#kat had potential but. they ruined it

[tinytennisskirt]

From Pain to Promise

Summary: based on a dialogue request- Art has been in love with you since he met you at twelve. He's been pining for six years, so it kills him when you get a boyfriend over the summer. He's your friend, he's supposed to be happy for you. Instead, he's just hurt. And jealous. Too blinded by it to see the way your boyfriend is really treating you. After a climactic event outside of a party, you're freed from it all. And Art is right there, waiting, the way he's always been.

MAJOR WARNINGS: violence, abusive relationships, mentions of unwanted sex/attempts at unwanted sex. a fight. mentions of injuries, nothing too graphic, just bruises.

Warnings: pining, yearning, angst, jealousy, mentions of drinking, a kiss. badly edited.

Kat Zimmerman had nothing on you, that was for sure. Only a few nights after his little learning experience with Patrick, you came into the boy’s lives and their worlds were forever changed. Art’s more so. It was that one fateful day when you were picking out a tennis racket, the new girl at MRTA, and those two little boys knew they had to befriend you before Jake Dalton did. Both little boys, stumbling over each other, made their way over to the rackets and said hi, overlapping pre-pubescent voices telling you their names. And you smiled, hair braided, cheeks pink and rosy, exchanging their names for yours. 

And you were friends. That’s how it was. You were friends. You, Patrick, and Art. But more so you and Art because Patrick didn’t know how he felt about being friends with girls. Especially when you were such a girl. Patrick didn’t have a painful little boy crush on you the way Art did. You told Art his hair would be perfect for pigtails and he’d let you do what you wanted, clips and bows and all, just so you’d touch him. He bragged to Patrick later that night. Patrick just laughed at him. “She put bows in your hair, dude. That doesn’t count as touching.” He was humbled. 

Patrick did feel a little different when fourteen rolled around and you had boobs, but Art was the same, if not deeper in it for you. You remained their friend. You were always around, playing with Art’s hair on the bleachers or studying with them, making sure they actually paid attention. You went to all of Art’s games and maybe, for a few split seconds, he thought maybe you liked him back. But it’s a tale as old as time. He couldn’t ever be sure, so why would he tell you and potentially ruin everything? If he told you and it wasn’t reciprocated, he could say goodbye to all the casual touching and the things you granted him somewhat platonically. 

Patrick was one of the only people who knew how bad Art had it because even after their first little incident, Patrick had once or twice heard or walked in on Art masturbating and it was a little obvious who he was thinking about. It was fine, it was nothing new. 

One thing was so very clear and that this was all just pining. Pining after you, pulling strings to be closer to you, to hang out with you. Cancelling plans, switching partners, everything. He’d go insane when your hand brushed his, he was there for you every time you needed him. And by twelfth grade, he could say he loved you. It’d been six years of pining, he knew it to be true. So when you called him over the summer to say you had a boyfriend, it just about killed him. 

“He’s really nice and he’s a tennis enjoyer, but not a player. It’s refreshing to find someone who doesn’t know every single term and I get to be the smart one for once,” you gushed to him. He was your best friend after all. You’d been friends, best friends, for six years. Art was glad you managed six years without any real crushes for more than a day and he could handle those because they weren’t real, but this was very real. Or you said so. “God, I can’t believe it, he just asked for my number two weeks ago and now we’ve been together a week. It’s so surreal.” 

“That’s great, I’m happy for you,” Art said through clenched teeth. Six years of wanting you and this guy asked for your number and had you as his girlfriend in under a week. He wondered if you’d kissed him. He remembered when you had your first kiss just after his. Just about killed him though he’d just kissed Amy White two days before and bragged about it. He hoped it would make you jealous, but you had your own beau. This was worse than that. You were going to Stanford with him in a month or two, he thought if there was any time to make that change and tell you, it would be when he saw you next. And there wouldn’t be any college dating scandals and maybe he could live happily and find some girl to forget you with, though he knew he couldn’t.

“So it’s serious?” 

“Very. I’m excited.” Just about took him out. 

He didn’t eat for maybe two days. Would have been longer if Patrick didn’t come over and force-feed him nachos. Art told him the whole situation and Patrick, who had, of course, been rooting for you and Art since finding out Art liked you, was pretty pissed off about it. The two went back and forth just emphasizing ‘six years’. Six years of what? Six years of you hugging him and playing with his hair, going to movies with him, helping him study, spending time with him alone for you to just go and find some guy on a whim? And start dating him? You were all Art had wanted and it was then that he confessed that he was probably in love with you to Patrick. Patrick wasn’t surprised, then went and stole some beers from a friend, saying they needed to drink about it. 

You still called as you usually did and Art never got to really feel himself heal when every phone call was an update and a fresh wound. The poor boy was yours and you weren’t his. There was nothing he could say to change that, he was a good friend. And he wanted you to be happy, so he kept his mouth shut. You talked about dates and how good of a kisser he was though you wished he used less tongue sometimes and every word was a papercut that added up to a bigger hurt. He had never wanted anyone the same way he wanted you and he was so sure he couldn’t. He buried his face in his pillow and got so frustrated it drove him to tears. His stomach hurt constantly and he felt like his heart was being pulled down to his stomach. 

He was a little scared of how he’d act when you talked to him in person. He just finished settling into campus, his dorm room. You’d done the same with the agreement to meet him for coffee at the campus diner. You were still you, he noted, still painfully beautiful. And you were two months into dating this guy Greg. He sounded like a dick. You said he liked country music and he wasn’t going to post-secondary, he was older and going to a trade school. An asshole. Art did his best to change the topic. 

“Mmm, so they have campus events all the time, they’re showing E.T. this Friday if you want to go.” You said. “We should.” 

“We should talk them into playing Mac and Me after. A real movie.” 

“Shut up, oh my god.” You laughed. Your laugh was one of his favourite things. He found it just a little painful to be here with you, knowing you couldn’t be the way you used to be now that you had a boyfriend. “Do you want to come with me to E.T. or not though, I’m terrified of new people.” 

“No, yeah, I’ll go,” he nodded. 

Your boyfriend visited on Thursday, so he didn’t see you then. Usually, you called him regardless of being on the same campus, but you didn’t. And then when you said you’d meet Art on Friday, you didn’t show up until the movie was half over. Art sat there, watching the movie on a stupid lawn chair with stupid Reece's Pieces and you came and joined him, apologetic. Said you were with Greg and Art could only imagine what that meant. It was too dark for him to notice how red your wrist was. 

It was Art’s first step to breaking. The movie finished and he walked you back to your dorm. “Just saying, if you have plans with your boyfriend, don’t make plans with me. I’m not that kind of guy,” he reasoned, heading up the stairs with you. He tried not to sound bitter. He was only half-bitter anyway, he was mostly genuine. 

You sighed, rubbing your left eye just a little. “I know, I’m sorry.” 

“Does he know about me?” You were quiet. Too quiet. “Y/N?” 

You bite your lip, “He knows we’re friends. He doesn’t know the full extent and he doesn’t need to! There’s nothing to worry about, but I just don’t want to worry him. He knows you’re my friend, he doesn’t know… everything.” 

Art pressed his hand to his forehead, “I’m a secret, that’s crazy, that’s… fine, I guess. I don’t want to ruin anything for you.” 

“You couldn’t.” You told him. “He’s secure. He’s good. And I’m sorry again for being late, I’ll make it up to you with coffee tomorrow if you’ll let me.” 

Art nodded in response. How could he not forgive you? How could you stand here and be so beautiful and so apologetic and have him not forgive you? So he swallowed all his words for the thousandth time. “Coffee sounds good. Bring doughnuts. Campus library?” 

“Campus library…”

“3 pm?” 

“Perfect. See you then.” You kept your sleeve over your wrist which was still pinkened. “I really am sorry, Art.”

He smiled just a little, forced, “It’s okay. I promise. But I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Y/N.” 

You said goodnight back and slipped into your dorm room again. Greg had gone out to the local bar, he didn’t come back until 2am when he said he’d be back at 12. Came back drunk and wanting to kiss you quite badly, smelling awfully of whiskey and weed. 

Art wanted to forgive you for it all, but he felt like he couldn’t. Maybe he was bitter. He was bitter that you found someone and he didn’t, he was bitter that you had someone who wasn’t him. He’d yet to meet Greg, but he wondered if you smiled at him with your eyes... or when something funny was said if you'd lean into his shoulder while laughing. He wondered if you were the same, or if it felt the same when you were alone with him- like you could say anything and be unjudged. And that any darkness could be made a joke and made better just by talking for hours. He wondered if Greg had any of that the way he had. But Greg probably had that and more and Art would have to deal with that. He felt his heart physically slow its beating as it slowly, but surely, was beginning to crack. 

You met Art the next day and of course, he noticed the hickey on your neck. It made his stomach do flips and tie itself in knots and he wanted to get up and leave, but you had the doughnuts and coffee. And he was supposed to be happy for you. He had to remind himself of that. He looked at you, the way you tucked your hair behind your ear and laughed and engaged with what he had said and you were still the most gorgeous girl on the planet. Nothing could or ever would change that. He was still head over heels and he couldn’t help it. He would call himself pathetic, he would degrade himself for still wanting you, but after six years, he couldn’t get away from it. 

Greg was over quite a bit. You never called when he was around. You said you’d come hang out when Patrick was in town but you were late again, said you tripped down the stairs and the boys thought it was some excuse for sex with Greg, but you had the injuries to prove it, so neither of them could really be mad. “It hurts like a bitch,” you huffed, sitting down with them. “But it’s fine. We should drink tonight.” 

“Your dorm room or mine?” Art replied, a smile on his face. He was happy about an excuse to drink, he was happy you weren’t late because of Greg, and he was happy you were here. 

Your eyes widened and you answered much too quickly. “Yours.” 

The three of you headed back to Art’s dorm. You lay on his bed, checking your phone every minute or so. It looked like you were getting an abundance of messages, but you were never texting back. Your phone rang twice before you silenced it. The boys chalked it up to Greg and the obsessions of an early relationship, but it wasn’t that early. At one point you tossed your phone off the end of his bed and on top of Art’s laundry. “Please, please, please, pass the vodka,” you enthused. Art and Patrick chuckled, watching you take a pretty large swig. 

“Might want to slow down,” Patrick said, looking at Art, then back at you. You were out of the three of you, the person who hardly ever drank. And here you were chugging it like water. “Don’t want to return you to your boyfriend off your ass.” 

“It’s fine,” you replied. “He’s fine, it’s all fine.” 

“Yeah, I see that,” Patrick replied, taking the vodka back from you. Art grabbed it out of his hand and took a swig equal to yours, trying to drown out the way he was feeling. You were in his bed, talking about your boyfriend. It was fucked. And it felt awful. He looked at you, clouded by alcohol and god, he wished he kissed you in high school. He wished he told you how he felt. If he had, maybe you wouldn’t be so far out of reach. It took him all his strength not to tell you that while drunk. Instead he just laid on the bed next to you, laughing with you about some stupid shit Patrick said. 

“This is why you’re not in college, Pat,” you laughed, out of breath. You had turned on your side, your hand was resting on Art’s upper arm. Patrick just groaned, laughing as he turned his head down to the floor. Art was too aware of your hand on his arm. The way it moved up and down almost the way a person would soothe another, but it was you. And this never meant anything, so why should Art let himself believe it did now? 

“You’re so smart, tell us how good you are with context clues, go-” Patrick teased. But your eyes met the clock on Art’s desk. Your eyes widened a little. You’d lost track of time. 

“Oh my god,” you said, a little bit of panic in your voice. “It’s almost midnight, fuck, I have to go.” You jolted upright and literally climbed over Art to get off his bed. “I’m so sorry, guys, I’ll see you tomorrow, please text me.” You grabbed your phone and your bag and in seconds you were gone. 

Art just shut his eyes and sighed. “I feel that,” Patrick nodded. “What the fuck was that?” 

“Greg beckons,” Art replied bitingly. “Can’t be late to see Greg!” 

“Fucking Greg,” Patrick grunted. “You want the vodka back?” 

“Yes please,” Art groaned, covering his face with his pillow. 

You returned a little tipsy to Greg, who was tipsier. You used to think he was really great. He was funny and nice and he helped you drown out your feelings for Art. It felt like a step forward, progressive, real. Like a real relationship. One you knew you needed so maybe liking Art with no proof he liked you back would be easier. It was for a moment, but bliss is temporary. 

“You’re back, doll,” Greg said, greeting you on messed up bedsheets, not even bothering to meet you halfway. “I’ve had a night. C’mere, I missed you.” You’re afraid to say you’re tired and you just want to sleep. You slink into bed with him. He smells like whiskey again. It’s stronger, more potent, and he needs a shower. The second you’re in bed with him, he’s on top of you. “So why don’t you tell me why you didn’t answer my fucking texts, huh? Or when I called you four fucking times. You know how embarrassing to call your girl and she doesn’t pick up, huh? Had to do that four fucking times in front of my friends, were you trying to embarrass me?” His hand is tight on your arm, leaving bruises, the other hand is on your hair as he keeps himself propped up. It’s pulling and you feel the headache starting. 

“N-no, I’m sorry,” you manage. “Greg, you’re hurting me, you’re pulling my hair.” 

“Thought you liked that?” He smirked. Not once had you ever liked having your hair pulled. Not once had you ever said that to him in any context. 

“You’re hurting me!” You repeated. His hand eased out of your hair but his grip on your arm turned into a grip on your shoulder, just as hard. It hurt. You could feel it bruised already. “Greg, off, please.” 

He made a noise sort of like a whine, his breath horrible. “But I missed you, thought we could have some fun when you came back.” He kissed you. He kissed you. He kissed you. You didn’t want to kiss him, you wanted air, you didn’t want his hand down your waistband. “Don’t fight, pretty, come on. I know you want this.” 

No, you didn’t. You didn’t let it get so far without a fight. You were left to sleep alone as he stormed out. You tended to the injuries from earlier, the ‘stairs’ incident, plus the new injuries you’d have to make stories for because you’d be hanging out with Art and Patrick again. But the bruise that was already forming on your cheekbone looked bad enough that you texted Art saying you couldn’t make it tomorrow and you cried into your knees. 

Makeup didn’t do a very good job, especially when every time something healed, there was something new. You did see Art a few days later when Greg had gone ‘fishing’ with a friend. The bruise on your cheek had faded, but not enough. Makeup hardly fixed it either. “Ball to the face,” you sighed, pressing your lips into a straight line when Art noticed it. He grimaced. “I mean at least my partner has upped her miles per hour but it’s…”

“Ouch,” 

“Yeah,” you chuckled, walking next to him. “So I was thinking maybe we could hang out Tuesday night.” 

He looked at you, “You have something in mind?” As if he could say no. 

“Yes, actually. It’s like an improv show thing, it’ll probably be awful. We can get candy and make fun of them behind their backs.” You smiled just a little. 

He grinned, bowing his head just a little, “Sounds perfect.” 

“Thought so,” you laughed, nudging him a little so he walked off the sidewalk and onto the grass. He tried to nudge you back, but you dodged him and he nearly tripped down the hill you were walking next to. You laughed, but it only laughed so long as his expression turned into the determination to get you back for it. He chased you down the hill until it became a rolling matter, both of you falling into the lush grass and rolling down the last bit of it. He rolled into you, turning it into a chaotic tumble that slowed to a halt with him on top of you. Art breathed out hard, eyes meeting yours, his breath smelling like the mint gum he was chewing. You smiled first with your eyes and then the grin spread up your face. “Ouch,” you mumbled, almost a whisper. His eyes lingered on yours, his face hovering just above you. 

His eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips and his brain told him to move, but he didn’t want to. But he had to. You were taken. It would be wrong. But you didn’t move either. You were both breathing hard, smiling at your compromising position until Art did move. Though maybe you didn’t want him to. “You’re okay?” 

“I will be,” you replied. He helped you up and once again, your faces were just inches apart. It was dangerous, wanting you. 

Greg threatened obscene things in the face of if you ever were to leave him. He’d tell your secrets, said he’d end his life, said he’d hurt you. You cried. A lot. For hours, later. He was terrifying. You cried so hard your eyes were completely bloodshot the next day. Your girlfriends were concerned, but you played it off as allergies. 

You saw Art another day and it was good to talk to him about everything and nothing. He was a good distraction from the throbbing pain in your ribs from Greg’s reaction to you mentioning a celebrity crush. He had been drunk. Too drunk. And you couldn’t get away fast enough. 

Tuesday rolled around. You kept your hair down to hide the bruise on your temple. It still ached, along with where your hair was pulled once again when you refused to have sex with Greg again. He was sitting bitter on your bed, angry still. You put on your jean shorts and a t-shirt. “Where you going dressed like that?” 

You looked up, “Like what?” 

“Why the fuck do you instantly talk back? What’s your fucking problem. I’m asking you where you think you’re going dressed like a slut?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Just getting dessert with Bea from my tennis program. She’s got this-” 

“Go change.”

You weren’t looking for a fight. You put on jeans and a sweater. It made you five minutes late to meet Art and you hated it. You looked at Art with sadness in your eyes and he recognized it but didn’t know what it was. “Are you okay?” He knew you. 

“Yeah, can we just… go make fun of bad improv?”

“I brought the gummy worms,” he nodded. You leaned slightly against him as you walked down to the outdoor theatre. You were glad to be out for the evening. Glad to be away from Greg and his anger and his hurtful words and the way he treated you. Art was the calm. He was the safety. He didn’t even know it, but he was what kept you going. If you ever got away from Greg, maybe you’d tell Art how you felt. As the feelings for Greg dissipated, your feelings for Art resurfaced. 

“The clown bit was actually so good,” you laughed, walking back up the steps of the campus theatre. ”Reminded me of what Patrick said the first time we got high.” 

His eyes widened and he swallowed the gummy worm he was eating, “Mm- I was thinking the same thing. It was him for sure.” 

“You think I’d be a good clown?” 

“Mmm, no.” He shook his head. “Your feet aren’t big enough.” 

“And yours are?” 

“One, who said anything about me being a clown and two, big feet are supposed to mean something, right?” 

You laughed, “Shut up, so boyish.” 

His hand brushed your upper arm, just slightly, and you were all too aware of it. In fact, you were all-too aware of how close you walked to him. It was always an unconscious thing. A forever type thing, always walking close, always leaning against each other in the cafeteria lines, always near each other- never near enough. He then nudged your arm again, this time on purpose, so you opened your hand so that he could dump a few more gummy worms in it and you just smiled. It had never, not once, been more apparent that finding someone to replace your feelings for Art was a mistake. Not when this boy, blonde curls and crooked grin was putting a pile of gummy worms in your hand. Wordlessly. Seamlessly. He just got you and the feeling to kiss him right there, right then was overwhelming. And wrong. 

It was wrong. You pressed your lips together for a moment before eating a gummy worm. If your boyfriend was around he’d smack them right out of your hand saying you don’t need more sugar. Maybe that’s why he was so bitter, you thought. Lack of sugar. You tried not to think too hard about the urges Art brought with him. He was so lovely, he was such an escape, and he was only your best friend. It was all he could be. You had no idea he was fighting the very same urge, paying extra attention to the fact he didn’t even have to ask you to open your hand, you just knew. But it was wrong. You had a boyfriend. 

You said goodbye to Art at the entrance to your building, rather than your dorm. If Greg heard you talking out there, you’d be in for something for sure. “Thanks for coming out with me tonight-” you started. “I needed it.” 

Art’s hands slunk into his pocket and he tilted his head just a little, “Yeah, about that. You’re doing okay?” 

“Oh, yeah, my mood lately has been down, it’s nothing big. I’m just extra appreciative of anything that brings it back up.” 

His eyes were understanding and a little apologetic. “If you want we can do something tomorrow? See a movie or play Scrabble or something stupid. We can get takeout? Takeout and going through Patrick’s Facebook and making fun of him.”

That made you grin. You scrunched your nose just a little, “That sounds good! Really good. I’ll call you tomorrow and I’ll let you know. I have to check with Greg.” Of course you did. Greg. Fuck. “But I’ll call you, I promise.”

“Okay,” he nodded. His gaze lingered on your lips. He wished they wouldn’t. He wished his mind wasn’t on who you were going back to after he said goodbye. He walked back to his dorm room in this perpetual state of angst and longing. There was no pain like it. Ever. In any part of his life he’d never known a greater emotional turmoil. You weren’t his. And he loved you, he didn’t even like you, he loved you and he knew it and you didn’t and there was nothing he could do. 

He went back to his dorm and got into bed in his jeans and his shoes, not bothering to turn the light off, not bothering to pull the covers over himself. He just hugged his pillow and thought about you and it and everything until he fell asleep. You didn’t have that luxury. 

“You’re late,” Greg said, sitting on your bed. He’d been smoking in your room, you could smell it. Potent and cheap, assaulting your nose. You’d give anything to walk out and not return, but this room was yours. If you left now, he’d have you back in your room with some threat or worse. “Care to tell me why?” 

“I thought I was home early?” You set your bag down on the chair. “You said 11.” 

“I said 10:30,” he replied. 

“Did you?” 

“Did I stutter?” 

“No. Look, I’m tired, can we just go to bed?” 

“Of course we can, doll,” he smirked a little bit evilly. You sighed, running your hand over the back of your neck. He wanted to fuck you. And you wanted to go to bed. “Come over here.” 

“Greg, I’m tired,” 

“Too tired?” 

“Yes. I’m too tired. I’m just going to wash my face and go to bed.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Greg, that’s uncalled for.” You said, standing your ground, just a little. “I’m just tired.” 

He shook his head, “Yeah? You go out for hours and come back and don’t even want to fuck. Sounds an awful lot like you’re getting your fill somewhere else. Hm?” 

You pressed your hand to your temple, “It means I’m tired, god, Greg, I’m not cheating.” And some voice in your head told you that you wished you were. “Please.” You slipped into the bathroom, locking the door, just in case. You washed your face and changed into your pajamas before getting in bed next to his heavy scent. As he wrapped an arm around your waist you thought maybe you could tune him out, but his hand slipped over your chest, coming to rest with your breast in his hand. You couldn’t pretend anything. He was himself. Even if you wished it was someone else, it wasn’t. 

The next morning, he was gone. Where to? You had no idea. You were just glad. You spent the morning with windows open, cleaning your things, wiping down surfaces and sorting laundry, spraying air freshener. And it dawned on you to call Art. Greg wasn’t around. You hadn’t asked him, but you would make some excuse, maybe. 

“Hey!” You greeted him, laying back on your bed, fresh sheets beneath you. “You still want to get takeout and make fun of Patrick’s facebook?” 

Art walked to the side of the tennis court, his partner yelling at him to make it quick. He smiled, sitting on the bleachers. “Yeah, if you’re up for it. My dorm, around seven? Does that work?” His smile grew to a grin. 

“That works,” you replied, smiling too. “Who is yelling at you right now?” 

“My partner for singles today,” he answered with a chuckle. “He’s telling me to get back on the court.” 

“Doesn’t he know you’re super busy making super important plans?” 

He looked at his partner, frustrated in waiting on the court. “That’s what I’m saying.”

“Right?” You rolled onto your stomach. “I’ll let you get back to him, I’ll see you later, Art.” 

“See you later, Y/N,” he said. You wished he didn’t have to go. You had nothing to do, Greg wasn’t around. Patrick was touring for another week before he came back around here. You decided to go out and meet up with some girlfriends for the afternoon. It was nice to be out and unbothered by having a set time to be home. There was no pressure. Greg didn’t call or text, not once, and it was a strange sort of peace. You talked to your friends about tennis and classes and their current crushes and it was fun and it was good. You retired back to your dorm around six thirty, showered, and did a little makeup. You were just about to leave to meet Art when Greg walked in.

It was like the light was sucked out of the room along with all the air. Or the fresh air. He smelled gross. He tasted worse, kissing you disgustingly. “Hey baby, I missed you,” he slurred. He needed to shave. “Where you headed?” 

“Bea’s,” you replied. “She’s having a movie night.” 

“Stay,” he breathed. “Missed you all day. Need to feel you.” He disgusted you. Hands on your chest with the door not even closed yet from his entry. “Come on, doll. Said no yesterday, can’t say no today.” 

“No.”

“Don’t give me that attitude, come on. I’m being nice.” 

“Greg, I have plans, I’m going to be late,” you tried to laugh it off nervously, but his hand was around your wrist in seconds. “Greg, please. Come on.” 

He narrowed his eyes, “You’re staying. Bea can fucking wait. Don’t your little friends know that I’m more important than them? Jesus christ, the company you keep.” 

You avoided his gaze. His hand slipped down to undo his belt. You debated running. He’d catch you, he was fast. You debated an argument. You didn’t want to fuck him, you didn’t want to have sex with him. He was expecting it more than wanting it. Like all you were was some object, some toy, some possession. His eyes were dark with lust and his words laced with alcohol. You were afraid of him. “Greg, I have to go. I’ll be back around eleven.” 

“You’re not fucking going,” Greg made it known. Flat out. He shut the door behind him. 

“I am. I made the plans, I can’t bail.” 

“For me, yes you fucking can.” He said, pushing you back onto the bed. “Come on, Y/N. You’ll like it soon enough.” 

“No. Greg. I’m serious. I have to go.” 

“You know better than to talk back to me,” he warned. As if you were a dog. Or a child. “You don’t fucking listen? You’re not going out. Cut the attitude before you regret it.” 

“Greg.” 

“What did I fucking say?” He yelled, then dropped his voice. It was nasty, his breath, his tone. “I’m gonna fuck you and you’re gonna like it.” 

“No-” his blow came like lightning through your body. A shock. A volt. And then the sting. “Greg, please-” another. And more. And then he left again. You couldn’t move. You didn’t want to, it hurt. Your ribs ached, your head pulsed. Your lip was bleeding. What could you do but cry and cry and cry? You wanted to call Art, you really did, but you knew if you cried on the phone he’d come over here and with Greg on the loose, it wasn’t a good idea. So you curled up into a ball and cried yourself to sleep. 

Art sat in his dorm room waiting all night for you. Until about 2 am, when he gave up calling and texting and went to bed. You called him the next morning and he didn’t pick up. 

You couldn’t reschedule for any day nearby because of your fat lip and new bruises. Greg came back and apologized like usual, dismissing the purple and blue on your face. His doing. His work. When he was in the bathroom, you called Art again, leaving a quiet voicemail. 

“Art, I’m so sorry about my no-show last night. Something came up and I couldn’t make it and I’m so sorry I didn’t call or text. I feel like such an asshole. But next week, for sure. We’ll do whatever you want, my treat. I want to make it up to you, I feel terrible about this. Please call or text me when you get this. I’m sorry.”

Art gazed over his screen. He wasn’t sure how to feel. Loving you was choking him out and these no-shows and being late and canceling, it was just… too much. You were you and you were everything he could ever want, but you had other priorities, it seemed. He could want you all he wanted, wish for you as often as he could, but you didn’t wish the same. That was all he knew, not knowing the whole truth. Not calling him that night was one of the hardest things to do, but it was for safety. 

You couldn’t even see Art if you wanted to for a few days. Not until the bruises faded enough to be covered by clever concealer. You wanted so desperately to go over to his dorm. You wanted to see your friends. Anything to feel better. Anything to get out of this fucking room, but you called in sick to your classes and worked on the material in your room, completely unable to really exist in the outside world. It was just you and Greg in this tiny little room. And he didn’t stop the aggression. You couldn’t escape it. 

You called Art again when he left for an hour or two to go to the bar. You had stifled your crying, feeling so completely alone, needing to hear his voice. Maybe he’d save you for even a moment. He was the light, he made things better. 

He picked up this time. “Hey.” It was singular, a little quiet. 

“Art, hi,” you said. You weren’t sure why you were so overwhelmed with emotion at his simple greeting. “Did you get my messages? I left a voicemail, god, I’m so sorry for the other night.  We made plans and I made a commitment but I got tangled up. I wanted to call, I’m so sorry I didn’t.” You gushed. “I understand if you’re angry. I know I promised you I wouldn’t do what I did, but you have to believe I didn’t mean to. And I’m really sorry.” 

He was quiet for a moment. “I know.” He wasn’t sure what to say. What you did wasn’t okay, but it was you, so he’d always forgive. “I get it.” But he didn’t. “You have a boyfriend, I can’t expect you to be free all the time. It’s fine.” But it wasn’t. 

“Art, really, I-” 

“I forgive you. Just call me next time? Please.” His words were so easy, it hurt you. “I heard your voicemail, if you still want to make it up to me, I’m free Friday night. There’s a party, Patrick wants to go. You should come with us.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut. A party would be hard to lie about. But it was Art and he was asking and you so desperately wanted to see him that you agreed. You agreed. And the conversation mellowed into something normal. Your usual conversation and banter, slight teases, and warm words. And it felt better. You had plans for Friday and that was that. You wouldn’t let anything or anyone stop you this time. 

Getting ready for the party with Greg around sucked. You did your makeup modestly, you couldn’t look too nice or he’d stop you from leaving. The concealer didn't quite cover the bruise, but your lip had healed over pretty nicely. The dim lighting would be your friend for sure. You put on a long skirt over a mid-length one. You couldn’t be too careful, he once called a skirt slightly above the knee slutty. And you wore a dollar store t-shirt over your black tank top. 

“Where are you going?” Greg asked. 

“Sleepover at Bea’s, remember?” You said. You loved lying to him. It was the best you could get away with. “You said I could go.” 

“Yeah. It’s fine. Talk to you later.” He didn’t make you stay or make you kiss him goodbye, which was a relief. You walked over to Art’s dorm with what felt like pep in your step. You didn’t have to be home at any certain time, you were free to roam, to have fun. Greg wouldn’t know. Greg couldn’t know. Patrick let you into Art’s room. He’d been debriefed on the stunt you pulled, but he couldn’t hold it against you. 

“You look like you’re going to church,” he remarked, looking over your outfit.

 Art peered over from where he sat, “Amish?” 

You chuckled, pulling the shirt off over your head. Both boys were a little taken aback as you tossed the shirt to Art’s laundry. “Not quite.” You undid the button on the side of your skirt and took that off as well, revealing the shorter skirt underneath. You were beautiful, Art thought. He always thought it. But that was because you always were. Wanting you was hard and disruptive and wrong, he reminded himself. But you stood there and everything reminded him of just how fucked he was. Head over heels for a taken girl. Both of them were too distracted to pay attention to the covered-up bruise on your outer thighs. They didn’t pay close enough attention to the multitude of bracelets that covered the bruised fingerprints on your wrist. Your face was another story. Another lie. 

Art’s mouth was just a little open, watching you shed the outer layer of clothes. Patrick tossed you a shooter. “So what’s with the coverup?” 

You thought he meant your makeup over the bruise on your face and you held your breath for a half-second. He meant the clothes. “Oh, Greg wouldn’t like me out in a skirt and tank top.” You tried not to cringe at the words. Were they telling?

“Why does Greg have a say in that?” Patrick replied, leaning forward in his chair just a little. Art looked away, he had to. His face would say something he didn’t want you to know. Patrick was overstepping, he couldn’t bear that either. 

You unscrewed the cap of the shooter, “He’s not… I don’t know. But I don’t give a fuck, I’m going out anyway,” you said, trying to ignore that line of questioning. “I’m in the skirt and the shirt. Thoughts?” You did a little spin. Art couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You were so perfect it hurt. It hurt. 

“Hot.” Patrick nodded. He unscrewed his own shooter, standing and grabbing one to pass to Art. Art pushed past his thoughts and the three of you did a little ‘cheers’, downing the small bottles. You would take hot. Hot was good. Hot was the opposite of how you were feeling. Greg made you feel so gross, it was hard to be anything else. And with staying cooped up in your room, bruised and marinating in the feeling of being ugly- so hot was good. He said what Art was thinking. It was a little less than he thought, but it was a good summary. 

The three of you headed out soon after, drinking on the way. You were leaning on Art as you walked, the three of you laughing at some inside joke. Your laugh was beautiful and rang out in the street. With the soft buzz of alcohol in his head, on his skin, you were an angel. You were always an angel, bathed in streetlight. And your hand was around his bare forearm and boundaries with you were always blurry but this felt odd. He was enjoying it, it was wrong, but he was letting it pass with the excuse of the alcohol. Your hand was so soft on his skin, the perfect temperature, perfect everything. When were you not perfect? 

“Okay so Patrick is set on bringing a girl back- but bringing a girl back where?” You laughed, turning onto one of the little pathways between the rented residencies. 

“I don’t think he’s thought that far ahead,” Art chuckled, nudging Patrick just a little. Patrick raised his hands in surrender, both hands filled with shooters. His pockets were also full. “You were going to say my dorm room, weren’t you?”

“Nasty,” you teased. “Poor Art. He sleeps in that bed, you know.” 

“Uh-huh. You’re one to talk, you’ve always got some form of hickey on your neck, you don’t even try to hide it. Me, nasty? You.” Your hand immediately flew to the side of your neck. “Sit with that one.” 

Art’s heart always fell at the mention of it. Every time, without fail. You moved away from him just slightly at the mention. You would usually have a retort to something like that. But you didn’t. Your hand just stayed on the side of your neck, covering the fingerprint bruises you didn’t know were visible. You pulled your hair over it. “Pass me another shooter, please.” 

Art, sweet, feeling pretty shitty over the way he was viewing you, stayed quiet. Mostly. Until you were just outside the party. Patrick pat him on the shoulder, heading in right away. Art, sweet, stopped you with the extension of his arm. “You’re quiet.” He said. 

“So were you,” you replied. 

“Just wondering if you’re okay?” He said. Posing it as a question. “You’ve seemed upset since we were at mine, I just wanted to know before we go in there and it’s too loud and I get too drunk to ask.” 

“You’ve never been too drunk you ask,” you smiled. You were standing a little bit close to him, your toes inches from touching. “You got soooo drunk at the Miller’s party last year and you still asked me if I was having fun. I wasn’t and we left and you threw up, remember?” 

“I don’t,” he chuckled, eyes soft. But he nodded, “You’re okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m okay. I need more to drink and I want to find Bea and dance. My plans. Your plans?” 

“Drink and save women from Patrick,” he nodded, his grin coming back. 

You, just a little clouded from alcohol, pressed your palm to the side of his face just for a second. “You’re a saint, Art Donaldson.” He felt his skin flush. Your hand slipped away and went down his forearm once again, pulling him into the party. It was natural you let go of him, Art made a beeline for Patrick who was already talking to some girl. She was weird, flirted with Art too once he showed up. 

You needed to lie to Greg more often, you thought, taking a shot from some girl you shared a 3pm class with. Bea’s hands on your hips, dancing together, hands raised over your heads. This was living, this was uncontrolled, unbridled by any abuse, any threat. You could have fun and not feel guilty about it after. Greg had too much trust in a girl he hit. You felt- though you weren’t- free. Just a little bit. 

Art watched you with Bea, watched the way you moved. He was out of it. Just a little. Not too drunk at all. But enough. Numb, watching you. Hard, watching you. He hid a little behind Patrick to hide it, watching your hips sway, watching how close you and your best friend were. He couldn’t have cared less about Bea. Just you. 

He should have told you he liked you in high school. Not saying anything had to be one of the biggest regrets of his entire life. You were perfect for him in every way and you were warm and inviting and you were witty and fun and you knew each other like the backs of your hands and it would have been worth it to tell you. He knew that, looking at you, that it would have been easiest to tell you when he still could. He was bitter about it. A missed chance. Patrick told him he’d regret it and watching you under purple lights, he knew Patrick had been right. It was all bullshit. 

Patrick suddenly grabbed Art’s arm pretty hard, yanking him closer, “That guy over there. That’s Greg, right?” He said, voice low even in the loudness of the party. He gestured over to the guy in the weird sweater and jeans, leaned up against the wall, arm hanging above a short hardly-dressed girl. Faces close. So close. Noses touching kind of close. 

“Oh, fuck,” Art breathed, eyes locked on them, watching Greg’s hand touch just under this girl’s chin. You didn’t know Greg was there, that was apparent. But of course, the dirtbag was. Art’s heart pounded hard in his chest. He looked back at Patrick, whose expression was filled with hatred. As it should be because what the fuck? Regardless of how much he was rooting for Art, always rooting for Art, Greg was still the guy you were with. Your boyfriend. And he was with someone else. 

“I need a reason not to fuck him up right now,” Patrick said. “What the fuck do we do?” 

“I don’t know.” Art answered truthfully. “She doesn’t know he’s here, he doesn’t know she’s here.” 

Patrick shook his head, tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, visibly pissed off. At least Patrick could be pissed off, Art’s stomach was just in knots. It was almost nonsensical. No way he would cheat on you. You? You were everything, you were gorgeous in all ways and you had a personality. How could he cheat? He looked back over at Greg in a liplock with this other girl and the anger did rise, but his eyes fell back on you and it eased. This was fucked all around. Every bit of this was fucked up. “We have to tell her, we can’t keep it to ourselves.” 

“I agree but how are we going to say it? We’re in a crowd of people, it’s not exactly fun news.” 

“Fucking asshole. I’m pissed. He’s slobbering all over that girl like a fucking dog. You know, I should…”

Art couldn’t keep listening to Patrick’s rant. He didn’t even want to look back at Greg. But Greg was very obviously invested in his cheating schemes. Art wondered how long he’d been doing it to you. How long had this guy been cheating? Did you not satisfy him? How could you not satisfy him, you sported hickeys so often and you were late to meet up and it was all sickening, but it didn’t add up. This guy was the world's most unsatisfied, apparently. It, he, was disgusting. Art felt his face crinkle up just thinking about it, but he had to now. Your feelings were in the balance here. 

“- in the face. Knock his goatee right off. Art. Art, I’m telling her.” 

“Patrick, give me a fucking second,” Art said, holding a hand up. He looked back at you, Bea pouring a shot in your mouth. You were smiling. Grinning. And you were beautiful and he hated the idea that you’d stop soon. Fuck. Neither of you deserved this. Not you, not Art. “We’ll tell her it’s time to go and then we’ll tell her outside, no bullshit.” 

Patrick nodded, “This is bad.” 

“Yeah.” 

“I’m so fucking angry.” 

“I know.” Art’s heart was leaping out of his chest. He held his hand out and Patrick dug in his pocket for a stronger shooter. Art drank it all quickly, letting it burn his throat. His heart didn’t slow even a bit. “Fuck.” 

Patrick leaned over to the girl who he’d just been talking to, saying something about having to leave. Art watched her roll her eyes and walk away. It was fair, she’d been standing there for a bit listening to him trash talk your boyfriend. Art rubbed his eyes, trying to sober up just a little, but after that shooter, it was a little bit pointless. Regret seemed to be a theme around here. “He’s gone.” Patrick said. Art let the fuzz from rubbing his eyes melt and sure enough, Greg wasn’t where he was before. Just a little panicked, he set his eyes on you. There he was, towering over you, rage in his eyes. It was clear to Art what was going through your head, he knew you too well, you were cowering. Patrick was still scanning the crowd for Greg, but Art watched as Greg’s fingers locked onto your upper arm and he yanked you so hard that your shoulder went funny for a second. 

Art, a little shocked, watching him drag you out of sight. And he launched into action. He started into the sea of people dancing, drinking, leaving Patrick behind. Patrick was faced the other way, by the time Art was absorbed into the crowd, it was a little late to find even him. Art pushed through people, trying to keep his sight on you, but he lost you in it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mumbled. He’d never seen anyone grab anyone the way Greg just grabbed you. It was violent and harsh and the way it happened, it couldn’t have been good in any way. He pushed through people, accidentally pushing a guy as he passed him, the guy went to push back but Art just darted out of the way. He made his way to the door, you weren’t around it, so you had to have left. 

“Art Donaldson, my man,” one of his tennis buddies greeted him, stepped in front of him and Art just stepped around him, trying to find you. You, where were you? His heart rate was raised higher than he’d ever felt it. Rapid, as if he’d run a mile. He ran out onto the street, looking around, but there wasn’t any sight of you. What he would do when he found you, he had no idea, he just knew he needed to find you. Nobody just grabbed someone like that with good intentions. 

Greg wasn’t a good guy and he knew that, he just thought it was his bias. That maybe he was overreacting, but it didn’t look so much that way now. “Greg, please!” You yelled from his left. Art turned his head to see two figures head into one of the thin alleyways between buildings. He could hear a man speaking back to you, Greg, obviously, but his voice was too much of a growl to understand. Art started jogging toward the sound, cautiously. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, okay, I’m sorry I lied,” you cried out. 

“Little fucking whore. Lie to me to go party with your friends? Dance on some fucking guy, cheat one me? That’s what you wanted?” Art’s heart was about to break his ribs. He ran just a little faster.

“No, fuck, Greg, stop! I was with Bea, I was with Bea!” 

“At a fucking party. If you wanted to be a slut you could have said so. Fucking lying to me, you’re disgusting. Fucking bitch.” 

“Greg!” 

“Don’t even start talking back to me now! You’re a lying, cheating whore who deserves to be treated like one!” 

Art was almost there, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. “Greg, don’t fucking touch me. I’m dead serious, I’ll scream. Get off me, get off me you asshole!” 

The sound of the blow made Art’s entire body go cold. He felt himself drain of colour, he felt his heart stop for just a second. It was a sickening noise. The entirety of him tensed up to a point he felt like a coiled spring, his chest tight, ribs pressing in. He hit you, that was the sound of him hitting you, he hit you. Art made it over and came at Greg with a surprising force, shoving him off of you and onto the ground. He was drunk, it was easy to do. Your hand grabbed Art’s upper arm, but missed as Art’s body followed through with the movement. 

“What the fuck?!” Greg exclaimed. You moved behind Art, backward, away. Tears streamed down your face, you were choking on sobs, cradling the side of your face with one hand and your upper arm with the other. Art stepped back with you. He was so angry he himself couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t look at you, he kept his eyes on Greg, breathing hard. Shoving was tame, shoving him off of you was going to have to be enough, Art wasn’t violent. The shock of all this hadn’t settled, it wouldn’t settle. “Who the fuck are you, tough guy?” Greg advanced on Art who was nimble, but between anti-car poles, stuck. Shoved against the wall, he just avoided having his head hit the wall by putting his hand up. 

“Art!” You yelled. “Greg, stop! GREG!” You screamed, you hoped someone would come. You hoped someone would call the cops. 

“Art fucking Donaldson, huh?” Greg smirked, face close to Art’s. “You been fucking my girlfriend? Hm? This the one, Y/N, really? Just friends my ass, you probably came here with him.” 

“Fuck you,” Art seethed. Greg was bigger than him. 

“Get off of him, Greg, I’m begging you, don’t hurt him!” 

Greg fumed, “Used me to get over him, huh? Big-eared, fuckass, twinkie little pretty boy, here?” 

“Shut up!” You yelled. Your head pounded, your skin stung. “Stop. Now. I’ll call the police, I’ll get someone to call the police, Greg, get off of him!” 

Art shoved Greg backward again, but he just walked right back. “I don’t want to fight you.” Art said, his eyes dark. “Fuck off. Leave her alone, fuck off.” 

“He’s playing prince charming, Y/N. You’ve been fucking him on the side. Yeah, that’s why you never put out, you slut. Getting his pathetic skinny boy dick on the side.” Art kneed Greg in the groin, pushing him off again and stepping over to you. “Oh, you’re fucking dead.” His eyes burned with rage and he came at Art with a pouncing force, grabbing him and bringing him down to the ground. You screamed, watching Greg tackle Art to the pavement. The brawl began, Greg holding Art down, trying to punch him but being blocked. Art wasn’t violent, he was avoiding hurting Greg. For you. For your sake. You had no choice, you had to intervene. What was a few more bruises? You tried to push Greg off, but he kept at it, trying to hurt Art. 

“Hey! Hey, what the fuck!” It was Patrick and he dragged you out of this with too much ease, putting you to the side and going right back to push Greg off of Art and onto his back. A bystander behind Patrick had their phone out, calling 911, thank god. You watched in pure shock, Art get punched in the shoulder rather than the head and in a swift blow, Patrick punched Greg in the jaw. And he went limp. You grabbed Art, you grabbed whatever you could on him, his shirt, his opposite shoulder, on your knees. He looked at you with eyes sadder than you’d ever seen them. You moved closer. 

His hand reached up to your face desperately but also gently, despite the adrenaline pumping through his veins. “You’re okay? You’re okay.” 

“I’m okay,” you nodded a little too much, looking him over just as he looked you over, noting the way your cheekbone was bleeding. He really hit you. “God, are you okay? I’m so sorry, Art, I’m so sorry.” You were crying a steady stream of tears, lip trembling, and you were still so beautiful. 

“Don’t be sorry, don’t be sorry,” he said, trying to wipe your tears a little more desperately than he had just done. “He hit you, he hurt you, how-” 

“I wanted to tell you. I was scared. I was so scared he’d do something awful. I don’t love him, I don’t want him, I want you. I want you, I’ve wanted you.” You blurted, sobbing just a little more. Art messily moved your hair out of your face. “Art, I-”  You were crying so hard, it was hard to breathe. “I couldn’t leave him.” You looked over at Patrick shaking his hand out, at Greg’s unconscious self. Hands gentle, he turned your head away from it. 

Art’s lips were just a little parted, eyes looking over the damage to your face. “How long has he been?” 

“A long time,” you swallowed hard. “Three months in, maybe two- two and a half.” You said, biting your lip trying to stop crying. “I wanted to leave him. I wanted to so badly, but I couldn’t. He’s- he’s why I didn’t show up those times, I wanted to be there, but he’d… he was… I’m sorry.” 

“Why are you sorry, you have nothing to be sorry for, this isn’t your fault,” he said, bracing you with soft hands. “It’s okay. He’s not getting close to you ever again, Patrick is making sure of that.” 

“He was right about the using him part, I was using him to get over you and it was- wrong. It was wrong and he started hurting me and then it was too late to get out.”

In the heat of the moment, your ‘I want you’s had slipped past him. He wanted to make sure you were okay, he wasn’t focused on that. You were blurting things out, he’d missed it. His eyebrows furrowed, he lowered his head just a bit, “Over me? What do you mean?” His judgment also wasn’t the best. But it didn’t matter. You sat up just a little, still clinging onto his clothes, hands shaking. With Greg out, going to be out of the picture the words just spilled from your mouth. Rolling off your tongue in light of what was soon to be true freedom. 

“I’ve wanted you forever, god, it kills me that I never said anything. It’s you, it’s been you, I don’t know why I thought I could ever try and be with anyone to forget that. It’s just, you’ve never…” 

“What? No, no. I’ve liked you since I met you, we were twelve, it was bad and it’s been you. You never said anything either-” the sound of a cop car approaching interrupted. “You liked me?” 

“Yes! So much. Too much, sometimes. God, I’m so stupid.” You were crying still, even more now. “You just… you never said anything, so I never said anything and then I got stuck, but it never stopped. It’s bad, it’s so bad, I probably love you, it’s awful.” The alcohol was still running the conversation. 

“That is awful,” Art chuckled just a little bit. On the pavement with you, cop car approaching, lights flashing. This conversation would be over in a minute. Your eyes met his, sad, angry, mutual thoughts and mutual expressions. 

“It’s bad?” You smiled just a little through your tears. 

He grinned just a little, “I've been in love with you for as long as I've known what being in love feels like”

Art’s thumb wiped your tears with a little less desperation now. His heart and yours were still beating hard. “That’s so bad, that’s six years,” 

“I know.” He said, grinning his wide crooked grin. The conversation had strayed from the real problem, but it was a good distraction. A welcomed one, in fact. Proof that things could and would be better. “It’s okay. Are you going to be okay?” 

“I’m going to be okay,” you nodded. The policemen, two of them walked over and began their spiel, asking about what happened and Art helped you to your feet. The night was still young, the persecution was easy to figure and a diary you kept detailing his abuse was a great help to the case. You, Patrick, and Art all spent the night at the police station with forms and questions and people trying to get a grasp on the situation. A blurry security camera was also a great amount of help. Greg was charged properly, put away. It was easy to see who was the real problem. You sat with ice to your face in one of the police chairs, being offered therapy and counseling and numbers to call for trauma and crisis. Everyone was so sweet, one of the policewomen held your hand for a good while until it stopped shaking. 

You still cried a lot. Sorry that everyone had to go through this just because you couldn’t leave a guy. Just because you had tried to forget your feelings for Art in someone else. But the words, ‘it’s not your fault’ were thrown around a lot. And that you’d be safe. And it felt good to know. You’d sobered back up, obviously. So did the boys. You had the most extensive questioning, the boys waited in the main room. 

“All the excuses, the ball to the face, the stairs…” Patrick sighed heavily, staring forward into a void. 

“It was him.” Art nodded. “I feel like such an idiot, how the fuck did I not know? I know her better than myself, she hid it and I didn’t want to think about her and Greg. It was… it hurt.” He admit. Patrick looked over at Art. 

“He’s gone. He won’t hurt her again. If he tries, best believe I’m doing more than knocking his ass out. I can’t fucking believe this shit. I’m glad I got off, but jesus fucking christ, I wish I’d done enough to be behind those bars.” 

“No you don’t,” Art sighed, leaning forward into his hands. “Fuck. I didn’t even fight back.” 

“You’re not that kind of guy,” Patrick reasoned. “Which is fine. You got him off her, that was all you needed to do.” 

“I guess, but… fuck.” 

“She told you she wanted you,” He reminded Art with a slight sly smile on his lips. He gave Art a gentle little push off the shoulder. As if Art had been able to stop thinking about it. He’d sobered up just the same and the confession might have been badly timed, but at least it happened. He meant it, he hoped you did too. He was trying not to let it eat him alive alongside the fact your now-ex hit you and he hadn’t known. Maybe he missed the other clues? How did he not know? “She likes you too. It’s all you’ve wanted.” 

“I know,” Art sighed. “After that, though?” 

“Means she’s yours.” 

Art looked up and met Patrick’s eyes, trying to verify if he meant it. As if Patrick was the dictator. But Patrick was only the reality. The gravity of the situation hung above him, but you were in front of him, free from the questioning. Your cheeks were pink and tear-stained still and your eyelashes were still wet. Patrick tipped his head toward you to gesture to Art and the second Art saw you, he was on his feet. His eyes were wide like a doe’s, hands in his pockets. 

He met you halfway down the blue-painted precinct hallways. Your eyes said more than words did as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He pulled you in the rest of the way into a hug that had more sincerity and life than the walls had ever seen. His arms wrapped around your waist, grabbing onto the fabric of your shirt on your sides, holding you tight and close. He kissed your shoulder, his chin resting in your hair. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He mumbled. You shut your eyes for a moment, allowing him to envelop you in his arms. He held you so tight, it felt like he was keeping you from falling to pieces. It would take you a while to get over all of this, but right now, it felt like you’d be okay. 

He was refreshingly cold, the precinct was warm and you’d been upset, so of course you were warm. He held you for a minute or maybe five. Nobody had to use the hallway and anyone who did just went back around. Patrick didn’t watch, instead, he went to the counter to ask about getting a ride back to campus. 

Eventually, you pulled away from the hug. Not entirely, just almost. His arms slid over your back, his grip just loosening, not leaving. In fact you didn’t get very far in pulling away. Your heart beat fast in your chest. Even in the upset, even after the fact, Art was still your peace. He was quiet and he held you as long as you needed him to. He was always there and you knew he would be. With everything that happened just then, with that confession… Your forehead pressed against his. Gentle. Safe. You were safe. You felt safer here, like this, than you did in that room with the officers who asked you so many things. 

You looked at him through your eyelashes. He must have read your mind, he must have known you too well. With a tilt of your heads, your lips met. There was the slightest, softest bit of hesitation, but it was soothed over in seconds, your hand sliding to cup Art’s cheek. He pulled you back in with slow, easy hands that didn’t grab too hard. The kiss was patient, calculated, and warm. It sent what felt like tiny sparks through all of your veins leaving goosebumps in their wake. It felt like completion, like a satisfying end to a movie, like putting a book back on the shelf after reading it. It was easy to kiss him, your heart slowed for the first time as his pace matched yours. However, out of understanding, the kiss wasn’t too long. Maybe a minute, nothing more. 

You’d been through something. He couldn’t be the one to fix all of that, but he’d be there for you until it felt better. Stepping in now felt wrong, felt like it was one thing to another. You needed the time to yourself. Art didn’t kiss you again for another five months. All of which were spent the way they usually were, aside from being a little closer than usual and hanging out so much more. You were free to do as you pleased. Free to see him. Free to stay home- and you spent a good amount of your time alone healing. Physically and mentally. 

Patrick was often around to help you laugh it off, but when you needed to cry, Art was always right there. After some time, you were feeling like yourself again. And you were laughing too much, smiling all the time again, spinning in a new skirt and crashing into Art. Who you then kissed, after so much time thinking about it, replaying it, wanting it again. It was finally okay to do so. After seven years, it was only fitting that he welcomed it, fully, and entirely. You were giggling, your lips pressed to his, and he knew it was okay. There was no bruise on your cheekbone to be cautious of, both of his hands held your face, your head tilted back just a little as he kissed you the way you were meant to be kissed. The way Greg couldn’t. It would never mean so much. 

Greg was in your past, but Art was your past. And your future, now. Because now that you had each other, neither of you was going to let go. He promised you that between kisses. You promised it back. 

taglist: @swetearss @lalalandofive @reallycreativeusername @kaaaiiaaa @ladystardust-thinks @ke4s @ellzbellz18

[crayzkrypto]

Just some thought's I had abt the current situation: (Tw: political thinking & some existential thinking.) (This is the ONLY time I will say smthn like this I promise. (I don't really like politics in general or rlly at all >_<))

-Kat's: "Oh shit, we're doomed." thoughts-

You may share, repost, and spread this post around ONLY IF YOU DO NOT SUPPORT TRUMP. Please do not do so if you support his greedy ass, thank you for understanding in advance. IN ADVANCE TO ADD ON AS WHAT WAS SAID BELOW ORIGINALLY, DO NOT REPLY IF YOU SUPPORT HIM, THANK YOU.

If trump gets the dictatorship he wants we are all royally fucked.

If trump wins he WILL remove the rights of minorities, he WILL ruin the progress people have already made in terms of equality for minorities.

I ain't stayin if this place is being ruled by a cheeto king (Not my fault he made himself look like a cheeto ✨)

Trump is to say the least- I wouldn't put it past him in turning around and backstabbing our country as soon as he gains control over it.

As someone related to the big H man in history, I gotta admit, I don't rlly want a dictatorship.

Having a xenophobic and racist president would be hell for quite a lot of people.

Having a transphobic, sexist, ableist, and homophobic president would be hell for many.

Having a dictatorship is like erm, going back to the older days if you know what I mean, and it feels icky and disgusting in every way possible istg.

A rich person who only supports other rich people and treats non-rich people shitty; would not be such a great president, no offense to people out there.

If I were 18 rn I'd be voting for the poc presidential candidate, who's a woman, and supports minorities, and supports the people currently in very bad living situations.

Trump only cares about HIMSELF, he wants to live like a king, that is quite the opposite of what America was built on.

Do we really want someone as greedy, untrustworthy, selfish, and cruel as that in control- (To say the least I am genuinely a bit worried abt him potentially winning the election...) (Do not reply to this post or interact with me at all if you support Trump, are homophobic, ableist, transphobic, sexist, racist, etc, thank you. Idc that you support him or think that what he is doing is at all right, because it isn't right, I will remove your message if you come attacking me for saying what genuinely think abt this situation.) (And before people come in saying this or that is "perfect" or "the right way": * Keep in mind, nothing in this life is "perfect", there are always imperfections, there is always something uneven or not perfectly lined up, absolutely nothing is set in stone, nothing is a perfectly carved edge, there is always a crack somewhere, always a dent here or there, always a mistake in one place or another, I will never believe that anything in life is truly perfect, not for as long as I live. Because the truth about life, is that it will always be; wild, unpredictable, random, and imperfect. No one controls the outcome, every variable influences the hands of time, every variable is a random chance to affect. * Technically; nothing is "the right way to do things", since all things are technically just made up from this person, that person, or our ancestors, the "right way" you believe in is usually based on opinion or what you have been taught, heck, every word in the dictionary has been made up by someone else, somewhere else, at some point in time or history. It's all just opinions, beliefs made by those before you, and things you have been taught, people make their own choices in life and that is how it goes. You may believe in one thing, and support this person in life or that person, but do not expect or force everyone to do the same. ) (DO NOT: attack me for anything on this post, I mean it. Ty for understanding ^ ^ ! (Includes forcing opinions abt if you support Trump, and why you think I should think the same as you, listen: I DO NOT CARE! I won't support him, and never will, for various reasons, end of story.))

You MAY repost this post and spread it around IF, and ONLY IF, you do not support trump !

[tafaha-means-apple]

Katarina and Garen relationship as a narrative

It's so frustrating how much Riot has basically ruined the Kat and Garen romance at this point. The biggest issue with it now is funnily enough a 180 compared to what people complained about it in the past: that the narrative was too focused on Garen. Well now we have the opposite problem where Garen is such a nothing character with no firm characterization, no ideals, no beliefs, and in fact is just used as a patsy in every narrative he ever shows up in except the First Shield novella where even there he's just kind of a generic stoic guy.

He has nothing to offer any kind of relationship to anyone, let alone with Katarina. The key requirement of all good romances is reciprocity. One party having just nothing to contribute does not make for a good romance narrative. This is especially bad due to the direction Riot has taken with Katarina and Noxus best exemplified in her comic.

In that comic, Demacia as a whole but also several Demacian characters including Garen were not used as equal parts of a shared narrative with Kat. They were just used as plot devices and meaningless cameos to affirm and support Kat's character and to give her "boss" moments with absolutely no reciprocity whatsoever. Nothing about the comic was any actual interplay between Demacia and Noxus. It was just Noxus playing games with Demacia with the latter being struck by stupid juice multiple times just to ensure that Kat was never questioned or challenged. Garen and Demacia existed just to set up how Kat becomes Swain's right hand (and maybe Guile).

This issue bleeds over into the potential for any kind of romance between Katarina and Garen. What kind of romance is there to explore when 1/2 of it can only play the role of the patsy to support the other's character development, and development that is specifically antithetical to Garen in any meaningful way. Garen has since 2016 been slowly stripped of anything resembling a personality. He has nothing to stand up for, nothing important he believes in other than a vague sense of "doing what's right", and the comic just completely accepts this and in fact leans into it. Demacia and by extension Garen are such losers that their only place is to affirm the opinions of Noxians and Kat herself.

What kind of romance could ever exist with that as the foundation? No reciprocity, no capacity for Garen to affect Katarina in a way that matters (for some reason the comic tried to make it seem like Garen had some effect on Kat that gave her the will to succeed... after they only ever shared one conversation that basically just amounted to "hey lux is in danger go save her first"), and no shared sense of betraying who they think they are due to the affects of love (which is the only appealing angle of the relationship with any meat on its bones that could be used for storytelling).

Kat's new ideology from the comic (and quite frankly the ideology that Riot keeps doubling down on for Noxus) is one that is completely and utterly incompatible with any kind of questioning or repudiation that could offer any kind of narrative meat for Garen to be a meaningful contributor to. Which is telling that in Riot's view imperialism is some noble thing that can do no wrong, but there is just no space for any kind of interplay with other views from any other characters. Essentially every interplay between Noxus and anyone/where else is just the latter asking why Noxus has to be so mean and that's it. It never goes further. There's no deeper critique of imperialism or any perspective on Noxian flaws outside of how Noxians are moral paragons who are just a little too mean about it.

It'd be the most boring of all possible romance foundations for Kat and Garen where Garen's only contribution to it is one where he either just perpetually defers to her on everything or just wags his finger disapprovingly when Kat does something mildly questionable. The former means he's just a spineless patsy and the latter just makes him annoying. If Garen is to be a real character he has to have something to say, and if he is to be in a relationship with Kat that actually takes either of them to interesting places, he has to have something interesting to say that is relevant to Kat's character and worldview.

On the flip side it's not like Kat has anything to contribute that is particularly interesting either. When Noxian ideology exists in such a way that it can only ever be correct about everything, then her only contribution to any relationship with Garen would be just moralizing at him about boring stuff like "birthright nobilities are bad" and "it's wrong to be bigoted" (and it's hilariously whitewashing that Riot has somehow decided that empires were built on being understanding of other peoples). Why does she care about Garen with this kind of dichotomy? Garen has no capacity to show her anything new and breaks no normative understandings about people or others that she can't immediately absorb into her existing worldview (the worldview being that she simply views people based on how much better they'd be as a part of Noxus, which no story in Riot's entire lore anthology has ever come up with any kind of repudiation of outside of "Noxians are kinda mean about it").

This sounds like this is an ideological issue... but yeah that is exactly what it is. Garen and Kat have long been portrayed as the peak representatives of their respective regions. They were both meant to embody the value and beliefs of their regions and what would make a romance between them interesting would be the ways in which *each of them* begins to question what they were brought up on and the ways in which they viewed themselves. With this new foundation there is no capacity for both of them to meaningfully affect the other in a way that is reciprocal. If you don't have that, then... the two don't really have a good romance that can be explored.

If the theories that Kat is to become Guile are true, then that adds just another layer of inequity between them. Garen is such a meaningless character in Demacia's lore, practically speaking. He is a commander in the Vanguard but... that's it. The amount of agency he has is very limited and his impacts on any stories in Demacia have been incredibly small (he's usually just used as a pin cushion that other characters beat on to hype them up). Meanwhile Kat has a ton of agency as a character and in fact is 1/3 of the ruling government of Noxus. What is Garen supposed to contribute to in a relationship with this kind of dichotomy? Riot has completely botched any sort of chance for a reciprocal relationship between them that doesn't heavily bias one over the other and it's such a shame because they were one of the few examples of a romantic narrative in the lore and imo were one of the few that were actually interesting.

[st4r-dustx]

Corruption | i.midoriya

"What do you do when you no longer recognize yourself?"

TW: DARK CONTENT, mention of sexual assault/rape

Synopsis: Izuku Midoriya has been trying to overthrow the hero system for years. It's been his mission since the previous number one hero All Might crushed his dreams and UA eliminated his chances of ever becoming a hero, all because he was quirkless. It may seem foolish, but he's determined to fix their unjust and morally incorrect system. However, in the midst of things his vison begins to blur. Black looks like white, hate looks like love, and evil looks like good.

WC: 3.4K

the thick snow beneath Izuku Midoriya's feet buffered his steps, he walked at a slow pace due to the snow almost encasing his ankles. He had just gotten off a shift at the pre sync, extremely tired as per usual. He had been working extra hours lately in order to keep his lights on, being a cop doesn't exactly pay well when you have those obnoxious heroes to do all the work. These extra hours weren't exactly doing much to help with his planning for next month though.

His plan to confront and expose his ex best friend, his previous bully, and the current number one hero, Katsuki Bakugo. Izuku had found little ways to keep tabs on Katsuki despite the fact that they no longer talked. The latest news was that the beloved number one, had been taking advantage of multiple girls and paying them to keep their mouths shut. Perfectly timed, next month was The Heroes Gala, a big party to celebrate and appreciate the heroes of today. Izuku was going to take this opportunity to expose him for the awful person he was and is, and at least try to take down the hero system with him. But before he could, he needed evidence. And he could only get evidence from the inside.

So, how a was a stupid cop with a foolish-- at best-- wish, supposed to get in the inside with the number one pro hero of Japan, you may ask? Well, acting isn't that hard. He’d figured he'd at least try to charm one of Katsuki’s current girls into letting him around them and then making them rat out their lover. it was the only way, it had to work.

Izuku quickly approached his small apartment, unlocking the door and shoving his way inside. As he furthered into the space he flung his keys on the foyer table, snow flaking off of his coat with every step he took.

He then sat himself on the center of his couch, resting his chin on his crossed hands. He was staring at a cork board that lie in front of him, the kind you’d see in crime movies where the detective makes a board of possible suspects. Except this one had an array of pictures of pro heroes, with tidbits of taboo allegations written near them. Izuku kept this board to keep track of every possible rumor that could potentially ruin someone’s career so he could look into it and see if it held any truth so he could attempt to take them down with it. And right at the very center of the board was of course, Katsuki Bakugo.

He definitely had the most notes and allegation surrounding him, but that was because he was the one Izuku cared about the most. Back in elementary school, they were the best of friends. wherever one went the other followed, hell they were practically brothers! Their families went on joint vacations and everything, but then Katsuki got his quirk and all of a sudden he was too cool to hang out with a quirkless loser like Izuku.

Its kinda funny, actually. The person he once thought would be buried next to him, he was now about to dig a grave for. To think Katsuki ended up being some big shot hero while Izuku stayed at the bottom of the food chain. He suffered with a mediocre job and a mediocre life while his goddamn bully held the position he’d always dreamed of, all because Izuku had some misfortune at birth. It was so ironic yet so predictable it was sickening, this is exactly what everyone said would happen to Izuku, and fuck they were all right. That’s why he’s determined to take the system down especially Katsuki Fucking Bakugo. No matter though, Izuku had better get to work with developing his plan. The gala was NEXT month after all!

…………

Soft white powder continued to line the sidewalks as Izuku walked through the cityscape streets of Tokyo, he dusted snow off the coat he was wearing over the finest suit he was able to afford, it was simple since it was just black with a regular black bow tie, but it did compliment him quite well, making it look better than it truly was. The crowd was all directed towards this large venue that hosted one of the most prestigious events of the year, The Heroes Gala.

Izuku gulped as he viewed the large building, could he really pull off infiltrating this party? Sure civilians were allowed to go, but they had to buy a ticket which was a hefty price for someone with such a low paying job as him, or for any normal non-rich person for that matter. So he couldn’t get in that route, but he originally figured he’d show the man reading tickets his badge, and tell him he was additional security. Hopefully that would work.

Izuku proceeded to the side entrance that housed a long line of attendees waiting to be situated. He decided to just skip ahead though, security had to be priority, right? The man reading tickets was a skinny man with short hair, and based on the way he was fumbling with the tickets, Izuku could easily tell it was his first day on the job and all the demanding guests were getting him flustered.

Perfect.

He waltzed up to the man who was trying to help everyone as quickly as possible and tapped his shoulder. The man gazed at him with a confused expression. “huh? Sir I’m sorry but I believe you’re supposed to be in the back of the line.” He spoke kindly and softly, Izuku could tell he hadn’t yet gotten jaded like he did, still basking in his youth and joy. Too bad he was about to cost this man his job. He pulled his badge from his suit pocket and introduced himself. “Hello sir, I’m requested security, so I need to be inside before anyone else here.” He explained to the man. “Oh? well let me look on the list of security guards attending to make sure, what’s your name?” Shit. Now Izuku was gonna have to do something drastic.

He reached underneath his coat and pressed a cold piece of metal against the man’s leg, a gun. The man gasped at the sensation as Izuku leaned towards the man’s ear. “You’re gonna let me into this event, and you’re gonna do it quietly or so help me I will let this off on everybody on this line. If that idea alone isn’t enough, think about the investigation. Who are they gonna suspect? The cop or the lowly ticket handler who’s been tired and disrespected all day?” He whispers into the trembling man’s ear, which garners no response. “Exactly, so let me in please?” Izuku said backing away, changing his tone to a cheery one. The man reluctantly unlocked the door for him and let Izuku inside.

Damn that felt good. Abusing his power the same way everyone had done to him, god that shit felt so damn good. Since he’s just a simple cop there aren’t many times he’s able to assert his authority in situations (considering he doesn’t have much) , so when he does it’s like a breath of fresh air.

Enough of that though, Izuku Midoriya, was at the Heroes Gala! To think that if maybe things were different, if somebody had given him a chance back then, if he had been born with one pinkie toe joint instead of two, maybe just maybe he could’ve been attending for real. Izuku walked around, he was snooping around to find Katuski’s most recent entanglement, Camie Utsushimi. He was hoping she’d know something about the other girls he’d assaulted, maybe she’d even be a victim of him herself. Whichever it was he just needed enough evidence and reason to launch an investigation into him, which would for sure prove him guilty if all the victims share their stories. Or even if it didn’t it would at least taint his reputation.

As Izuku stayed in the shadows of the multi-floored venue he noticed he could hear faint sobbing from the left of him. That was surely unusual, who would be crying at such an acclaimed event? Izuku decided to follow the sound and figure out what happened, he was a cop after all, might as well help someone who might be in need out.

He discovered that it was coming from a dark hallway from a young woman. She wore a beautiful backless dress with what was most likely a real fur shawl with elegant white gloves that covered her face. If Izuku had been there that night for any other reason he would’ve absolutely tried to pursue her, but he couldn’t get lost on this mission. He was just gonna check on her then be on his way. Izuku cleared his throat and approached the stunning woman. “Um, ma’am are you alright?” He asked gently, hoping not to startle her. The woman raised her head from her hands and brushed her blonde hair back. Izuku gasped as she revealed her face, it was Camie! The situation was so perfect he almost suspected it was a set up. But Izuku knew for sure he couldn’t fumble now.

“Oh! Yes, I just um… haha..” Camie trailed off, nervously chuckling to cover how strained her voice was from crying. “You don’t look okay.” Izuku further inquired. Camie bowed her head, becoming unresponsive while Izuku leaned his back against the wall. “You know, its ok to tell me. You’re a hero right? I’m sure it must be hard and stressful always having to be some beacon of hope and everything else positive, meanwhile your real life might be shit.” He admitted, though he only assumed that’s how she must feel, he felt pretty certain that was it, he knew loads about heroes considering he once wanted to be one. “I actually couldn’t have said it better myself, are you a hero too or something? I don’t think i’ve ever seen you before.” Camie laughed. “Oh, no! I did want to be one though when I was younger, so I did tons of research and stuff. So I kinda know a lot.” Izuku revealed in his younger self’s nerdy fashion. To think that after all this time he still gets all riled up whenever someone tests his hero knowledge. “But it doesn’t take a hero or someone who studies them to see that you’re not ok. So what do you say we get drinks and talk about?” He proposed cunningly, stunting a smile he’d hoped would convince the lady. “Oh what the hell? Why not?”

……..

Izuku and Camie sat in satin seats in one of the luxurious lounges the venue had, pouring champagne, talking and laughing, but Izuku didn’t really care about any of the small talk or the jokes, he knew why he was there and was not about to lose sight of that. “You never did tell me what was wrong earlier, and the award ceremony must be starting soon so you better get to talking.” Izuku said, leaning in closer and resting his cheek in the palm of his hand to express interest. Camie was busy downing yet another glass of champagne, this was her fifth? No her seventh? She didn’t even remember. She waved her hand to dismiss Izuku’s statement. “I’m not going to that stupid ceremony with that stupid prick they call the number one hero, he was the reason I was upset earlier anyway.” Camie whined, God Izuku hated this kind of childish drunk, but her sentence piqued his interest so he ignored his annoyance. “Really? What happened?”

He was almost certain there must’ve been a glimmer in his eyes the way his interest shot up, could she really be about to expose him? “He’s just such an ass to me. Because he’s number one and I’m barely top 20, he always acts like he’s too good for me and won’t act like my boyfriend in public. The press only found out ‘cause they followed us home one night.” Camie began tearing up again, but Izuku didn’t give a damn if there was trouble in paradise for them, Katsuki had always been cocky that kind of behavior was expected. All he wanted to know was something incriminating.

But he still put on a fake concerned face and pretended to be upset for her, but then an idea hit him. “That’s terrible, Utsushimi. You know, my friend who’s a cop is actually looking into him for sexual assault allegations, would you happen to know anything about that? ‘Cause your story is already giving me reason to believe he’s not such a great person after all.” Izuku was manipulating the fact that Camie was drunk and already mad at Katsuki hoping that his questions would trigger her into saying something she shouldn’t given her state. “Well, when me and him are in bed he does love to make me act like I don’t want him.” Camie admits bluntly and Izuku’s face turns crimson. ‘That’s so not what I meant!’ He thought, but he guesses its kinda helpful to know Katsuki’s some sick freak who gets off on stuff like that. “That’s not exactly what I meant, but do you know of any other girls he might’ve actually assaulted? Or were you ever a victim of the real thing?” Izuku questioned, keeping up the concerned façade. “Well now that I think about it, one day I was recording this video of us in this new car he bought, and he said something about not liking the dealer because she was brunette or something? And then he said something about brunettes only being rape toys because sometimes they have good bodies… But at the time I didn’t think he actually meant anything by it.” Camie confessed while slurring her words, and Izuku could tell she felt guilty, knowing she’d basically heard Katsuki blatantly admit to rape and didn’t do anything about it. But he couldn’t have cared less about her feelings, he was just happy that she told him something valuable, and with video evidence too!

“That’s great!” Izuku exclaimed, to which Camie replied with a confused expression. “Oh no I didn’t mean- I just meant that’s great for my friend’s investigation not for you or the victim.” He stammered out, he came on way too strong with that reaction. “But do you think you’d be able to send that video to me? So I could share it with my friend.” Izuku asked, but just as Camie was about to open her mouth a door to the lounge opened and in came the explosive blonde Katsuki Bakugo.

“Jesus Camie there you are, we’ve been looking all over for yo- Deku??” Katsuki started but was quickly startled by Izuku’s presence. He hadn’t seen him since what? Middle School? And all of a sudden he just shows up at some party that he’s not even meant to attend. “I didn’t know you had such a bigshot job that you could afford a ticket into here, but whatever I don’t really care. All I need is Camie because she missed her award acceptance speech.” Katsuki explained annoyed with Camie. But she grabbed onto Izuku’s hand attempting to pull him in front of her. “No! I want to stay here with him.” She whined, but the unexpected force of her pull caused Izuku to topple over on the ground, and have his not-so-secure gun slip out and onto the floor.

Shit.

“What the hell!” Katsuki exclaimed backing away from the gun, and Camie gasped at the sight. “Don’t cause a scene Kacchan.” Izuku grunted as he picked back up his weapon. “Or what? You’re gonna shoot me? I can easily just blast your bullets to bits, but hey you can try.” Even in a life or death situation Katsuki still had to be the cockiest bastard in the room. Even though he was just using this as a way to express how highly he thought of himself, he wasn’t bluffing. Fuck, Izuku was gonna have to do something crazy again. Izuku looked behind him to see Camie standing a few feet away looking horrified. ‘Sorry pretty girl, but you’re my only way out of this.’ He thought as he snatched her up and pointed the gun to Camie’s head. “What about your girlfriend? I’m pretty sure she’s still very susceptible to bullets to the head.” Izuku said matter-of-factly and he could see Katsuki’s previously confident expression drop as sweat dripped down his forehead. To be honest, Katsuki didn’t really care if Camie lived or died, but he wanted to save himself the trauma from seeing someone’s brains blown out, plus letting her die could ruin his rep as a hero! "#1 Hero Let’s Down His Late Girlfriend Who Was Only Feet Away from Him!” Yeah he was not about to let those tabloid magazines get their hands on that headliner.

“God, just put the gun down! there’s no reason for this you’re acting crazy!” Katsuki said trying to convince Izuku to calm down, he was trying to play his cards right. He knew if he made a move Izuku might shoot Camie, and although he had pressed a security signal installed to his suit, it would be some time before they arrived so he at least needed to stall the other man. “No reason? I’m doing this for you Kacchan! I’m doing this to tear down everything you’ve ever built over those poor girls you hurt.” Izuku explained trembling with anger, how could he not get it? He was an awful person, how could he sit here and act like he didn’t deserve this? Katsuki's eyebrows furrowed, then his eyes darted to Camie who was sobbing uncontrollably. ‘Did that bitch really rat me out to him?’ He thought, he was pissed at the idea but he didn’t have time to be mad, her life was at stake and he was obligated to save it. “So in order to avenge some girls, you want to kill an innocent one who had nothing to do with it? How does that make you any better? In fact how aren’t you worse?” Katsuki said still trying to reason with Izuku, but all Izuku had was a blank expression on his face. Holy shit, Katsuki was right. Izuku had gone through all this trouble to get rid of this unjust system full of disgusting pigs that called themselves heroes but what made him any better?

He gazed down at the gun he was still holding, and it was like for the first time he could see it, see his wrong doing. He could finally hear the gorgeous, innocent girl in front of him sobbing her heart out because she thought she was gonna die, he could see Katsuki, although he was a piece of shit, trying to stop him from making a deplorable mistake. “Put the weapon on the ground and get on your knees with your hands up!” A group of armed security guards busted in through the door behind Izuku, with some heroes as extra enforcement. Izuku had no choice but to surrender, and even if he did he still would’ve done it. He tossed his gun to the side of him, and lowered himself to his knees as Camie bolted to Katsuki for comfort once out of Izuku’s grasp. He thought about how earlier he wasn’t even caring enough to give a shit about her genuine problems, that she trusted him to know, how he threated that poor guy outside earlier, how he’s spent almost every waking day since middle school plotting and not giving a damn about anyone or anything else.

He could argue that it was all because no one ever gave him a chance, when he told people he wanted to be a hero they all laughed and brushed him off, even his own personal hero All Might. It was all because everyone treated him like shit because of a dumb amount of joints in his pinkie toe, the stupid fucking joint that caused him a life of suffering. It was all because vile people like Katsuki Bakugo didn’t deserve the position they were in, not a fucking one of those heroes did. It was all because they deserved it. But in reality, it was all because he was no better. He was just as vile as the heroes, just as pain inflicting as everyone was to him, just as judgmental. He was no better than that stupid corrupted hero system, in fact, he was just like it.

fun fact: i started writing this almost exactly a year ago and only finished it today!!

[starheirxero]

I have been booped more! :0 I HAVE BEEN SUPER BOOPED-

WAIT THE BOOPING HAS DISTRACTED ME, BUT YEAH, SAMS WAS WILD-

This definitely tells us a bunch about the characters!

If I wasn't sold on Ruin before… BOY I SURE AM NOW! He lost everything. Saw, as his friends slowly lost their minds, unable to do anything. And he was left unharmed, left with whatever sanity could remain after witnessing this tragedy. Everything he's done, everyone he killed…it was all for vengeance. For justice. Because killing his own wouldn't be enough. It would never be, after all the years of suffering. And of course he won't regret it, how could he? He killed those responsible for driving his friends mad, for making them destroy each other. HE IS SUCH AN AMAZING CHARACTER, I CANNOT-

And apparently Solars don't exist much at all, even less than surviving Eclipses??👀

Speaking of Eclipse, he is partially Solar now! This does actually make a lot of sense. Eclipse has been shown unwilling to change. Perhaps he has been too stubborn, or he has felt too hurt. However, with a part of Solar inside of him, there might be a chance! Because he'll listen. He listened to Earth, he listened to Lunar. He has been listening and mulling it over in his head!

This is so interesting, I can't wait to see where this goes-

-Stardust

I KNOW RIGHTTT everytime there's more Ruin lore revealed I genuinely fall in love with him more, he's SUCH a fun character. He had the same vibe as Eclipse in that "character that has a past that explains but not excuses their actions and serves to make them more tragic," yk???

AND THE SOLAR DETAILS YEAH OMGGG that was so exciting!!! Solar was exactly like Eclipse, he just didn't fester!! That's so interesting!!!

AND ECLIPSE. STARS, YEAH, ECLIPSE. Like you said, we've seen him willing to listen more!! My friend Kat mentioned too that there's been a lotta emphasis on how Eclipse isn't wholly Eclipse anymore and that can mean that typical Eclipse-y traits may not be as hardwired which can lead to a potential redemption!!

He even defended Earth when Ruin said she needed to learn to be more cruel!! Eclipse said to leave her out of the conversation!! He didn't agree, he didn't insult her, he didn't even give a noncommittal grunt, he said to leave her alone!! Eclipse has been having small changes like that fer a minute now and the idea of it being because he has Solar's base now is soso terribly fun 2 me <3

[sesshy380-rp]

(continued from here)

“I thought you had only been into guys before.”

Kat glanced up.

“Obviously my memories from then are a bit unreliable,” she said, a bit more irritable than intended. “Don’t forget, my memories told me you were a boy. We bathed together. I’m certain I’d have known whether you had a dick or not. The only thing that explains me remembering incorrectly is that I remembered based on your personality and not your body.”

She half-groaned, half-sighed.

“...I hate where my thoughts lead me some days…”

She repositioned herself so that she was curled up in Bakura’s lap instead, with her head beneath their chin.

“Can I ask a small favor? Can you let Marik know that I’m not mad at him or hate him or anything. I don’t want today to be in the back of his mind and potentially ruin his evening.”

((@nb-lesbian-tkb))

[chronic-escapixt]

They really didn't want Bonnie to be the main female character with kai and the Gemini coven arc connection with the Bennetts that would have put her on top over anything they did with Caroline and with Elena leaving they needed a new female main character Bonnie made way more sense being the man character over Caroline honestly it speaks volumes they was more willing to make a vampire pregnant and ruin their established lore and rules about vampirism then just give bonnie the spotlight for once they completely ruined the Gemini arc with the baby vampire drama

I agree. From the first season, it seemed like Bonnie and Elena were the closest while Caroline seemed more like a frenemy (I’m particularly referring to the pilot where Caroline didn’t seem to know how to properly address Elena after her parents died & she was condescending to her during cheer practice, while Bonnie was clearly better at being there for Elena). With that being said, it would have made WAY more sense to make Bonnie the main girl after Elena was gone, not Caroline. I know the only reason Bonnie’s story was not given the spotlight it deserved was bc Julie Plec and others in production treated Kat horribly and Caroline was Plec’s blonde blue-eyed insert character. Bonnie had amazing potential as a character & story wise, so seeing that potential go down the drain due to clear racial bias is disheartening as a black girl who immediately fell in love with Kat’s performance from the pilot. I was so invested, but very disheartened when I saw Bonnie become a magical plot device for others… a few years ago I saw a post advertising a spin-off about Kai & Bonnie, exploring Gemini and Bennett lore, and I was so excited until I realized it was fan edited.. I would have taken that over seasons 7 & 8 of tvd.

[zea9love]

Your favourite Euphoria moments+ favourite man?

Any moment between Fez and Lexi. They provided so much peace throughout the show and the little bits we did see of their relationship were so pure and adorable! I hope they are endgame and aren’t done dirty like Kat and Ethan cuz they are the least toxic ship on the show!

Other than Fez and Lexi scenes, all the music video-like aesthetic moments the show had were pretty nice. I have my problems with Sam Levinson and his writing, but I’d be lying if I said that man can’t direct his ass off!

My favorite Euphoria men are Fez, Ali, the potential that McKay had before he got written out of the show, and Ethan (hope they don’t ruin him next season now that Kat isn’t in the show anymore)

[vinceviralfreak]

Title: The Solitary Voyage

Chapter 1: The Unexpected Journey

Kat had always been fascinated by the vastness of space. As a child, she would spend hours gazing at the stars, dreaming of exploring the unknown. Little did she know that her childhood fascination would soon become a reality.

One fateful day, while working as a scientist at the renowned Space Research Institute, Kat stumbled upon a groundbreaking discovery. Hidden within the depths of the institute's archives was a classified project known as the AI spacecraft. This spacecraft, equipped with advanced artificial intelligence, was designed to explore distant planets and gather valuable data.

Driven by her insatiable curiosity, Kat couldn't resist the temptation to embark on this extraordinary journey. She knew the risks involved, but the allure of venturing into the uncharted territories of the universe was too strong to resist. With a mixture of excitement and trepidation, she made the decision to board the AI spacecraft and set off for the mysterious Tes planet.

Chapter 2: The Solitary Odyssey

As the spacecraft launched into the vast expanse of space, Kat marveled at the beauty of the cosmos. The AI, named Atlas, guided her through the intricacies of the spacecraft, ensuring her safety and providing her with all the necessary information. However, Kat couldn't shake off the feeling of loneliness that enveloped her. She was the sole human on this interstellar odyssey.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Kat's only companions were the hum of the spacecraft's engines and the soothing voice of Atlas. She spent her days conducting experiments, analyzing data, and documenting her findings. The isolation began to take its toll on her, and she found solace in the memories of her loved ones back on Earth.

Chapter 3: Unveiling the Secrets

As the spacecraft approached the Tes planet, Kat's excitement reached its peak. She had spent years preparing for this moment, and now she was on the verge of unraveling the mysteries of this alien world. Atlas, with its advanced sensors, provided her with a detailed analysis of the planet's atmosphere, terrain, and potential life forms.

Kat's heart raced as she descended onto the Tes planet's surface. The landscape was unlike anything she had ever seen before. Strange rock formations, vibrant flora, and peculiar creatures surrounded her. She meticulously collected samples, taking care not to disturb the delicate ecosystem.

Days turned into weeks once again, as Kat delved deeper into the secrets of the Tes planet. She discovered ancient ruins, evidence of a long-lost civilization. The more she explored, the more she realized that this planet held the key to understanding the origins of life itself.

Chapter 4: The Return

After months of exploration, Kat's mission on the Tes planet was nearing its end. She had gathered a wealth of knowledge and data, which would revolutionize the scientific community back on Earth. But as she prepared to leave, a sense of melancholy washed over her. She had become attached to this alien world, and leaving it behind felt like abandoning a part of herself.

With a heavy heart, Kat bid farewell to the Tes planet and boarded the AI spacecraft once again. As the spacecraft soared through space, she couldn't help but reflect on the profound impact this journey had on her. She had ventured into the unknown, faced her fears, and discovered the true extent of her resilience.

Chapter 5: The Legacy

Back on Earth, Kat's return was met with great anticipation. The scientific community eagerly awaited her findings, hoping to unlock the secrets of the Tes planet. Kat, now a celebrated scientist, dedicated her life to sharing her knowledge and inspiring future generations to explore the wonders of the universe.

The AI spacecraft, Atlas, became a symbol of human ingenuity and the limitless possibilities of space exploration. Kat's solitary voyage had paved the way for future missions, as humanity continued to push the boundaries of knowledge and understanding.

In the end, Kat's journey was not just about the Tes planet; it was about the indomitable spirit of exploration that resides within every human being. It was a testament to the power of curiosity, resilience, and the unyielding pursuit of knowledge.

And so, as the stars twinkled in the night sky, Kat's story became a legend, inspiring generations to come to reach for the stars and embrace the unknown.

[thememoriesofaqueen]

Why is it accidental? It would make sense for your story, as you have it set up for it to be purposeful, for both of them ?? Maybe I misunderstand your story, but how you write it both Kat and Elijah would go back. Elijah because fountain moment, and Katherine because like it or not she missed him.

They both have been yearning for each other. And even if they aren’t even sure the other is real and they aren’t imagining it.. they would end up back at the fountain. It makes sense for the characters. So what’s the problem? Especially if he is already there. He thinks about her she ‘appears’ from his mind. Makes sense

Hiii ♥

I didn't expect anyone to reach out (so quickly) so thanks for your message :)

Perhaps (probably pretty sure) I'm making things too complicated. You haven't misunderstood the story, don't worry. It's just because an anon wrote something a few months ago that has the potential to be magical and I don't want to ruin it. ↓

Kat believes she is imaging Elijah but she is playing Masie during the day. Elijah believes Katherine may be dead and his heart made her up to deal w his grief and guilt, and that Masie is just Masie because Katherine is gone. They both believe they are seeing things from their loss of each other. Reason I say not to have them interact is you loose your best thing. If they both think they are talking to themselves they can say and do anything, because it’s not real. The minute they interact outside of that dream, it’s over and you loose that. During the day he is real and ‘she’ is real. You lose that amazing opportunity for that honesty.

Hence why I don't really know how I should have them interact. I also don't want to drag this hide-and-seek for eternity because I want to keep moving with the actual plot. At the same time, this idea appears so magical and cute and would give them the chance to perhaps ... bond?

I already thought about something similar to what you suggested. Kinda a funny moment when Elijah is all emotional and it's late and cold and he misses her and she happens to pass by because she longed for snacks and the snack machine in their building is broken so she had to find something somewhere else. At 1 am. But I don't know if that would ruin the opportunity for magical moments?

[theeonlyheartbreaker]

if the show was just jules rue and elliot (as well as like minor characters like fez and lexi) it would be so much better

[secretstackofsin]

Holy shit Kat, this was—-!!!!!!!! You equally kickstarted my day with the rush you gave me and ruined it for the same reason, I’ll be very much awake but I won’t be able to focus on a single thing during my day 🥴

Soft but confident and capable Marcus is my kryptonite 🫠 even though I couldn’t get myself to watch all the Mentalist episodes he’s in (yet), I’ve always been drawn to his personality and I love imagining him with a side where as cute and polite he is on the streets, he’ll absolutely rock your world on the sheets, leaving you feel like you just had an inter-dimensional trip after he’s done with you 🌝 and you portrayed this so well, I was hung up on every word!!! His quiet confidence and the way he made her feel relaxed and wanted, then absolutely railed her made me go feral 😩

I know it’s a oneshot, but I can’t help but hope that you’ll eventually revisit this story, it has such a great potential! After all, they still have that dinner date, and she did win a whole night, they can be together until the sun comes up 👀 And even after that, she would watch the video when she’s feeling down or is very distracted thinking about that night and she would see how hot they looked like, how he was focusing on her and how much she was lost in pleasure, and yeah she would be hot and bothered but also feel so empowered, because she looked so sexy when she let down her guards and she could see that her favourite porn star was so lost in her too 😩 Anyway!!!! I don’t want to be pushy, it’s just you yeeted me into their little world and I don’t want it to end yet 🥺

Thank you so much for sharing this little gem with us 🥰

And uhhh my friend is asking if you know an actual female friendly website with hot actors

The Sweepstakes (Marcus Pike AU one-shot)

Pairing: Porn Star Marcus Pike x Female Reader

Summary: Feeling down about your dating life, you take a chance and enter to win a night with a porn star.  Will it be as good as you imagine?

Word count: ~3.5k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only. NO MINORS)

Content Warnings: Unprotected PiV (paperwork is involved), oral sex (m and f receiving)

A/N: This thot invaded my brain over the weekend and wouldn’t let me go, so I sat down this morning and wrote it.  I’ve never written this much in one day.  I guess I was inspired! The company mentioned is heavily inspired by Bellesa and the nickname comes from one of their videos.  This is unbeta’d. I hope you enjoy!

Comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated!

Masterlist

Taglist – link in my bio and on my Masterlist

You won.

What the fuck?

Your entire body flushes with heat.  Adrenaline tingles in your chest and behind your knees.  Your hands tremble.

You never expected to win.

You remember the night you filled out the form.  You were wine-drunk after another disappointing date with a guy from the apps.  You’d had a string of them.  One you liked well enough to go home with and have mediocre sex.  It takes time, you told yourself.  You liked him enough that you’d give him another try, only he went radio silent.  So much for him.

No wonder you decided to throw caution to the wind and enter the sweepstakes.

Win a night with a porn star! – sponsored by your favorite site that specializes in porn with a female gaze.  They claim all the orgasms are real, and you believe them.

What would it be like to have sex with someone who does it for a living?  Someone who really knows what he’s doing?

The temptation was too great, so you had clicked the button.

And now you’d won.

A night with a porn star.

You scroll down the informational email, taking in as much as you can in your shocked state.  They reiterate the terms you had agreed to when you first entered, but now they want to know which performer you want to spend your night with.

Keep reading

[pinkhysteria]

What’s a tvdverse character you didn’t like at first but ended up loving alot?

i don’t know, because my tastes and opinions have been pretty consistent over the years. i wouldn't say i love her, but i have warmed up to hayley a lot more than i did while s1-2 of TO were airing? though i did like her at first on TVD and i remember being ecstatic klaus was finally fucking with a real bitch, and it was the transition to TO and adjacency to elijah that turned me off of the character very strongly for a minute.

[jenniferswhor3]

why are you here - colby brock

misc. masterlist | masterlist

join my taglist here!!

colby brock x reader

summary || loosely based off ‘why are you here’ by machine gun kelly. you realize you and colby can never be friends.

warnings || mentions of previous sex, swearing, smut (its not really there, just subtly describing, doesn't go into much detail), pet names (angel, darling, pretty eyes)

authors note || i absolutely love this imagine so much also this is the longest I've ever written v proud

you walked into the large mansion with a tight white dress, looking almost angelic, on ready to have fun tonight. you had some random man you met through a friend at your hip as you made eye contact with him. colby brock. the man who you can never be friends with.

colby and you had a long history together. meeting through a mutual friend, you two became friends pretty fast. you both became very close fast, as well. it wasn't until one day you were both feeling some type of way, so you turned to each other for help, and that's how you became friends with benefits.

so that's what it was, you two would be the best of friends during the day, ghost hunting and exploring together, partying, going on cool vacations for sam and colby videos, but at the end of the day it was you two sleeping with each other, either having sex or falling sleeping in each others arms.

if it was the latter, it was never mentioned the next day, just simply ignored.

and that's all it was to it. except for the burning jealousy you guys had when either of you slept or even went on a first date with someone else.

the result would be in an argument along the lines of 'what about me?' with the typical response of 'we're just friends with benefits' or 'we aren't exclusive'. while it did hurt, yes, there was nothing either of you could do about it.

it started to become almost toxic. none of your friends noticed because you guys were so good at hiding it. argument after argument, it became exhausting, draining you both mentally.

neither of you were ready to commit. none of you were the problem, it was just past shit you've both experienced ruining it. there were underlying feelings for each other that you guys had yet to figure out.

so you decided to call it quits. it hurt, but it was for the better. you both tried to stay friends but it was hard. so over the span of two months you both grew apart from each other until there was only instagram or snapchat story viewing. you were glad to see each other having fun with your friends.

you still kept in contact with a couple of colbys friends you grew close with; sam, jake, tara, and kat. you would still sometimes have girls days with tara and kat. that prompted you to stop by their shared house with the guys. on the rare occasion colby would be out of his rabbit hole of a room, he would be hanging with the guys in the kitchen or living room. every encounter at their place would cause some sort of tension-filled eye contact. the girls even once told you that colby was all alone, no special someone has come into his life yet.

it was around 2 pm when you had received a text from sam saying he was throwing a celebration party asking if you wanted to come. you denied, not feeling in a party mood tonight. alright, well the party starts at 10 if you change you mind, he replied, followed by the location. you looked at the location on the maps app on your phone, seeing as it was some random house, you could only assume it was an airbnb they rented for the night. they probably didn't want to trash their house and potentially have destroyed property.

you hadn't really done anything that day, just lounged around watching movies. looking at the time it was 9:27 pm. it was a last minute decision to get dressed, do your hair and makeup, and ask one of your friends if they had a guy you could take to the party. grant, one of your best friends brothers, was glad to accompany you to party.

"so, what is this party for again?" he asked while you two sat in the back of an uber.

you looked up from your phone where you were scrolling through your instagram feed. "um- its a celebration for my friends, of some sort. I'm not too sure."

upon arriving to the airbnb, you felt your nerves grow slightly. this would be the first real time you've seen colby and his friends since you two had broke off whatever you had.

it was 9:51 when you knocked on the door waiting for a response, only to have sam open the door and greet you with a hug and a big smile. he informed that the party would start a little bit later, after 10, so you can just sit and chill and "pre-game" as he said.

so that's what you did, you and grant grabbed a white claw each from the cooler that was sitting on the kitchen floor. you two were talking in the living room, getting to know each other more, when you saw out of the corner of your eye a familiar figure emerge from the shadows.

it was him. colby brock. you turned your head to look at him an you two locked eyes. time felt slower and you felt as if you two had been staring at each other forever, only to be pulled away by a smaller feminine figure emerging from behind him. she was gorgeous. you wouldn't be surprised if they were an item. you quickly focused back on whatever grant was saying to you.

the party was a success. success as in you were having fun, distracted from your real life problems, and dancing with mostly strangers without a care in the world.

you excused yourself from the group of strangers you were conversing with to go grab another drink from the kitchen. after grabbing your drink and turning around, you bump into kat. "hey girl, it's so good to see you!" she's still as enthusiastic as she was before you distanced yourself from everyone.

"it's so good to see you too!" you matched her tone. you were excited to talk to her, face to face at least. the last time you chatted was over a text about 5 days ago.

you two were fully immersed in a conversation when colby came into frame. he was standing across the room towards the edge of the living space, standing and observing everyone. he wasn't alone, though, he was with that gorgeous girl from before.

kat had noticed your demeanor change and your wondering eyes and turned to look at the sight that caught your eye. colby and amber. "you know they aren't together?"

she pulled you out of your trance. "hm?"

"colby and amber. they're just friends."

"um, what-?"

you could barely get out your question before she stated speaking again. "i know you and colby had something going on. i don't know what exactly but i know something was there.

"you two have always been extremely close and one day you started distancing yourself from colby and us. colby was distant for a bit too. but he pulled himself together for what he's worth and continued doing whatever."

you took minute to take in everything she mentioned. you didn't realize how much this hit colby too. of course you missed him, he was your best friend at some point. but that was in the past, you were here to live in the now.

"well, that's in the past, kat. now tell me about the crazy shit you guys have gotten into over the past few months." she seemed to completely forget about your previous conversation as she dived right into the crazy things she's experienced.

all while you were conversing with kat, eventually having tara join in, colby was staring at you. he was trying to not make it obvious, but he couldn't help it. you were an angel in the white. the white body con dress hugging your body in all the right places, you looked angelic.

feeling eyes on you, you looked around the room trying to find the eyes that were also on you. there he was, colby brock was the culprit. kat and tara seemed to wrapped up in their own conversation to notice you weren't paying attention and that you were fully immersed in colbys icy blue eyes.

it was almost as if his eyes were telling you something. you saw his head and eyes nod towards the hallway. you eyebrows furrowed a bit, silently asking what he was saying. he nodded his head towards the hallway more, trying his best to tell you to meet him in the bathroom. by some miracle, you finally understood what he was getting at. you watched him walk off, waiting for the perfect time so it wouldn't look suspicious.

you excused yourself from the girls, saying you needed to use the restroom, and made your way down the hall, into the master bedroom, then master bathroom. you looked at the clock above the king sized bed. 12:05 am.

there he stood, facing away from the door as you entered. "colby," you muttered out. "hi." your voice low, almost scared to talk.

he turned around to face the beauty in front of him. "y/n, you look as beautiful as the day you left." smile evident on his face.

your face heated slightly at this compliment. "same for you, colby. you still look as handsome as ever." you return the smile.

the sparkle in his eyes still there. it was only there because he was staring at you. ask any of his friends and they would say there's never a sparkle in his eyes, only when he's looking at you. they would also tell you he's completely different when you're around, more lively and happy almost.

"im sorry. you know, for everything. all the arguments and everything. im sorry." he said solemnly. he sounded like he really meant it.

"im sorry too, colby. i never really wanted to start those argument. i guess i was just," you thought for a moment, trying to find the right word to say. "jealous."

"jealous? i thought i was the jealous one." colby said with a chuckle.

"you were jealous?" this time it was your turn to chuckle.

"yeah," he started. "for some reason, every date you mentioned or guy you found good looking, i couldn't help but feel jealous."

"colby," you looked deep into his eyes. "i felt the same way. when i saw you walk in with that girl, all those feelings came back."

"oh, amber? she's just a friend."

it was silent for another moment before colby spoke up, "you know, sam told me you weren't coming."

"and kat said you were all alone, look at you lying." you had a small smirk on your face. you were joking and you hoped he could tell.

"me? lying?" he could definitely tell you were joking. "you were lying too." he had stepped a bit closer to you now.

you two had shared a laugh before the bathroom went quiet.

"can we try over? as friends?" you said. colby nodded, muttering a small yeah as that was the only thing he could get out. "good." you mainly confirmed to yourself.

it was silent again in the bathroom. "can i kiss you?" colby abruptly said. you were slightly taken back, you didn't even have time to respond before colby started speaking again. "im sorry. that was so forward. you just said friends and i just-, you just look like an angel in that white dress."

you cut colby rant off short, "just kiss me already colby."

his hands were placed on your hips as yours gripped the collar of his shirt. the kiss started out gentle yet slowly but surely the kiss grew into more. more passion, more hunger, more drive.

colby grabbed behind your legs, right under your ass, muttering a quick jump against your lips. "wait," you muttered against his lips. you go to turn off the lights but colby stops you.

"no, let me show you what you like." a kinky idea popped into colbys head. you were a bit confused but you went along with it, curious as to his idea.

one thing led to another and you were now facing the mirror with colby behind you. he was kissing along your neck. "how about a little mirror sex?" he looked at you seductively through the mirror. you nodded to his idea, unable to form words.

now you were half naked, pressed against the counter with colby deep inside you. this was better than you ever felt before.

to keep things spicy, colby switched the position and now you were simply sitting on the bathroom counter with his pelvis against yours.

the was better than any other time with colby before. before it was friends having casual sex. now, it was more than that. it felt as if you were more than friends having more than just sex. the kisses had more meaning behind it.

you two both finished one right after the other. you were still basking in each others glory when you two shared a slow, passionate kiss. it was a kiss that spoke a thousand unsaid words. the way your lips moved against each other told you guys almost everything that needed to be said.

you two helped each other put back on your clothes, he helped zip up your dress and you helped button up his shirt. once you finished you noticed your lipstick was slightly smeared against colbys lips. you chuckled a bit before wiping it off his lips. he returned the favor by wiping off the little bit that smeared off your lips as well.

you shared another passionate kiss, this time colbys left hand was pulling you closer by the hips while the other rested on the side of your face. "we can never be friends." he chuckled, pulling away from the kiss.

"yeah, yeah. i know." you pulled him in for another kiss.

he pulled away once more earning a small groan from you, the taste and feel of his lips were intoxicating. "then what are we, darling?"

"we can be whatever you want to be, pretty eyes." a blush rose to colbys cheeks at your nickname.

"then your mine and im yours. how does that sound, angel?" referring to his words earlier.

"sounds perfect." you say with a smile.

he was holding you ever so gently in his arms as he leans in for another kiss. your lips mold together perfectly, like it was meant to be. now it was tome to tell your friends, but that was for another time. right now, you were with colby, the boy you had longed for a while now. you two pulled away with the biggest grins on your face. and for a moment, nothing else mattered in the world, just you two, standing here in some random persons bathroom, holding each other in your arms, feeling nothing but each other.

[luvfae]

lexi howard x female reader where reader watches lexi’s play and finds out lexi has a crush on her ?

this is so cute! i hope you enjoy 💗

ANGEL

fandom: euphoria

parings: lexi x reader

warnings: none i don’t think? just lexi being cute af and making the reader cry happy tears

You sat in the audience, a huge grin on your face, watching as your best friend Lexi performed her play. You were so proud of her and how it had turned out. You were sitting next to Maddy and Kat when a new character walked on stage and Lexi began to introduce them.

“When Jade started to push me away I was miserable,” Lexi began. “Thankfully, I met my other best friend, Angel.”

You smiled wide, nudging Kat. “That’s me,” you whispered.

The play continued, memories that you and Lexi shared being acted out in front of your eyes. You felt nostalgic, happy tears pricking your eyes.

“Angel was the only person in my life who made me feel at ease,” Lexi said. “And as our relationship grew with the changing seasons, I soon realised something that could potentially be disastrous.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, the stage going dark for a few minutes. The actor who was playing you was now dressed like an actual angel and you laughed along with Kat and Maddy.

“I was in love with Angel,” Lexi said. “Like really in love.”

Your smiled faltered, eyes lighting up at her words. Maddy and Kat both looked at you with shocked expressions. You have had feelings for Lexi for months now, always too scared to ask her if she felt the same. Scared of rejection or ruining the friendship you had.

“I was so in love to the point that I thought I was going crazy. Wondering if she felt the same way about me,” Lexi said. “I would dress myself in ways that would get her to notice me. My hands would linger on her when she’d hug me. I’d be with her every second of every day.”

“Angel shared her insecurities with me and I thought to myself, how could a girl like that ever feel insecure,” Lexi said. You smiled, tears running down your cheeks at her kind words. “Because she was perfect.“

Kat wrapped an arm around you, a smile on her face. “This is so cute,” Kat said, Maddy agreed.

Lexi made eye contact with you in the crowd, she smiled at you and you smiled back. “Perfect like an angel, if I do say so myself,” Lexi said.

[katbrando]

✽ "what the fuck is a dinokat ??"

it's spring of 2022, stars align as a burnt out artist watches a british herpetologist expertly feeding an alligator at the local zoo, his thick accent and toothy smile taking root in her mind and haunting her every waking thought. after a series of visits, the two gradually begin talking, only to realize their interests and humor align almost perfectly. a friendship develops, then much stronger feelings. mutual pining in full swing, they both try to ignore their desires for fear of ruining the bond they have. most of the people in diego's life only know him at a surface level; he's always struggled with developing close relationships even now in his mid-20s. and kat? a series of trauma renders her nearly impossible to connect with at a deeper level. it's on a quiet night in the heat of the summer when the tension gets unbearable. sitting in diego's car, overlooking the city, the pair finally let go and give in, sharing a kiss tinged with the spice of dr pepper and the sweetness of watermelon la croix. that night marks the beginning of a relationship unlike anything either of them have ever experienced. months of awkward adjustment drag on; arguments erupt over miscommunication, difference in intimacy levels, and the drastic contrast of their core personalities. it takes a while, but eventually they settle into a healthy rhythm. diego learns patience, gives a dash of humility a shot, and adjusts to the unfamiliar feeling of nervousness. kat's walls gradually fall and give way to hesitant trust, her self-confidence slowly grows and intimacy becomes easier, bit by bit. fall of 2022 they move into a cute little house in the middle of the suburbs together, something that neither of them ever envisioned for themselves, especially so quickly after beginning a relationship. but they've found home in each other, and their bond only strengthens as they meld their lives together. during the summer of 2023, diego is plagued by a constant desire to further the relationship. fear still holds him back, but the question is inevitable. it's just a matter of time. finally, on october 8th, standing on a hill overlooking his childhood neighborhood, diego drops one knee into the wet grass and pops the question. their wedding is set for october of '24 and due to diego's blossoming career and job opportunities, a potential move is in their future.

✽ modern au diego brando

⋗ age: 26 ⋗ birthdate/zodiac: august 19th, leo ⋗ occupation: herpetologist, runs the herpetarium at the local zoo ⋗ moodboard & soundtrack ⋗ backstory ⋗ other details: born in manchester, diego grew up closely bonded with his mother who unfortunately passed when he was only 13. his father was verbally and physically abusive, driving diego to spend most of his youth sneaking out and getting into trouble. his father pressured him to study law, but diego (a perfect student with flawless grades and an above average iq) had an endless list of opportunities and sought out other avenues. his father later disowned him when he realized diego wouldn't be following in his footsteps. coming to the US to study abroad was diego's way of escaping his father's influence for good, though without his only parent's financial support it proved difficult to settle in for a while. he gained his stand powers from a mysterious lizard that bit him while he was still in university. though he mostly pursued herpetology due to a love of reptiles in general, he was also desperate to learn more about the abilities he'd gained. in this universe his powers are much more subdued; he is able to manifest a tail, claws, and sharp teeth, but he cannot fully transform into a dinosaur. he still has the capability to transform other living things, but he mostly uses his powers for innocent, domestic purposes. no need for scissors in this household. has a pet bearded dragon named anguirus (namesake from the godzilla franchise), they are best friends and rarely seen apart if both are at home will frequently insist he was involved with alex turner of arctic monkeys when he was younger and still living in the UK. whether this is true or not it leads to some very interesting stories drives an orange 1973 BMW which he, oddly enough, calls "silver bullet" (most likely a continuation of the beloved silver car he previously owned in the UK but tragically couldn't bring to the states) interests include reading nonfiction books, watching the sunrise every day, morning jogs, occasionally writing poetry, collecting vinyls, films, playing strategic board games, and keeping up with fashion trends

✽ fics & drabbles

main lore fic / currently 3.1k (major wip) father's day '23 / 1.7k roadtrip car sex / 4.7k my birthday '23 / 10.9k valentine's day '23 / 3.9k circus date / drabble

✽ dynamic details (based on this post) -

(these need to be updated!) basics, attraction, romance, interests, preferences, daily life, situations, difficulty, differences, relations, future

✽ additional posts -

NSFW alphabet ship soundtrack "meet my otp" meme date day/night moodboard wedding moodboard

[ updated may 20 '24 ]