinderella AU.

[4] wanna wake up with you and say baby let's do it all over again

“Alright, I did some Googling and I think I’ve figured out what your thing is.” Niall announced as he walked into their kitchen.

“My thing?”

“Sorry, is that an offensive way to refer to it?”

“I mean, I don’t know. I’d probably be able to give you a better answer if I knew what you were talking about, though.”

“Harry, it’s okay. This is a safe space.”

“No, it’s not. You throw cheese puffs at me any time I walk around naked.”

“Okay.” Niall tilted his head in acknowledgement, then corrected himself. “It’s a safe space for things I deem acceptable.”

“Of course.” Harry rolled his eyes. “So, what’s the thing?”

“Your service,” Niall flailed his hands in the air for a few seconds, “thing.”

“My service,” Harry paused to mimic Niall’s hand movements, “thing?”

“Yes.”

[love-hold]

want to re-live some of the top moments from the wta 2024 season?

(all mentioned events from my wta poll)

1) blinkova v rybakina

so a second round match at the australian open, nothing out of the ordinary. rybakina, a slam favorite fresh after winning brisbane, is playing blinkova, unseeded. on paper, it should just be a straightforward match, right?

wrong. elena and anna gave us a 42 point tiebreak. 22-20: this was the longest tiebreak in grand slam history. elena saved 10 match points, anna saved 6. it took 30 mins. apparently in the same timeframe, ostapenko went 5-0 up during her match. if you have time, watch it now!

2) danielle collins versus everyone

2024 was a great year for danielle collins. she’s in no way a newcomer to the tour, in fact she announced that 2024 was her retirement year and as it happens, her record title year. she won miami. she took charleston. she had a 13 match winning streak. and she also stayed true to her no BS attitude.

from shutting down the press who questioned her plans for retirement, to challenging hecklers in the crowd, to just telling the truth as it is, danYELL “danimal” collins was a breath of fresh air. stan or dislike, we can all agree that she’s real and isn’t afraid at confrontation, and i personally admire that. oh and btw, even if she didn’t retire like she planned: she has every right to.

3) jelena ostapenko

jelena ostapenko is a player that some people hate due to her bratty, unsportsmanlike behavior and some people love because she’s incredibly intriguing. her on-court reactions constitute a highlight reel of their own (don’t get me started on her line calls) but i’ll just mention two: jelena ostapenko signaling to her box which team member has to leave and jelena ostapenko hitting a first serve at eastbourne during her match against boulter. enjoy!

4) naomi osaka’s post round 1 presser

the narratives of naomiga are a discussion of it’s own. i wonder what could’ve been if she didn’t draw iga: this is clay, naomi’s least favorite surface and this is clay, iga’s favorite surface and they played an absolutely insane match with naomi getting some chances, actually a chance—okay i’m getting off topic. enjoy this short clip of naomi’s press conference about her first round.

5) coco gauff and double faults: a love story

to a non-coco gauff fan, coco and her doubt fault percentage is objectively hilarious. as a coco gauff fan, coco and her doubt fault percentage makes me want to tear my hair out. tyler the creator really should’ve done some mild research before he associated coco with a stellar serve. her serving issue was year long but enjoy these three screenshots of mine i found in my camera roll.

6) qinwemma at the olympics

based on the poll, a majority feel that qinwen-emma gate was the most memorable moment of the season and i have to agree. this drama was so incredibly jaw dropping because where on earth did this come from? how was this hate warranted?? qinwen was quite literally minding her own business and suddenly she’s getting attacked? getting called cutthroat? and what do you mean these two have history? qinwen’s reaction to this all is the best part:

“i will not consider it an attack because she lost the match”.

PLEASEEEE, she truly dgaf. and that gold medal is an iconic slap in the face: sorry emma!

7) “why tf are you speaking italian”

thank god elena dropped vukov. for a little bit of context: he yelled “andiamo” at her and i believe this was her semis match against jasmine during rg. not completely sure but that makes it even funnier. why are you encouraging her opponent?

(during my search for this clip, i also found this iconic clip of errani/cornet. similar situation, enjoy!)

8) aryna the tiktok queen

aryna sabalenka knows how to use socmed well. i absolutely adore her videos that involve her team: they look like such a close family and i want in! and the wta finals tiktok (although not technically hers) was such a great way to stunt on the atp and their mismatched suits. absolutely no one is doing it like them.

9) mirra andreeva and daria kasatkina

watch dasha and natasha’s what the vlogs on youtube everyone! it’s such a great way to see the WTA when their marketing is obviously lacking, and each video is treated with so much care. hour long vids practically every tournament!!

mirra and dasha’s relationship was definitely one of my favorite parts of the year. her segments w/ mirra are always adorable (see below: mirra eating cucumbers, mirra sharing her olympics experience, mirra stealing every stuffed toy, mirra refusing to comment on her mixed doubles experience with meddy). and after their dramatic and emotional ningbo final (which involved mirra getting bageled and a post-match hug), mirra’s insta post made me laugh out loud in the middle of class.

10) yulia putinseva

this literally got 0 votes and i have to agree. putinseva’s treatment of ball kids this year was…memorable to put it lightly. all i have to say is this: she’s an adult and she can handle frustration without taking it out on the ball kids. leave them alone. (bonus clip i found on r/tennis when i was trying to find the clip)

11) zheng qinwen at the WTA finals

our cutthroat, gold medalist, tennis queen is also a vogue model that never fails to serve. although she lost the WTA final, at least she got to enjoy the confetti?

what a year. and there’s more that i missed! let’s see how many more i make during the off-season.

(also. me versus my defective blog organization 0:1 )

[emmawithtwoms]

Moaning Myrtle's Bathroom

@wolfstarmicrofic day 30 -1000 words

“Tell me again, why are we doing this here?” 

Remus was watching his friends brew some kind of potion, all three hunched over a cauldron.

“Because, dear Moony, nobody will ever come looking for us here.” 

James answered him, and Remus genuinely thought that all the bulgers he took in head were starting to affect him. 

“They will not look for us, in the middle of the day, openly in a bathroom, just in front of the entrance… Prongs are you sure you didn’t hit your head?”

James rolled his eyes, Sirius snickered and Peter lifted his head from the lizard livers he was chopping. 

“Remus.. This is Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, nobody will come in here…”

Peter looked around in distress while saying that.

“Who?” 

When Remus asked that, Peter’s blood drained from his face, while James snickered and Sirius groaned in annoyance.

“Please tell me she didn’t hear you…” 

“I AM MOANING MYRTLE”

Remus screeched when the ghost of a girl yelled from the stall behind him.

“Obviously, I wouldn't expect you to know me. Who would ever care about the annoying, sad, ugly moaning Myrtle…” 

The ghost rambled on and placed herself on the windowstill.

“Moony, did you really not know her? Everybody knows this is her bathroom.”

Sirius said while mixing the chopped livers in the potion.

“Well I’m sorry for not being familiar with the girls’ bathrooms guys…” 

“Ohhhh, so you’re a gentleman, huh? We should thank you for not creeping around in the girls’ bathroom, huh? I should just banish you from here.” 

“Oh come on, Myr, he didn’t mean it like that, you know it. Don’t be so mean”

Myr?? Since when was Sirius friends with the ghost?

“Oh, not you, Sirius darling, I wouldn’t dream of banishing you from here… In fact, you can come whenever you want, even after your death, we could share my stall”

WHAT?? Remus could believe what he was seeing. 

That’s not true: Sirius flirting with someone to get what he wants is a daily occurrence. But still, a ghost inviting his boyfriend to share their haunting place???

“Well, thank you Myrtle, but I need my friends to finish this potion, I can’t do it alone, you see? So could you please forgive Remus? He doesn’t know what he’s saying” 

“Oh, so he’s daft?” 

“You could say that…” 

And Sirius had the audacity to wink after that. Oh he was so gonna pay for it. 

Remus got closer to his boyfriend, watching the potion from over his shoulder.

“So, love, what exactly is the potion you’re brewing in this beautiful bathroom?” 

Sirius shot him a glare, but did not say anything about the pet name. He clearly understood what Remus was doing. 

“We’re brewing a hallucinating potion to give to the Slytherins, they’re all gonna believe that they’re Dragons for a day. Did you bring the pixie dust?” 

“Yes, I did, darling.” 

Remus handed him a small vial, and Sirius poured it carefully in the cauldron. 

“You know, you are so good at potions, you should consider taking it to a NEWT level” 

Moony started playing with a loose strand of hair that fell from the bun Sirius tied them on. 

“Yeah, well, if I wanna be a curse breaker I have to get my potion’s NEWT, so…” 

“Oh, right, right, you’re gonna be a curse breaker, that’s so brave of you, dear.” 

James and Peter were muffling their giggles with their hands while watching Remus blatantly flirt with his boyfriend and Myrtle narrowing her eyes at them. 

“Remus, I know what you are doing, stop it.” 

“But baby, I’m not doing anything…” 

Sirius could feel the werewolf’s hands sliding on his waist, just the way he liked it, and placing his chin on his shoulder, so that his mouth was at Padfoot's ear level.  

“Moons, stop it, you’re gonna get us in trouble with Myrtle.” 

“Well, maybe next time you shouldn’t flirt with a ghost in front of your boyfriend, honey.” 

“BOYFRIEND??? YOU ARE HIS BOYFRIEND????” 

Myrtle was now livid with rage, she flew to them, floating right in front of their faces. 

“Oh yeah, didn’t Padfoot tell you? We’ve been together for three months.”

James and Peter gave up trying to muffle their laughter, and they were now holding their stomachs looking at the scene that was unravelling in front of them. 

“THREE MONTHS?? HOW DARE YOU? HOW DARE YOU LITTLE SCARRED LOSER TAUNT MY SIRIUS THAT WAY! YOU.. YOU… HOMEWRECKER!!”

“Wait, what? Homewrecker?” 

It was not going as planned.

“GET OUT!” 

Myrtle lifted her arm, and a menacing grumbling came from the stall behind Remus. Suddenly, gallons and gallons of water were being poured on his head, drenching him from head to toe, somehow not touching Sirius. 

“Myrtle, darling, could you please not drown my boyfriend? I quite like him alive.” 

The water stopped and Remus started sputtering. 

“But Sirius, dear, he's getting between us!”

“I know Myrtle, but sadly I like him quite a lot, so could you forgive him? I am very happy with him. And you want me to be happy and smiling when you see me, right? Well, keeping Remus alive is the way to keep me smiling and funny.”

“Oh… ok Sirius. But if you ever became a ghost-”

“Then I promise you I will come share your toilet stall, Black’s word.” 

“Mh. Then I guess the loser can stay alive. For now…” 

“Thank you Myrtle, you’re a peach” 

And with a last giggle, the ghost went back to her toilet. 

“See? This is why you should have stopped, darling.” 

Remus, who was now shivering, still wet and dripping, flipped him off. 

“Oh Merlin, Wormy, we should have brought a camera!That was the funniest thing I have ever seen!”

James was still wheezing between laughter, and Wormtail could still not speak, trying to regain his breath.

“Come on guys, don’t taunt my darling lover this way, he was just a bit jealous. Right baby?”

“Fuck off. All of you.”

A.N: well, this wraps up November's Microfics!!!! Wooo hoooo!!! I hope you guys had fun reading them just as much as I had writing them. Can't wait for December Prompts!!!

[otomiyaa]

Day 30: Fantasy

Solomon x Simeon

[Miya & Mia’s Tickletober 2023] - Whether I like Solomon you ask? Well yes a lot. And I also like Simeon a lot lot loooot.

Word Count: 1.3K

“So… Pumpkin-man? Skeleton-boy? Witchy-demon. Bat-girl. Or… Spider-angel? Hmm yeah. Hello? Are you with me? I can’t do the brainstorming alone.” 

For the past minutes, Simeon had only heard Solomon’s voice as a vague background noise, and he snapped awake from his trance when he felt a poke on his side. A squeaky yelp escaped his lips.

“S-sorry. I wasn’t,” he admitted, blushing in embarrassment to have made such a sound. 

“Figured.” Solomon laughed fondly and shook his head. They were together in Solomon’s room, working on an assignment for RAD. Diavolo had asked everyone to get together in pairs and write a story in celebration of the upcoming Halloween Event. The best story would be selected to turn into a detailed script for a theater play next year. 

It wasn’t an optional writing contest though. At the same time it was a mandatory school assignment to help stimulate everyone's creativity, and Solomon being the cunning little shit he was, instantly planted himself in Simeon’s lap, asking him for a collaboration he couldn’t say no to. Surely Simeon knew why Solomon asked him. Because Simeon actually had experience as a writer. However…

“I’m struggling,” Simeon sighed when Solomon continued to give him this hopeful look. Solomon cocked his head.

“What do you mean?” he asked. Simeon rubbed his eyes tiredly.

“It’s just… Most people know I write. Including Diavolo. This pressure, it’s not working well for me. I don’t get inspiration. I don’t think I have enough imagination for this assignment. My fantasy is just… lacking,” Simeon explained. Solomon nodded in understanding. 

“I see, I see. I think it’s a bigger problem in your head than it actually is, but, I should help you with that first, hmm?” 

Simeon looked up when Solomon walked to his bed and sat down on it. He patted it to gesture Simeon should come too.

“Help me with what? We’re going to bed?” Simeon asked playfully as he strode towards him and sat down beside him. Solomon winked.

“Don’t you want to?” He pursed his lips and Simeon blushed slightly. Solomon was a tease like always. 

“How is this going to help?” Simeon asked when he positioned himself on his back, and he held his breath when Solomon straddled him. Was this normal to do between friends? Solomon smirked down at him and held up his hands. Uh… a massage? 

Solomon gave a reassuring nod. “You’ll see your fantasy isn’t lacking in the slightest. But first, I’ll tickle you.” 

Simeon gasped and began to squirm, but Solomon pinned him down firmly.

“T-t-tickle?!” he squeaked. Solomon nodded.

“Yup. Just now I noticed you’re ticklish, which gave me this idea.” Solomon put his finger to his lips, and for the first time Simeon thought he was actually quite good-looking. Not the right timing to start thinking this way about Solomon of all people! 

“So, first I’ll tickle your sides. I found out just now how ticklish you are there,” Solomon started, and Simeon gulped. Solomon started to wiggle his fingers above him without touching him.

“Just like this. It’ll probably tickle a lot, but you’ll get used to it at some point.”

“W-w-why are you beheheing like thihis?” Simeon giggled nervously, squirming under the ghost tickles as Solomon kept wiggling his fingers above him. Solomon chuckled and ignored his question.

“When you get used to it, I won’t do this, but rather- this,” Solomon said, showing clearly how he wiggled his fingers, then he showed both index fingers and made a move as if he was going to poke both Simeon’s sides. Simeon jumped in anticipation and laughed.

“And this,” Solomon said, making clawing moves. Simeon threw his head back and laughed.

“Stohohop! You’re beheheing ahahawful!” 

“But I’m not tickling you yet. Oh, right. After your sides, what do you think would be next?” 

“Nohohowhere! Get ohohoff mehehe!”

“The tummy maybe. A few pokes like this,” Solomon said, lashing out at Simeon’s tummy all of a sudden, but he didn’t touch him. Still, Simeon jerked heavily and let out a yelp.

“Hahahands ohohoff!” he cackled. 

“Oh but my hands are off. I’m not touching you… yet. But how should I say it, you clearly have a vivid imagination Simeon. For you to feel my tickles already just from hearing my words. And you were saying? Lack of fantasy?” 

“Thihis is dihihifferent! Ahahah nohoho!” Simeon just couldn’t stop giggling. Solomon kept wiggling his fingers visibly, faking tickle attacks and making him jump and twitch in anticipation.

“G-gehehet off! You’re heheavy!” 

“After your tummy, hmmm…” Solomon ignored his pleas and made a thinking face. It looked as if he was distracted, so Simeon bucked his hips wildly, but Solomon wouldn’t even budge. 

“Ah right, probably here,” Solomon said, pointing at Simeon’s hips.

“Or, right there,” he said, reaching up and making Simeon yell in surprise when he aimed for his underarms. Simeon wrapped his arms around himself and laughed hysterically.

“Plehehease! Not thehehere,” he snorted. Tears were escaping his eyes. This was so crazy and silly.

“Not where?” Solomon asked.

“Bohohoth!” 

“Can’t do that. I will tickle you in three spots. Then we go back to our homework. So… sides, tummy, and then hips, or your armpits. Please cooperate.”

The fact that Solomon was being so silly with such a serious voice and expression, that alone was enough to make Simeon laugh. Combine it with the fake tickles and the anticipation, he was absolutely losing it.

“Solomohohon! I cahahan’t!” Simeon cackled. Who would have known that just the thought of getting tickled could make him feel this ticklish and flustered. Solomon laughed playfully.

“If you can’t choose, then both it is.”

“Wahhaait no - NOAHhahahhaha!” Simeon shrieked when the fake tickles finally made place for the actual thing. As promised, Solomon tickled his sides and made him flail and struggle like a madman.

“Nohoho!” Simeon laughed, but Solomon really was kind of heavy, no joke, and also pretty strong and clever. He tickled his sides, then his tummy with rapidly wiggling fingers spidering in circles and making Simeon squeal. Then shortly afterwards Simeon’s hips learned how ticklish they were to his own surprise. And his underarms were saved for last.

“Not hehehere, nohoho!” Simeon laughed nervously, squeezing his arms together, but Solomon calmly grabbed his hand and moved it up over his head.

“Just for a little, come on,” he encouraged. Simeon writhed tiredly and blushed when Solomon wiggled his fingers above his outstretched underarm.

 “WAahhhahh!”

“Not touching you yet~”

“Buhuhut!” 

Again, Solomon teased him with a couple of fake tickles before he started for real. Simeon laughed until he couldn’t breathe. He became a blushy, teary mess, and felt like he had run a marathon by the time Solomon climbed off him. 

“Plenty of fantasy in that mind and body of yours if you ask me. Hopefully I tickled some of it to the surface,” Solomon said and he winked again. Could that guy just not? Wink like that? 

“I…. You really…” Simeon weakly joined Solomon again and he took a deep breath to give him a speech about how unnecessary that was. Only then his eyes fell on the paper with notes Solomon had made earlier, and Simeon’s mouth opened in realization.

“O-oh, I have an idea,” he said, looking at the various words and loose sentences from Solomon’s earlier brainstorm moment. He pointed. 

“Our main character is…” And while Simeon slowly but confidently started to help Solomon come up with their story, he was sure he could see the mischievous and proud twinkle in Solomon’s eyes, which he tried to ignore very hard while fighting the everlasting blush on his face. 

Alright, maybe Solomon scored some points here. But whether the tickling and the fake-tickling actually helped, or it was some other magic the sorcerer had performed here, Simeon liked that he finally felt comfortable working on the assignment, and was suddenly hopeful to secure them a good result + potential Halloween theater next year. Just you wait, Diavolo!

[after-the-end-times]

Steve and Eddie, BOGO sale

For @steddieholidaydrabbles Prompt: Snowfall 🌨️ Rating: G Words: 760 🌨️ cw: none 🌨️ Tags: driving in a snow storm, Black Friday, love confessions

Based on the true driving events of our Black Friday adventure this year...except we were in a van that did not make it up the hill and we had to manually turn the van around to head home. I think Steve and Eddie got the better adventure here

“Was it supposed to snow?” Eddie asks, as the headlights light up the snow flying at them like they’re on the Enterprise, flying through space.

“No. No, it was not. There was a spot of snow over night, but they said it’d be clear after 4am.” Steve gritted out, holding the car steady in the snow ruts of the car far ahead of them. “Figured we’d have some snow dusting, but that leaving at 5:30 would be fine.”

“We’ve driven through bad snow before for Black Friday. Remember two years ago? That was a wet snow. We don’t need to be at the front of the line or anything, we’ll be fine. Slow and steady and all that.” Eddie tries to sound steady even though the snow coming down is pretty heavy and sticking to the ground. He knows snow and this is snow. He’s really trying very hard to stay calm for Steve.

“Do you have our lists?” Steve asks.

“Yep, with stars by the more important items. We have scarves and gloves if there is still a line- ah!”

Eddie’s list of preparations is cut off as the car starts fishtailing up a hill and then slows to a stop as the tires start spinning with no forward motion.

“Umm?!” Eddie’s kind of freaking out a little more. What if they get stuck here? What if no one stops? What if they freeze right here in the middle of the highway?!

But Steve’s still pressing the gas and the car has started wiggling its way up the hill slowly, the car’s back end swerving back and forth.

“Just need to make it to the top. This is the only hill and we’ll be fine back on flat land. And then it’s only 10 minutes til the store. Maybe 20 with the snow.” And, of course, Steve’s trying to comfort him while he deftly controls the car in this ridiculous snow storm that wasn’t supposed to be. Eddie loves him so much.

The car crests the top with one last wiggle and they’re back in the safety of dark wheel grooves, even though their driving buddy has long gotten away.

“See? And by the time we come back the salt trucks and sun will have this clear.”

Steve’s so steady. And he loves him so much. He can’t not say something.

“I’m so in love with you.”

And even though Steve’s body twitches hard at that, he keeps the car steady in the grooves.

“Oh.” he says, voice tenser now than when they were actively spinning out. “Like, friend love or- well, I mean it’s fine if it’s like a friend. I love having friends! And you’re the best-”

“Steve. Not like a friend.”

“Oh.” Steve breaths out. “Good. Good, that’s...good. Cause I’m also in love with you. And not like a friend.”

Steve chances it to send Eddie a full blown grin, eyes scrunching up.

Eddie loves that smile. He lets out a giggle he’s never heard come from himself before; he’s just so so happy.

“Good. Good, that’s-” he huffs out a self deprecating laugh. “Wow, it’s hard not getting caught on that. But it really is. Good, that is. Sorry, I’m just so happy. Which is really confusing after being so nervous and kind of scared about the snow for the last 45 minutes. My body’s going through a lot right now.”

“Oh yeah, I get that. Though- no, nevermind. Look! The mall!”

"Steve? What were you going to say? Are you ok?” And wow, Eddie’s cardiac system is getting a workout this morning.

“It’s just-” Steve groans out a laugh as he pulls into the parking lot. “I just know I’m gonna be the one on sale when we tell the rest about this and they start with the jokes about you going out Black Friday shopping and coming back with a boyfriend.”

Eddie loves that Steve’s already thinking that far ahead. They haven’t even gotten out of the car yet and Steve already has them as boyfriends telling and getting ribbed by their friends. Well, he can at least save Steve from being the butt of something that’s not a joke.

“Don’t worry, Steve. I know exactly what to do!”

-

When Steve and Eddie finally get back later that day, car full of bags ready to be smuggled past the pile of kids in the living room, Eddie bursts through the front door holding a sign he pilfered from the front of a store’s display.

“Guess who’s Buy One Get One now!”

~fin~

[alexanderwales]

Movie Review: Upstream Color (2013)

I watched Primer when it came out on DVD. It's one of the few movies that, when I finished, I immediately watched a second time. I loved it. It was dense and opaque, and benefited greatly from a second watch, which made the whole thing slot together like a nice little puzzle. It was filmed on a razor-thin budget, with one of the main characters being a writer, director, producer, and editor. I immediately put Shane Carruth on my (then short) list of directors to watch.

So I've been meaning to watch Upstream Color, his second movie, for a full decade now. The reviews for it were never very good, and every Primer fan I knew of said that it was no Primer, and I guess I had other stuff going on for literally a dozen years. I keep a "to watch" movie list, which is usually 20-30 movies deep, and other stuff kept taking priority for one reason or another. I wanted to be in the right mood for it, that was definitely part of it. So I watch a movie every two or three days, something like 100 movies a year, and that means that since Upstream Color came out, I have watched more than a thousand movies instead of watching it.

Spoilers Follow

Let's start with the obvious: Upstream Color is no Primer.

I think that I could fit the story of Upstream Color into a single paragraph. It's not complicated. When we start any movie that my wife doesn't think she'll like, she goes to look up the synopsis and reviews and trivia and stuff, and she quoted me a review that said it was an "opaque mess", and ... I don't agree with that, but I can see where they're coming from.

Here's my plot synopsis:

A man (credited as "Thief") discovers some worms that can be used to induce a hypnotic state. He uses them to hypnotize a woman, Kris, and makes her give him her entire net worth while under hypnosis. When that's done, he leaves, and she writhes around under worm control until being summoned by some music by a different, unconnected man (credited as "Sampler"). The Sampler takes the worm out of her body, implants it into a pig, then releases her. She wakes up with no memory and her life is shattered. Later, she meets Jeff, who had the same thing happen to him, they fall in love, they have a psychic connection to these pigs, they gradually get more in touch with what happened to them, then they go kill the Sampler and rescue the psychic pigs.

I don't think that there's anything in there that anyone could be confused about. The movie spells everything out. There are one or two plot beats aside from that, but this is about it.

It's how the movie does this which is unusual. It's taking show, don't tell to its limits, almost never with dialogue that clarifies anything, and its scenes muddle into each other, with none of them feeling like they last more than a few seconds. There is essentially no grounding, even when it felt to me like there should be, and the movie doesn't ever really stop being a visual tone poem. I found this grating in the first five minutes, then got used to it, and eventually started to find it grating again. I guess my best point of comparison is Terrence Malick's Tree of Life, which I thought was more effective but also did grate on me a little bit.

When a moviemaker does something like this, particularly an auteur (or would-be arteur) like Shane Carruth, I always start by assuming that this is part of the point, that we're being fed the plot one way instead of another because it ties into whatever is going on thematically. And here ...

Where I thought it was most effective was the sequence when the baby pigs were being drowned, since we're almost required to have that whole thing be done with Kuleshov effect, cutting back and forth between the pigs and Kris and the pigs and Jeff. It's a nicely evocative little bit of cinema, even if I didn't think that it emotionally landed for me. Where it's less effective is when we really would have been better served by just having some straightforward exposition, or more standard filmmaking, but I guess if you're committing to the bit, you're really committing.

So what's the story about? What's the analogy, what's the theme?

Kris and Jeff are drawn together because of the psychic connection from the worms/pigs, but also (in my opinion) because they've both been victims of this horrible thing that's happened to them, their entire life having been torn down by some thief, then made to believe that they were somehow responsible. So they've got the psychic thing going on, yes, but they also have parallel traumas, and the same sort of gap in their lives. I think this what I'll call Thesis One, the shared bond of trauma.

Another major thing that struck me when watching the movie was that both our protagonists seem insane from the outside. They have this weird connection to each other that no one could understand (though they don't seem to have friends or family or anyone to talk to who could find it weird). They mix up their memories, and sometimes fight about that. They have bouts of irrationality, paranoia, anger, grief, with no explicable-to-them source. They feel like there's somewhere they're meant to be, but they try to follow that sense, and it leads them nowhere. To me, this immediately said "mental illness", so I'm going to call this Thesis Two, the terror of knowing that something isn't right with you, but having no idea what it is, having this internal feeling inside of you, patterns of behavior that make sense at the time. This movie is basically not shot like a horror movie in any way, and does not use the language of horror films, but I think it does share a lot thematically with the subgenre "mental illness horror" where the protagonist thinks they're crazy. That our two protagonists seem intensely codependent helps push that line.

Lastly, at least some of the movie is about personal identity and meaning, though I'm not sure that I would called that Thesis Three, mostly because I don't know what it's trying to say about personal identity. Clearly both Kris and Jeff are attempting to construct meaning in the wake of what's happened to them, and their identities bleed together with their overlapping memories, but this is just not fulfilled very much, and some of it is wrapped tightly in what I'd call the mental illness stuff.

Even if I'm reasonably confident in what literally happened in the film, and what it's about, there are a few things that don't really click for me.

In a normal film, I would expect that the sequence goes:

woman gets hypnotized and wormed

life is ruined

lots of strange thoughts and adventures with another man who is equally crazy

revelation that she's not crazy after all

revenge and catharsis

But in Upstream Color, the Thief and Sampler are implied to be operating entirely separate from each other. There's a little gap which can't entirely be closed through inference, but it's implied the Sampler incidentally pollutes the water with dead worm-pigs, the organism infects plants, those plants get (totally be coincidence?) taken up by exotic plant foragers, then bought by the Thief. So the Thief and Sampler apparently don't have any relationship with one another.

And yet, it's the Sampler, who removes the worms from people and puts them into pigs, that gets killed in the end. Yes, he was the one to kill the Kris-pig's piglets, but ... I don't really understand this narrative beat. Do they assume that he was the Thief? The Thief gets away with it, and all we see of him in the end is that he's sadly shaking his head because the magic worms are all gone.

I mean, yes, the Sampler is a creep who uses his psychic connection to peep on stranger's lives, and yes, most of these people (seem to be) victims of the Thief, and it's fucked up to not give them information or closure. But if the Sampler and Thief are unrelated, which seems likely to me, then it feels like the Sampler is taking bullets better meant for the Thief? Or is it just because he killed some piglets?

And what does that mean?

I am, moreover, confused about what the function of the Sampler is when compared to what the themes are. Does he tie in with the mental illness angle? No, not really. Does he tie in with shared bond of trauma? Only in that he's preventing people from getting closure, I guess. He's a voyeur, a failed artist, some of this ties to personal identity, but again, it doesn't feel like a strong thesis, it just feels kind of random, especially since we have virtually nothing to go on as far as the Sampler's motives or history. He seemed to me like he was mostly just an artist, with the sounds of nature as his primary art and the experiences of other people as his secondary "art".

I'm going to give my hot take on this movie now, which is that I would have liked it a lot better if it were more traditionally structured. The opening five or so minutes really made me think that I would have been better off leaving it on the to-watch list. The "piecing together the location of the Sampler and getting revenge" stuff was super rushed and kind of nonsensical, and offered no catharsis, only confusion.

Overall, I would say I didn't like the movie. I think it was trying too hard to be deep (for me this is a very high bar to clear), and didn't benefit from the experimental aspects, and would have been better if it at least had a stronger idea of what it was trying to say.

I will now go read some reviews, and maybe that will help something click for me. Hopefully I haven't missed anything major.

[luminiera-merge]

mean-spirited birthday cards are the most depressing thing. like i’m aware making playful jabs at each other is usually a part of friendship but why is “haha you’re old and unattractive and past it and your life is worse than it used to be” an acceptable sentiment just bc it’s a card

[sulky-cabbage]

The sukugo fight can't get animated any sooner I'm craving sukugo tiktok edits

[transsexual-dandelions]

Besides the intense drinking culture of both the Gallaghers and the general south side, the addiction gene from his parents you can never escape. A major, the near sole contributing factor of lips alcoholism is from college. He is almost entirely isolated. He is a first generation college student (high school was easy, it was nothing. He’s never done this before.) He’s from a “low income family”. Everyone else grew up “comfortably” (read: rich). He doesn’t know anyone and doesn’t have a way to connect, it’s near impossible when you’re different, you have these fundamentally different backgrounds and childhood experiences. But parties? Drinking? That’s what he can do, what everyone can do. And so he does. And then he just doesn’t stop. Why would he? It’s normal, it’s comfortable, it’s connecting, everyone loves a good party, that he can do. It feels like the only thing he knows.